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There was the vague memory of Alfred F. Jones breaking into Matthew's bathroom, his baby blue eyes shining in fear and confusion.

"Prisa!"

There were also a pair of arms that grabbed her by the shoulders to push her into the living room, and holding onto her arms to help keep her balance.

"No tenemos tiempo! Hurry up!"

The ground continued to reappear and disappear beneath her feet as she was led to a couch. Her head was pounding loudly, and painfully.

"¡Encuéntralo! Keep digging!"

There were so many voices; so many voices speaking her name as she sat down. She was well aware of her mouth gaping open in an attempt to speak, and yet she could not find the energy to even close it back.

"Samantha sabrá que estamos aquí! We have to find it before she does!"

So many voices were calling out to her, desperate to receive even the slightest reaction. There were other voices too, and those voices were the ones that she had trouble understanding.

"Samantha!Sé que está aquí!"

Those voices were growing quiet; fading away as she began to make sense of what was going on.

"Samantha!"

Now there was only one voice. It rang out, loud and clear, amongst all of the other voices rushing through her mind.

Her vision was choppy, as if she were watching everything on a television with terrible definition. It was also blurred and out of focus, and each color blurred together into odd shapes and masses. There were so many colors to see, mainly blond and green. She had seen those colors before...but where?

"Samantha!"

There was that one voice again, louder than all of the rest. She heard it clearly, but she could not process the words that it spoke. Perhaps it was speaking a foreign language?

"Samantha! Samantha, look at me!"

Look...at it?

"Samantha, darling, please listen to me!"

Darling. Only one person ever called her darling.

Samantha blinked her eyes rapidly as she was roughly shaken. Her reflexes bested her, and she grabbed the assailant who dared to even touch her. She was a split second away from breaking said person's arms off when her name was spoken once more.

"Samantha, look at me."

Samantha was looking at him, but it took a moment for her vision to come into focus, and for her to realize this. Once she did, she automatically let her harsh grip falter. His emerald green eyes shone with worry, and his caterpillar-like eyebrows were pressed together.

"Daddy?" her voice was rough.

Arthur threw his arms around the girl, letting out a great sigh of relief, "Oh thank heavens! You have been sitting here like a corpse for at least a full hour!"

Samantha let out the breath of air she had not realized she was holding at the time, and her hands reached behind Arthur to gently grasp his forest green sweater-vest. Her thoughts and feelings were racing through her mind in one jumbled mess, causing her to become confused and slightly anxious.

She recognized her father's hold as one of solace, and embraced it wholeheartedly. He was warm, which was in complete contrast to her own freezing body. His embrace was gently, but firm enough to show that he had, in fact, been very worried.

Samantha looked around and realized that she was in Matthew's living room. All of the state representatives were either standing or sitting somewhere in the room, staring at her with wide eyes. They each had worried expressions etched onto their faces, even after Arthur announced that she was alright.

Was she alright?

"Sam?" Louisiana asked, leaning down a little closer to Samantha. "Are you okay?"

Samantha's eyebrows pressed together as she nodded, "Yes...but..."

"But what?" Louisiana asked softly.

"What...happened?" Samantha asked, her voice cracking a little.

"You don't know?" Arthur asked with a frown as he pulled away.

Samantha shook her head as Arthur sat next to her, "No. I remember going into the bathroom because I felt sick...and then..."

"Then?" Louisiana asked.

Samantha nodded, "The weather. It was crazy, and there was...snow everywhere! People were dyin', and cars were crashing...and my hair!"

Samantha grabbed at her hair frantically, and a few more strands fell out. She pursed her lip with a frown, and folded her arms.

"This would be a great time for me to have remembered my hat..." Samantha muttered under her breath.

Louisiana laughed dryly, "Well, at least ya still have yer sense of humor."

Samantha looked up with a blank expression, "I wasn't joking, Louise."

Louisiana stiffened a little, but said nothing. She sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch, narrowly avoiding a pile of Canadian hockey magazines. She set her elbows on her knees, and intently stared at her muddy rain boots.

Samantha shivered, and set her jaw. She glanced around the room to see what everyone was doing.

Nebraska was hugging Kansas in the left corner of the room, which did not come as a surprise to Samantha. Katelyn Roberts had always been very sensitive, and Samantha's abrupt moment of instability possibly took its toll on her.

