You may notice that this epilogue is written in a tone different than the chapters before it. This was intentional and why this is not called a chapter. I say this because there was a discussion about it with my editor. It is almost entirely telling and not showing, and I switched the verb tense to mostly the past perfect form. The focus is the aftermath of the events and the verb tense is intended to give the sense that everything before it is a part of a story Canada has made in his mind from his memories. The line at the very beginning of this fic and the first person style reflects that it is truly his story that happened sometime in the past. The future he lives in now is unknown.

Ever since I had taken over the role of being America, I had hoped for a positive change in the world. The only thing was I hadn't expected it would come like this, where I lay in the hospital bed approached by those who cared for me. I had been pale, my arms wrapped up, so their faces had been downcast with sorrow. However, there had also been an unconcealable excitement escaping through their features because I would be okay, and everything was over. America was here to pick me up, and he had brought Russia with him.

There had been many fluttering blinks, then I was startled by the truth. America had let Russia rush to me, and I had hardly had the time to sit up before he embraced me. There in the hospital, he had been warm and soft in a fresh change of clothes, showered, and smelling of soap. I had missed the conversion again, but it hardly mattered then. Hands had been sweeping over me, and constant apologies had been murmured above my head. Nothing I said could convince him that I didn't blame him and that I didn't care I was hurt.

When he had slipped into Russian, his words became too advanced for me to understand. But it had been enough for him to hold me, and for me, him. I had peeked over to America to see how he was taking this spectacle, and I had found him wearing a gentle expression. Never before had I ever seen such a face pointed in the same direction of Russia in life. It did not feel strange then when I cracked and cried in my utter elation that Russia was back. It seemed equally natural when Russia cried as well in front of him, mourning for all that had happened and in relief to be healed.

After Russia had pulled away rubbing his tears, America had tapped his way over on his crutches. He snatched me, giving me a classic squeeze to combine affection, gratitude, and desperation all into one gesture. The action had spoken more words than his mouth could have, and it spoke for all the times that he hadn't demonstrated his love for me. Then, finally, I had returned the kiss upon my face from the basement, planting it back onto America's temple. My cheeks were freshly coated with burning tears when I was flooded anew with the emotion of rapture, that America too was okay and no longer suffering. And here, America had cried in Russia's presence without hesitation, although not as much as me.

At that time, he had breathed back to me in rushed words that I knew could only be sincere. America hugged me and sighed, "My god, Canada… I love you so much… I swear I'll try not to let anything hurt you again. I'll be careful, okay? I'll protect you like you did to me."

I had sobbed and rocked, light-headed and dependent. America eventually calmed me down and reminded me that we needed to plan the next course of action. With that, I had switched over to become more anxious to know what would happen now that Latvia had been exposed to the secret.

America had explained that France was trying to calm him down and explain what had happened, for Latvia would not believe that it had been a dream of some sort. They had left the scene, separated Latvia from Russia, and gone to a cat café.

"So what are we going to do?" I had asked. There was the true question, that was really the question ruling my life since August. When I had learned of the deathless condition, when the weather had been dry and hot, it had always been about hiding the truth from the other nations, or revealing it.

Russia hadn't seemed to know what to say, but this had never been his problem. I had dragged him into it late, and I could see that he was still confused about the details and consequences. America believed that there was no going back, however. Latvia would tell the others the moment that he could.

I remember then how Russia had cracked a peculiar smile, and had insisted, "I can make Latvia quiet."

America reacted, knowing the threat. Instead of turning on him aggressively, however, America had said, "We should tell them all. I mean, if only the nations know, then what is the danger?"

Hope had bloomed in my chest imagining this possibility. Of course the citizens of the world could not know. They would not understand; they would fear us and religious cults might attempt to persecute us. It was best if the world saw us as humans. Yet, if the nations knew the problems that arose, they might change how they treat each other.

