Operation Amerika || BritSov

1:40 am

"America, what in the unholy marsh boggarts are you doing here at this time?" The UK asked, rubbing the pixie dust from her eyes, completely unimpressed.

"Um..." The USA stuttered, unable to come up with a valid excuse for being dressed from top to toe in black at 2am while holding his brother's axe.

"Please," Brit sighed, fully aware of exactly what was running through her son's mind, "Leave Sovi alone... And let me sleep in peace..."

"Mom, the USSR is dangerous!" America scoffed, "Why do you even care what happens to him?"

"BECAUSE I'M NOT A SELF-OBSESSED NITWIT LIKE YOU!" The United Kingdom yelled, loudly enough to echo throughout the entire house. "HE CARED FOR ME MORE THAN YOU DID, OR ANYONE FROM THE WEST FOR THAT MATTER!"

"You're just lovesick," America sighed, "The divorce from France and Brexit have made you delusional after all. The USSR has to go one way or another, mark my words." Surrendering to his plan's failure and his mother's blindness, Ame stormed out of Britain's front door, slamming it closed at full force and removing the hairpin he stole from California from the lock.

"Are you ok?" Soviet asked Britain, leaning casually against the banister, standing on the bottom step of the ethereal staircase, observing the tiredness and pain in the UK's usually bright, shimmering emerald eyes.

"Ame broke in," Britain sighed, wandering to Soviet's side and leaning against him, "I don't know what to do... He's so self-assured and he still hates you after all these years..."

"He's wanting to kill me?" The USSR considered calmly, patting the UK's shoulder reassuringly, "I understand... He won't accept us, will he?"

"Most likely not," The UK replied mournfully, running a hand over her stomach with a mixture of love and guilt, "Or... or them... I've failed as a parent, all my children deserve better... They deserve to be raised by someone better than me..."

"They are lucky to have you as their mother," Soviet soothed, gently stroking Britain's very slight baby bump, "You're a much better person than you think..."

***

Flinging aside his axe, Ame thundered back into his house, barging through the pile of shoes in the porch, through the pencils on the kitchen floor and up the stairs, flicking on the light and... pausing, rotating cautiously and staring intently down at the staircase below him. He was sure he'd heard footsteps, certain that an invisible pair of eyes were observing his every move.

"Hello? Who's there?" He called out, causing a sudden creak in the floorboards next to him, as if someone beside him had been startled by his call. Now beginning to lose his nerve, Ame stepped backwards into the bathroom, repeating, "Hello? Show yourself!"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you..."

"WHO ARE YOU? W-WHERE ARE YOU?" America yelled, shrieking at the disembodied voice. Almost instantly, a girl - no older than fifteen - appeared before him, her eyes a blue similar to his, though slightly greyer (and the left entirely black, save for the pupil, much like a mirror image of him). Her hair was a fiery auburn, much like Britain's, and her jaw was relatively harsh and defined, much like a certain communist. She was tall enough that her head reached almost up to Ame's shoulder and her wings were a tawny brown colour, though she appeared to be attempting to hide them from him, most likely out of fear of him calling her a freak, which of course he didn't, having a near-identical set himself.

"I'm sorry," she muttered, "I should've left you in peace..."

Despising his pity for what appeared to be an anxious child stalking him, Ame asked, "Who are you?"

"Someone... Nobody important..."

"Aight... Why are you here?"

"Because.... You're America... I think..."

"I am."

"And... You're... I need to know you..."

"Elaborate..."

"You're... Important..."

"To?"

"I... I don't know how to say this...." she stuttered, snow-white skin becoming tinted red, "You're my brother..."

"That's... That's impossible, you're not a country..."

"I'm the Afterlife," she explained, "I died in '45 and the UN gave me my role seeing as I was too young to ever be a nation in life."

Stunned, America gaped, staring her up and down, registering the sincerity of her quiet British accent. A long-lost little sister? Surely he'd have met her? Did the war kill her? And most importantly...

"Is... Is Mom your only parent?"

"No," she sighed, "I thought you'd notice... I'm the USSR's."

"I... You..." That... That broke America. his mother had fallen in love during the war... She'd had a child in secret... With Soviet of all people... And he never even realised anything had happened at all for the four years that he was in the Allies. Was he really that ignorant?

"I can go if you want," his sister whispered, plaiting and unplaiting a stand of her curly ginger hair.

"No," Ame sighed, "I hate your dad and this is really, really sudden... But I still wanna get to know you... I have a spare room you can have for now..."