The forest Britain had wanted to search was two hours away, a rather small one that I was surprised Britain had known about. I had taken the wheel, driving us on the most direct route there. Not far into the journey however, I asked, "How do you know something is there?"

Britain answered, "I don't. But I know it was there, before that forest had even been given that name."

"But when did you go there?"

"Oh you know, back in the early days when I explored this continent."

Then I saw Britain's map when he pulled it out: a sheet of paper with marks on a screenshot of Google Maps. When he had mentioned his map, I had expected something on ancient, yellow paper, but then I supposed that something so dear must have been copied several times over.

"I never go without marking the location of rare plants I find," Britain went on to explain. "And back when I was here a lot, I found many things. Some new plants that I had never encountered before that needed to be researched."

"So there is something here that doesn't grow at your place…"

"Some grow here and there," he said. "But certainly, one finds new species in different places with new effects. That is why I always hope to find ones that can better my potions, for example, one that could help me store the Regeneration Potion for more than a year."

"Where haven't you looked?" I asked. "I mean, if the world is so big and you haven't checked every corner of every country... who knows what is out there."

"Indeed. Sometimes when I think about it, I am filled with excitement- but then I reconsider just how old I am and how many places I have traveled while colonizing."

"But you haven't colonized every country..." With a glance to him, I proposed a new idea. "What if there is a plant that would improve the potion? Or work on its own? Then you wouldn't have to spend so much time searching for all these ones..."

Britain dragged himself to the window. "That's a little ahead of ourselves. They have never been able to do so much… One destroys bacteria while another reconnects nerves… and I'm merely referring to the useful ones. Sometimes plants are just magical and have nothing to offer us."

I was not discouraged yet. I continued, "But maybe you are right and there is something that could improve the potion. You can't be sure if there is something underwater, or in the North, on a random island…"

"Perhaps when I have more time. But I would rather search Europe before I go to the most desolate spots on Earth. There are always great finds in the home continent. Some interesting ones in Asia as well."

"Have you checked Russia then?" I inquired.

He chuckled softly, "No, not so much. That would be the place, wouldn't it? The largest country full of biomes and I haven't even cracked it."

"Why not?" I murmured. "He would let you visit. It seems that he is always trying to have guests come over."

"Well, for example's sake, I do recall him sending presents to us of train tickets to Siberia with no return tickets. But the point is that there's no knowing what would happen if I went out into the wilderness with Russia as my escort. It could just very well be the last time you hear of me again."

"Maybe that's a little dramatic but… how about this. I told Russia I would visit him- as America, I mean… If you came that would make two of us. It would be safer. What do you say?"

After a curt pause, Britain nodded. "I suppose dedicating just a bit of time could be worth the effort. And I would feel a great deal safer going there if Russia thought that America was there beside me."

"Then I'll contact him when we get back."

"Very well."

After that was decided, a silence fell between us. I peeked at Britain as he curled up by the window and continued observing the passing countryside. I changed the chatter of the radio to some music, only to interrupt it minutes later with another question.

"The plant we are looking for now… can I see this one?"

"Yes, but only if you see it in time. Well, I suppose I should inform you all about it now. What we're looking for is a yellow flower with pink leaves. When the ground near the plant trembles from a footstep however, it flashes back down underground. The trick is to wait for it to emerge and snip it, although they are awfully fast. The little clippers I brought for the job should suffice."

He had answered everything so directly that I could only return to listening to the music. The voices of American singers allowed me no chance for distraction though, and soon I was brought back to thinking of America's condition. But there was nothing to say about that.

I already knew all there was to know, which was that he had been fine while I was gone but would eventually be disconnected from the world by the loss of his senses. So I lamented instead about how soon it would start feeling like America was truly dead and that I would be alone with the burden of being him. I considered as well that the building would be awfully quiet once Britain was gone too. Watching him again, I noticed that I had not been the only one staring off at nothing in particular while emotions rolled on within.

The woods we arrived to after the long silence was one that did not have a large plot. After I had been the one to take us here, Britain now took the lead down the path. I followed closely without comment and when I noticed Britain peering hard at our surroundings, I did the same, on the hunt for a glimpse of pink and yellow.

We walked down the path for what must have been for half an hour, the minutes ticking by slowly and the many shades of green foliage starting to blend together. Together we alternatively pushed overgrown branches out of the path, and stepped over twisted tree roots as they threatened to trip us. As we moved deeper down the path, a patch of bright sun became visible to us. It was only as we came into the sunny clearing that Britain exclaimed and startled me.

"There, I saw it!"

I had been looking in the same direction as him but I had seen nothing. We wandered closer to a patch of grass and I asked, "How did you know to wander exactly this way though? Did you remember this spot?"

