War's Edge

A Curious Situation

Monday, noon...

America had driven a long way with his rental car just to arrive at the small house in Alaska he kept. His states knew that this house was for him and Canada to hang out, especially during the Canadian's often-forgotten birthday. However, what they didn't know was that the two countries already hung out in his New York home or Canada's house in Ottawa.

The house in Alaska was America and Russia's house. As neither country had needed the kind of drama or alarm from other countries seeing danger in a relationship between two superpowers, neither had said a word about their visits. Each visit was few and far between, so they cherished what little time they had without having to worry about politics. The house was a few miles away from a small town that didn't even pop up on the map half the time.

When America finally arrived, he stretched and sighed, listening to the sound of snow crunch under his boots. Dragging his suitcase, his gloved hand dug around in his pocket until they finally found the keys. Unlocking the door and pushing it, it creaked slowly to a stop. Warmth and the sound of crackling fire immediately made itself known, surrounding the shivering country as he shut the cold out swiftly.

"Russia? Where are you, man?" America called out.

He peeked around the corner, shrugging his shoulders when he heard no response. The suitcase was placed on the couch as the tired country slumped right next to it.

"Hello."

America squeaked and nearly jumped out of his skin. He whipped around, glaring daggers at the taller country who was obviously amused.

"That's not funny, dude!"

Russia shushed him and made a gesture for America to follow him. Reluctantly, and quite confused, the younger country followed him down the hall. Their boots made the floorboards creak, reminding both of how old the house was. When they reached the end of the hall at the guest bedroom, Russia pushed open the door and stepped aside to let America in first. The curious American glanced once at the Russian before going inside and gasping a little too loud. A small figure in the bed groaned, whining and pulling the covers closer to their small frame.

"Is this your dad?"

The figure seemed to awaken with a little more energy in their movements. America knew he was head over heels when he saw the big brown eyes staring at him through long, messy black hair. The young child grinned, revealing a small gap where a baby tooth had fallen out. Her mocha brown skin was mostly covered with the usual white dress. Tiny hands rose into the air, and an angelic squeal sounded as the child quickly left the bed. The little girl wrapped her arms around America's leg, hugging him.

"Yes! Thank you, Папа!"

-

Russia and America sat outside on the porch while they watched Alaska fumble around the snow, attempting to make a snowman.

"I am wondering," Russia murmured, "why you only have one state? Why is Alaska so little?"

America felt his chest tighten. He was lying to Russia. He was lying to the country that tried so hard to learn to love and to be loved; the country that threatened to crush him, but clung to him like a lifeline in his darkest, despairing moments. Both Russia and America could pretend to be strong to scare other countries and protect their family, but the loneliness could get to anyone. Russia, having lived in fear or being feared, suddenly alone in a big house that used to be full of countries making up the Soviet Union, left him afraid.

America was always working, never getting the chance to see his states, and he hardly had the chance to see Russia as is. He feared he would be like England and one day return to find that Hawaii would be all grown up without him to see it. How could he possibly hang out with all of his states as much as he wanted to, anyway? He didn't want to be feared by other countries, so he joked and hosted parties, but he couldn't risk any of his states being discovered. It tore him apart to see the looks on his states' faces when he had to leave.