Author's Note- Hey everyone, welcome to today's post. I will admit this chapter showcases one of my absolute favorite Canadian Territories: Yukon. Hopefully he will be as fun to read as he is to write. But before we get to the post I need to make a quick shout out to my awesome beta Pruhana for looking over this chapter and Upsilon Forty-Two for taking the time to review the last chapter. I know this is a hectic time of year for most people so the effort is really, really appreciated.

Disclaimer- I do not own Hetalia, nor do I own the lyrics of the two songs in this chapter. The song about the forget-me-not was written by Esther Birdsall Darling in support of making the forget-me-not the territorial flower of Alaska. No one is quite sure who the song about the ice worms, but it is considered a traditional Alaskan and Yukon folk song. Both are in the common domain so I was lucky enough to be able to use them in the post.

Chapter 13- Making Up Lost Ground

The Yukon Territory had only been in America's home for a total of two hours, sixteen minutes, and eleven seconds, and America had already gained a new level of respect for his twin. Seriously, Canada had to be a saint to put up with Yukon for the past century.

"Oh, there's a husky, dusky maiden in the Arctic,

And she waits for me but it is not in vain,"

The moment that territory had walked into the door he had been a whirlwind of activity. First, Yukon went to check on Alaska. After finding her asleep, he began to unload at least fifteen large baskets from his plane. About half the baskets were placed in America's formal sitting room, while the rest made their way to the kitchen.

"For someday I'll put my mukluks on and ask her

If she'll wed me when the ice worms nest again."

America had watched in amazement as the Yukon Territory pulled exotic ingredient after exotic ingredient out of the baskets and stuffed them into every available space in the cupboards, refrigerator, and freezer. Half of the food items America couldn't identify, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know how the territory managed to get the other half through customs.

"In the land of the ice and snow,

Where it's ninety-nine below,

And the polar bears are roaming o'er the plain,"

Now the Canadian territory had taken over America's kitchen and was singing off-key at the top of his lungs. Frustrated, America stood in the doorway of his kitchen and cleared his throat.

"In the shadow of the Pole

I will clasp her to my soul,

We'll be happy when the ice worms nest again."

Apparently clearing his throat was not going to get the Yukon Territory's attention, so America decided to speak up.

"Excuse me!"

"Oh, hello Uncle Alfred, I didn't see you there." Yukon looked up from the cutting board in surprise. "Dinner will be done in about a half an hour, but if you are hungry feel free snack on the bread on the table."

As America walked out the door while munching on a hot slice of bread, he had to admit that perhaps there were some good things about having Yukon around the house.

It actually took an hour for the food to be served, but Yukon soon discovered that getting Alaska to eat it would be the biggest challenge of the evening. Alaska was being her stubborn pigheaded self and kept on insisting that she was fine.

"Logan, I am not hungry right now." Alaska said burying her head into a pillow.

"Really?" Yukon replied, sneering. "When was the last time you ate?"

"…"

"Come on." Yukon said in exasperation. "We both know that you remember the last time you ate. Goodness sakes, you don't forget anything."

Alaska sighed, knowing that she couldn't win an argument with her geographic and historical 'twin'. "I guess I could have some soup."

"Excellent."

"I don't know if I can keep it down." Alaska admitted, her cheeks flushing pink with embarrassment.

"Well we won't know unless you try." Yukon teased. "But if you can manage to keep you food down, we can make an extra special treat tomorrow."

"What?" Alaska asked, her head cocked to one side.

"Moose nose jelly." Yukon said brightly.

"How did you…" Alaska stammered.

"Get it through customs?" Yukon smiled like a cat that had just swallowed a canary. "Well it turns out that international law requires diplomatic packages to go through without being searched."

Dinner ended up being a very pleasant affair. America had eaten through five steaks, and Yukon had eaten another two. Alaska had quietly eaten a bowl of birch broth and a small slice of sourdough bread. At first it looked like the state might actually keep the meal down, but forty-five minutes later Alaska was in the guest bathroom throwing up. The Yukon Territory had a sinking feeling that Alaska's upset stomach was only partially due to the recent earthquakes.

"This year's break up really that bad?" Yukon asked guiltily and Alaska took a risk to raise her eyes from the toilet bowl just long enough to glare at the territory before another series of dry heaves claimed her full attention.

"What 'break up'?" America asked from his seat on the edge of the tub.

"I should really puke on your shoes." Alaska muttered before spitting up another mouthful of bile.

"Alaska, it is not his fault that you are new to the Union." Yukon tried to argue, but stopped when Alaska glared at him again. "Okay, maybe he is a little bit at fault, but that doesn't change the fact that you should have explained this to him earlier."

"I still have no clue about what's going on." America commented flatly.

"Basically the 'break up' is the period of time you would call spring." Yukon explained as he rubbed circles on the state's back. "We call it the 'break up' because we have a lot more ice then you do. When it finally let's go it can cause everything from a bit sediment pulse to massive flooding."