"Oh no, no. One just sort of gets a feel for it. I knew since we entered the forest that it was here, a couple of them actually."

"Really?" I raised my brows and automatically sat down when Britain did, presumably in front of where the plant had disappeared. I saw a small stain of disturbed dirt and stared at it in amazement.

"Yes, and seeing one out in the sunlight makes sense. They move around like that, trying to find the best spots. Luckily for us, some stayed around here and didn't travel across the county."

We went still and quiet, watching the spot intently. I felt the sun on my nape as we waited through the minutes, and with nothing to do, I started to imagine America's opaque eyes in my mind. A pang of pain resonated in my chest at the thought, and I wondered what he must be feeling at the moment, locked up in a cloud of his own decaying stench in his own house. So caught up I became that I had not seen the first part of the flower to emerge. When I glanced over next however, I saw nyan yellow petals surrounding a black middle, peeking out from the dirt.

As it cautiously climbed back out toward the sun, I withheld my gasp. Beside me, Britain was fixated and poised like a cat targeting its prey. A salmon-pink stem rose and fern-like leaves unfurled, relaxing and resettling. I took in all the beauty with wide eyes, until Britain lunged and the jaws of the clippers snapped.

The stem was bit in two and instantly the remaining stem shot back down into the earth. The flower collapsed limply onto the grass, whereupon Britain exhaled in relief and pinched it between two fingers. The prize was raised and he smiled before passing it off to me.

I fumbled when I took that little flower of magnificent colours into my palm. A momentary feeling of sorrow overcame me, but then Britain shifted closer over the grass.

"It grows back, Canada," he assured me. "The top part forms the exact same flower again. This does not kill it."

"So… does it make the same happen with America then?"

"Well… not on its own," Britain sighed. "If only though. This plant heals itself, from the roots up, but only itself. So the part you are holding will not heal. As for what it can do, the petals kill insects, bacteria… all the harmful things that might have gotten inside America."

"That's incredible," I breathed. "Now I'm sure there's a reason, but couldn't it be used to create medicine? I know they are hard to catch, but if they could be reproduced..."

"A fine idea," Britain said as he stood, "but useless. The plant is poisonous to regular people… something I regret to have found out while treating someone with the plague."

Britain began to head off, looking back at me to see if I was following. I carefully carried the flower as I strode after him.

"Are you sure it was the flower that did it?"

"Of course. They died in seconds, blood leaking from orifices."

"O-oh…"

He regarded me. "But they do work on nations. All these flowers- they kill people. But there is some kind of connection between the flowers and us, some property we share. Now although these plants die from age or from severe root damage, their healing ability is as swift as ours is when we are healthy."

"Like us…" I murmured.

"And just like us," Britain continued, "I haven't the slightest idea where they come from. They cannot breed."

When we made it back to the car, Britain had me keep the flower safely tucked in the storage compartment. After this, we headed off west to another forest that was just as small as the other.

"It must have taken you so long to come up with the idea of a potion," I began as the silence provoked more discussion on the matter. "And to travel around, searching for all these things…"

"Well," he said. "I knew what each one did so I assumed that combining them would solve everything. To be honest, I made some mistakes as well while searching for the cure. One, trying only one plant at a time and not mixing everything together. You see, filling a body with blood is pointless without a healed heart and lungs, and pointless again if the nerves are damaged… It has to happen all at once."

"What other mistakes happened?"

"Other mistakes…?"

"You er… Did say 'one'."

"Apologies," he replied. "I was thinking about the procedural mistakes as well… such as not initially tying up the subject. And keeping them in the main room out of sentimental reasons. The stench was awful- charred and rotting flesh… and to think of how easy it would have been for someone to spot them!"

I looked back to him to see what he was doing and what his facial expression was. Britain was however, turned away again toward the window.

"You did say he before, didn't you?" I pressed softly. "A friend of yours from a long time ago."

"Yes…" he admitted hesitantly. "A he."

But I had caught onto his vagueness of the topic. "So you won't tell me who it is?"

"I made a promise that I wouldn't," he answered gently.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "To him?"

Britain dipped his head slightly although still looked away. I noticed his hands creeping to the crooks of his arms.

"But why keep it a secret?" I probed further.

"There are a few reasons," he murmured. "One… I don't want anyone to know about this constant death syndrome, not the other nations, not the people of the world. I can imagine the panic and the possible desire to invoke the condition. As of now, nations might believe that they can only be hurt, that they'll heal right away because they have their power. Imagine if… if people knew that they could incapacitate America. That anyone could shoot him enough so that he just couldn't heal back right."

