I shot up awake with a cry. After hours of peaceful sleep, all dreaming was interrupted with a single memory that thrust me into consciousness. An image filled the screen I saw, engulfing my dream of sledding. Even with my eyes snapped open, it was all I could see as I tumbled out of the bed.

Kumajiro's weight disappeared and a tangle of blankets followed to drop down upon me. I flailed on the floor to escape, scratching and kicking madly. When freed, I sprinted to the bathroom and collapsed before the toilet. Just in time, for vomit poured out of me and my swollen abdomen grew thin.

By the time it was over, I felt absolutely frail. I fell back, shivering and feeling cold tears of pain in the corners of my eyes. I then bent forward and flushed away the colours. When I stood up though, my wobbly legs brought me falling into the sink. There, I quickly rinsed out my mouth and swished it with mouthwash. The foul taste disappeared and my vision changed into black every few seconds, until I grew strong enough to think again.

The memory of America's body when I had found him returned. I instantly fell over the toilet again, but retched as much as I could, nothing else was there to come out. I rose again and felt how terribly hungry I was, after all the meals I had missed. Weakly, I washed my hands then stumbled out into the hall.

It was not a dream. I know it all happened.

But I trudged along anyway, right to the inside door to America's house. I unlocked it then grabbed the knob to open it, but then felt a broad nose touch my leg. Kumajiro was pushed back gently as I murmured, "Stay here, please."

I slid through the door and kept him on my side. The walk to the basement door sent my heart into an agonizing flutter, for too fast were the beats for my body to handle. Yet I arrived, unlocking and flicking on the light switch. The stairs into the cold room appeared suddenly to silently menace me.

My body refused to move quickly. I took the steps one at a time until halfway down, when a deep-throated moan erupted and echoed off the stone. I yipped and threw myself against the wall. Stuck there like glue, I quaked and bared my teeth in fear. More moans pursued, rising in volume as though coming closer. Before seeing anything, I snapped away and slammed the door to the basement.

With one desperate and precise movement, I locked the door. I fell back sitting and gasping raspy breaths. The door was fixed with a horrified stare, but I waited and no bangs came at the door. I had not been followed. Longer I waited, until I crept forward and pressed my ear against the door.

Far down there, I could hear the moans faintly. I listened for a while, trying to calm down in my safe position. Now I could tell that the sounds were not moving, but coming from a fixed spot. He was chained; America wasn't going anywhere. Trembling terribly, I reached for the lock but fell back down. I was much too weak and frightened to confront this.

I left America's home and greeted Kumajiro at the door. Before I could go anywhere else, I hugged him tightly. After this, I entered the kitchen ravenous and swaying. I grabbed and did not prepare, taking even items not commonly labelled as breakfast foods. In conclusion, I sat down and chugged from a chocolate milk carton, feeling a comfortable weight settle back into my stomach.

Kumajiro had followed me back. Seeing me in a more stable state, he asked in his high-pitched voice, "What's wrong?"

I never considered lying to him, although I had no inclination to explain the details. Swallowing the lump in my throat however, I whispered, "America is sick."

It was all I could handle to say about the subject. Kumajiro persisted, so curious he was, inquiring, "Why? What happened?"

I was silent for a moment, trying to bring the carton back to my lips before giving up and lowering my trembling hand. I sat in turmoil as Kumajiro poked his paw into my side.

"What happened? How bad is it?"

"Not right now, Kumojanga."

My unusual mood put an end to his questions. He sat beside me quietly as I forced myself to drink more. In the end, I could not finish it. The chocolate milk found its way back into the fridge and I tried to figure out what I would do next with my life.

Any minute someone could call, asking for America. I better start practicing…

But I imagined how my awkward and shaky attempts to mimic him would sound in the air. Discouraged, I sat on my couch and thought about how different I was to him in personality.

He has a certain spark of energy that I cannot match. A disregard for other people, inconsiderate, sometimes discriminating and rude to other countries… I shook my head. He mixes up stereotypes and reality, can seem like he's searching for a fight. Cocky, acts like he is always winning even after mistakes. Somehow he can brush anything off with that laugh of his.

Then I became shocked with myself over how well I understood his way of speaking.

Right, what is he? He says all the things I would never say. Loud when I am quiet, rude when I am polite- haughty when I would be apologizing. So if I go against my instincts and do the opposite, could I not get it perfect?

Yet my words got stuck in my throat. I hesitated and closed my mouth as I thought about all that I had said to Britain. I still did not want to do this. It felt entirely wrong, taking over as America while he was in his gruesome state. Even thinking about calling out a dude or a yo sickened me to the core. I thought about the original speaker of these words and a rotting mouth now wordless.