New Mexico and Arizona were silently drinking hot chocolate by Matthew's television, glancing over at Samantha every few moments. Neither of them were very close friends with Samantha, but they knew her well enough, that her previous actions frightened and worried both of them.

Arkansas was listening in on Mississippi, Alabama, and Georgia's conversation, being the nosy guy that he was, while the three of them were speaking amongst one another quietly, constantly glancing over at Samantha. Mississippi looked the most troubled out of the group, and when she caught Samantha's gaze, the she gave the Texan a comforting smile.

Florida was singing to herself in Spanish with a wide smile plastered on her face. If Samantha had not known any better, she would have believed the girl's fake façade. She and Florida were never exactly best friends, and they were most certainly completely different people, but they could relate to one another in a way that most of the states could not. Samantha had respect for Florida, and Florida for her. Plus, it was always fun to do the Macarena together.

Oklahoma was pacing the living room, concentrating intently on nothing in particular. He continuously pulled his phone out of his pocket and checked the weather, as though it were about to take over the planet.

Matthew and Francis were standing by Arthur's side of the couch, talking to one another in hushed French. Samantha's eyebrow twitched when she noticed that neither of them seemed to remember that she too, spoke French.

Samantha scanned the room thoroughly once more, and when she did not find who she was looking for, she spoke.

"Where's Alfred?"

Everyone's head snapped towards her direction when she spoke. Louisiana wrinkled her nose and shrugged, "Dunno. He helped us get you in here, and then he just walked away."

"Yeah, he said something about checking out Mexico," Oklahoma said, pausing in his pacing. "I'm not sure what he meant by that, but I really hope he isn't planning on actually going to Mexico. The weather isn't all too great there either..."

Samantha frowned.

Alfred was avoiding Mexico almost as much as she was, so why on earth would he be trying to check with him? Something was bothering Samantha, but she could not quite place what it was. There were those voices, which she then realized were speaking in Spanish, but she could not hear them any longer. She could not remember the past few minutes very clearly, and felt on edge. It was compelling her to grow extremely agitated, more so than usual. She had only ever acquired that feeling a handful of times in her life, and things never ended well when she did.

She felt...invaded.

"Get Alfred in here," Samantha said in monotone.

Louisiana frowned, "I thought you were angry at him? I know for a fact that you hold grudges longer than anyone in this room."

Samantha glared at Louisiana, "I never said I wanted Alfred. I just...I don't like him out of my sight. He's an idiot, and who knows what he'd himself into without me around to smack him in the head."

Louisiana folded her arms, and leaned back with a calculating expression. She did not believe Samantha for a second, knowing full well that she was simply worried for Alfred's well being. There was something that Samantha was not telling her, and she had a feeling that she would not find out what it was anytime soon.

Arthur did not know what to say to any of this. One second his daughter was yelling at Alfred, and then the next she was asking for him to come back. He knew women were complicated, but this was still odd behavior for Samantha.

"You've been actin' kinda strange lately, Sam," Oklahoma said, sitting down next to Louisiana. "And I have a feeling it's not just 'cause of the weather."

Samantha shrugged and looked to her right, avoiding everyone's gaze.

"How's...Texas?" Oklahoma asked. "That cloud that was over it did not look very pleasant."

"It wasn't," Samantha said sharply.

"Has it stopped?" Louisiana asked softly. "I mean, you aren't showin' as many signs as before."

Samantha did not answer, and instead continued to stare at the wall.

Oklahoma and Louisiana exchanged worried glances, neither of them knowing what to say. The silence grew more awkward as every second passed. Samantha was pale, very pale, and her face held one of the most frightening scowls that she had ever had.

"One-thousand, eight-hundred, sixty-one," Samantha said softly.

Everyone turned to look at her, confused at her words. Samantha turned to look at some hair strands that had fallen onto her lap.

"That's how many people died today," Samantha said, her jaw set. "At this rate I'm going to go bald."

Louisiana's eyes widened, "One-thousand...? What kind'a messed up weather did that?"

Samantha smiled sadly, "Tornadoes. Freak blizzards. Texans that drive ten miles past the speed limit down ice covered highways."