Since Britain had been behaving a little off, I paid close attention to his wording. "I thought he couldn't heal. But now it is 'heal back right'?"

"Well," Britain sighed. "I did say that he will get stronger again. Perhaps right back to his original strength as though he was properly alive. Although, with an obvious change in appearance and a glaring aggressive disposition."

I nodded in reluctant understanding. He then continued on this time without me prompting him, "Of course there is a limit. Our physical bodies are not made of steel, after all. Skin tears, blood leaks… Maybe it takes hours to suffocate, I don't know. But there is a limit. Fortunately, connecting with whatever it is we are made of puts us back on the right track. No matter if we have drowned, fallen, burned…"

Burned.

All I could think about was the Great Fire of London, but that did not concern other nations, only him. Trying to be sensitive yet anxious to know more, I whispered, "Was it a house fire?"

"No, no…"

"So then, it was during a war?"

"Ye… No. He was not looking for a fight… He… had done nothing to deserve it." And quieter Britain became. "The fire was brought to him and he must have been trapped. Many had died… and he looked just like the other victims, if not worse. But that was not his end."

"Was there an end then? Is this nation… no longer with us?"

"I would tell you the name if that were so."

"But why not tell me?" I shrugged to seem open, but I was quite desperate to get a name. "I know about this condition, so what harm could there be?"

"It was not a pleasant experience," Britain murmured. "So I promised that for the victim's sake, we would all forget that it happened..."

"I won't tell him," I said. "I won't mention a thing. You can trust me, Britain... You know how quiet I can be."

"I know, I know…" He squeezed his arms to his body. "But I promised and I would not feel like a honorable gentleman if I went against my word. What happened was supposed to be a secret lost in time anyway. It was only a horrible accident, Canada, so there is no need to discuss it. I want us to treat America's case that way too."

Although it had not seemed possible, Britain squeezed himself even tighter. I didn't want to force him into anything since he was clearly uncomfortable, but I thought, It is definitely someone I know. He was a friend of Britain from long ago, but how long ago exactly? And how old was Britain?

"Could I at least ask… when it happened?"

"I would prefer not to say that either…" Britain replied quietly. "That would help you figure out who it was."

"Were you… children?"

I glimpsed a flash of shock across Britain's expression, but then he closed his eyes and shook his head.

"I can't imagine how it would have been if I had been so young…" he whispered. "I wouldn't have known enough to cure him. And I wouldn't have been so used to death to handle that well… My incompetence would have thus led to my own constant death."

Britain turned a little to the side and faced forward now, allowing me to catch a peek of his face. Once I saw the lines of distress, I decided to end the conversation there. I couldn't press him so hard when I didn't know what he had seen. America hadn't even deteriorated to such an extent, and then to imagine being the first one to see the condition, without anyone to explain it…

"I'm sorry, Britain…" I murmured. "You promised not to say, so I shouldn't push you."

I was relieved when he seemed to relax from my words.

"Thank you," he exhaled. "That means a lot to me."

I left him to relax in peace until we arrived at our destination. When we came to the next forest, it was a deep red fern we were searching for. We trampled upon a dusty, well-used path for another while, continuing to be wordless. It lasted until Britain froze unexpectedly, and I skid then stepped back to his side.

"Did you see it?"

Britain nodded his head toward what seemed like an expanse of non-particular woods. He responded, "It's that way."

"How far?" I furrowed my eyebrows. "That's off the path."

"What about the path, Canada? We can't expect it to grow nicely at the side just for us."

I scrunched down slightly, flickering my eyes to the left and the right of the path. It seemed utterly impossible to leave it and venture off in that direction, as though danger lurked there yonder and I was safe only here.

"How do you know it is there?" My voice tightened.

"Just look at yourself." Britain smirked slightly. "Absolute proof that I am right. Pay attention to your words- every bit of you wants to avoid heading that way. Before, you would have followed me without protest."

And I wanted to argue still, but I focused hard upon his words.

Britain pointed away. "Look there. It appears that there used to be a path here, but it's been unused for so long that it's become overgrown. That's because the plant has grown back there, warding off people."

Britain grabbed my wrist and pulled me after him. My feet dragged for a moment before I gritted my teeth and forced myself to pad after him. We pushed through the heather with my urge to leave becoming stronger with every step. I concentrated on his grip and my faith in him, thinking on a loop, Britain is right. I have to listen to him…

"One day, I had wondered why I felt so strange," Britain began to explain. "Why I didn't want to go certain ways in the forest. Why no one else it seemed, wanted to go. So I took a sword and headed off in expectation of finding a beast… only to find an innocent plant. I discovered then that the pressure I had felt was a magical one. And I would never forget the feeling since."

