I

Am

So

Sorry.

From now on, I'm going to do a lot of skipping around. I've realized that if I try to do everything in order, I'll just take way too long. If you let me know what you might like to see (like certain events, not just a blanket topic), I'll put it in to the best of my ability. And please don't ask me to put in America's reveal. That's for the end dammit! :D

I wanted to explain something. I said Johnny had lost his mother at a young age; his father remarried. I forgot to mention that… The mum Johnny talked about was his step mum. And I labeled the Spain POV part before I wrote it and got distracted. I also forgot smallpox. Grr.

Warning: Extremely patriotic thoughts. Well, she's America, what do you expect? And some swearing.

bangishimog: West (Canada's name for America) Nicknamed into Shishi

Giiwedin: Ice (America's name for Canada) Nicknamed into Gii

nwiikaanenh: brother

...ooooOOOOoooo...

1782

Her Christmas had been lonely. America could cook much better than- Dammit can I think of anything but my brother?! Ex-Brother?! , but despite the better food of Christmas in an actual house, her Christmas was still lonely.

Either way, it had been Christmas Dinner for one, without a single present to her name. Except for her freedom. It technically wasn't official yet, but they had surrendered, especially when England looked up from his crying and saw a musket with a large scratch pointed at him. America might have laughed at the expression on his face if the situation had, in any way, been funny. Stop thinking brain!

There was a lot of celebrating still, with colonists bragging left and right, even the ones who hadn't fought. Brats. The people who had fought weren't the ones bragging, they were the ones recuperating. Although there had been that excellent party a month after. That had been great fun, and she'd met up with a lot of familiar people.

But now America had locked herself in her room in Virginia, not feeling very well.

….ooooOOOOoooo….

The British were now, after so many years of fighting, off her part of the continent. A couple months later and the preliminary Articles of Peace were signed. America took the opportunity to study England again. He had bags under his eyes and walked like there were horseshoes on his feet.

America tried not to look at him too much, merely standing next to her boss and examining the wall with sad blue eyes.

….ooooOOOOoooo….

She felt very weak and shivery. I'm definitely coming down with something. "Achoo!"

Martha chuckled. The moment Georgie had realized America was feeling sick, he had brought her home with him, stuck her in a bed, and ushered in his wife to give her some care.

"Do you have any idea what's making you so sick Dearie?" Martha asked, giving her a bit of soup. "Your friend France said it would have something to do with how affairs are in America. The country itself, not you. Wait-"

"I understand. I think it might be the Articles of Confederation. The government is tied in with how often I get sick. I think at least."

"Well Alfred, good people are working on it."

"Thanks." And she fell into fevered dreams involving soaring high in the sky inside a giant metal bird. And fires that she somehow knew she had caused.

1783

She didn't want to go to France. All she want to do was sleep. She'd never felt so sick in all her life. Everything ached, and her blue eyes were slightly dull in color as she pleaded with Washington.

"It's your responsibility to go. I know you too well America. If you don't go, you'll complain about it for the rest of your life."

"That's a lie Mr. Washington. I know I have to go, but-"

"You can sleep on the boat son."

….

Fear me. All you French people, you should fear me.

And indeed, a young girl shied away from the look on America's face. Sick and spending that much time traveling was not healthy for anyone's health. Especially not other people's.

"Straighten up!" George commanded. "You represent you country," He hissed. "You have to be respectful in some way."

America winced. Her head was pounding and she wanted nothing more than to just lay down forever.

Holy shit Paris is gorgeous. Her ire melted slightly and she gazed around the city, entranced. There was something here, in the air. Something special.

"Bonjour Ameriqué!" France called.

"Bonjour France," She replied, a smile now on her face.

Washington was taken aback. A minute ago, America had been grumpier than a nanny goat, and now he was smiling! What was going on?

"Hola America!"

"Hola España!" She waved back at the Spaniard approaching. He swept her into a hug.

"And how has my little rebel been?"

"Just fine," America grinned from underneath Spain's hand, which was now messing up her hair. "Feeling a bit under the weather, but I'll be fine."

Washington only gaped.

….

France was nowhere to be found. Well, technically she was in France, but the man himself was nowhere to be seen. Neither was Spain. Or England. Thank god, that'd be awfully awkward.