I decided then that what I needed was some time out of the house. After getting ready, I departed to try to get the coloured contacts Britain had asked me to get. The best I could do however, was book an upcoming appointment with my optometrist. Only then I could get contact lenses fitted to my vision needs with the required prescription.

My time was spent in the local market before I wandered around the mall, looking around but not buying anything. It was much easier to clear my mind now that America was so distant, thus I focused on assuring myself that everything would be okay in the end.

It's not like he's gone forever. That would be something I could really grieve over. It is really much better to think of it as Britain suggested, that he is unwell and alive without a heartbeat. America is not dead because he is healing and reacting to his environment...

On the way back home, I continued convincing myself that America was only injured and sick. It was a difficult effort when I considered how Britain said that he would eventually try to attack me. Delusional, I decided to deem it. Some people hallucinated or did illogical things when ill.

But why was America moaning? I suddenly mused. I know zombies do that in movies, but what for? Just for a horror effect I guess, but this isn't a movie. There has to be a reason. Was he trying to talk? Is he in pain?

So when I returned, I went straight to the basement door with a shovel and the most open mind I could force. The moans trickled out and I paused, shook myself, then proceeded downwards to the bottom step. In the dim light, America sat chained securely against the wooden beam with his head swiveled towards me. Clouded eyes that did not seem like they could focus well locked upon me, but the mouth closed partially and the moans lowered in volume.

I set the shovel to the side. I approached him, sniffing at the air and surprised that it did not smell as bad as I thought it would. Not enough time had passed I supposed, but closer I could see that he looked stranger. He was more swollen and discoloured, some parts pale and others dark. It was the worst around his legs, where the blood had settled. There was also a sort of stiffness to him that I suddenly remembered the term for.

Rigor mortis.

And yet he could move somehow, which was beyond me. I stepped to the sides and America followed every movement, although slowly and with what seemed like effort. I stopped and twitched, looking away for a few seconds to try and forget all that I had seen. Whispered moans continued until I was disturbed enough to check on him, where I noticed a darkness around America. A sort of puddle of foul substances that I dared not to touch.

"Oh god…" I gulped. Had it been this bad for Britain as well?

Just like that, all my efforts to clean him had been in vain. Now he looked even less like my America, and although expected, seeing what he had become was quite a difference from imagining it in my mind. Everything I had eaten felt sour and I only survived by glancing away from him.

From my lack of action however, the moans increased in volume until I was startled to attention.

"What is it?" I cried. "Why do you keep moaning?"

His mouth stayed parted, teeth touching together as he continued.

"You must be in so much pain…" I whimpered. "And although I don't understand how you would feel it... No, I don't understand this at all. But parts of you must be working."

"Neyehhh…"

Now I felt an aching in my chest from my helplessness. I noticed the tears about to come as I whispered, "But there's nothing I can do. Only Britain can save you. I'm just supposed to keep you down here and pretend to be you…"

Then I remembered how America had gone quieter after seeing me for a few moments. He had only gotten louder the longer I stood without doing anything. So quietly, I asked, "When you saw me, you were quieter… does this mean…?"

I chose to approach him, eyeing up the puddle over the floor and avoiding it. The moans softened again and when I was two metres away from the chains, they became shorter. More like whimpers.

"Is... there something you want from me?"

"Khaaarghh…"

I blinked. "Are you trying to speak?"

"Neahhhaaa…"

I fidgeted for an answer. "If you can hear me, can you show me? Could you blink? Can you blink?"

I watched his pasty face intently until his eyelids dropped then reopened. A gasp shot out from me and I yipped, "America!"

With a small skip, I landed closer and shivered with the fast beats of my heart. I squeezed my fists tight and took in quick breaths to try and contain myself. When calm enough to continue, I smiled broadly and came closer.

"America," I mumbled, reaching out and touching his hair. I leaned over the puddle as the softest of moans came from his parted lips.

All went silent though, the moment I touched him. Shocked, I lifted my hand and looked into his eyes which were turned up to me. I hesitantly went on, stroking back over his crown. He made no sudden movements so I became more comfortable, relishing the discovery and murmuring his name constantly.

After a time however, he began to moan again faintly.

"Khahh…"

"It's okay, America." I stroked his temple, testing how far down I could go. Even when I softly lay my fingertips on his cheekbone, he did not snap at me.

"Khaah- k-khah…"

My eyes widened. "Are you trying to say my name?"

"N-nah."

More excited I became, realizing just how ecstatic I was since although Britain had never thought this possible, he was wrong.

"Daaaahhhrgh."