We broke through some shrubs and came upon a patch of unexpectedly tall ferns, scarlet and bowing over our heads. In an instant my urge to depart vanished and I was in control again, feeling only awe.

"I thought it would be small," I breathed. "Like the last one…"

Britain nudged me forward. "Touch it."

I lifted my hand but paused when I noticed among the flat leaves, the smallest, hairlike thorns.

"It looks sharp though."

"Yes I know, but trust me."

I grazed my fingers over the leaf and immediately yipped in pain. I felt the thin thorns cleanly poke through my skin before I pulled away. My eyes dropped to my fingertips, but there was not even a single drop of blood there. Neither a hole nor a slit. I brought my fingers closer but still could not find any tiny marks.

"This one has always fascinated me," Britain sighed wistfully. I glanced to him and he gazed back at me, as he ran his arm over a large leaf. We both flinched, but then he revealed his clear arm to me.

"I don't understand…" I blinked. "I felt it in me but… is it really so sharp?"

"Absolutely," he replied. "But this is a healing plant. We heal so fast we do not see it, not even realizing that it has done improvements actually. There is now more blood inside your body than before."

"So this is the plant for blood?"

"It is. Easy to obtain, and why I tried it first the last time."

The clippers were slipped out and Britain went around, snipping off enough for a large bundle. He dropped them in a pile by my feet and even by the time he was done, it did not appear like he had made a dent in the amount of scarlet leaves around us. None of these plants reacted like the flower had, instead staying immobile while Britain gathered all he wanted.

"We need a lot more of this than anything else," he explained while scraping the pile into his arms and winching. "So don't worry because we only have a few petals of the other one."

"Oh, okay…"

Britain headed off and I slid to his side. I saw the look of pain clutching his face, so I asked, "Would you like some help?"

"No, no-"

I couldn't hear it. Quickly I took half and saved him from being constantly scraped across the face. I knew he was relieved, but I still felt a bit embarrassed from rushing in like that despite his refusal. The short needles dug into me the entire way back, although I tried not to consider it since benefits were left instead of wounds.

"So will this be all for today?" I asked, glancing up toward the sun dipping toward the horizon. "We've been out so long and far away… I don't want to leave America alone for much longer."

"Alright then," he nodded. "We'll head back and search more later. Remember though, that he wanted you to have a break. You need the air and distance, Canada. Think of your mental health as well as your physical health."

"I know, I know… Once he changes, I don't think I will even want to see him. But right now, he's still my brother…"

"He'll be alright by the time we get back. Don't worry."

I didn't want to ruin the mood but I couldn't help but think, You can't be sure though. We haven't been able to predict anything so far.

We put the bundles into the trunk before I took on a hasty route back home. I noticed that respectfully, Britain was not asking me to stop for food along the way. We sat in hunger and in silence, since I felt that anything I would ask Britain might only upset him or me. By the time we arrived though, I forgot it all. I had even neglected to lock the car as I raced to America before anything else.

I don't know what became of Britain in truth, as I bolted for the basement door and threw myself down the lighted steps.

"America!" I cried. "We're home!"

I slowed and dipped my head around the stone wall, facing the thick stench of rot. America sat with his eyes forward and absolutely immobile as like his usual, he stared off at the wall. But it was different when he could not see the TV and it was turned off, since there were no longer any sounds bringing life to the room. The silence hung so prevalently instead that everything felt darker here, the air misted and the corners lost in vantablack.

I slid forward, my footsteps scraping loudly and striking my nerves. With a twitch and a lump in my throat, I called, "America? Can you hear me?"

I strode out in front of him although I remembered his blindness, but still his opaque irises did not react to the new presence.

"America!" I hollered. "America?"

"He can't hear you…"

I leapt from Britain's sudden voice behind me. I turned to him just as he added softly, " I'm sorry, Canada… We didn't make it in time."

I jolted and fixed him with widened eyes. "No, no… he can still feel, can't he? He has to know that we are here!"

Before Britain could speak, I fell down and shook America by the shoulder. My hand pressed deep into unusual softness and I fell back in terror, heart battering painfully against my ribs. America tilted over and did not correct himself or react to the position I had given him.

I whipped back to Britain with tears already collecting in my eyes.

"Why isn't he doing anything?" I mewled. "I thought you said he wouldn't die! You said it couldn't happen, you said-"

"I think he's still there," Britain murmured. "He just doesn't know we are here though. He can't see, hear, or feel anything anymore."

"No, no…" I quivered. "That's awful… He's trapped in his mind, can't do anything…"

I reached out and touched him again, stroking over his dry hair. America did nothing at all.

"It won't be long like that," Britain whispered. "I think soon he won't be able to think anything at all."

