She asked for a home birth, and despite Russia's protests and insistence that she would go to a hospital, Ukraine declared it a wonderful idea, and their combined enthusiasm won out in the end. He allowed Canada to invite one extra person to the birth, and she choose Hungary.

Hungary smiled at Canada when she arrived, despite Russia's annoyance over their tricking him, and soon after that, she was sharing the bedroom with Canada, who was comforted by her presence in this room Russia had given her. Hungary bore a new scar, near her face, but neither said anything about it, and they didn't need too.

One night, Canada had just stood up to go to the bathroom when Hungary grabbed her wrist and stood up herself. In the darkness, they looked at each other.

Hungary spoke very softly. "They're watching me too closely during the day. Did you get the child out?"

Canada nodded. "A girl. I named her Maria Gilbert Beilschmidt."

"Where is she now?" Hungary asked, sounding desperate. Canada knew why.

"With either Cuba or Mexico. Cuba has promised to keep her safe. I need to go to the bathroom now. Can we talk more in a moment?" Canada said, the pressure in her bladder feeling immense.

Hungary let her go, and when she returned, Hungary spoke again, although she was pretending to be asleep on her mattress.

"I'm glad you were able to save her. Thank you."

"You're welcome." Canada said with a soft smile on her lips as she let sleep steal her away once more.

***

Birth was painful, but Madeline reveled in every moment of the experience. It meant she was alive. After centuries of living and feeling the embrace of death a few times, only to wake up an hour later, she had learned to appreciate pain.

Hungary was helping the midwife, while Ukraine spoke comforting words to her. Canada held her tongue, only moaning when she needed to express her pain. She did not take any offered hands. As much as she loved both Hungary and Ukraine, the only face she wanted to see was one long gone from this world.

Soon she heard the midwife say something, and Ukraine told her "Just one more push."

She tightened her muscles and pushed, a slight gasp escaping her mouth at the same time a tiny cry rose into the air.

She watched the midwife, who handed her the bundle. A flood of emotions filled her.

"Hey little girl." She whispered, staring at the child.

The child was indeed another girl, with her father's silver hair, but deep dark blue eyes like hers. She was wailing, and Canada held her close.

Ukraine smiled and slipped out of the room. She traversed down the hallway to her brother's study, and opened the door. He looked up at her, waiting impatiently for the announcement.

"It's a girl." Ukraine said with a smile on her face.

Ivan nodded. "We'll name her Irina. Irina Sonya."

Ukraine watched her brother for a moment, and then nodded, her smile falling slightly when she realized he wasn't going to go see the child himself. "I will tell the midwife."

When Ukraine returned, Madeline was stroking her child's hair, and cooing the name she had chosen for the girl. "Hello, Isabella."

"Her name is to be Irina Sonya." Katyusha said.

Canada looked up. "But her name is..."

"Her name is what he wants it to be." Ukraine said, sorrow filling her. Canada and Russia would never be a happy couple. Canada was only bound to her brother by this child.

Canada sighed and said nothing, only giving a nod as her consent. She watched Katyusha fill out the papers, but she whispered to the baby quietly.

"You are Isabella Joan, mon fille. I will keep it that way as long as I can."

***

Maria learned Spanish quickly, and Esperanza had to admit, she was impressed by the speed of this child.

The girl was also silent and sometimes she would simply seem to disappear into thin air like her mother had. Yet, she was also confident and bold, and when she made mistakes, she would simply plow through until she found the right word. She reminded Esperanza of both her parents.

Esperanza had met Canada many times, and the silent nation had been friendly to her. She didn't have to worry about the large nation threatening to build a fence or stop trains for days which might be carrying drugs, yes, but also valuable exports such as perishable food, unlike a certain brother of hers.

Meanwhile, she remembered Prussia from the Zimmerman Note. He had actually visited and tried to convince her to attack the United States. She had been polite, and he had left very confident that his little plan had worked.

Imagine his surprise when we stayed neutral and offered the US supplies. Alfred was suspicious for a while, but I convinced him to trust me eventually.

