Despite being over the events of the Revolutionary War, there are certain events that can trigger feelings of guilt between America, England, and in a sense Canada.

England having to say "independence" or any of its grammatical variants makes him violently ill; that's canon. However, directly associating America with the word independence (saying "America's independence", for example), can elicit some nasty memories of the war as well as minor headache and bleeding of the mouth. However, these episodes of flashbacks are very, very brief.

Should Canada see England and America argue, at first he'll think nothing of it. After all, most of their arguments are lighthearted, and are not to be taken seriously. If he notices that it's taken a darker turn, however, he'll vaguely think of his involvement in the Revolutionary War... And whether he'll have to pick sides again.

America's is more rare, yet slightly more dangerous:

Prime conditions are when he's just had a bad day, he's tired, stressed out from work, and things are just not looking up to him. Oh yes, and it's raining, and quite hard. Lovely.

To clear his mind, he goes out and takes a walk, despite the rain. At this point, he really doesn't care about anything. Maybe he could pick up a coffee from Starbucks, go shout some national hymns at the top of his lungs in an open field, go help a random citizen, anything.

He walks through a suburban-like area, for whatever reason. Maybe he wanted a scenic route to the coffee place. The rain's picking up a bit, but it doesn't bother America and his trusty umbrella.

Suddenly, he hears:

"I'm leaving! I'm an adult, you can't force me!"

America pauses, then turns around to see a teenage boy scrambling down wet steps, the door to his house wide open as he dashes to the car. An older man shows up at the door, eyes wide.

"You come back here--!" The man shouts, stepping out a bit into the rain, but he doesn't make an attempt to chase the boy.

"You can't force me to stay with you!" The boy swivels around to face the man. "I'm eighteen! I'm an adult! And why do you think you can be in my life, when you haven't been in it when I was younger!"

America inhales sharply. Oh, God no. He recognizes this argument.

He quickly walks away, but despite the distance, he can still hear them:

"I-I was busy--"

"Too busy for your own son?" America winces painfully as the boy's voice becomes louder. "I'm done. I'm going now." He hears a car roar to life, and it's only when the car passes by him when America stops completely, staring after the car.

Despite his umbrella, his face is wet. And for most of the time he's outside, he'll dwell painfully in the past, the day he openly rebelled and left his father figure.

He doesn't return home for hours, but when he does, he feels a lot better. All the bottled up emotion in his gut is deflated out of him, and it feels like a weight has been lifted from his chest. Shouting the Gettysburg Address really feels good. True, he'll probably spend the rest of the night watching cartoons and super hero flicks just because he can, but he'll be right as rain by morning, despite being exhausted.

And he won't think of the War for a while.