They collected me, and it was in the car that the blossom in my heart expanded and gained confident, iridescent colours. My arms were useless then, America's leg damaged, and Russia was driving. Yet here, we were together as three nations of different backgrounds, sitting under a cover of peace despite the worries we had about Latvia's knowledge. I suddenly had the sense that this was the state we should be in, and that anything else would be unnatural.

To take over someone else's land required an incredible dedication to violence. The attacker would have to eliminate the people or their identity. Killing a nation was possible, that I knew, but it was not as simple as a shot to the head. I thought of it as a phoenix effect then, instead of as a zombie condition. The people's last stand, the opportunity to fight back and take down the enemy. It might not have happened yet, or maybe it had and I didn't know it. A terrible mistake, a cycle of killing, where one survived and the other disappeared, or both vanished.

America had asked, "What do you think Britain will say?"

He had meant about revealing the secret, since Britain had forbade that for so long. Yet for once, I felt that Britain would agree with us. It was only right to discuss it with him first, so we called him and informed him of all that had happened. Britain was hurt to know how I had been injured, shocked that Latvia had arrived, and relieved that they had administered the cure he had delivered. In the end, he was convinced that there was nothing else they could do. The nations would learn the secret, but no one else.

"But how can we make a whole presentation?" I murmured while America had Britain on the phone. "How will they take us seriously?"

France was still out with Latvia, coming home soon, and I was beside Russia on the couch. Throw pillows had been stationed around me, and Russia had placed the maple blanket around my shoulders. It was in this scene that America had told us that he had taken a few pictures of Russia. None of us had known that, and the information startled Russia. He jolted and fixed America with wide eyes.

"You want to show them that?" I had inhaled. "America…"

To my surprise, America had asked Russia if it would be okay to use them. I understood then that he truly intended a presentation in the form of a slideshow. Russia had suddenly demanded to see the pictures, so while Britain waited, America lent Russia his phone. As he scrolled through the gallery, his body had bent inwards and away, his eyes had glimmered in fear of himself, and through what was likely unconscious thought, Russia moved closer to me.

France came back exactly then, bringing in Latvia. The unfortunate Baltic had scarcely taken a few steps into my living room before encountering Russia. Russia had looked up towards him, and his eyebrows raised when Latvia wobbled and fell sideways. France had caught him and roused him from his brief blackout, but Latvia could not handle being here. The table was still broken, there were stains, and the house reeked from Russia's intrusion.

We had filled in France while he tried to prompt Latvia to join us. Luckless, France had to accompany Latvia when he rushed outside to sit out in the cold instead. In their absence, Russia had at first refused to have the pictures shown. He had not liked Latvia's reaction to him and he feared how he would be treated. However, America assured him that he would do his best to get the others to treat him well.

Belarus had showed up soon after. Russia was cured and we could have gotten away with a lie, but it was easier to use Latvia's fright and explain the truth to her. She had been the first to view America's pictures, the test subject, and we saw how the shock washed over her face. Russia had been a little firm, demanding that she not tell anyone yet, because they would do that later at the next world meeting. Even Ukraine would wait to know.

So Belarus had confirmed Russia's health to the group chat. Russia too, had finally responded after he had read the lies we had said about him. Life became significantly less stressful then, but there were little issues still here and there. Latvia was in a terrible state of shock and fear, but he stayed around and I think it was because he didn't want to be alone. Whatever he had come for had been forgotten until Russia reminded him, then he managed to send off whatever he had to. Afterwards, I had a duty of comforting him, which I didn't mind so much.

When we had tidied up a bit, Kumajiro was brought back into the house. He had noticed how some things had changed, but he knew that there was no longer any threat, thus he was able to slip back into his old life. There were living people around, no moaning from afar, so he got back to ignoring much of whatever anyone else was doing. He let Latvia and the others touch him, but it was only me who he would approach to be held by.