"You think! You don't know- it's different, it's America! What if he doesn't rot anymore? What is he just stays like this for- for months!"

"I don't know, you're right… but it is likely, Canada." Britain extended a weak hand and touched me on the back. "And it would be easier that way."

"How?" Trails of wetness streaked down my cheeks. "He'll be so unlike himself then. He'll try to hurt us…"

I snatched Britain's arm.

"How did your friend know where you were? When he was burned and rotten for so long, how did he find you and attack you, blind, deaf, and incapable of feeling? How?"

Britain's eyes flew open and he looked away. "I… I don't know either. He just sensed where I was…"

"How is that possible?" I cried. "Please tell me, how can we let America know that we are here? He isn't sensing us right now! I-I… I wanted to say goodbye. Please… I didn't want to be too late. I don't want him to die… I've never been there for him! I need- I-"

"But you have been there. You stayed with him, you kept him company, and helped him laugh through these tough times…" Britain knelt down and turned my face to him. "He knows how he died and he knows what will happen, but still you could make him smile. I know that maybe it looks like America can just shrug off anything but, you've done more for him than you know."

My throat ached so much. I crawled into Britain's arms and set my tears into his thin shoulder. "I don't want him to be gone," I whimpered. "I don't want to be alone…"

"You know what to do now," Britain murmured. His arms were awkward as they sought to find a comforting position, but settled on patting my back. "You've practiced and fooled so many already… You can be America, and you will be him for his sake."

"I don't want to… I don't want this…"

But he didn't argue this, because through the whiteness of my stress I knew that my words were empty whines, and he knew it too. A hand brushed through my hair, trying to provide more than words ever could.

"He isn't dead," Britain whispered by my ear. "America isn't gone."

I pulled tighter and pressed in my face. I knew he was right although it felt so much right now that America was nothing but a corpse, when he did not do anything at all. He was still and cold. If only he could move, then perhaps it wouldn't hurt so much.

Twisting, twisted- my throat tightened and I could barely make a coherent sound. With my breaths, my chest bucked and my arms twitched, slipping off and back onto Britain. He tried to raise me, but when I felt myself slipping just a bit away from America, I fell back down.

"N-no!" My throat cracked. "I w-want… I-I c-can't- he m-might…"

I wanted to say so much but my hiccups overcame my voice. My thoughts rolled on although Britain, who I wanted so much to tell them to, heard none of it.

He might sense that we are here if we give him the time! You said it happened with the last case. America might talk to us then, show us that he is still here!

"Canada…" He tried to move me, but more softly this time. "Canada…"

I yanked away from his grasp and pounced upon America. A revolting cloud struck my nostrils but I hugged him, shaking his body and hoping for a reaction. He flopped limply about but there was no way for him to know he was being moved, when all his senses were lost. America's teeth clacked until slowly, my movements ceased. His mouth hung partly open as my hands slid down his arms.

My head pressed into the cold metal of the chains. So cold, just like he was. Cruelly, so unlovingly cold.

Please do something, America. Show me that you aren't dead.

Britain was touching my back again, although it had taken me some seconds to realize it. But then, the press of his palm was like a beckoning pull.

"It's better that we go," he whispered faintly.

There was something about his voice that made me fall back into him and hold him again. I hadn't thought about what it was, until I felt the shiver accompany his shaky breath. It had been the weak tremble of a voice before the tears came, now recognized as wetness against my cheek.

My eyes widened and I stroked his back immediately, tucking his head into me at the same time. A weight of guilt sunk within me as Britain jolted and tried so vainly to contain himself. He was trying so hard to hide his tears, but I saw him breaking methodically like cracks spreading across glass.

So finally, I heeded his words. They had been for both of us after all; Britain had only been trying to be calm for me once again. We came to our feet and padded to the stairs, looking to the wall beside us and pretending that America could not be seen across the way. The light was turned off, the door was locked, and then, somehow, we made it to the couch and fell down there.

I dared a peek at Britain, only to be startled by his hands covering his face. I knew that he was trying to hide his grief and tears but I panicked anyway, for now no one remained to be the beacon of optimism. There was no one to tell me that everything would be fine. I could not stay still anymore; my muscles twitched and my breath escaped me in rapid puffs. As though dosed in acid, my eyes burned although the tears only continued to push through.

Britain sat up and I saw him staring at me in concern despite the teary film that covered my eyes. A second later, I was eased into his arms and shushed with a wobbly whisper. His voice was brittle and his sadness an enveloping aura; I had been selfish, I realized, and I wasn't alone in this pain. He was small and shaky beside me, so easily I pulled him into me instead to envelope him in my warmth. The reaction was instantaneous. The tight vise on his control released at the first touch of my hug. Britain's soft crying snapped into one sob, but then returned to a near silence once more. I jolted and gazed down at his blond hair in concern, before leaning down petting his twitching ribs into control.