Oklahoma pinched the bridge of his nose, "No wonder you've been actin' weird... I couldn't tell what was going on just by using my phone's weather radar, all I saw was a giant multi-colored cloud."

"Is this the only bad weather you've had?" Mississippi asked curiously. "I'm sure it's just a terrible coincidence. Things happen to everyone, and I'm sure my state is probably about to be under the control of that same cloud. Depending on which direction is was heading, of course."

"It wasn't really moving," Oklahoma muttered.

"No," Samantha said with a frown. "It's been snowing for days, all over Texas. That's why I came to see Matthew. It didn't look like it was going to let up any time soon, and I honestly have no idea how to deal with snow. If I had known it was going to be that bad, I would have stayed and tried to give as many people as I could some sort of shelter."

"Why didn't you just call Matthew, or ask one of the northern states?" Arthur asked. "Why bother coming all of the way to Canada?"

Samantha made a face, "I ain't asking the Yankees for advice, what are you nuts? I do have pride ya know. Besides, I figured payin' Matthew a visit wouldn't hurt anything. He's very good company."

Arthur raised an eyebrow, "Oh."

"Well, at least the weather is easing up a little," Samantha said softly, with her bangs shadowing her eyes.

"Is it?" Louisiana asked with a sigh of relief. "That's good."

Samantha let out a dark chuckle, "It's such a coincidence, ain't it?"

"What is?" Arthur asked in confusion.

"One-thousand, eight-hundred, and sixty-one," Samantha said, laughing with no smile.

Everyone was silent as they contemplated her words. They knew that whatever she meant was, most certainly, unpleasant. At the time she was the complete persona of anger and frustration.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Louisiana said honestly.

"Don't worry about it," Samantha waved it off with a sigh. "It's not important anyway."

Arthur looked at Samantha attentively, noticing her lips nearly curl into a snarl. Her arms were still folded over her chest, but it was a futile act to conceal her fists. Arthur continued to fixedly stare, even when she caught his gaze out of the corner of her eye. Her deep brown eyes seemed to glow underneath her bangs, revealing a jumble of emotions that Arthur could not quite place, save for one.

Sorrow.

It was something Arthur could relate to, easily. Arthur could almost literally read Samantha like an open book, or at least when she was the slightest bit emotionally unstable. Her anger and adamant demeanor was merely a façade. Her eyes gave her away; they always did.

"Well," New Mexico spoke up. "I hate to say this, but I need to get back home. I promised my boss I'd be back by tomorrow afternoon, and I should probably leave now to catch a plane."

"Yeah, we should be headin' home too," Nebraska said as Kansas held his arm. "We have farmin' to do. Animals and crops don't tend themselves, right sis?"

Kansas nodded, "Yup."

"I should probably go home too," Florida said with a smile. "It's orange season, after all, si?"

"We should all probably head back," Oklahoma said. "We've already been gone for nearly a week."

"Mhm," Louisiana said.

"Thanks for dealin' with our nonsense, Mister...er..." Mississippi paused to stare at Matthew.

"Matthew," Matthew said with a weak smile.

"Yes, well thank ya Matthew," Mississippi.

"Yeah, and thanks for the cocoa!" Florida said with a pearly-white smile. "It was delicioso!"

Matthew blushed, "Oh, y-you're welcome."

Everyone began to make their way out of the house to head to the nearby airport. Louisiana, however, walked over to Samantha and gave her a kiss on the forehead. She leaned back and looked Samantha in the eyes with a sad smile.

"Everythin' will turn out okay," Louisiana said. "And if ya need anythin' you know you can always call me."

Samantha nodded and smiled genuinely at Louisiana, "Thanks, Louise."

"Feel better, 'kay?" Louisiana said patting Samantha's shoulder gently, before walking towards the front door. "And remember...Nessie's there for ya too."

Samantha's head shot up towards Louisiana, but she had already left the room. Samantha let out a shaky breath of air, playing with the hem of her sweater's sleeve.

How could she have ever possibly forgotten Nessie? Of course she didn't, she was just avoiding her. After all, Nessie had her own problems.

Matthew followed the states to see them out politely, and Francis tailed behind him. He always had been a tad protective over Matthew, and he was not exactly too familiar with the states. He was especially suspicious as of late, due to the recent frog throwing and insults.

