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It was still dark outside when the phone began to ring. The bright light of the phone lit up the darkened bedroom as it continued to vibrate loudly on the nightstand, growing louder and more annoying with each passing second.
Nearby, a sleeping United States shifted in her bed, tangled in several blankets and buried deep within the comfort of her pillows. As the phone continued to ring, the young country was pulled further and further away from sleep, her mind sluggishly trying to process why the hell she was awake at what she already knew was an ungodly hour of the night.
Then the ringing stopped.
As blissful silence flooded the room once more, America’s irritation quickly dissolved into the lull of sleep. She curled up further into her blankets, readjusting herself into a comfortable position and trying to lose herself back into the pleasant dream she’d been having.
That was when the second call came in.
America heaved a sigh and began to blindly grasp for her phone, eventually finding it on the very edge of the nightstand.
“Hello?”
“America?”
“England what the fuck-”
“America. Turn on the news.”
In an instant, America was wide awake, the lethargy of sleep draining from her as the urgency of England’s words hit her. She shot up out of her bed and slipped into the nearest pair of sweatpants, her mind already racing with all the worst possible scenarios. Terrorism. War. Natural disaster.
They were all extremely real, extremely devastating scenarios and she was almost too afraid to ask. Anything and everything could’ve happened in the hours she’d been sleeping.
“Why, what’s happened?”
“Amelia,” came the answer. England’s voice was steady, almost resigned, and anyone who didn’t know her well would say she sounded calm. But Amelia could hear the small waver in her voice, a lilt fear that sent dread washing through her own veins. If England was scared, then America was terrified. “Just turn on the news.”
There was a long silence between the two as America attempted to find the TV remote. She honestly didn’t know what she was going to see when she finally turned on the TV, but she certainly wasn’t expecting China’s face plastered on CNN.
“Ummm, what…”
Before Amelia could get any words out, another picture flashed on the screen. This one was of Russia walking down some nondescript street and fiddling with her phone, obviously not paying any attention or knowing that her picture was being taken. Below the picture, flashing on the scroll bar were words that sent a cold chill through her veins.
BREAKING NEWS: PROOF OF IMMORTAL BEINGS EXISTENCE?
“What the fuck?” she whispered underneath her breath, trying to process the information she was just handed. “What the - how the fuck?”
“I don’t know,” England said back, “but they have evidence. Actual, solid evidence. Pictures, government documents, old letters, human names. Whoever they are, they’re good and they’ve done their research. Everyone over here is losing their shit.”
“Who-”
“Russia, China, and Germany,” she answered immediately, the stress breaking through in her voice. “And there’s more likely on the way if we don’t do something.”
Amelia opened her mouth to respond but was immediately interrupted by a loud pounding at her door. Years of battle instincts froze her in place and her mind raced to remember where she’d stashed her nearest gun. Entry hall table, middle drawer.
“Amelia?” came England’s voice, seeming to feel the tension on her end of the call. “What’s going on?”
Instead of answering, Amelia tiptoed to the door, each muscle tense and ready to strike if need be. Without taking her eyes off of the door, she pulled open the drawer and drew out the pistol inside, keeping it close to her side with her finger on the trigger.
“America?”
Heart racing and trigger finger itching, Amelia looked through the peephole to see who exactly had been pounding on the door. The two men were standing side-by-side, dressed in immaculate suits and glancing around to the darkened street behind them. It would’ve been suspicious had Amelia not known them. Secret Service.
She sighed in relief and placed the gun back on the table.
“Amelia?”
“It’s nothing,” she finally replied, opening the door for the two men.
“Miss Jones,” one greeted with a curt nod. Amelia simply nodded back and stepped to the side to let them in.
“Secret Service just showed up,” she finished, watching the two men enter her living room. Amelia pulled the phone away from her and addressed the Secret Servicemen, “Here to take me away?”
“Yes ma’am,” the first replied. “The President has made your safety a top priority and requested you be moved to the White House.”
“Alrighty,” Amelia sighed, rubbing her face as a wave of exhaustion hit her hard. “Iggs, I gotta go.”
The silence made Amelia think England had hung up. Until she finally spoke back up, “Okay, be safe and call me when you get the chance. We need to have an emergency Meeting to figure out a plan of action.”
“I will.”
“And Amelia? I love you.”
For the first time that night, a giddy warmth ran through Amelia and she couldn’t help but smile. “I love you too.”
With that, the call ended and Amelia was left with nothing but the Secret Servicemen who’d been patiently waiting for their county’s full attention. “What’s the plan boys?”