"Oh America!" I caught his face and stared into his hazy eyes. "Britain was wrong! I knew it- your brain is working… So what else could he be wrong about? Britain's only dealt with this once and it was a different case-"

I nearly captured him into a hug but then I considered his decaying state.

"Okay, okay… Since you can hear me, then I'll let you know what's going on. You're probably confused about why you're here and what happened to you… Do you remember?"

"Hurrghhh…"

I did not know how to interpret that so I went on. It quickly became a rant entailing how I had found him and fixed him up, everything Britain had told me including his first experience, and exactly why America was in chains.

"But I don't think you will attack me," I assured him. "You can think, can't you? You're different than the last one. But… I'm still going to keep you down here just in case… I hope you understand?"

"Khanaaahh…"

"But I'll do what I can!" I scrambled. "I can bring down the TV for you so that you won't get bored. I'll visit you and tell you what's going on… How about this, America?"

I pet him and he went quiet again. Very slowly, his eyes fell closed and I felt more at peace.

"Everything will be alright," I repeated the words Britain had told me. Then, I whispered, "I'll get the TV for you right now."

America used to have one down here before, so there was a good spot for the smaller one I lugged down from his room. I placed it on a stand then began setting it up. Whenever I checked back, America was always watching me though it did not feel nearly as creepy anymore. The idea that he was really just sick was much easier to accept now when he was aware of the world.

Light and noise erupted into the room. I changed the channel until I found Fox News, then I stepped away from the TV. America watched me for a moment before focusing on the screen on a diagonal to him. A smile shaking from pure elation held my lips. I said, "There, this will entertain you, won't it?"

He had stopped making his sounds. My smile grew more powerful as I backed off towards the stairs.

"I'll see you later then! I-I have to tell Britain the good news!"

America did not respond, but I hadn't been hoping too much on it. I scampered back up the steps and this time, I left the light on for him though I still locked the door. I imagined Britain nagging me if I didn't follow all of his instructions despite the fresh information I had for him.

I was confounded when no answer came when I called Britain, until I remembered that he had said he might be out for long periods of time. Compromising, I took out my laptop and began writing a lengthy message to him that described all the details. Hoping he would respond very soon, I sent it then leaned back with my heart fluttering in excitement.

This is so much better than I imagined! A wave of relief fell over me. America's conscious of what's going on and now he won't feel so bad. I can hang out with him, tell him what I'm doing, how far along we are to curing him- now it's much more like he isn't dead. It feels like he's alive!

I remembered suddenly, that I had left a shovel down there and had taken it for a reason.

But with the way he is, there's no way he would attack me...

"I think I could explain to him that it wouldn't work," I murmured. "Taking parts of me won't heal him. He'll understand that, then stop… Britain's last case had no chance of that."

Kumajiro sauntered over, sniffing the air. He pressed his nose into my pants then stuffed it into my relaxed palm. Tickled, I jerked away but then looked down and took a whiff of my shirt. It wasn't so bad, but I might have gotten desensitized to it in my excitement. I decided to take a shower and change my clothes, then give the couch and area a spray of Febreze just in case.

I'll have to clean up after every time I see him.

Lunch came next and it was much easier to eat with this bundle of good news. Instead of waiting months, it felt like I had him back now. I ate much more at the table while the laptop stayed open in anticipation of Britain's response. When nothing came however, I just went on to my emails and spent my motivation upon the work I still had to keep up with.

So it wasn't until much later, when Britain responded. Instead of writing a long message back to me however, he had said only, Ring me back as soon as possible.

Naturally I dropped everything and grabbed my cellphone. He was equally fast picking up, thus I had him on the line just as I was sitting myself back down on the couch. Without any greetings, Britain breathed, "This did not happen before… I don't believe it!"

"He knows it was me," I repeated gently. "He tried to say my name and he went quiet when I started petting him. He likes the TV too, just like I told you. He knows what's going on. I told him to blink if he understands me, which he did- and he doesn't blink at all otherwise!"

Britain murmured, "I know you said his head was hardly affected, but still… the fact that he is so functional despite the lack of oxygen…"

"It doesn't make sense," I agreed. "Although… him moving despite rigor mortis…"

"Exactly, it doesn't make sense. But all things considered, our very existence on its own doesn't make sense. We aren't like normal people, after all. We grow and heal oddly, resisting the aging process at a certain point and living far beyond when we should. On a daily basis, we deny death."

"I've always wondered…" I sighed. "But none of us understand why. You don't know either, right?"

"No, not yet. Although America… It only makes sense that he is like this because his head was not injured so terribly and he is quite powerful. Much more powerful than my last case, which was long enough ago that no one quite had the strength held by some of us now."