Neither of us seemed to mind the lingering smell. I could only focus on the feeling of Britain crying into me. With my arms around him I couldn't help but notice how thin he seemed, when he was vulnerable like this. I hadn't really thought about how much smaller he was compared to me and America before. And how although he hadn't aged further, he had still been the one who had raised us. When I had been small and he, the larger one- I had been the one to be totally enclosed in his comfort. But now here we were, so far from those times, and I held him.

Together we fell quiet, only cutting through the silence with occasional sniffing and shifting grips. My eyelids felt so heavy and my eyes themselves chafed from all the crying, but a few more acid tears forced their way out from me. Time ticked by at a snail's pace, but neither of us moved until Britain let out a sigh. I ran my hand down to his nape.

"We'll be fine." He whispered. He cleared his throat, pulling a determined expression on as a mask. "We can cure him," he added, his voice reflecting more sureness.

My arms slid down and Britain moved back to his own square of the couch, although he still looked so small by himself.

"What are we going to do now?" My gravelly throat cracked.

"You can ask Russia if we can visit him earlier," Britain murmured. "And answer any more of America's messages."

"Okay…"

"Let's just… bring in everything first."

"Yes…"

We slipped away silently to bring in all the plants into America's kitchen. There, we filled the sink with water and put the plants in it, cut ends down.

"Just for now," Britain exhaled, wiping his face and pulling his skin down as he did so. "I will deal with it tomorrow…"

His eyes were glazed over as he shuffled out of the room with feet that dragged and scraped on the floor. I was on his heels as we returned to my home and closed up everything on America's side.

"Shower," Britain stated suddenly, remembering the procedure past the haze of emotions. "We should clean ourselves up and put on some clean clothes."

I nodded slowly. My shower was efficient; I didn't linger to enjoy what could have been hot water soothing my stressed muscles or clouding my mind with thick steam until I couldn't remember what haunted me next door. As Britain borrowed my shower, I curled up on the couch with America's laptop. This was a need I found, to do his work on his computer and mine on my own. It didn't feel right otherwise, not when I wanted the identities to be separate wherever I could make them.

I combated the workload before touching personal messages. After some time had passed, I heard Britain in the kitchen, scavenging through my cabinets until he was able to prepare some hot tea, which he brought to the coffee table once prepared.

"Thank you," I murmured without looking up. There was still too much work to do.

He hmmed in response. He hovered over my shoulder; I sensed him looking down on me, mulling over words in his troubled mind. His words were slow to come as they were finally released from his lips, "I hope it isn't too difficult, the work..."

"The work… No, I can manage," I assured him as surely as I could.

I watched him from the corner of my eye as he crossed his arms and stared off. Everything that bothered me was around his eyes, the lines under and between them that exposed so much. He looked haunted, and right then it looked as though he would always be troubled by this, perhaps not to this degree, but as a re-emerging memory which was likely to bother him on lonely nights in far-off futures.

Unless, he is thinking about the other time too. But he never said exactly when it happened… But if it was long ago, why can't he forget it if everyone is okay? Him and whoever was burned… Why are they still troubled by it all?

I quickly sent off the last thing I was working on, before I set the laptop to the side. Britain was not okay, even if I didn't understand his experiences, this fact remained. He needed this comfort, so I slipped my arms around him and dragged him across the couch to me. The response was immediate and he held me tight around the middle, pressed in his face, and inhaled.

"But you're okay," he whispered. "I still have you and I promise that you matter to me. Even if you will pretend to be America, I won't forget…"

I felt a warmth in my heart that someone had said this to me, when so often I was forgotten and ignored. The steam of the tea drifted off as I pet his hair again, until he breathed, "Please don't let anything happen to yourself."

I paused. "Of course, Britain. I promise I will be careful…"

He let go but didn't go anywhere. He slid his cup of tea closer and sipped from it, while my arm remained draped loosely around him. I felt him relax slightly over the minutes, so I placed the laptop into my lap and continued, typing with the fingers of my one hand bouncing over the keyboard.

Hey Russia

Almost instantly I got a response, which absolutely spooked me.

Yes?

So I replied, Wow you're up late

I am going to sleep now… What is it you want?

"Russia's online right now," I told Britain. "I'm talking to him."

He turned his attention onto the conversation. I grew a little unsure if Britain would think I was writing wrong as America, but he was quiet as I continued.

I know it's like out of nowhere but can I come over earlier?

Earlier? You said you were too busy last time.

