December 20, 1777

United States didn't expect the feeling when it hit. He had been helping to build another log hut when a sense of strength hit him, intoxicating and powerful. He didn't realize how weak he had been until he was filled with that strength.

"What was that?" Delaware asked.

"What was what? What are you talking about? Did something happen?" James asked. United States ignored him, too busy basking in the strength that seemed to push aside the cold, leaving him warm and content. United States let out a little laugh, causing the soldier next to him, Sam, to look over.

"Something funny?" he asked. United States just smiled.

"I do believe I have just been recognized by another nation," he said. United States could think of nothing else that would grant him this kind of strength.

"We have?" James asked, sounding more excited than United States had ever heard him before.

"We have?" Sam asked, his tone full of cheer and excitement, "Who?"

"I don't know. I only feel the feeling of strength, one that comes with recognition," United States explained. "We probably won't find out who for a few weeks at most."

"Do you think it is France?" Sam asked.

"I hope so, but I don't know. I should go let the general know of this development unless you still want my aid?" United States asked. Sam laughed, waving him off.

"I can build my own hut. You take care of business," Sam said. United States nodded, smiling as he walked off toward the general's home, listening to his states celebrate the good news. After informing the general (and being subjected to an interview that went nowhere, United States still had no idea which country it was), United States retired to his tent for the night.

He sat at his desk and pulled out a pen and paper, preparing to write a letter to whoever it was that recognized him. He wanted to capture his feelings, his states' feelings, the celebration and the joy, and the strength while they were still fresh in his mind.

He needed this country to know how wonderful their gift truly was.

To the country that has just recognized my independence.

I know not your name or your face, but I feel the strength you have given me in this trying time. You have my eternal gratefulness. I felt a strength upon becoming a country, but it is nothing compared to the strength you have given me with your recognition. I know not how I can even begin to repay you for this act of kindness, but know, for as long as politics and life allow it, you will have a friend in the United States of America.

With more gratitude than you could ever know,

The United States of America

• ───────────────── •

December 31, 1777

United States woke slowly.

Exhaustion tugged at his limbs, and it took all his energy to open his eyes. He felt somewhat stiff, and he struggled to put his fuzzy thoughts together.

His head was suspiciously quiet. Where had they gone?

"United States?" someone asked, and United States looked over to see the camp doctor standing beside him.

"Yes?" he asked, trying to shake the confusion from his mind. The doctor seemed to relax at his words.

"Oh, praise be to God," he muttered. United States blinked.

"Did something happen?" he asked, searching through his memories. What did he last remember...he remembered being recognized, building huts, and then—

Oh. He had died.

"You—"

"Died, yes. Smallpox. That's new," United States said, lifting himself up as he rubbed at his head.

"You seem...unsurprised," the doctor said. United States smiled.

"God allows me to stay on Earth so long as I have a country to serve, no matter how damaged my mortal body may be. You need not fret when I am dead. I will return, for the revolution, for all those who fight for me," United States said. The doctor nodded, still looking disturbed.

"I...I must go. I have other patients to attend to," he said. United States smiled and nodded, and the doctor rushed away.

United States then pulled his legs off the bed and began running himself through his post-death exercises.

He hated dying.

• ───────────────── •

January 10, 1778

United States paced as he prepared to bring himself to the prisoner of war camp where Nova Scotia and St John's Island were being kept, so anxious about seeing them after...after many years.

God, it really had been a long time since he had seen them. Eight-odd years flew by.

What if they hated him?

"You can't avoid them because of what-ifs. You should visit them. They're still family, and they might get more mad if you ignore them," Virginia pointed out. United States sighed and nodded, knowing she was right.

He exhaled, bringing himself to the entrance of the prisoner-of-war camp.

"United States!" the guard exclaimed, looking shocked to see him there. United States smiled.

"Hello, sir. I am here to visit my cousin, Nova Scotia, and her son, St. John's Island. Where are they?" he asked. The guard looked around nervously before nodding.