“We recommend you change and pack a bag, ma’am, preferably in your dress blues. Press has swamped the White House, so you’ll blend in with those.”
“Wanna hide me in plain sight then?”
“That’s the plan.”
“Sounds good,” she said, tossing her phone on the couch and running a hand through her hair. “Imma go get changed, so just hold tight.”
Slipping on her dress blues was like slipping on a second skin. It was easy, putting on a uniform, and she did it in a matter of moments, muscle memory taking over even when she was sleep deprived. What was harder was packing. She had clothes at the White House, yes, but from what she could remember they were all suits. And the last thing she wanted to do was to be stuck in the White House wearing suits every day.
In the end, Amelia just threw random t-shirts and jeans into her bag and made her way back to her Secret Service detail.
“Lead the way,” she told them, bag slung over her shoulder.
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England had been completely right. Even at four in the morning, everything had gone to shit. On the surface, most of the White House staff looked composed, and perhaps a little stressed, but in reality none of them would even be awake and scrambling around like they were if it had been a normal day.
As far as America knew, nobody else's identity had been revealed. All the press knew was that there was some sort of immortal being in each country and that’s the way she intended on keeping it. She was getting enough shit from the other countries as it was and she really didn’t need the press and general public on her ass too. They were her escape for the longest time and if she lost that to some faceless, government evading dipshit she’d be pissed.
The moment she entered the White House, Amelia was swept up by a frazzled looking secretary. She had just enough time to send a preemptive text before the secretary led her straight to the Oval Office.
TriColumbia
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The President, to her credit, looked the most composed out of everyone. Then again, the true storm hadn’t really hit yet, so it was only a matter of time before Amelia saw how she handled an international incident on this scale.
God it felt like an axe was hanging over her head.
“Madam President.”
“Hello Amelia,” she said, shooting her a weary smile. “I would say it’s good to see you, but under the circumstances I think it’s better to get to the point.”
Amelia slipped out of her uniform jacket and placed it on the back of one of the sofas. Then she threw herself onto the sofa and kicked her legs over the arm.
“Shoot.”
“As far as we can tell none of our systems have been compromised, but we haven’t found the source. Assets all around the world are hard at work, but it’s only been a few hours. I’ve called an emergency United Nations Meeting in order to deal with the situation.”
“When’s the Meeting?”
“Next week, it’ll start on Friday and go through the weekend. With the seriousness of the situation, hopefully the majority of world leaders will be able to make it.”
“Okay. Have they considered terrorist organizations?”
“There’s no indication of any terrorist activities.”
“So we have absolutely nothing?”
“Not right now, no. But I will let you know the moment anything comes in.”
“Okay,” Amelia finally said, sighed for what felt like the billionth time. Nothing. Out of all the resources she had around the world, she had nothing. What the fuck. “Do that. I’ve called an Emergency World Meeting so I’m going to need the SR.”
“Already done.”
As quickly as she had entered, Amelia exited the Oval Office and made an immediate bolt to what she knew was the most secure room in the whole place - the Situation Room. Aptly named for scenarios exactly like this. The proverbial ‘Red Telephone’ that instantly connected the highest office in every nation. From here, it was possible to call an emergency UN Meeting for leaders and an emergency World Meeting for the nations.
Amelia slipped into the room easily and took a seat, soaking in the feeling that she’d finally escaped from the chaos for a little bit. At some point, someone slipped in and placed a coffee in front of her (a true American hero) while she waited. On the TV screen in front of her, the United Nations symbol glowed, waiting for the video chat to go live while the countdown underneath it ticked.
The closer the counter got to zero, the more anxious Amelia became. It was an unusual feeling for her. After all the shit she’d seen and experience, she hadn’t thought anything else could worry her as much as this was. The timer ticked slowly and Amelia could’ve sworn that each second went by slower than the last.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity of waiting and chugging coffee, the timer hit zero and the screens sprung to life with familiar faces. Some smiled and waved, like Italy, but most looked solemn and serious.
“Hello everyone,” America greeted, swiveling slightly in her chair and flashing a bright smile for posture. “How are we today?”
“Tired and thinking about drinking myself to sleep tonight,” came France’s immediate answer.
“You’re the one to talk,” Russia snapped back. America could feel her pissed-off aura through the screen and she almost pitied the poor soul that would be on the other end of Russia’s pipe. And then America found herself on the other end of Russia’s stare. “This is your fault.”