Our plans had then on became even more vague. What were we to do now except for the presentation? Belarus and Latvia went home, promising to be quiet until the next meeting, and soon Russia had to go back too. We were separating, and things were looking as though they would go back to a state similar to how they had been before. I had grown so used to Russia and France being here that to imagine that they would leave struck a blow into my heart. The house would be so quiet and empty, the places where they had slept bare, and their faces would fade just a little in my memories with the created distance.

But I had America, and I was thankful for that. Russia had been the third to leave, his face with lines upon it as he gently struggled to say his farewells. He was no longer angry at what had happened, and he didn't mind that America still had two of his organs. That would be later fixed by Britain, but Russia had found some kind of amusement in that America would be close to him no matter what he did. Some of the things Russia said still surprised America, but he had learned not to overreact to them, to scorn him, to become offended.

The flower was his eternal gift left to share between us. As Russia had put it, it would be a gift that would last beyond our time, for all of our lives and maybe beyond it, as long as we cared for that flower. It needed little attention, but America and I had bought a larger, rectangular enclosure for it. We talked about how we could buy special soil for it, nutrients, decorations for the box. It was like a new pet, but we knew that it was a much grander symbol of our friendship with Russia.

He had told us, anyway, that we could destroy the flower if we became enemies of war. He did not want us to keep that flower if we betrayed it, and became entirely intent on finishing him. I was almost offended that he had suggested that. Russia had hugged us, and we had hugged him back, warmly and with good-hearted emotions back at the airport. I could not fathom a future now where any of us would want to harm the others, not after all that we had gone through. It seemed even more impossible when the emails came, the calls, the messages, the pictures. America ignored none of them now, but answered in sincerity. And on the days when we all had time, we continued to develop the world in the Minecraft game I had started with Russia before.

After Russia, it had been France's turn to disappear from our daily lives. I hadn't known how to thank him for his support through this entire ordeal, or where to even start. My words had been messy, but the hugs and served their purpose again in tying people together. France assured me that he was glad to have been here, to have known about everything and to suffer with me, just so that he could have made my life easier. I hadn't want him to let go of me either at the airport, but time moved forward and suddenly, we were waving goodbye as he passed through security.

During one of our evenings alone, I had sighed to America, "It's hard letting everyone go."

"I know," he had answered. "I get that, and it's probably way worse for you."

The conversation had been unplanned, but I eventually came to the point of just letting my feelings leak through. I had cried, Kumajiro had nuzzled me, and America had held me. I had explained how I had thought I would be so alone, dealing with his death. But then I had gotten so much support from everyone that I never expected. Britain had tried so hard to help me, Kumajiro had done his best, then France and Russia had given me their comfort. America had learned how I had felt so utterly insignificant as Canada when playing as him, when interacting with other nations and being forgotten. That I had never expected to be loved like this by others, even if it was only a few.

America had told me, "When they learn that it was you being so cool and nice to everyone and not me, they might like you more. They did love you, you know. They just don't know that yet. But that's why we got this group chat! You're gonna show them, bro. We'll go out and party, and you'll make them remember you."

"I don't know if I can do that again," I had exhaled. "Not like this."

"What do you mean?"

"Not like me, as Canada… That's not who I am. I don't have that kind of confidence..."

"What do you mean?" he had protested. "You've changed, Canada! You're not as quiet anymore and you've been letting everyone know what's on your mind!"

"You think so? Have I really changed that much?"

"Sure you have! I know you can do it."

I had smiled. I supposed I did behave differently than before, where I was not as hesitant to say what I wanted, that I was louder and more firm when I spoke. Not in the way of America, however. No, pretending to be him had not made that behaviour affect me. I was different in my own way, a new product formed from the troubles I had faced in trying to find out what was true and just.

"You should be the one to do the presentation," America had insisted to me.

"Me?" I had gasped.

"Why not? Everyone needs to know what you did, and they'll care more about your story if you're the one to tell it."

