A name that Peter's almost forgotten, one he buried away years ago, when he first was sent to the bunkers, one that no one should know, not after all these years, has just been spoken. It resonates with Peter, stirring memories he only knows from dreams.

A vast expanse of blue sea. A fort. A war he'd once participated in. Waiting for someone to come back to him once the war was over. Voices that called his name.

Peter reels, shaken by the sudden influx of memories, and the weight behind a forgotten name being called.

"You're Sealand, aren't you?" Mathew demands breathlessly. "You're Britain's micronation!"

And for the first time, in the dusty noon light, Peter looks, really looks, at Mathew. Blonde hair with a slight wave, rounded glasses behind purple eyes -people, human people, don't have purple eyes-recalls a faint memory from somewhere in Peter's mind. A face he knows, he's already seen it before, Alfred's face, and even before that, before the bunkers were ever built. A name he'd called Alfred once before in a hazy memory.

"America?"

But that wasn't right. Peter's memories are returning, slowly, most of them still swimming foggily under the surface, but he remembers America's face. How could he not? America, the "hero" of the world, the loudest and most noticeable country, had blue eyes, not purple. But Peter knows Mathew's face too. He's studied it before, though he can't remember why, but he remembers the bland look clearly, tan uniform, blonde hair, rounded glasses, in fact, he gets a distinct feeling he had once dressed up as him. Peter searches for the name, just at the tip of his tongue. It was there, he knew it-

"Canadia?"

He finally whispers, letting the name slip free, and Mathew's eyes betray him, widening, then softening with withheld tears.

"Canada," He corrects distractedly, like he's only moments from tears, and his voice shakes ever so slightly as he speaks, "But... You can't be here, they said, you..."

Mathew stumbles over his words, and finally cuts them off, overcome with emotion, reaching out to grip Peter's hands tightly, and for the first time in a long time, Peter's first emotion isn't fear at being restrained. It's a feeling of connection, something Mathew and him share, an understanding that his secret doesn't need to be secret anymore, and a relief that stems from that. Peter's deepest secret, the one no one could know, the reason he was able to live even after food ran out and long after all of the other children turned into nothing but skeletons, the fact Peter was not a human at all, a secret he kept no matter what all these years for his own safety, now was a secret he didn't need to keep any longer. Mathew already knew these things, and Mathew, a fellow country, would not torture him to find out whyhedid not die, or worse.

For the first time in a very long time Peter -no, Sealand-didn't tremble under the touch of another, no longer afraid he might be hurt. And Mathew -no, Canada- was the one shaking instead, fingers tightening and loosening on Peter's hands, unable to hide the tremor going through him. Mathew looks haunted, like Peter is a ghost from the past that Mathew doesn't know how to deal with. Peter begins to feel a growing sense of foreboding, sure why, but Peter trusts his instincts, and he knows that Mathew's expression can't mean anything good.

Peter pulls away from Mathew, Stiffening, and Mathew notices, making an effort to control his expressions. Peter knows that type of person well, hiding darkness behind a calm expression, and his unease grows into wariness. The trust Peter had felt in Mathew begins to wane, and Peter realizes belatedly that just because Mathew is a country like him doesn't mean he won't hurt Peter. He has a feeling like a memory lurking beneath the surface. Countries used to fight each other, all the time, before the world ended. Maybe they kept doing it even while the world ended, and now, too. Then what of Peter, a tiny country with no land so to speak of and no military force? Peter quailed, cringing away from Mathew, and respectfully, Mathew pulled back, giving him space but speaking softly.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just..." Mathew trailed off, then continued, giving Peter a sad, but bright smile, not unlike Alfred's smile. "I'm glad you're okay, Sealand."

Peter wishes he could believe Mathew, but the doubt that has already wormed its way into his heart is still there, and Peter doesn't trust the twisted expression that Mathew wore that didn't fit the happy words. For some reason, Mathew isn't happy to see Sealand, but he wants Peter to think he is, and that makes Peter's hairs stand on end and the tension between them is palpable that Peter is almost choking on it as he breathes. But Peter knows better than to let them know if he is wary, its safer to pretend to fall for their traps. So Peter opens his mouth to reply, but he doesn't get a chance.

"Hey, crazy guy, " a hissed whisper from somewhere else in the room, another nameless captive in the basement, "I hope your brother is coming soon, or we're all screwed!"

And Peter freezes, mind spinning as he tries to wraphis head around the words and understand why the man sounds so scared, why he's suddenly laying a limit on a hero they all know isn't coming. Mathew too looks lost, furrowing his brow questioningly. The sarcastic answer comes on a shaking tone.

"Its already afternoon but no one's come yet."

Peter feels Mathew stiffen, coiled muscles going taunt, and Peter understands. He know howtheywork, how they always work. It's easy to predict because they don't change, they don't need to be afraid of anything, so they have no reason to change. But they have changed, a set pattern suddenly broken, and Peter knows that can't mean anything good. Mathew reaches out and pulls peter closer, suddenly quiet again, hissing instructions to Peter hurriedly.

"Curl up and look small, stay quiet, don't draw attention."

Peter knows how to do those things very well. He's been doing it for years and years, even before Alfred and Jet ever found him, before there were skeletons, when there were still living people in the bunker. Ever sincetheycame, humans who weren't really human anymore. So Peter curls up quietly, tucks his head in between his knees, and tries to disappear, hoping no one will hear his pounding heart.

Somewhere above them, something crashes, and a shot rings out.

Mathew flinches, and Peter only curls up smaller into himself.

Peter knows no hero is comingto save them.