Arthur turned to Samantha once more. She was staring straight out in front of her, arms still folded, and legs pressed together out of polite habit. Arthur was proud to know that his daughter was indeed, very well mannered. At least, until someone did something to aggravate her, and her fiery temper was unleashed.

Oh to be young and full of life.

"Samantha," Arthur said softly. "Are you sure you are alright?"

Samantha nodded curtly, "Yes sir."

The corners of Arthur's lips curled slightly upwards, and he let out a small sigh, "Samantha, I know you are lying. I can read you like a book."

"Then why ask?" Samantha muttered with a frown.

Arthur reached out and tucked a strand of her brown hair behind her ear, "Because I care about you, and I want you to tell me when something is bothering you."

Samantha set her jaw, "If I told you every time somethin' was botherin' me, we would hardly get anythin' done."

Arthur chuckled, "Perhaps."

There was a moment of silence between the two. Outside, they could hear the states talking about something, with loud voices. Laughter rang out among them, and a frog croaked loudly in the nighttime air.

Samantha turned to looked at her father, "Dad...may I ask you somethin'?"

"Of course," Arthur said softly.

Samantha's gaze was one of tribulation, "What...did it feel like when Alfred left you?"

Arthur stiffened slightly, eyes wide, and mouth agape as he was taken aback by her question. He blinked a few times, and she continued to stare at him. She should already know the answer, she was there when it happened. Samantha saw his reaction with her own eyes, so why even ask?

"Well...that was some time ago..." Arthur began to make excuses to not answer.

"You claim that you can read me like a book," Samantha said with a piercing gaze. "But it is in fact I, who can read you, father dearest."

Arthur decided to test the waters, "Oh, is that so? Well then, you should already know the answer. You were there in Alfred's army."

Samantha sighed, "I do, but I want you to tell me when something is bothering you."

Arthur was stunned by his daughter's retort. The Kirkland blood that ran through her veins was greatly demonstrated by the way she used his own words as a comeback. It was a well known fact, after all, that the Kirkland brothers were known to be quite perceptive and clever when need be.

"Well," Arthur said, while fiddling with his fingers absentmindedly. "It hurt."

Samantha continued to stare at Arthur, and had it been anyone else, Arthur might have been slightly creeped out.

"I wished only to be able to care for him, something that my own brothers never seemed to do for me," Arthur expressed. "I wanted to always be able to be there for him, to protect him. However, fate was never kind to me, and it seems that Alfred was meant to be on his own. Still..."

Arthur turned to Samantha, giving her a sad and weak smile. Samantha began to feel a tad sour, but not towards Alfred.

"I never expected him to declare war upon me, and I do believe that my own stupidity and shocked impudence was what truly caused him to rebel against me in the way that he did," Arthur said softly. "I also took him for granted, thinking that even if he succeeded in the war, he would come crawling back to me. It took a while, but I've come to realize that bureaucratic and political matters aside, it was partially my fault. What began as a simple wish to care for Alfred, grew into hunger for power, and to have someone under my control."

Samantha turned away with that, feeling her throat constrict. He really had cared for Alfred back then, and in a way he still did. But...who cared for her?

"However, to answer your question," Arthur let out a sigh. "It hurt. It's as simple as that. There are no other words to describe it, other than pain. For weeks I was depressed, feeling nothing but misery for myself."

Samantha was silent, not knowing how to respond to her father's confession. Arthur continued to glance at his daughter, wondering what her reaction might be.

To be frank, Samantha was slightly resentful.

"Does that qualify as telling you when something bothers me?" Arthur asked genuinely.

Samantha turned, secretly bitter towards her father, "Yes."

Arthur, however, seemed to notice this. He reached out and stroked her cheek, to which she responded by giving a small sigh. She unconsciously leaned into his touch, and felt her throat constrict once more. She was hoping that Arthur would let her inner turmoil be, that perhaps he would ignore it and let her deal with her emotions alone. After all, she was simply experiencing the after-effects of the weather, right? She had no reason to be angry with her father...at least no logical reason.

"Darling," he began softly, realizing that something was wrong. "Are you tired? Perhaps you should begin to ready yourself for bed."

"It's early," Samantha said simply.

"Not quite," Arthur said. "You were off in 'lala-land' for quite some time. It's nearly nine, which is when you usually head to bed, correct?"

