For the Benefit of the World

1. Meeting

She first met him in 1903.

The United States, along with France and the United Kingdom had entered Columbia in the hopes of purposing the agreement on the construction of The Panama Canal.

Maria had been a colony of Columbia at the time, and the older woman had guarded her ferociously from the other nations.

"Europe," she'd scoff "An imperialist bunch. Best not to get too close to them."

The United States though, was not exactly Europe.

The United Kingdom and France she had seen before, but the tall blond haired country seemed different somehow. She could tell by the way he spoke with them that he not only had close ties with the two European nations, but that he was different.

The UK did not support the canal's construction, though he tagged along any way. The older Anglo nation had grown to become wary of his former colony and his imperialist ways. As hypocritical as it was, Britain strongly protested against U.S. expansion out of fear of him becoming a threat to his own empire.

"It would be foolish to waste your time on that girl." The Empire had said "France failed, so what makes you think you can do it?"

Panama watched the interaction from the window on her colonial home. She clenched at the seams of the large dress she wore. She knew France. He had been there before, long ago, when she was too young to understand the reasoning behind his visit.

The younger blond nation's eyes lit up with determination, and he struck an obnoxious pose, chest out and finger pointed towards the sky.

"'Cause I'm the hero, duh."

-o-

She finally met face to face with him when he'd managed to sneak away from his stuffy, old world kin. Or instead, they literally ran into each other.

She had been making her way downstairs such as he had been rounding the corner when they had collided. His initial instinct was to shield her with his body before falling, so he caught her and turned as they fell. This resulted in her sprawled out on top of him, straddling him.

America coughed from below her, his arms now lying flat to his sides, doing his best not to touch her. Panama noticed her dress had hiked up around her thighs, and she quickly scrambled off of the blond-haired male.

"Apologies, miss," he said thoughtfully as he pulled himself to his feet. "That's not how I usually make introductions."

His Spanish was good, but the pronunciation of the words were a bit strange. His voice was deep, yet lighthearted. His accent had a certain Southern twang to it, it dripped smoothly off his words and drifted into her ears.

He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and held out his hand.

"My name is Alfred F. Jones, commonly known as The United States of America."

She wondered what the point of mentioning the 'F' was if he wasn't going to elaborate. Nevertheless, she accepted the greeting, noticing how his hand dwarfed her own.

"I am Maria Delmara," she replied, deciding not to overwhelm him with her middle name. "Panama."

Then he smiled at her. She had never before in all of her existence thought that teeth could be so attractive. They were straight, gleaming, and pearly white

So bright that they nearly blinded her right there.

And so began the relationship between the two of them.