I wrote, Don't have to do it anymore

There was a minute where Russia did not reply, where I wondered anxiously if he was becoming suspicious of my request.

Then, Ok. What day will you be arriving?

Hey wait I have a question

What?

Can Britain come too?

There was another pause where I felt again that he was considering my words.

He answered, Why does he want to come suddenly?

I felt that mentioning the cake was a poor reason. I needed to be more honest.

He wants to do some sightseeing

Russia was quick. Why doesn't he ask to come more often by himself?

My hand froze over the keyboard. "I don't know what to say…"

I looked to Britain but he didn't have any suggestions. "I don't know…" he mumbled. "I think he's offended."

Idk but he's asking now, I wrote.

Russia countered, I think he wants to come because you are.

I hesitated for too long and Russia continued.

He doesn't want to visit me alone.

Britain shifted in discomfort and I wrinkled my eyebrows, since Russia was technically right.

But can he come? He might enjoy his stay

No.

We both jolted in surprise. "No?" Britain gasped. "Why would he say no?"

I frantically typed, No? Why not?

He does not trust me to come alone. I want him to visit only if he will treat me like friend.

"It looks like a lost cause," Britain sighed. "I'll have to go later by myself if I really want to search for plants."

"But… what about me?"

"You might be stuck now," he admitted. "If you turn him down now, you'll be more American than you need to be, pissing him off like that."

"Well… I guess going earlier doesn't make a difference if there's nothing for me to do now, but do business with other nations."

"That's a good way of looking at it."

So I typed, Fine then, just me. How about sep 1?

Yes this is perfect. Send me pictures of your ticket.

Britain pressed into me again although he spoke only in a serious manner, "You go visit him and make a good impression. We don't have to worry about the plants he has there. It would probably take too long to search that country anyway, so let's just stick with what I know works."

"Well… Alright then," I sighed. "But… I just hope I can pull off tricking Russia in person."

"You'll have your coloured contacts."

"I know, but if he senses that something is off…"

"It doesn't matter. You'll end up being strange to him because you'll naturally want to be kind, but he will only enjoy that."

I put both arms around him and clasped my hands. My head, which felt the weight of my exhaustion, fell towards him and into his hair. The coldness of America was harder to recall when there was living warmth here. Yet there was still anxiety lingering inside me and a new fear as the next phase was underway: his possible switch to aggression.

"What will America be like tomorrow?" I asked.

"I don't know," Britain answered in a whisper. "I don't want to tell you anything anymore because I just... don't know."

"Will he try to escape? Try to hurt us?"

"He might… But it doesn't mean that he will succeed."

Britain lifted his head and looked into my eyes. I could not focus on his gaze though, when his past experiences were still carved in the lines around his eyes. With a tight voice, I inquired, "What should I do if he escapes?"

Britain shook his head. "Do whatever it takes to lock him back up. Hurt him if you must, if your life is in danger."

My quivering frown touched his hair and my throat stiffened again.

"It'll be alright," Britain murmured. I couldn't tell anymore if these words were empty promises or not. "He shouldn't even get the chance to try and hurt you."

"Mmm…"

"You are afraid, but I understand. You don't want to live here anymore."

I hadn't really thought it, but he was right. The building had become no longer two homes, but the prison of a horrendous, incomprehensible secret.

"I saw that shovel on the wall down there. You could use that or… well, you know the kinds of things America has on his side."

I tugged at him and shook my head. I don't want to hurt him any more. I don't want to talk about this...

As though he had read my thoughts, or perhaps because he had thought them himself, Britain ended that subject.

"I shall stay with you tonight," Britain decided. "You will feel safer that way, won't you?"

Yes, I thought. Two people are more likely to hear something. Two can defend each other too.

"And that bear of yours…"

My eyes widened and I sat up abruptly. I had completely forgotten about him, yet Kumajiro had never come to meet us nor comfort me. I scanned all around me in panic, searching for him or the explanation for his abnormal behaviour. I hopped away from the couch and whipped my head from one direction to another, although as hard as I looked, there was no sign of him in the room.

"Where is he?" I gasped. "Why didn't he-"

Without even completing my own yelp, I dashed to the doorway and poked my head out into the hall. Down an empty hallway, I hollered, "Kumachanko?"

Britain was startled by my alarm and he had jumped up as well. Leaping to my side, he threw out his arms and demanded, "He can't open doors, can he?"

In an instant, my blood felt frosted and I snapped back to Britain. "But he couldn't have… I mean- he doesn't go there often!" I blabbered. "We-we were upstairs for a while! We never saw him- he couldn't have gotten past us…"

"You check here," Britain said, "I'll check America's side."