Samantha sighed and began to stand up, "I suppose. Not that it really matters. I only go to bed early to get a head start on my farmin' in the mornin'. There ain't much point in going to bed early when there's no farm to tend to."

"Ah, but your eyelids are drooping," Arthur pointed out, taking her hand in his. "And you are beginning to sway off to the side."

"'M not," Samantha argued, standing up when Arthur did. "I'm perfectly fine."

"Yes, whatever you say darling," Arthur said while beginning to lead his daughter up the stairs and into one of Matthew's guest bedrooms; the one Francis was currently accommodating. "I'm sure Francis won't mind letting you stay in here for tonight, seeing all that has happened today."

Samantha pursed her lip, "I don't got any pajamas..."

"You may sleep in one of my shirts if you like, or perhaps Matthew has some sweatshirts you may borrow," Arthur said kindly, leading Samantha towards the room's bed.

"What if French-Fry creeps in here?" Samantha asked with a wide yawn. "I don't know if I can put up much of a fight right now..."

"If he so much as gets the idea of doing so, I will chop off all of his hair and castrate him where he stands," Arthur said with a slightly dark undertone. "He will not bother you tonight, that I can promise you."

Arthur let go of Samantha's hands as they came to the bed, and turned around to head out of the room.

Samantha looked at Arthur as she sat down on the edge of the bed, "Dad..."

"Yes?" Arthur asked as he paused in the doorway on his way to search for a sweatshirt.

"...Will you tuck me in?"

Arthur stood unmoving in the doorway, staring at his daughter with a slightly baffled expression. Arthur's lips curled upwards into a kind and genuine smile, and he nodded gently.

"Let me find you a shirt first," Arthur said before exiting the bedroom.

He walked back down the stairs in search for Matthew, hoping that he might lend Samantha a sweater. They were bound to be much warmer than his own cotton shirts, and warmth was what she needed. When Arthur noticed a blur of blond hair enter the kitchen he assumed it to be Matthew, and followed it quickly.

"Matthew? May I bother you for a-"

Arthur froze on the spot when the blond figure turned around to face him. His

"Hm, usually people mix Mattie and I up the other way around," Alfred muttered.

Alfred stood there, holding a coffee mug with a red maple leaf on it. His jacket was missing, along with his pants, leaving him standing in nothing but a 'Captain America' T-shirt and his American flag boxers.

"Alfred!" Arthur gasped when he saw red splotches on Alfred's shirt and skin. "What the devil happened to you?"

"Nothing, we'll worry about it tomorrow," Alfred said, searching Matthew's food cabinets. "I'm too tired to bother with it. Let's just say, my super-villain side came out tonight."

Arthur began to retort, but stopped himself, "...Alright. We'll talk about it tomorrow."

A silence blossomed around the too, growing awkward to the point that it began to feel heavy on the two. Alfred pulled out a jar of coffee, and began to brew himself a pot.

"Mattie should really get those coffee things I have, where they only brew one cup at a time," Alfred said indifferently. "It sounds stupid, but they are actually very convenient."

Arthur nodded, though his gaze was piercing, "I heard of those."

The silence came upon them once more as the two men thought to themselves. Arthur was about to go off in search for Matthew once more, when Alfred broke the silence.

"...How's Sam?"

Arthur folded his arms, "Tired. I think she's angry at you, but to be honest I'm really not too sure. Today has been a rough day for her, and I'm sure a good night's rest would do her some good. That, and I think that someone should prepare a large breakfast in the morning. I do believe that she's lost weight, which we both know is not a good sign when it comes to being a country."

Alfred nodded, staring at the coffee pot intently.

"Well, I should be off," Arthur said. "I told Samantha I would find her a nightshirt to sleep in."

Alfred lifted his head to look at Arthur, "I have one she could use. She's used it before, actually."

Arthur raised an eyebrow suspiciously, "Pardon?"

"Sleepovers," Alfred explained. "A few decades back, some of the states and I would have sleepovers. They usually just started off as hanging out, but we would stay up so late into the night that they just decided to sleep at my place. Samantha never did remember to bring her pajamas, just in case."

Arthur relaxed slightly, "Oh, I see. Well, could you fetch it for me?"

