Book 3 - Retrievers

XVI - Glowsticks

America summons a blue outline of the map and waves his hand over the roads, connecting the small dots representing the markings on the map of the Revolution. Russia watches with a smile.

The drive is uneventful, and although the accommodations at the hotel were unpleasant, they weren't attacked. But Russia could not manage to shake the feeling that something was wrong. Even still, they continued on at sunrise.

But the closer they got to the destination on the map, the lower Russia's stomach sunk.

'It's been quiet.'

'A little too quiet.'

Russia shakes off the feeling of apprehension.

They arrive at a hotel a little ways down the road from the mark around late morning. Georgia walks in to greet the front desk attendant and manages to get them a room without having to give a name or a card. When asked how, she smirked.

"Southern charm can get you a long way."

Russia isn't sure what to make of that.

They walk through a side door and head to the second floor, dragging luggage behind them. They make it to the room and New York immediately sits back on the closest bed and kicks off his prosthetic. He curls up on his side, his back to the door, and falls asleep almost immediately.

New Jersey joins him, sticking a pillow between them, and they lay, back to back, curled up in fetal positions. Finland sits on the end of the bed, glancing around the room as if to keep watch. It's as if she's expecting something to happen.

America coos.

"Aren't my kids cute?"

"Yes," Russia agrees with a smile.

America beams up at him, stars in his eyes.

'He looks adorable,' Russia thinks with a love-sick smile.

Finland laughs, and when Russia turns toward her, she turns away.

"We should probably leave as soon as they wake up while we still have daylight," Finland suggests.

"Yeah, probably," America agrees,"What do you guys think?"

"Sounds good to me," Texas says.

"Cool," Pennsylvania says.

"I don't got anything against it," Georgia comments with a shrug.

"Enem?" America asks.

New Mexico shrugs.

"I would rather leave now than later, but York needs sleep," New Mexico says, looking up with a small smile.

America nods before limping over to the couch, sitting down with a wince.

"Are you okay?" Russia asks.

"Yeah. I'm fine," America replies with a strained smile.

"You look hurt," Russia comments, sitting down next to him.

"That's cuz I am," America says with a shrug, "whatever the fuck I did during that night terror fucked up my leg pretty bad."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" Russia asks, ignoring the pang in his chest.

"No, not that I can think of," America replies with a shrug, "not much I can do. Besides, I'm trying to save most of my magic anyway, so I'll just have to wait for it to get better."

Russia opens his arms and America leans into him. Russia pulls him into a gentle hug.

"We'll be okay," Russia says.