A/n: Wee~ Third update within a few hours! Sorry for spamming you all XD I just want to get this up and stop worrying about it. This is all I have for now, though, so yeah…

September

It was during the fourth day that week that America found himself heaving his guts out into the spare chamber pot as soon as he awoke that he decided there was no point in denying it anymore. Feeling numb, he stood and placed his hand on his stomach, wondering dully how long he had until he'd barely be able to recognize it.

"Is something wrong, love?" England asked, propping himself up with an elbow. "Other than the obvious, I mean."

"I'm pregnant, aren't I? Like really, actually, pregnant."

England sighed. "You have been, America. I told you, there's no point in fretting about it. After all, you and that child are going to be better taken care of than any other nation and child in history."

"But I-"

"No buts!" He sat up, "You trust me, don't you."

"Of course I do." He looked down, "You know that."

"Then trust me when I say- America look at me!" America looked up to meet England's eyes, already so bright before the sun had as much as peeked over the horizon. He placed his hands over his stomach reflexively, his mind focused on how he felt like a bug under a magnifying glass, "Trust me when I say that everything will be alright."

"O-okay," America said, holding his eye contact long enough not to get scolded.

"Now," England smiled again, letting America feel less exposed, "I know it's a bit late, but are you coming back to bed?"

"No," America took his newfound freedom to turn away and stretch, "I'm plenty awake now. Besides, it's gonna start getting cold soon, so I wanna be outside as much as possible."

England shrugged and laid back down, "Suit yourself."

America dressed himself quickly in his work clothes, wanting to get away from the room and the disgusting smell of his own vomit as quickly as possible. He paused only to take a drink from the pitcher of water on the bedside table to try to remove the foul taste from his mouth before leaving the house.

There was already a chill in the air. It pressed against his skin in an unwanted embrace. He pulled his cloak closer to shake it off. He knew it would only be a matter of time until he was stuck indoors with a blanket wrapped around him all day every day. What great timing God had to give him two sources of misery at once! He stopped walking and took a deep breath. Not yet, he told himself. Not yet.

He went into the stable and walked over to his horse. She was a beautiful palomino, and although she had once been highly athletic and energetic she'd slowed and fattened up a bit with age.

"Hey, Carrot," He said, gently petting her muzzle, "How've you been? Sorry I haven't been out here much, baby. I've had other things on my mind."

She leaned down to nuzzle his stomach, and for a moment America was struck by the ridiculous idea that somehow she knew. "No, that's stupid." He thought, "She's saying 'hi.' That's how she always says 'hi.'" Still, though, he couldn't quite shake the feeling. Instead he took a step back and went to feeding her and England's horse.

He watched them as they ate, feeling as though he was standing two feet further back than he actually was. Once they had finished he went to gather his gear.

"You ready to go for a ride, girl?" He asked, placing the old, faded blanket across her back. "It's not gonna be too far, just out to the cliff. Just you and me. It'll be fun."

She gently prodded his arm with her muzzle, which he took to be a yes. He finished getting her ready and led her out of the stable before climbing into the saddle. America gave her strong neck one last pat before urging her forward into the woods.

It was an easy ride down a well-worn, well-loved path. Either of them could probably find their way on a pitch-dark night, and as it was with the beginning of morning light beginning to peek through the trees America had plenty of time to look around and notice the animals beginning to stir. Some of the last robins were singing and fresh fallen leaves crunched beneath Carrot's hooves. She began to pull him lightly, asking to go faster.

"You wanna run?" He asked, smiling, "Maybe you're less burnt out than we give you credit for." She whinnied and shook her head, "Alright, then, let's do this!"

He shook the reins, gave her a light kick, and leaned down against her neck. She took off like she was a filly again. America laughed and shook his head, allowing himself to forget his problems in lieu of enjoying the wind in his hair and the feeling of having Carrot gallop beneath him. It had been a while since they ran like that together, but they remembered. He knew Carrot and Carrot knew him. When they moved they moved as one, hurtling through the trees in a direction they were both absolutely certain of.

She slowed back to a trot as they began to climb the hill. America felt much lighter and slightly breathless. They reached the crown of the hill at just the right time. The sky was flecked with reds and purples although the sun wasn't quite above the treetops. America turned his head to get the full view and took a deep breath. There was no better lookout for miles, nowhere that anyone but an eagle could see so clear for so far. He slid from Carrot's saddle and sat on the edge of the cliff. What was normally an endless sea of green appeared almost completely orange and yellow. It was hard to say if it was simply the light or if fall was really coming that quickly. Carrot followed him, stopping a safer distance away from the edge like she always did.

"Do you remember the first time we came here?" He asked, "You got us totally lost." She made a disapproving noise, "You did! And then I noticed this hill and I thought maybe I could figure out where we were. I didn't think we'd get a view like this!" He laughed. "God… That was fifteen years ago, wasn't it?" He stared out at the trees, feeling suddenly heavy and cold. He hopped to his feet and brushed off his behind.

"But it's been fun, right? At least most of the time, I mean. At least when it was just us and we didn't have to deal with the Jeffersons." He placed a hand lightly on her flank, "I'm sorry I had to use you like that, but you remember what it was like. It wasn't always this easy." He allowed his hand to slide down so that it was at his side again. He walked back out to the edge, training his eyes on the horizon in the hopes of the sun appearing to distract him.

"What was it like for you?" He asked softly. "What was it like to come back home and know that you weren't just you anymore? Were you happy? Sad? You didn't really seem to mind one way or the other." He swallowed, "I wish it was like that for me too. I'm scared, carrot. I'm really, really scared."

"How did you do it?" He asked, turning and walking back towards her, "It didn't bother you one bit until you were about to foal. But me, I-" He looked away, "Why am I even talking to you about this? You're a stupid horse! You probably didn't even know!"

She reached over and nipped his hair affectionately. America wasn't sure if she was trying to tell him she understood, or if she had just sensed that he was unhappy and was trying to cheer him up in the only way she knew how.

"It's not even like I'm worried about anything physical. England's gonna take just as good care of me as I did of you. It's just…" He took a deep breath, "I'm not ready, Carrot. I can't take care of a kid. I'm pretty much a kid myself! I'm too young. I just can't-" He turned and buried his face in her neck, inhaling her warm, earthy scent.

He couldn't help it anymore. He let himself cry, sobbing hard against her short, bristly fur. She, at least, was willing to wait for him.