Shoulda known that was coming.
“My fault?” she bristled, anger instantly rising in her. “My fault?! How the fuck is this my fault?”
“ENOUGH,” came Germany’s immediate interruption. “From both of you. Pointing fingers won’t stop this leak. What is important is that we isolate it before any more damage is done.”
“Germany’s right.”
America’s eyes snapped over to England. Her blonde hair was pinned back, with the tail ends of it falling over her shoulders, and America found herself, once again, on the other end of a piercing green stare. This was one stare she’d willing lose herself to.
“We need to meet,” America finally said. “Actually meet. This line is secure, but I don’t know if I’m exactly trusting of that right now. Plus, it would be a good opportunity to discuss this in length.”
“Is it even safe to travel?” China spoke up. “We don’t know if or when more identities will be released and the ones that already have are dealing with massive backlash.”
“Celebrities travel in secret all the time,” she pointed out, completely avoiding the fact that China’s own identity had been released. “With government help, it should be easy. Plus, there’ll be United Nations Meeting starting Friday. It we plan them at the same time the world’s eyes will be on that and we’ll hopefully be able to meet without any hassle.”
America saw several nods in agreement and when no one spoke up against the plan, which she considered a win in her book, she continued, “Is everyone okay with Meeting in Paris on Friday?”
There was a general murmur of yeses that ran through the chat, followed by France reassuring them that she could make the preparations by then.
“Okay, so if no one has any objections then be in Paris on Friday. Spread the word to those who aren’t here. France, follow up with more information when you get it.”
“Of course.”
“Alrighty, then everybody, Imma go sleep. Rest up and cross your fingers nothing else happens till then.”
With that, the countries began slowly logging off, their screens going dark as they did so. Until, eventually, just England remained.
“Something on your mind, love?” she said after a long silence.
“You,” Amelia answered immediately, “like always.”
“How charming,” the other woman laughed, smiling at her with genuine affection. Amelia simply hummed as her mind drifted to how pretty England was, just in general. “Want to tell me what’s really going on?”
Amelia pouted, “I was being serious.”
“Awww, of course you were, you cheesy sod,” came the quip back. Amelia could see Alice’s mask slowly fall, seeing more and more warmth in her eyes rather than the chill bite of the ex-empire, “If you really miss me that much, then come visit.”
“Really?” she gasped, perking up immediately at her girlfriend’s suggestion.
“Of course,” England said, quirking an amused eyebrow at Amelia’s reaction, “We have to be in Paris a week from now anyways and I...may or may not miss you too.”
Amelia gasped at the admission and grinned widely at the screen. “I love you too!”
Her own admission caused England’s own smile to form. “Text me before you take off and for God’s sake, be careful.”
“Always!”
By the time Alice had hung up, Amelia had already booked her flight to London.
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Amelia booked the soonest flight to London as she could, which, on such a short notice, left Regan National at three that afternoon. There was a temptation to borrow a private jet from the government, but she resisted. A nineteen year old girl traveling to London alone on a public airplane was a lot less suspicious than one that was flying in a government owned jet.
Packing this time around was a lot easier. Suits for the Meeting, casual for everything else. Simple. And if she forgot anything she was almost positive she had enough clothes at Alice’s house to hold her over.
Then there was a lull, where she had absolutely nothing to do. In any normal situation, it’d be easy for her to simply walk out of her house and blow off some steam. Go on a hike, take a run, go and do something. Even during wartime it was easy for her to simply go to the front lines and take up arms. She hated being cooped up. Hated the feeling of idling.
So, she took to texting Alice.
And when Alice didn’t respond, she sent another text. And then another. And another.
Until it was practically harassment and she was sure Alice was going to scold her for it when she actually managed to check her phone.
Then, after what felt like a million lifetimes, Amelia finally grabbed her bag and practically sprinted out of the White House, sweeping past the President and her advisors with a quick “Going to London, bye.”
She could’ve sworn she heard something along the lines of “Teenagers” from her President.
Boarding the plane was easy, as it could be with airlines, especially after she managed to slip past the army of press outside. At the moment, her President’s strategy was the same as everyone else's - deny, deny, deny - which was good considering her own identity hadn’t been released yet. The most terrifying part of the whole flight was turning off her phone. She would be completely cut off from everything while she was in the air and if something went horribly wrong, and she could definitely think of a few things that could go wrong at the moment, she wouldn’t know anything about it until she landed.
But the thought of seeing Alice - actually getting to see her - far outweighed any worry in her head. She’d fought two wars for that woman, so everything else seemed pale in comparison.