Alfred nodded, exiting the room to get his shirt. He returned to Arthur with a blue, long-sleeved shirt, with a white star in the middle.

"It should be pretty big on her, so it would almost be like a nightgown," Alfred said as he waited for his coffee to brew.

Arthur turned to Alfred, "Your knowledge of her is started to bother me, Alfred."

Alfred shrugged nonchalantly, though Arthur could see him lower his head to hide his face.

"Well, thank you Alfred," Arthur said as he began to head back towards Francis' room. "Sleep well."

Alfred nodded, seemingly ignoring Arthur.

Arthur walked back towards his daughter, to find her peeling off her dark blue socks. Arthur chuckled at this, and made his way over to her.

"You really do like blue, don't you?" he asked.

Samantha nodded, "I've always liked blue."

Arthur held out the shirt he held to her, "Here."

Samantha paused to stare at the shirt, and for a long while Arthur hoped that she would not become angry. He did not even bother to think how she might have felt about Alfred giving her a nightshirt after everything that had happened between them.

"...Is Alfred back?" she asked softly.

Arthur nodded, "He just returned a few moments ago. He doesn't really want to talk right now, though, but he said he'll tell everyone what happened during his absence, tomorrow."

Samantha nodded, but said nothing. She quickly grabbed the shirt, and turned away from her father. Arthur took that as a hint to momentarily exit the room so she could change, but just before he did so, he glanced back at her. Facing away from him, she was staring down at the shirt in her hands, which were tightly clenched into fists.

Arthur waited outside after he shut the door behind him, listening for Samantha to permit his entry once more.

"Oui,bonne nuit, Matthieu," Arthur heard a certain Frenchman's voice drawing closer towards the hallway.

Francis stopped at one end of the hallway, staring at Arthur curiously. Eyebrows raised at one another; Francis' out of confusion, and Arthur's as if he were daring Francis to question his motives. Francis walked forward, his blond hair flowing behind him. With every moment that he drew nearer, Arthur began to feel further threatened. There was, in fact, only he and a door separating the perverted Frenchman and his daughter.

"Angleterre?" Francis questioned as he drew to a halt in front of the Brit. "Iz zere somezing you are hiding from moi in my bedroom?"

Arthur shook his head, "Samantha's in there."

Francis frowned slightly, "May I ask why?"

"She has had a rather horrid day, and I thought it best to have her sleep in a bed and not the couch," Arthur said with a shrug. "I did not think she would really wish to stay in Alfred's room, and Matthew has already done so much for us, it would be rude to ask him for more."

Francis whined, "Ah, but Angleterre! That bed waz zo comfortable!"

Arthur stuck his tongue out, "I think you can make it one night on a couch."

Francis folded his arms with a huff, "You could 'ave at least asked."

"There was no time," Arthur said, looking back at the door, wondering what was taking Samantha so long.

Francis continued to stand in front of the Brit, obviously not too pleased with his sleeping arrangements. Of course, he would gladly offer Samantha his room for a night. As much as he disliked Arthur, he could understand why the Brit was doing what he did, and if it were Matthew he would do the same. One night in a chair, or on a couch, would not hurt him. His bed head, maybe, but that could be fixed with some Magic-French-Styling-Techniques.

"Why are you still here?" Arthur questioned, looking back at Francis."If you even have the slightest notion that you are will be joining my daughter-"

"Of courze not! I 'ave my limitz!" Francis said with in mock hurt. "She haz been through too much today, and zat iz ze last zing she needz."

Arthur relaxed a tad, and nodded in approval, "Good."

"I waz merely waiting to fetch my wonderful zilk pajamas," Francis said. "I do not zink sleeping in zese clothez would be very comfortable."

Arthur shrugged, "They never look comfortable."

"Actually-"

"I'm done."

Arthur's head snapped towards the door as his daughter's voice was heard from behind. It was almost so soft that he did not catch it. Arthur opened the door and peeked inside to make sure she was decent, just in case he had misheard, and he did not want the frog to see.

Samantha was sitting up in the bed, covers off, and her clothes thrown in a pile on the floor. She twiddled her thumbs in anticipation of her father's arrival, not really remembering what it felt like to have someone tuck one in at night. The last time she remembered it being done, she was only at waist's length. In fact, it was only done because she had been found crying behind a rather large cactus. She had been extremely young at the time.

