New Life

Tear Gas

"Your move."

America looked over the checkered board. There had been times when he was younger when Germany had let him win, he knew that now. That wouldn't be this time, though. He reached out and moved his knight.

He watched carefully as Germany moved his bishop across the board. "Check."

America moved another piece to defend from the bishop.

Germany in turn took his king from a place America hadn't seen. "Check mate."

America frowned. "How do you always win?"

"Practice. You have to plan out your every move and improvise when a plan goes wrong."

America kept quiet before he spoke as Germany put the pieces away. "Why does everyone blame you for the war?"

Germany stopped for a moment. "What war?"

"The Great War. The World War." His head swung down to look at his hands. "Prussia said not to ask you, but I couldn't figure out why everyone blames you."

Germany slowly finished packing the game away before pushing it a bit to the side. "I don't know, America. War is something that makes people do things that they don't always think twice of. You're a different person when you go to war, and you're never the same afterwards."

"I don't like fighting. I wish we could all be friends."

A sudden ringing went off and America jumped to his feet. "Phone!" Germany rushed to follow America. America picked up the phone and put it to his ear. "Cote here! How may I help you?"

Germany stood at the doorway, waiting for America to hand him the phone.

"Prussia's went out for groceries. Do you want to talk to Germany?" He held the phone out. "It's Austria." Germany took the phone from America before he quickly ran off.

-

That night, the sky was clear. The house was silent and nothing was to be heard.

America's eyes shot open. He saw the white of his ceiling, not much else. He wanted to go back to sleep, but he didn't want to return to that dream. He slowly sat up in his bed and looked around. His eyes stung. More like his while face felt as if it had been melting away. He looked to his hands and saw nothing but blurry spots. He breath came quicker as panic soon enveloped him.

"Prussia," he called out. He looked around, not being able to clearly make anything out. He pulled his knees up to his chest, holding his arms around them. "Prussia!" he called out, frightened. He jumped when he saw light illuminate outside his bedroom door. There was someone there. "Prussia?"

"America? What's wrong?" he closed his eyes, listening to the familiar voice.

"I can't see," he muttered.

He heard his footsteps, then felt the dip of the mattress when Prussia sat beside him. "What did you say?" he asked softly.

"I can't see," he said looking up, eyes open. He could hardly make out his brother's face. "Everything's blurry."

America felt Prussia hand on his arm and one on his cheek. "What happened?"

"I had a bad dream." He stuttered through his sentence, feeling tears behind his eyes that reminded him of the nightmare.

Prussia pulled America into his arms, holding his close. America closed his eyes, leaning into Prussia's chest. "What happened in your dream?"

"I was fighting and there were these big clouds of smoke that came from these canisters. And it hurt," he explained quietly. "It felt like my face was melting." America tucked himself into Prussia's arm, tears slowly trickling down his cheeks.

"It's okay, now," Prussia soothed. "It's over." He stroked his hair, running his hand over his back. "I won't let anything bad happen to you."

America remembered hearing those words once before. He wasn't sure if he wanted to say it again. To risk it. This was home, right? It wasn't like before. They wouldn't leave him. No, here, he could count on his family.

"I love you, Prussia."

"I love you, too, America."

America held his eyes closed, his tears streaking through. He smiled.

Prussia looked down to America, his breath calm. He carefully laid America down on his bed and pulled a blanket over him. Taking a chair, he pulled it to the bedside and sat there, where he fell asleep.