So instead of worrying about what could happen, America allowed herself to catch up on what she was missing. Sleep. She’d been up since three that morning and coffee could only do so much.
------------
Amelia slept hard on the plane, something Alice had said she envied, and didn’t wake until the seatbelt sign came on and the plane began its descent. It was still ungodly early in London, six in the morning by the time the plane landed and docked, and she began to wonder if her sleep schedule would ever return to normal after this.
The moment her phone powered back up, a barrage of messages came in and America’s heart sank. In any other normal situation, Amelia would be ecstatic to hear from her sister, Canada, but this was absolutely not the message she wanted.
More names had been released and Canada was among them.
Which means, to a certain extent, America was also in the crosshairs. Even the people closest to them got them mixed up occasionally, so if Canada’s face was plastered on every news outlet in the world there was a good chance that someone would ‘recognize’ America.
She cursed underneath her breath, of a magnitude England would probably be proud of, and immediately dialed Alice’s number. While the phone rang, Amelia kept a close eye on her surroundings, trying to see if the side glances she was getting were the result of recognition or the fact that she looked like an abandoned teenager in a foreign airport.
She cursed even more when the phone rang out and went to voicemail.
Instead of redialing, Amelia shoved her phone back into her pocket and set out into the streets of London. Amelia knew Alice would call her back as soon as she could, so until that happened, Amelia would make her way to Alice.
10 Downing Street was nearly an hour away from Heathrow and Amelia knew that’s where Alice would be. She spent the entire ride fiddling with her phone, hoping that it would ring before she actually made it there, and deflecting the cab drivers too-personal questions. With each ringless second, America grew more anxious, worrying more and more about what was happening on Alice’s end.
It was obvious the moment the cab pulled up on Downing Street. Or, rather, the turn to get onto Downing Street. The entire street was blocked off and, much like the White House, flooded with press. There was no way in hell America was getting in there without being seen.
She had a few ideas on how to.
With a smile, wave, and payment, Amelia got out of the cab and ducked her head immediately. She stuck to the sidewalk across the street, hugging closely the houses and avoiding the ravenous reporters packed onto the street. There was a private entrance to 10 Downing Street around back. She’d never had to use it before, Alice and her both preferred spending their time in Buckingham Palace anyways, but she knew she had access to it if she could get there. Thank God she’d remembered her ID badge.
Amelia didn’t have to do more than flash her badge at the guards to be allowed in, though it did help that she knew them.
Inside 10 Downing Street was a lot calmer than the White House had been. Where the White House staff had scuttled about in a panic, most of the staff in the house seemed calm and determined in their work. No one seemed to even notice that America was there, which was concerning and understandable at the same time.
The first person to notice her was Britain's Prime Minister, who actually looked genuinely happy to see her.
“America,” the man said, being trailed by several intern-looking people. “Thank God you’re here.”
Amelia shook the Prime Minister’s hand and immediately became wary at his words.
“I’m afraid England’s been in a rather foul mood since yesterday,” he began, leading her up the stairs. Amelia could only raise an eyebrow and think back to her conversations with England the day before. She hadn’t seemed more irritated than usual. They stopped in front of the PM’s office. “Hopefully your presence here can cheer her up.”
With a small salute, America began climbing another flight of stairs, heading towards England’s room and leaving the Prime Minister to his work.
The door to England’s room was just like the others in the house, but Amelia knew the path well. It was the same room England had stayed in during the Blitz before being moved to the Tunnels, the same room where America had learned Roosevelt was dead, the same room their relationship had started in. That room held a lot of memories and even more emotions. And now it was going to have another place in their story.
America gave the door a gentle knock and entered without waiting for an answer.
The lights in England’s room were still off and the curtains hanging over the windows were firmly closed. England was curled up in bed, seemingly still asleep. From what America could see, she’d tangled herself in her sheets with her blonde hair spread across the pillows.
She closed the door as quietly as she could behind her, afraid of waking Alice.
The other woman looked strung out, tired and stressed even in her sleep. Amelia placed her bag down by the door and tiptoed over to the bedside. Instead of going to wake Alice, Amelia picked up her phone from the nightstand, unlocked it, and turned off the alarm she’d set. Then, she slipped back over to the other side, kicked off her shoes, and laid down next to her.
“America?”
Dammit, she’d tried so hard.
Instead, she just let a hum and a whispered, “Go back to sleep Iggs.”