When Cuba had first invaded, Alfred had come to her aide, though he hadn't been invited. But part of it was his own fear of Cuba reaching him. She had humored him, but the second the Russians landed on his soil and he returned to defend himself, she stopped all domestic military operations. Soon, all the soldiers had to do to surrender peacefully was shout "Ciudadano Mexicano!"

Now she was a puppet government, yet she still had some swing over him. He was the largest island in the Caribbean, but she was the largest nation under his control, and she had resources he did not, and with the cartels, a way to make sure he had to stop and listen to her demands. Some of them, not the ones in her government, but some of them, were at least partially loyal to the idea of Mexico rather than the holy dollar.

She turned at the sound of a crash in the kitchen with a start. "Maria?!" She called out in concern.

Maria came rushing into the living room crying, and clutched at Esperanza's skirts. "They're hurting them! They're hurting them, Esperanza!"

"Who's hurting them?" She asked, confused, but also realizing what this must mean.

"The soldiers! The women are screaming, and so are the children! Men are running away! No one's standing up for them!" She cried, hers fists becoming tighter. "Someone needs to help them!"

Esperanza tried to reach down and comfort the little nation when suddenly she started screaming.

"Hör auf! Hör auf! Hör auf!"

"Maria! Maria!"

***

Carlos watched Esperanza fret over the blankets, adjusting them and readjusting them as she felt she needed too. It was hard to watch a woman he considered his sister in such a state of worry.

"A satellite photo shows a town in Germany on fire. I suspect a rebellion was centered there, or a resistance cell."

Mexico nodded without looking at him, tucking a pillow under the child's head. Cuba sighed. "Aren't you the least interested?"

She whirled, her face one of anger. "This could kill her! Nations beginning from oppression are very sensitive to this sort of thing, as you should know! I have no time to be interested, Carlos!"

He looked at her as she walked around the bed, fretting over every last thing. She was partially right. Young nations formed under oppression were often easily destroyed by larger nations. But both he and her had been born in such a state, but the injustice down in their lands had made them stronger, more unified. Of course, it had helped that Spain lived an ocean away, whereas for Maria, Russia was right next door.

Maria moaned under the sheets, and down from the rafters flew her bird, not such a chick anymore, but a young hawk. It's flight was unsteady, but it settled down next to her and began to preen her hair.

The two older nations watched, and when Carlos next looked at her, Mexico was sobbing silently.

"Mexico?" He asked, reaching a hand over to try and comfort her.

"Aztec died with Quetzalcoatl next to him, trying to care for him in his final moments. I remember it, and the way Spain grinned when he found me next to Aztec's body. I wanted to die as well, but Aztec wouldn't let me. He said I had to be strong so I could beat the intruders and make them leave our lands."

Cuba looked at her with silent sympathy, and then she reached over and brushed her hand along the hawk's head. The bird looked at Mexico with brightly lit eyes before returning to preening her friend's hair.

"Mexico, you should go get some sleep. I'll wake you up if anything happens." Carlos reasoned with her after a few minutes of silence.

Mexico shook her head, sitting down in a chair next to the head of the bed. "I'm not leaving. I'll be right here until she wakes up."

Cuba sighed, and settled into his own chair, watching Canada's daughter.

It was going to be a long night.

***
Russia quickly became the dictionary definition of a doting father, carrying Irina with him almost everywhere inside the house once the first forty-eight hours had passed. He even changed her diapers. Canada felt like her daughter was slipping away from her.

At night, when Irina was hungry, Canada nursed her, refusing to pump her breasts so that Russia could feed her using the bottle. While she nursed in the rocking chair, alone in her room, she whispered to her daughter. "Isabella. You are Isabella Joan. You are not Irina Sonya. You are Isabella Joan."

At night, once Russia had taken over after Irina had nursed, Madeline went to her room and picked up a picture of her and France. She had always kept one on her, even in the world wars (though she'd lost a few that way. France had always had a laugh when she pulled out a photo with a bullet hole in it, quickly making a replacement with the nearest camera and black room he could find).

"Votre petite-fille est magnifique, papa."

She felt like France was right next to her as she said that, and she felt a warm hand on her shoulder.

"He calls her Irina, but her real name is Isabella. Isabella Joan. You know why the Joan is in there."