I paused to let this mystery settle into my bones as something to return to my thoughts later. For now I continued, "About America… do you still think he is dangerous?"

"I am not sure, to be honest, if we should consider him more or less dangerous than before."

"Why more dangerous?"

"I no longer know how he will attempt to heal himself," Britain replied. "America has become a rather unpredictable case… In our doubt, we must proceed with absolute caution. That being said, Canada, that no matter what he says or does, you do not let him free."

"I know… I know…" I said. "I've left him in chains and behind locked doors."

"Good. Be smart and don't be too sympathizing. He may have his telly but he will have it downstairs."

"I understand… though is it alright if I visit him and talk to him?"

"I suppose so, but keep an eye on his strength and aggression. If he looks less interested in what you're saying and more occupied with breaking free, stop coming down. Seeing you might be all the motivation he needs to break the chains."

"Break the chains?"

"Perhaps. I'd much prefer it if you assumed the worst and were ready for it. So if there are any changes, you must stop seeing him. Leave him alone until I cure him."

A disheartened confirmation sounded in my throat.

"While we are speaking," he went on, "I should tell you that today has gone well. I located one of the plants in the spot I had marked on the map."

I perked up. "That's great!"

"It's coming along, so nothing to worry about. And you will obtain your contacts soon as well, very good. As for your practicing, have you started it?"

"Oh, not yet…"

"Best to get going before too many begin wondering why America isn't answering any calls or messages."

"Yeah… I'll start practicing after this call," I decided. "I wanted to before… but now, I think I can do it. I feel a lot better now."

"Excellent. In that case, I would like to let you go now."

"Okay."

"Stay safe, Canada," he gently warned me again.

"I will."

"Goodbye now."

"Bye…"

There were plenty of videos of America on the internet, which I studied to figure out his speech pattern. On a notepad I recorded the words he frequently used with instructions on how he used them. I also wrote what I would have said with translations into America's way of speaking. Some of my vocabulary was strictly forbidden however while some of his was completely beyond mine, obscene and disturbing to most ears.

"Hey, what's up?" I whispered, not quite confident enough to go full out. "What're you even doing? Wow dude, you're such a loser…"

The words felt utterly wrong on my tongue.

"Yo, Brit-tayn!"

I felt a blush growing on my face, so absolutely embarrassed I felt in saying things I considered ridiculous. But I decided to dive into it and say all the most absurd things I had heard him say.

"Bork, bork, bork! Um… commie bastard! Ching-chang-chong! Let's see… Make America great again!"

When I saw Kumajiro giving me strange looks, I apologized and explained, "I have to pretend to be America while he's sick."

It seemed he knew who that was more than who I was. He understood, but I now felt under pressure here. With that I grabbed my computer and ended up on America's side, trying now to read the lyrics to his national anthem.

Louder and louder I practiced it, feeling the rumbles in my throat that weren't there when I spoke normally. This, I realized, could be how I kept myself in check. If ever conversing with someone else, I would make sure my throat felt this strain.

"And the rockets' red glare, the bombs bursting in air!"

Singing through this repetively made me miss the calmer, bilingual version of my national anthem.

"Gave proof through the night that our flag was still there!"

Especially with this line, I gave a mental sigh. I thought he was putting way too much praise into these things. Of course though, I would have to pretend I liked it. So I sang with even more gusto. I remained practicing this song on the unlikely chance that someone would ask me to sing it, right until I memorized it.

I went to the bathroom mirror and watched myself pinch the curl of hair up with the help of a smidge of hair gel. When I looked just like America, I broadened my chest and threw myself into the song. After only a few lines did I realize just how much easier it was when it did not seem like me singing in the mirror.

Once finished, I sighed. I wondered, Should I visit him so soon and show him? I've already showered but… I would love to make him smile- if he can anyway.

"Alright!" I exclaimed. "Let's do it- erm, dude!"

I skipped to the basement door, unlocked it, then hurried down the stairs. The only sounds down here came from the excitement of the TV; America sat in absolute silence until I came into sight. Then, I saw him rotate his head slowly and emit an inquisitive gurgle.

"Hrkhan?"

It sounded close to Can. My heart felt eased by the attempt and I hardly noticed the odor of initial rot.

"I want to do something for you," I told him with a small smile. "I hope you enjoy it."

I lowered the volume of the TV then planted myself in front of him, just out of reach of the mystery puddle. I remembered the stance America had assumed on the mountain, and I copied that confident pose. In my mind I pictured my appearance to think as myself as America. Then, I bellowed out the lyrics to the American national anthem in tune.