She wasn't expecting to see a person when she entered the room they were using to meet. It was a nice room, wonderfully furnished with all sorts of fancy things that America could semi-appreciate, even if she was more focused on gaining her independence on paper than the decorations of the room it'd take place in.

But she did see a person. A very familiar person, even if she hadn't seen him in a very long time. So she did what came naturally with a cry of, "GIIWEDIN!"

She jumped him.

England POV

What England hadn't expected when he brought Canada with him to one of the countless Treaty meetings was for both North Americans to loose their minds. He had told Canada to stay in the meeting room while he went to get a strong cup of tea (One could only put up with the French for so long) and when he had come back the only thing that could be used to describe what was happening was- There were no words. The lads had never even met, but there they were wrestling on the floor with little yelps from both.

"What is going on here? Stop that at once!" England demanded, forgetting that saying that would make America do the opposite.

They continued fighting, Canada for once not listening and England merely stared at them, wondering what the hell had set them off.

France and Spain entered while he was still puzzling and doing his best to ignore the two countries. Upon seeing the two nations rolling around on the floor France immediately let out his trademark laugh. "Oh hon hon hon. Angleterre, it looks like both of your colonies have decided-"

"I'm not a colony!" America immediately glared at France, stopping his fight with Canada. Canada wasn't expecting America to stop, and his fist went plowing into America's stomach.

"Glahhh!" America flailed dramatically for a second and started making a wheezing noise. It took a second for England to realize that the lad was laughing. Laughing. Why would he be laughing?

Canada joined, and the North America twins were soon convulsing on the floor with laughter.

"What's wrong with them?" Spain poked Canada with the toe of his boot, merely making them laugh harder.

"We should roll them out of the room and get on with the meetings."

"We aren't rolling them in my building."

"Frog."

"Gii-Gii-Gii-we" America was trying to speak, but instead kept laughing

"Ba-Bangi-sh-" Canada gave up trying to speak and merely knocked America on the head to get his attention. America rolled over and pinned Canada to the floor in retaliation before collapsing with laughter and rolling off so the two were side by side again.

"They've never even met before. I didn't want mon petit Canada to catch anything from you."

"Catch anything? I ought to punch you! They never met because I kept them apart! You had nothing to do with it!"

"Amigos," Spain interrupted, gesturing to the two who had managed to calm themselves down. America and Canada looked up at the three older nations with almost completely straight faces.

"That's a lie," The twins said in unison. "Of course we've met before."

America POV

"Don't be ridiculous, of course you haven't!" England snapped.

"This is my nwiikaanenh." America said proudly.

Three highly-confused nations stared at her while a fourth hummed in agreement.

"What the hell is that?" England asked, completely confused.

America rolled her eyes. "My brother!"

"That doesn't explain how you've met before." France pointed out, trying to get Canada's attention.

"North America existed before Europeans landed on it." Canada said simply, not looking at France.

"Yup," America popped the "p", smiling at the look on England's face upon hearing the sound.

"Let's just start with the meeting," Spain said before England could say anything on the subject.

"Sounds like a plan. Come on Gii." America started to drag Canada to a chair before realizing that there weren't enough. However the chairs were quite large and so she squeezed the two into the same chair. "There." She said happily.

Canada shrugged apologetically towards England, who looked ready to start yelling. Luckily he calmed down and the meeting went off without a hitch.

Somehow by the end of the meeting America and Canada had ended up curled together. America tried to disentangle herself and just ended up tripping and almost smacking her head on the high back of the chair. She laughed and struggled to pull out her foot. France watched in amusement and Canada pressed his hip farther into the chair, effectively trapping her foot.

"Gahh!" America pulled out her foot and lost her balance, landing on the floor. She held out an arm to Canada and he helped her up. She brushed her clothes off and hugged him one last time.

Back in her own room she could still feel the tingling in her limbs. North America.

...

The meetings were long and tedious and involved sitting in a room for hours on end with France, Spain, and England. France was taking all-too-much pleasure in being hospitable towards her just to rub it in England's face. But hey, at least she got some perks. Such as Canada was allowed in the room. That made the meetings much nicer.