"Of course, sir, right away," he said, letting United States in. "They should be in the middle of the camp."

United States nodded and thanked the man, walking into the camp. He was wearing his military uniform and drew the attention of many of the prisoners as he did so, hearing them whisper among each other as he walked by.

"Do you think they might attack us?" Rhode Island asked.

"They better not. They're prisoners. They would only get in more trouble if they did that," Massachusetts said. That didn't stop United States from keeping his guard up, eyes scanning the British prisoners for familiar faces.

Finally, he spotted them and stopped as his nervousness returned.

"It'll be okay," Virginia said. United States exhaled, calming his nerves, before he raised his voice, calling over to the two countryhumans.

"Nova Scotia! St. John!" The countryhumans, who had been conversing, ended their conversation as they looked in his direction. Nova Scotia gasped as she saw him, hand flying to her mouth, as St John's Island scowled and began kicking at the dirt.

"Thirteen?" she asked, her voice gentle as she walked towards him. United States nodded.

"Technically, United States now," he replied, "Shall we go somewhere without an audience?"

There were many prisoners watching them, and United States didn't feel comfortable talking with the crowd watching them.

"Of course," Nova Scotia said, smiling as she took a step backward, leading United States to her small hut, St John's Island following them into it.

"I missed her," Massachusetts said. United States agreed. He had missed her.

Nova Scotia turned to face him, putting a hand to his cheek, rubbing her thumb gently across it. United States couldn't help but lean into the touch. He had missed her so much.

"Smallpox?" she asked, her voice gentle. United States nodded.

"I died," he said, his voice cracking slightly. Nova Scotia sighed.

"I'm sure you don't want to hear it," she began, "So I'm not going to bring it up. I'm sorry. But...Edward, do you have a way to get us out of this camp?"

"They won't let you leave. Not when it's such an advantage over Father. I'm sorry," United States said, guilt in his voice as he pulled away from her touch. He wanted to help his cousin, but with the war...there was no way he could.

"I figured as much. It's okay," Nova Scotia said, smiling slightly. St. John's Island scoffed.

"They make us pay for our own food, our own fuel, for upkeep of these cabins!" he said. United States frowned.

"That's horrible," Virginia said, "Father, at the very least, you can foot the bill. You have no need for money."

"I can pay that. I want to ensure that despite you both being prisoners, you will be treated well. I don't know if, because you are still colonies, that some angry men might take out their anger on you," United States said, letting his gaze linger on Nova Scotia, "But if anything like that happens, write to me, and tell me, and I will see them punished. I will try to visit often when I can, as well."

"Thank you, Edward," Nova Scotia said, looking grateful. Even St. John's Island looked less angry.

"Johnathan," United States corrected. "Don't tell Father or Uncle Alba, please."

Nova Scotia let out a little laugh.

"I won't. Thank you for still trusting me."

"Thank you for still trusting me," United States said, pulling his cousin into a hug. Nova Scotia pulled away from the hug, looking as if a weight had been taken off her shoulders. For a few moments, they sat in a comfortable silence that was broken by Nova Scotia's teasing voice.

"I met your son."

"Son?" United States asked, a slight trace of panic in his voice. Did she know about his states? Did she somehow find out? Did Father know? Did the British know? Oh, God, did all of Europe think he was insane?

"How could she have found out?" Rhode Island asked, sounding both panicked and confused.

"The new country, Vermont," she said. United States relaxed. His secret was safe. And Vermont...the new child that he had heard about but never met...he wanted to know more.

"You have? What is he like?" he asked. Nova Scotia smiled.

"He's a lot like you. Was fighting for your cause as well," she answered before going to a small chest and grabbing a letter from it. "He gave me this letter to give to you. To introduce himself."

United States took the letter gently as if it were made of glass, smiling at his cousin.

"Thank you," he said, tucking the letter into his uniform to read later.

As of right now, he was with his cousin and her son.