A/N: Aw, thanks for all the reviews. In reward, here's the third chapter! Already. I know, I can't believe it either. Seriously, don't expect such awesome treatment in the future, especially after school starts back. I'll try to keep updates frequent, but sadly you can expect this one-chapter-a-day thing to be pretty much over.

I hope you enjoy!

Chapter Three

They walked down the busy street. Many different people of many different ethnicities and backgrounds drove or walked by, complete strangers all of them. And yet, Margaret felt a strange connection to them all- as if she somehow knew them. The people she met gazes with all smiled and waved, inexplicably happy to see her. Every. Single. One. As an American herself, Margaret knew very well that Americans were usually friendly, but even she could tell that this incredible treatment was out of the ordinary. It made absolutely no sense. The only explanation Margaret could think of was that they felt the connection too. No one seemed to see or hear Native America, whose odd apparel should have attracted attention under normal circumstances. Margaret correctly chalked this up to some work of magic, and didn't bother to question it.

Margaret gawked at everything they passed by, taking in the sight of every store, restaurant, church… There was simply too much to see, and far too little time to see it.

"Do you wish to visit the White House?" Native America asked.

"Oh, I would love that!" Margaret answered excitedly, her blue eyes shining with delight.

While the personifications of Native America and D.C. made their way to Capitol Hill, the personification of the United States of America, Alfred. F. Jones, was walking home after working overtime in the White House. He always enjoyed walking through his capital at night, for it was truly beautiful. America loved his people, and went among them whenever he could, and tonight was no exception. The city lights shone all around the proud nation, bringing a smile to his face.

Abruptly, America stopped in his tracks as he felt a distinct chill go down his spine. Turning to look across the street from where he stood, America thought he caught a glimpse of someone he hadn't seen in a very long time. Heart in his throat, he blinked disbelievingly- and then she was gone.

Was that… could it be…?

It should be impossible. But… but he had to know for sure. America waited impatiently for the traffic to stop so he could cross the street, and by so doing he discovered that wishing strongly for a traffic light to change will have no effect on how quickly it actually does. The instant it was safe, America practically sprinted across. He stood on the corner, right where she had been. Searching frantically all around, he could see no trace of her anywhere. Shoulders slumping, America berated himself for his foolishness. For some reason the false hope hurt now more than any of the other times, and to his embarrassment America found himself fighting back tears.

"Whatever is the matter, child?"

America stiffened. Slowly, hardly daring to breathe, he looked up. He met her eyes.

"…Mother?"

Native America smiled, and rushed forward, and all at once she was embracing him in a crushing bear hug.

"Mum!" America sobbed, wrapping his arms around her and burying his face her chest, just like he had done all those centuries ago.

"Shh, now. I'm here, child."

For a moment they were still, each silently rejoicing and content just to be in the other's arms.

"How…?" That was all America could ask as he finally pulled back to look at her.

"I got permission to come here on an important errand," Native America explained. "I wanted to see you."

"I've missed you, Mum," America admitted. "Canada has too."

"I know," she said softly. "I wish I could have visited your brother as well, but my mission lies here."

"What is it?" America wondered.

Native America's expression grew solemn.

"I've brought someone here, someone of great importance to you. I think you will like her very much- I've already become rather fond. I want you to go and find her. I left her at the gates."

"You're leaving? Already?" America implored. Native America looked sorrowful.

"I'm afraid I must. I've spent too long as it is, much longer than allowed. But before I go, you must promise me something." The Ancient's figure was beginning to fade, and America's heart ached at the sight.

"Promise me that you will protect and care for her as a sister. She is young and scared, just as you were when I found you. Promise me!"

America swallowed the lump in his throat.

"I promise," he agreed. Native America's smile grew tender as the last of her faded away, leaving America standing all alone. He heard a single word whispered on the wind.

"Goodbye."

America stood in place for a moment, contemplative. At last, as if roused from a dream, he blinked and straightened. Turning on his heels, he made his way briskly back to the White House.

He had a promise to keep.

Meanwhile, Margaret was lost. She nervously fingered the compass around her neck. Native America had given it to her shortly after their arrival in Washington. The trouble was that now she didn't know if she should use it. Margaret had turned away from her companion only briefly to gaze at the splendor of the capitol building for the first time, only to turn back around and find herself utterly alone.

So now here she was, slumped against the gates that barred the entrance to the White House. Normally, she would have enjoyed standing in that historical place a lot more than she currently was. Worry diminished any joy she could derive from it. Should she wait? Should she try to go home? Time was rapidly ticking by, and before long she would have to go back home or risk her family discovering her absence.

The sun decided the matter for her. When she saw the beginnings of natural light on the horizon, Margaret sighed and held the compass out in her hands. Like it or not, it was time.

"Take me home," she said clearly.

"WAIT!"

Just as the compass began to glow, she felt a hand on her shoulder. Whirling around, all she saw was a pair of concerned, clear blue eyes before the magic power of the compass whisked her away. Standing alone and shaken in the center of her bedroom, Margaret realized that somehow, she had recognized him.

"America?" she whispered incredulously.

America was left grasping the air where she'd been. Wide-eyed and trembling, he slowly sank to his knees. There was no denying the connection he had felt. The instant he'd laid eyes on her, he knew. But now, after reaching her, only for her to be ripped cruelly away, he was left with the terrible, aching realization that he'd just lost his capital. His nation's very heart had been personified, and he'd lost her. Not only that but he'd broken his promise…

Wait. Not yet. He could still find her again.

America's shocked and devastated expression changed into a look of pure determination. Getting up, America reached into his pocket and pulled out his cellphone, calling the first contact on his list.

"Mattie," he said immediately when the other picked up. "I need your help, as soon as possible. It's important."