"That was the most awkward thing I've ever experienced," America commented afterwards as England swept out of the room, face pulled in a scowl. Canada quickly went after him, flashing a quick grin at her.

Spain nodded. "Sí amigo. Very awkward."

"At least we're nearly done. The papers will be ready to be signed tomorrow and then I'll finally be free for real. With even more land!"

"Congratulations." France clapped her on the shoulder, surprisingly not making a move on her.

…

December 1783

"You're really resigning soon?" America whined.

Washington sighed. "It's time for you to become a respectable nation-"

"-You can help me!" America pleaded.

"I don't want to be another king. You know this as well as I do America."

America huffed, blowing Nantucket further up towards the ceiling.

"You'll be back right?"

"I want to relax a bit. Maybe one day, but it isn't likely."

...

So in the end, it was 1784 when her independence was official. And when yet another person discovered her secret.

She had been up in her room in Washington's house, Mt. Vernon, tightening her bandages, when Martha Washington walked in.

They stared at each other for a moment, Martha's large eyes widening and her hands went up to cover her mouth.

America offered a weak smile and coughed violently.

Martha helped her back to the bed and America got over her coughing spell, Martha staring at her all the while.

"You're a girl?"

America nodded.

….

"You can't tell anyone!" Alfred was pleading with her.

"You're a young lady, you can't just act like a man all the time."

"If I don't I'll be invaded and taken over. Please! No one was supposed to know and now four do! Not including me!"

"Who else knows?" Martha wanted to make sure that the girl's secret was in safe hands.

"Well Hungary and Prussia know, but that's because they were the ones who told me I was a girl in the first place. Hungary told Poland, and now you know."

"England doesn't?"

"He just assumed I was male."

Martha winced in sympathy.

"Are you going to tell anyone?" She looked down at the young nation and pulled her into a hug.

"No, your secret is safe with me."

"You can't even tell General Washington."

Martha hesitated, but nodded. Her nation would come first for this.

"Now," Martha said, suddenly businesslike. You can get away with looking like a rather girl boy for now, but not for long. And one day you'll need to be a lady. *Patsy and I will teach you."

"You can't tell Patsy!" America said, alarmed. "You weren't even supposed to know!"

Martha thought. "You represent all Americans. Therefore you must know what every young lady does, male or not."

America nodded. "Sounds good."

...

Soon it became painfully aware that Britain wasn't gone. He was up north too! Up in Canada. I've got to get him out! Don't worry Canada, I'll save you!

It's a win-win for us and a loose for England.

I'll be your hero!

...

1788 June 21

U.S. Constitution adopted, when New Hampshire ratifies it.

America danced around the government building, overly-happy.

"Woohoo! I'm not sick anymore and have a good government! I'm feeling so much better. Thank you thank you thank you!"

Many of the men gasped for air after she hugged them.

1789

"You're President now. You're officially my boss." America grinned widely. She'd found a daddy.

Washington ruffled America's hair. "Yes. Yes I am.

December 1814 (Treaty of Ghent. Sort of... Not at all, but a lead up...)

It was a battle. A face-off. Two identical faces. Eyes the same color for once in the fading light. Pale narrowed eyebrows. Quivering lips. Collision.

America was a swirl of blue and white fabric as she dodged and struck.

Right. Left. Duck. Jump. Smack. Damn Redcoats.

Canadians.

Dear god, this was Giiwedin, her nwiikaanenh. What the hell were they doing to each other! War, a useless war. She wasn't a hero, could never be a hero. She was deluded, a fool. She wasn't a hero, she was the villain. She had invaded him, had taken Lake Erie and some of Ontario, and done a bunch of other crap. All because she wanted to save him from England. But she'd hurt him worse than England ever had.

I'm not a hero. I will never be a hero. I'm hurting my brother.

Never a hero.

Never.

I'm the bad guy here.

And Canada is coming. He's coming for me, and he's going to kill me and he'll never know how sorry I am.

Panic rose in her throat. Her blue eyes were wide, her short hair messy and sticking up at odd angles. Blinking was rather hard; Martha had cut her eyelashes.

"Gii!" She screamed a scream of pure anguish, of fear and of grief. "We have to stop! We're hurting each other!"