"I don't think they'll listen to me. I mean, they will, but not like if they were listening to you talk."

America had said, "Not if you talk to them like you talk to us now. If you're clear and loud, you'll get their attention. You don't have to be commanding or anything."

"But I don't know what to say… I thought that you were going to do the presentation, so I never planned how to do it."

"You have a lot of time though," he had argued. "You'll think of something, and then I'm sure that you'll do a better job than anyone else could have! I mean, I wasn't hardly there really! You can explain the details, the emotions-"

"Why should I do that?"

"You gotta make them understand the hell you went through. Scare them away from doing dangerous things or attacking each other. Make them respect you for doing what you did, and for fooling them completely!"

Yet some of it had seemed unnecessary to me. It didn't seem like my emotions were important when I was trying to explain what could happen to the others. I did not think that anyone would legitimately care about how I how felt during the experience and what my thoughts had been.

But then I grew passionate through the days on which I practiced. It did matter, I had decided, because I mattered. I was loved and I was important to other people. I had done so much that I did not deserve to hide in passivity, but to express to the world that I was strong, a survivor, and someone who would not be forgotten.

With this modified voice and mindset, I could start making the difference I wanted in the world. I had America and Russia's support, for I had already connected them to me and to each other. I had Britain and France, and I would gain more through confident acts of kindness.

They would be scared when they learned what had happened. I would use that, and I would do everything in my power to bring peace into this world. It was fully in my capabilities, and when America had swung his arm around me and asked if I was ready for the presentation next week, my heart had not wavered.

I had stated, "Yes, I am ready for it."

The days were scratched off mentally one-by-one. The meeting approached and I practiced by myself every day for about an hour with the material that America had prepared. The length of the actual presentation was sure to vary. I never said the exact same thing everytime I practiced, but I went with what flowed naturally. I knew that when the time came and I would suddenly rise from my chair to halt the meeting, that whatever I said would be dictated by my heart.

I saw Russia's fiery flower about an hour before we departed. I remembered it briefly in the car, but it was replaced in my mind by how I imagined Russia would watch me as I presented. I was not nervous, and I knew that I would find a way to protect Russia from the fear of the others once they known what had happened to him. I had not told it to America yet, but I would reveal that I too, had once suffered through the same condition as America and Russia.

The flight was long, but America was there beside me. Our eyes had been focused on our own screens, our own movies, but we had come together just so that we would not be separated on our journey. And America was not here to comfort me, for he sensed that I did not need anyone else's help for this. My statement had confirmed me to him.

Russia did not know that I would be the presenter when he found us. Britain did not know, nor France, Latvia, or Belarus. I had wanted that shock, so that all at once, I could see how the world would react to the changed me. I knew that those who had followed me through this experience would soon have eyes alight with encouragement after I had started. They would be quiet, and in hearing my story in its entirety, their hearts would tear anew for me.

"You're gonna start before Germany gets into something, right?" America asked me in a brief moment of privacy. "Like, at the start?"

"Yes." I looked over and into his eyes with my own clear ones. "I know it will make everyone feel strange when we actually start discussing the real subject of the meeting, but I think it will be fine. Maybe everyone will take it more seriously, and something will get done."

"Bro, it's going to be amazing."

I smiled again.

America looked around, then continued, "A lot of servants in here you'll have to kick out."

"Yeah."

"Make sure Britain gets his tea first before you do."

I laughed softly. Thanks to that suggestion, I had kept on eye on him for a while. When Britain noticed me watching him, however, he could not imagine the true reason of why I was doing so.

"Oi, Canada." America flicked his head at the entrance. There was about one chair still empty, and one nation was coming in. "We're about to get started."

My hand tightened around the USB key.

"You good to go?"

It was a redundant question. I was ready, and the world would soon know it as well.

I said to my brother, "Of course. I have everything I need."

And after about a minute had passed, the meeting commenced.

I took in a breath, then stood.

The End