England twisted around in her sheets to look at her. Her hair was an absolute mess and her green eyes were bleary with sleep. America prepared for the retorting ‘I have to get up’ argument, but to her surprise England simply laid back down and curled up next to her without resistance.
“You okay?”
“Mmmm, migraine,” she groaned.
Amelia pressed a kiss against the crown of Alice’s head in answer. “Sleep. I’ll be here when you wake up.”
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England and America spent the entire week locked in 10 Downing Street.
America couldn’t say it was pure torture. She’d definitely been trapped in smaller, more unforgiving places for much longer. England’s company at Downing Street was a million light years better than a trench in France or a blind in Vietnam. Things could definitely be much worse.
Plus, the two countries found ways to entertain themselves.
America passed the time playing videogames on her computer and keeping tabs on the news. England started burning her way through all of the books she’d yet to read. And when they both got tired of that, the two took to watching historical documentaries and dramas and pointing out the inaccuracies in the stories. Amelia definitely learned a lot more about Henry VIII than she’d ever cared to know.
Then, finally, it was time to leave for Paris.
France had messaged the details several days before and both England and America were scheduled to arrive in Paris a couple hours before the Meeting was supposed to convene. America had to give it to France, she knew how to plan a get together. The building the Meeting was being held in had top-notch security and guards posted at nearly every entrance and exit. Nobody, besides the nations, was getting in or out.
It was also a rare instance where every nation in the world was in attendance.
At a regular Meeting, a good chunk of nations didn’t even show up - giving one excuse or another for not being there - but as Germany called role, America realized exactly how many nations showed up.
When the Meeting officially starts, it’s chaos. Everyone tries to speak at once. Nations whose identities hadn’t been revealed were trying to scream over the others about how important containment was. The other nations were trying to scream about how to fix the situation as a whole. Speculation flew everywhere. Everyone had different ideas on how this should go, which were better than everyone else's ideas.
It was a true World Meeting.
America silences them with the loudest whistle she could manage.
Some of the nations, when they saw who was trying to take control of the Meeting, looked exasperated. Others looked furious, most likely the ones who secretly blamed America for this entire fiasco.
America had thought long and hard about what she had wanted to say at this Meeting. And everyone was going to pay attention. Even if they didn’t like what she had to say.
“My government hasn’t found the source of the leaks or where they got all this information. We have no way to stop this without infringing on people’s rights. And even though some of you don’t share the same opinions as me on that subject, I think the best way to handle this situation is to get out in front of it.”
“What are you saying, America?” came Russia’s question.
There was a brief moment where America’s brain steered completely off course and wanted to bash Russia’s head in. Impulse control was a lot higher when Russia was behind a computer screen.
“I’m saying that we need to strip these people of their power. Half of the nations here have already been exposed. Is there really a point in hiding anymore?”
America’s proposition was met with complete silence. Which neither good nor bad.
“Plus,” she decided to continue, hoping she wasn’t putting her foot in her mouth, “if we take this into our own hands then our citizens can hear it from us first hand instead of relying on information from an unreliable source.”
More silence.
And then, “I agree.”
God bless the United fucking Kingdom.
“We can contain this better in the open than we ever could in the shadows.”
“This is a millennia old secret!” someone argued indignantly.
“That has been thoroughly exposed by someone who still eludes us,” England snapped back. America could feel her piercing stare, despite not being the focus of it. “If we can’t catch them, they will continue to reveal identities and we will be fully exposed either way.”
There must’ve been something a lot more convincing about America’s plan when it came from England’s mouth, because when the plan came to a vote, it passed with flying colors. It would probably go down in history as the day most of the nations of the world agreed with one another. The result made America want to try and convince England to present all of her plans.
Within the hour, a United Nations press conference was being streamed in the World Meeting room. The nations watched as the President of the United States took the microphone and, in front of the entire world, confirmed the existence of living national personifications.
It sent a chill through the World Meeting room, exposing a secret that had been kept for thousands of years in a matter of seconds. The press conference seemed to explode with questions and pictures and more questions.
Every nation in the room seemed to collectively dread their return home, knowing that a bombardment of press would be awaiting them.
Next to her, Amelia felt Alice’s hand slip into hers.
“We’ll get through this,” she whispered underneath her breath. A smile quirked at the edge of America’s lips, remembering the times she’d told Alice the same words.
“Yeah,” Amelia answered confidently, looking at the room before finally focusing on Alice. She stole a quick kiss from Alice’s lips before continuing, “Yeah we will.”