Canada stopped. Both twins were breathing heavily. Far off to the side America could see England fighting, but she shook herself slightly and looked back at Canada, paying full attention. The twins stood and watched each other. America could feel hot tears springing to her eyes. Canada's own eyes had the beginnings of tears as well. And suddenly they were tangled up on the ground, bawling their eyes out together and clinging to each other for dear life. Only a few words could be understood.

"Giiwedin… Sorry… Oh god sorry…"

"Bangishmog… I'm… forgive me… Please…"

Finally the two nations, only about fifteen years old in form, stopped blubbering and just clung to each other.

"Alfred?"

"Hmm?" This was comfortable. She knew it probably wasn't the smartest idea to be sitting in the middle on a battlefield, but she didn't really care right now.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorrier." She replied. "God, I'm so sorry Mattie!"

"I burnt you."

"I burnt you too."

"I." Canada clearly didn't know what to say next.

The fact that they were both still on a battlefield was forgotten by them both as America threw her arms around him. "I invaded you," She cried. "I'm so sorry! You win!"

"Tie," Canada replied, though he seemed pleased at the "you win." "Let's call it a tie."

America just cried harder, and Canada wrapped his arms around her tighter, the tears he thought he'd cried out pricking his eyes.

"This war isn't going anywhere," America suddenly sat up. "Treaty?"

Canada nodded and smiled slightly. "Treaty."

Actual treaty of Ghent (In Belgium)

Belgium was nice. The country and the person. Belgium had hugged her tightly around the middle before doing the same to Canada.

"Let's skip on the meetings," America suggested.

Canada nodded, then paused. "But you don't have anyone to speak for you, you can't just leave."

America swore. "Fine, but we're passing notes. And sitting next to each other."

Canada grinned.

They sat through long meetings until the treaty was finished. It took forever, and the twins could only take so much of drawing caricatures of fellow nations, of which they only knew a few.

France was their favorite to draw. That douche had given up Canada and called him a barren rock or something! Unacceptable!

Once, they had just finished a lovely one of France (Probably their twentieth) with a little Napoleon on his shoulder when Canada said something that made America fall off her chair from laughter. The entire room looked at her.

"AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" America rolled around on the ground. "Oh that's funny!"

Canada smiled, pleased.

America returned to her seat, and the incident was soon forgotten by everyone but her boss, James Madison.

A break came up, and America was all ready to be scolded when James whispered, "What did Canada say?"

America grinned and whispered, "It only makes sense that the greatest military leader of France would be a foreigner."

James Madison snorted. "That is very funny, but hold in your laughter a bit better next time."

"Yes sir," America replied before dragging Canada away so they could explore outside.

A little bit of Prohibition. AKA Fuck this. Let's drink! AKA Damn author, why don't you stop writing about death?!

America downed a sip of liquor as she looked around one of Al Capone's speakeasies. She liked this one, it seemed less like a hidden bar and more open. And it didn't seem as illegal, she reminded herself. I wonder if I could get arrested for this. It's funny, I never used to drink this much, and I'm supposed to be completely sober.

A woman came up as America took another swig of her drink.

Her dress was really short, America couldn't help but notice. Shorter than the average woman's. A little higher than mid-thigh actually. She must be cold, it's not exactly summer. February much?

"Hello," The woman said.

"Hello."

"What's your name, handsome?"

America choked. The man next to her roared with laughter and thumped her on the back before turning around to become a perfect stranger again.

"Sorry?" America asked.

She looked amused. "I asked your name cutie."

"Alfred," America held out a hand for a shake. The woman shook her hand and slid into the barstool next to her.

"I'm Catherine."

America tried not to laugh. Catherine was trying so very hard to be sexy, but it just wasn't working.

"Great to meet you. Was there something you wanted?"

Catherine lowered her lashes a little, trying to give of some sort of "Sexy/Shy" look.

Canada is sexier than her, and he's my brother. Eww, Canada trying to be sexy. Brain bleach! Bad thoughts! Canada will hunt me down and spear me with a beaver tail or something. Oh god that'd be terrifying.

"I'd love to get to know you better. And tomorrow is St. Valentine's Day."

"Oh, yeah, it is, isn't it?! I'd love you be your friend," America put on her usual smile. Go away go away go away.

Catherine tilted her head and chewed on the straw of her drink. A fruity, low-alchol drink, America noticed. This woman was wim-pay!