"No, not alone!" I protested. "America's side first… together."

Just as we were in the midst of mobilizing however, the floor behind us creaked. We jumped and turned as from the doorway I had just called from, Kumajiro slipped in. One paw was stiffly placed in front of the other, and he cranked up his head to behold me with two wide, black eyes shining more than usual with the light of the ceiling.

"There you are…" I murmured as I knelt down before him. "I'm sorry that I forgot about you… Where have you been? What's wrong?"

I began petting him when he continued looking at me with an unusual expression of fright. It took me only seconds to feel the shaking under his fur, whereupon I immediately gasped, "What happened?"

There was no response given by him. Instead, Kumajiro lay down and squeezed his eyes shut, blocking even me out as he dragged his heavy paws over his head.

I flashed a terrified gaze to Britain. "He's covering his ears. W-why is he doing that?"

Britain eyes shifted from me to the door. Still for a moment, then snapping toward it, I had to stumble after Britain with my frail and fluttering heart. With one precise movement, Britain quickly unlocked the door to America's side. There was a charge of white past me but no time for me to comprehend it. It was only in the next moment after Britain had yelped, I processed Kumajiro slamming into him.

Britain was so easily felled that I had no time to catch him. He managed to land rather softly but nevertheless gazed over at the small polar bear in shock. His look changed to dread when Kumajiro sank back down and covered his ears once again.

"Something's happened," Britain breathed. "America must be making some sort of noise that he doesn't like."

I looked back and forth between them both. To see Kumajiro like this, despite all that Britain might say, brought me into a profound panic.

"Britain, we shouldn't go over there!"

"We need to know what's going on, Canada! If there is a problem, it needs to be fixed now. Otherwise, a larger problem will be on our hands!"

Britain dove at the door and opened it. Kumajiro rose sturdy as a mountain and blocked the opening with his mass. Past his upright fur though, we could see nothing amiss in the home we had left not so long ago.

"I'm scared," I whispered. "I-I… I don't hear anything."

Kumajiro lay and covered his ears again. Britain shook his head.

"Sh-shh…" he said. "Let's listen."

We strained our ears as all three of us went quiet. Slowly, I picked up a faint moaning, alike the one that America had first made to get my attention. Only then, Kumajiro had not minded it at that time. There was a difference to note in the way it sounded; I could not determine the emotions behind it.

"I hear him," I whispered. "But it sounds different. That's why Kumajiro is bothered."

Britain exhaled, "It… does not sound intelligent."

That was the description I had been trying to pin down. With a twitch, I thought, It sounds truly, like a horror movie zombie.

"He's chained up still," Britain continued. "Just making some sounds, he is. It happened last time too… with my last case I mean. He was loud, so let's not worry about this."

"But I can't help but worry! Just like that, America is… You were right. Oh god, it's really happening…"

Britain took in a big inhale before he bounded over Kumajiro, giving him no chance to predict or prevent his intentions. I too was shocked, reaching out and calling, "Britain-"

Kumajiro sprang at me, choosing me out of the two to catch. I struck the ground in a desperate struggle against his sinking weight, pushing at his fat while trying not to hurt him. My head turned and observed Britain standing alone in the room, still so small and vulnerable in my eyes. I crawled away from Kumajiro toward him, crying out against my companion, "No, get off, please! Britain- Britain!"

I rolled away from Kumajiro and scampered after Britain. Fortunately, he had not gone far but was merely stopped in the living room. He turned to me with his finger on his lips and I halted, catching my breath and trying to allow my adrenaline levels to decrease. I reached out though and took hold of his arm, although froze to take a listen.

"Quieter now," Britain whispered. "I think I know what is going on."

He stepped in the direction of the basement door. My grip tightened and I tugged back, arguing, "W-we shouldn't go down!"

Britain focused his gaze upon mine. "But we can't be afraid of doing something like that. He does need to be checked on periodically, after all. But no, not this time. I won't go down because I don't need to for what I wish to confirm."

Still holding him close to me, we stalked closer to the door. The moans became quieter still until I strained all that I could, but heard nothing at all.

"He gets quieter the closer we come," Britain murmured. "Do you know what this means, Canada?"

The first time America had moaned, it had been to attract me and the volume had only changed after he had seen or heard me coming. This was an entirely different matter. I faltered, feeling absolutely weak in the knees. I didn't understand, but I knew exactly what this meant. I nodded to his green eyes but was too petrified by fear to answer.

Because of his experience however, Britain managed to say it. We walked back away from the silent, dark-wood door and he breathed the words to me that I no longer wanted to hear.

"Yes… It seems that upon the moment of his loss of consciousness, America has become able to know exactly where we are."