"So it is spring, but more violent?"

"Yes and this year is worse than normal because of there is a whole lot of soil that is subsisting as it melts and that is causing a whole lot of debris to be washed downstream." Alaska let her forehead rest on the toilet seat as she spoke. "I can't bear to think what all this sediment is doing to my waterways…my salmon fisheries aren't going to survive."

"Ouch." Yukon winced in sympathy. "Well at least most of the canneries were wiped out so there isn't going to be as high of demand for fish."

"Aren't you supposed to be making me feel better?" Alaska whimpered.

"Sorry…but honestly are a few kind words going to change the situation?"

"No…"

"I am glad you understand that. Now let's get you to bed so you can get some proper sleep." Yukon said with a kindly. Alaska was too busy regurgitating the rest of her dinner to reply.

The next morning America woke up with a headache pounding in his temples, and he knew that Alaska had been shaken with another major earthquake sometime during the night. His bosses at the state department had probably marked him as sick for the day so America didn't have to stress about the fact that he was already two hours late for work. He also knew that he should probably get up and check on Alaska. But he first need to summon enough energy to get out of bed...he ended up rolling over in bed instead. As he pressed the pillow over his head to block out the light that was sending daggers through his brain he eventually fell asleep.

At five after eleven America awoke in a panic. The migraine from the previous night's earthquake had begun to fade, and now he could feel just how much his state was hurting. Swearing to himself, America dragged himself out of bed and headed towards the bedroom that Alaska had claimed as her own. He opened the door without knocking, and was shocked by what he saw.

The guest bedroom was no longer colored with bright red, white, and blue. Instead it had been transformed a room of deep greens and purples accented by a bright blue the color of a clear pool of water. Unfortunately the change in décor only emphasized the fact that Alaska was not in the room. America made his way to the neighboring room, to see if she had possibly moved in with the Yukon Territory sometime during the night but Yukon's room was also empty.

Apprehension growing, America started systematically checking each room in the house trying to find the missing state and praying that she hadn't accidently hurt herself further. After a wayward glance out of one of the living room widows, ne notice a figure outside in the yard.

On closer inspection America determined that it was Yukon sitting under one of the apple trees and assumed that the large bundle of blankets curled up next to the Canadian territory had to be Alaska. Relieved and aggravated, America stomped out of the house, prepared to give Yukon a lecture of his young life, but paused when heard Yukon's voice.

"And Rodion Raskolnikov took the ax and buried it in the backyard and lived happily ever after." With that Yukon closed the thick volume in his lap, closed his eyes and leaned his head back on the apple tree.

"That doesn't seem like a very realistic ending to the book." America couldn't resist pointing out. At his comment Yukon cracked open one eye and smiled.

"The book is Russian and called Crime and Punishment; it's a pretty good bet that the main character will end up murdering the old hag and then the rest of the book will be spent in moral angst. I might as well inject some cheer into the story wherever I can."

"And Alaska actually likes these types of books." America nodded his head towards the sleeping state as he settled himself on the grass.

"Like might be too soft of a word." Yukon shrugged. "She has read this book and several like it so often that I am pretty sure that she has both the Russian and the English translations memorized." Stretching, Yukon spoke as he moved to stand. "Well now that you are awake and moving, let's go to the hospital and get Alaska some motion sickness medication."

"What good will motion sickness pills do?"

"In the past, they have been pretty effective at combating 'break up' symptoms."

"Why didn't you say that last night?" America said in frustration, the image of Alaska puking her guts out still fresh in his mind.

"Because Alaska hates hospitals," Yukon said a wry smile on the edge of his lips, "and Uncle Alfred, if you haven't realized already there are some things that are a lot easier to get done when Alaska is asleep."

The drive to the Bethesda had been relatively uneventful. The actual hospital visit had been a little more interesting. Alaska was both malnourished and dehydrated, which gave the physicians a reason to give America a long lecture about keeping a better eye on the state. Then they were all sent home with few containers of pills. Yukon had made a simple soup for dinner, and the medication seemed to do its job because Alaska was able to keep the meal down.

Once the state had been fed, Alaska had been tucked in under the thick flower quilts, leaving America and Yukon to lounge on the couches in the den and drink Canadian whiskey. Yukon took the opportunity to fiddle with his guitar. His fingers stroked the strings and he started to pluck out an old and familiar tune. As the cords grew the territory began to sing with mournful baritone.

"So in thinking for an emblem

For this Empire of the North

We will choose this azure flower

That the golden days bring forth,

For we want men to remember

That Alaska came to stay

Though she slept unknown for ages

And awakened in a day.

So although they say we're living

In the land that God forgot,

We'll recall Alaska to them

With our blue Forget-me-not."

Yukon put down his guitar, and took a long draw of whiskey as the last cords of the simple song faded into silence.

"That was amazing…" America whispered, stunned by the words of the music.

"It is even better when Alaska plays her fiddle, though it's kind of hard to convince her to do it. She is kind of shy about her music and this song tends to make her depressed."