"More?"

"More what, you done with your drink already?" GET THE FUCK AWAY WOMAN!

Catherine rolled her eyes and left the speakeasy.

America did a little victory dance and mouthed a thank you to an unknown entity.

A couple men laughed.

LATER THAT NIGHT

"A-an-an-and so I said," America hiccoughed, holding in laughter. "I said, but boss, I don', I don', I don' wanna be sober! Let's all get drunk off our asses sir!"

The group she had fallen in with roared with laughter. Everything's funny when you're a happy drunk.

"An' an' he said, 'Alfred, you won' be able to convince me,'" Alfred slurred. "'Wit a bottle of moonshine in one hand and a bottle ah whiskey in the other!'"

And the merriment continued into the night.

"Where're you from?" One of the men asked.

"America!" America yelled, scaring a few people.

"I'll drink to that!" The man who had asked her announced, lifting in his glass and whooping before taking a long drink of whiskey.

"America!" Some of the men cheered.

"Canada!" Another yelled, falling off his bench.

"Ireland!" Cried another, falling on top of him.

America laughed. They were bother drunk off their asses.

"Find Ireland funny, d'ya?" The Irishman got up and marched towards her.

"No no no no no no no no! Just remembering what my friend from Ireland once said to me."

"What?"

"She told me a joke, but you can' take offense!" America warned. "'Therwise I won' tell it."

"I won'. Soldier's honor!"

"'Right, this is it. Didja ever hear of the Irish boomerang?

All the men shook their heads, grins appearing on their faces as they thought of what the answer might be.

"It never comes back," America hiccoughed. "It just sings songs about how much it wants to!"

Even the Irishman laughed, and many jokes were told.

America woke up the next morning with a horrible headache and a pain in her chest. She'd been in the bandages too long without loosening them.

"Ugnh," She moaned. She was on the floor of the speakeasy, surrounded by hungover men. The bartender saw that she was up and handed her a *Corpse Reviver. She downed it gratefully. "Thanks. Why'd you let us stay?"

"I heard rumors of a shooting and I didn't want any of you to get hurt."

"Thank you." America pulled out a bit of money. "Here."

The bartender pocketed it with a nod. "Don't leave yet, I'm still worried about the gunshots."

America nodded in agreement and looked at the bar. She picked up a few empty bottles and started helping the man right the place. He gave her a grateful look.

They cleaned for maybe a half-hour, making a surprising amount of progress, before the bartender said that it should be safe to leave.

"See you soon maybe," America said as she stepped outside. Her head didn't hurt nearly as much now, but she still walked rather sluggishly.

Al Capone appeared in front of her.

"Hello Al," He said.

"Hello Al," America replied, smirking.

"You look hungover." Capone said.

America nodded. "Absolutely. I was at one of your places actually. Great place, the bartender let people stay the night and wouldn't let me leave for a bit this morning because he heard gunshots. Good man."

Capone got an odd look on his face. "I wouldn't know anything about that."

America had lived long enough to know when someone was lying.

And Alfonse "Scarface" Capone was lying.

Bigtime.

THE END FOR NOW!

St. Valentine's Day Massacre. In 1929, it is believed that AL Capone ordered the shooting of seven people in a garage in the Lincoln park area of Chicago. Mobsters dressed as police officers shot seven people from a rival mob by lining them up against a wall (Which they didn't argue against, as they believed they were the police.) Then they called for reinforcements and shot them all with machine guns. This was on Thursday morning, Valentine's Day.

*Patsy. Daughter of Martha Washington, but not George's kid. (He never had children) She had epilepsy and died at a fairly young age.

*Corpse Reviver. A popular cocktail in America during the Prohibition period that was designed to help you get over a hangover.

Alright, quick reminder in case you've forgotten. Since I've decided to skip around, if you want to let me know what you'd like to see next, I'd be happy to oblige. :D

Al Capone is a point of pride for most Chicagoans. The fuck?

Who says fan fiction isn't educational?

You can thank the Prohibition bit because I recently put a bunch of Irish music on my computer. "Oh, Whiskey you're the devil! You're leading me astray! O'er the hills and mountains, and to a-" I'm done. :D Sorry that took so long.