Arthur turned to France, "Get your clothes, and then get out."

France huffed at Arthur's rudeness, but decided not to argue for Samantha's sake. He walked over to his suitcase (Arthur was still surprised that he had only brought one) and pulled out silk nightshirt. Arthur raised an eyebrow as Francis zipped his suitcase, and began to walk back towards the door.

"I didn't think anyone still slept in those," Arthur commented. "I haven't seen one since the beginning on the twentieth century."

Francis shrugged, "Old habitz die hard, you should know zat."

Francis turned around at the doorway and looked at Samantha, "Bonne nuit, ma petite Texas Rose."

When he left, Arthur finally relaxed. He walked over to Samantha, and pulled the covers over her bare legs gently. She laid down as he did, and squirmed until she found a comfortable spot. Arthur patted the blanket slightly, making sure she was secure and warm, and then sat down next to her. He brushed her bangs away from her eyes, and soon found himself staring into the deep brown orbs.

"You have your mother's eyes," he said softly, leaning down to kiss both of them. "Though, I do believe they suit you better."

Samantha smiled weakly, "Do I?"

Arthur nodded, "Yes, and her hair. If I didn't know any better, I might not believe you were actually my daughter. You resemble Spain more than anyone..."

Samantha yawned, "Everyone says that."

Arthur gently grasped Samantha's hands in his, and gave them a small squeeze, "Well, sleep well, Samantha."

He began standing up in order to exit the room, but Samantha quickly grabbed hold of Arthur's sweater-vest. He looked back at her to ask for her to release him, but the moment he caught sight of her eyes, he melted and became putty in her hands. Samantha never realized this, but if she truly wished it, Arthur would do anything and everything that she wanted. He had an especially difficult time saying 'no' to her.

"Stay...?" she asked softly, her eyes filled with sadness.

She had asked him the same question before, many years ago. At that time he told her 'no', and left her to stay with Alfred. Looking back at the memory, Arthur realized just how much he must have hurt her. She was still very young, and unlike Alfred, she was in need of her father. He was partially the reason she turned out the way she did. He never stayed with her, and he had never been there to raise her. He never saw her make her first discoveries, nor had he ever been there to comfort her when she needed it the most. It was one thing for him to not have been there for Alfred, but it was another to not have been there for his own flesh and blood.

Saying 'no' was the biggest regret Arthur had ever made in his life.

...This time, he refused to make it again.

"Alright," Arthur said, crawling on top of the bed to the other side.

He pulled her into his arms, holding her head against his chest. Samantha held him back, letting out a sigh of content before beginning to drift off into sleep.

"...Thank you..." she whispered, before losing consciousness.

Arthur felt a pang in his heart, and he could not decide whether to cry or laugh. Instead he settled with a small smile, and he kissed her forehead.

"Goodnight, Samantha," he said softly, holding her close. "I love you."

And he did, he truly did.

Alfred stared down at the dark brown liquid in his coffee mug, staring at his reflection. He looked ghastly, and he could feel a bruise begin to form on his left eye. The Mexicans he had caught red handed in the Alamo just a few hours before, who were trying to steal gift shop items, knew how to fight. Of course, Alfred knew that they were simply a distraction to what was actually going on inside, but by the time he managed to enter, everyone had left, including Mexico's personification. In the scramble to flee from the American, however, the Mexican dropped a very important clue as to what he was doing in there; a key, in fact.

Did Samantha know?

She always seemed to find out whatever it was that Alfred did within her borders, even if it was something so simple as stealing an apple from a tree. If she did know what Alfred had recently been up to, however, he highly doubted she would simply be getting ready for bed.

Alfred stared down at the small silver key that he had been holding in his left hand, the intricate designs swirling elegantly around the handle. Alfred had picked it up the moment he caught sight of it. He did not know how that Mexican bastard had gotten hold of this...

...but he knew exactly what it opened.

Yes, I know none of you know who Nessie is. It's a mystery...for y'all anyway. x3 And no, it's not the Lochness Monster...even though that would be awesome. Anyway, thank you for reading, and please review if you can! And yes, I will explain how Alfred managed to get from Texas to Canada in just two hours at the most. ;)