"I can see why…"

Yukon sat back and placed his glass heavily on the table to break the somber mood. "Well, it is getting late, and I spent most of last night flying so I think I better hit the hay."

"Just one," America shrugged with a goofy smile on his lips, "what's an ice worm?"

"No one knows." Yukon said with a deep chuckle then he stood and walked to the guest bedroom next to Alaska's.

Alone in the den, America sat on the coach for a few long moments. Then he walked to the bookshelf that held his set of the Encyclopedias. Paging through the F volume he found the word he was looking for. Settling back down on the couch America began to read.

Forget-Me-Not: a group of about fifty species all belong to the genus Myosotis. Their five peddled flowers can be blue, pink, or white, though the most famous varieties in North America are blue. Even though these flowers have small blossoms, this plant has played a surprisingly significant role in world culture. This is represented by the fact that the common name for Myosotis translates to Forget-Me-Not in almost all languages.

As America stared at the page in the dictionary, he couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty. Throughout their shared histories whenever Alaska had come to visit, America would always find the little blue flowers scattered around his home. He had always found the tissue paper thin blossoms an annoyance. Now, he saw them in a different light…now they seemed like a desperate cry for attention from one of his youngest and most isolated states. It made America feel like a complete failure as a parent.

Yesterday, Yukon had told her about the near destruction of her apartment in Anchorage. Alaska had thought that she had taken the things pretty well, but the full magnitude of the news hadn't hit her yet. The loss of one of her primary homes would probably not be fully felt until she returned home to Anchorage and started to rebuild. The worn copy of Война и миръ that she had spread across her lap hinted at the pain to come.

Even after she had been sold to the United States she had kept up on Russian literature. Russia had seen her interest and had always sent her copies of the current author that was taking Moscow by storm. It wasn't long before her Alaskan home was filled with volumes by Tolstoy, Ostorvsky, Leskov, Derzhavin, Radishchev, and Mayakovsky. When the Cold War began and the Ice Curtain had cut her off from her parent country she had read the novels Russia had given her over and over until they had all been memorized. The fact that many of those books were probably beyond repair nearly tore her heart out.

It was true that there were many new books that could fill her now empty bookshelves. To be honest, Alaska felt that most North American literature was overly optimistic. It lacked the gut wrenching sorrow she found in novels of Russia's golden age, though Hemingway and Steinbeck both indicated that there was hope for North American literature. But could they ever replace the comforting darkness of Dostoyevsky? Could they challenge the elegance of Chekhov?

There was a soft knock at the door and Alaska looked up from the water-warped pages.

"Come in."

The heavy wooden door swung open revealing a fidgeting America in the doorway. "Alaska, have you ever been to New York City?"

"No, why?"

"Well," America tried to say casually "the UN meetings are being held in New York this weekend. I thought you might be interested in seeing it."

"I guess…" Alaska started not knowing what else to say¸ but America cut her off before she got a chance to finish her statement.

"Great, I will tell Virginia to swing by tomorrow to help you get packed. I think I will invite Virginia to come along as well. It would be a great opportunity for you two to have some girl bonding time. Maybe you could even do some shopping or something…" America continued to verbally brainstorm as he walked out of the door and down the hall, leaving Alaska sitting on the bed shaking her head. Sometimes she really wondered if she would ever fit in as part of this strange land call the US of A.

End Note- Ooo, look pretty button. If you have the time press it and leave a review.

Historical Note- Despite the fact that Russia sold Alaska to the United States of America in 1867, the Russian influence on Alaskan culture is still remarkably strong. This is especially true in Aleutian Island and southern Alaska where the majority of Russian settlements were located. The magnitude of Russia's cultural effect is surprising because during the period that Alaska was an official colony of Russia (1800-1867) it is estimated that no more than 400 Russian immigrants lived in the territory at any given time. This said in the latter part of Russia's colonization the nation made a big effort providing an education to all of Alaska's citizens. This included creating a written language for many of the native tongues spoken in the Aleutians, setting up schools, and hospitals. Even after Alaska moved into America hands, Russia continued to provide the support to keep schools open because the United States hadn't provided any funds for public services in the territory.

Relationships between Alaska and Russia remained strong through WWII. The Alaskan-Siberian Air Bridge was critical for providing planes to the Eastern European Front and a few Alaskan cities became pivotal ports for Russian Submarines. After the beginning of the Cold War relationships between Alaska and Russia become increasingly strained, but many of the cultural relics of Russian culture remained. Even today there are many towns that that have Russian Orthodox churches at their hearts, modified Russian recipes such as moose stroganoff are common, and many families that have lived in Alaska for many generations have Russian surnames. So next you are in Alaska, look around and see if you can see the influence of Russian-America in the US's northernmost state.

Next Chapter- A Different World- New York City, the economic heart of the world, provides Alaska with massive amounts of culture shock. Some aspects of the trip prove humorous, others may prove to be deadly.