So quickly, although done slowly, a smile lifted upon his ripped face. The pale skin wrinkled and white teeth shone at me although there was no gleam of joy in his dull eyes. My confidence soared and I sang louder as his smile stayed locked. It never disappeared, but was stiffly there until I was finished. Then, a wispy chortle blew through his teeth and when I realized it was laughter, I wasn't sure if it was because I was bad or perfect.

I calmed down and asked quietly, "Was that bad?"

"Nnnergh."

"Really?" My eyes widened. "So do you think I can make people believe that I am you?"

"Yeeaghh."

I smiled. "I hope you don't mind though… Is this weird to you? Well, maybe it isn't so weird considering…"

I did not mention it, but immediately regretted even hinting at it. America had slowly stopped smiling but I had no idea if he was sorrowful based on his expression.

"So you really aren't in pain?" I wanted to clarify.

"Nyahh."

I sighed away some of my grief. "That's great to hear. I wouldn't have known what to do for you…"

"Kaaaan."

"Yes?"

"Syeeeh."

"Huh? What's that?"

"Seee."

My eyebrows wrinkled and I began to grimace as I understood. "You… want to see yourself?"

"Yeeas."

"I… don't think that is a good idea," I whispered. "I told you what I did… How you are. I'm trying not to think too much about it, but it hurts me to see you like this. I don't want you to feel any worse."

"Seee."

I could see and hear the strain as he tried to voice every word. America was trying to be brief with everything he wanted to convey.

"No… It won't be cool or anything… Please. Can't you just listen to me for once?"

"See."

"I don't even want to take any pictures," I murmured. "I really don't want you to know. It would have haunted me, to be in your position."

America's voice became more taut.

"Aieee warghnt syeee eet."

Now his lack of expression to match his voice drove me into anxiety. It felt that he was more desperate to see himself than it seemed. I crumbled into obedience, exhaling, "Okay then… If you think you can handle it."

I went upstairs and brought back a hand mirror. I kept it turned away from him and pinned against my chest as I pressed, "But are you sure?"

"Khoome."

His head jerked as he tried to voice the right sounds for the word. On the inside I jolted at his sudden movement, but forgot it as I imagined what he had truly wanted to say.

Come on dude, just do it already!

So I flipped the mirror. I peeked down at his reflection staring back at himself with dead eyes. Instantly he fell still and quiet while news reporters murmured in the background on TV. I scanned for shock, but found none. His eyes revealed nothing and I knew he had difficulty moving himself anyway. America's emotions were nearly impossible to determine.

But then, after he had taken a good look, his lips pulled back into another smile.

"Khuuuhll."

I gawked before I released a chuckle wobbling with relief. "Cool? Seriously, America?" I lowered the mirror. "You're so typical...!"

"Muuviee."

"Like a movie…" I let out one laugh. "Yeah, I guess. It's like you're wearing make-up for World War Z."

I wanted to entertain this idea more. It was lighter for my heart.

"You've got the voice down too- all the moans and everything!"

America kept on smiling. A moment of silence fell between us until I could gather together my thoughts from experiencing everything that had just happened.

I sighed, "I bet you'll be glad to not have to do any work, eh?"

Naturally, he kept smiling.

"Get to sit around and just watch TV until we cure you?"

America let out breathy laughter again.

"While I do everything for you and trick the world into believing that I'm you!"

He looked as entertained as he could be.

"I won't let you get away with doing nothing," I chuckled. "You can help me sound like you, right? Give me all your worst insults and tell me when I'm doing it wrong?"

America dipped his head down then up. "Yiies."

I clasped my hands together and beamed. I could no longer smell anything here at all in my overwhelming glee, and already I was forgetting about all I had done to fix America. It just seemed like him and me again, and I chuckled at the memory of how frightened I had been of him this morning.

"I missed you," I went quieter and tilted my head. "I thought I wasn't going to have you back for months… but now you'll be here with me through this."

"Kaaan."

Hardly caring anymore, I stepped into the puddle and wrapped my arms around whatever part of America that was not encased in chains. He did not bite me. Although cold to the touch and beginning to smell, he only pressed his cheek into me to return the embrace.

The moan was no longer eerie even when out of sight and by my ear.

"Thaankhyeouu."

"Anything for my brother," I whispered.

When I let go of him, I scavenged for a chair. After finding one in the corner, I carried it back over and set it down. I immediately sat down upon it and stayed fastened there like a magnet. Then, I took it upon myself to clear away the rueful mood hanging in the air.

Summoning back my excited energy, I chirped, "Alright then, let's get started!"

And even when constantly dying, America's smile back to me retained its charm.