She could almost hear his faint laugh while he nodded, remembering his precious Jeanne d'Arc.

"Joan felt right though, rather than Jeanne. Guess I can blame dad for that."

She could feel England's indignant huff through whatever veil separated them from her world. Another laugh from Francis, louder this time.

"Is Gilbert there?" She finally asked after a moment.

Nothing. Not a sound or touch, no laughter.

"If you see him, tell him I love him."

A reassuring touch, and then nothing.

She sighed, clutching the photo.

"Tu me manque. Tout de toi."

***

Six months passed quickly, and Madeline was called to the study.

Irina was awake in her playpen, playing with a toy while Ivan spoke in Russian to her. She cooed at his voice and he chuckled for a moment before realizing she had entered. He sat straighter at seeing her. "Ah, yes Madeline, thank you for coming here."

The way he speaks and acts makes me feel more like an employee than the mother of his child. She thought, but she said nothing, reaching into the crib for Isabella. Ivan let her take the child, who paused for a second in confusion, but then continued to chew on her toy.

"She's teething." Ivan said quietly in English.

"I know. She bit me earlier while I was nursing her." Madeline said, rocking the child slowly.

Ivan said nothing for a while, until Irina's eyes shut and she went to sleep. "It has been six months. Have you decided whether or not you'll stay yet?"

Madeline was silent. Once Isabella's breathing had slowed, she set her back into the playpen Ivan had set up for her to nap. "I have given it much careful thinking, and I will stay, at least for another year, if not more."

Ivan smiled and reached across to take her hand. "Our daughter will be the strongest nation on earth, Canada. You were so strong, and I still am. Maybe one day she will surpass both of us."

Canada said nothing, and Ivan came around the table to her. He lifted her from her seat, and pressed play on the small CD player he had sitting on his desk.

"Join me?"

She danced with him, quietly, and soon they were spinning gracefully across the study floor.

He smiled again, and it was was a joyous smile, a smile so beautiful Madeline had to admit that in another life, she would have loved him.

But when he guided her to his bedroom, she knew that it was not this life.

***

Maria recovered quickly, and soon after the incident, she had a growth spurt. In the period of a month, she went from the age of four to the age of twelve.

She began speaking fluent German with no instruction, and Russian and French as well. Neither Cuba or Mexico could understand it, yet there she was, with the hawk on her shoulder and practicing drill instructions on a virtual reality program salvaged from leftover technology America had left behind.

"He was always good with video games, but I never saw him play this." Mexico whispered to Cuba one afternoon as they watched the girl play her war games.

"I think she made it by piecing together old first person shooter games and actual military technology." Cuba replied back.

"Luftangriff, jetzt!" She shouted at the box, which recognized her voice. "Quadrant four, aim for the tanks and barricades!"

They both watched her, interested, but also horrified.

"Do you suppose..." Mexico began. "That she could be a reincarnation of..."

"It's possible." Cuba replied. "After all, it has... it has happened before."

"Nien, Quadrant Four, dummkopf!" Maria snapped at the screen, oblivious to the conversation behind her.

***

Maria collapsed onto the bed, wiping away the sweat. She had taken to a morning run, followed by intense cardio and calisthenics, her chores, military strategy study, and then the virtual reality war games. After this, she would do an evening run before dinner, have dinner, and then do yoga before heading to bed. And while Mexico took her siesta during the afternoon, she read books, praying that when she went home to Europe, she'd be able to fight nearly half as well as her father.

Mexico gasped when she'd seen her running outfit the first time. "Maria, you'll sweat to death!" She had stated with her motherly concern.

"Better than sunburnt skin." The albino had replied, before bolting out the door so Mexico couldn't catch her.

Now Mexico just left a bottle of ice water on the counter for her when she began to prepare dinner.

Maria stopped in the park, taking a swig from the bottle. Most of the people in the area had become familiar with her run. Some even told her that they set their watch by her. She sighed as she looked around. She liked this route, but she'd have to change it after her next growth spurt, though she had no idea when that would be. The problem with being a nation.

She was just about to start moving again when some idiot sixteen year old boy suddenly decided to snap her bra straps under her shirt.

"¡Vete a la mierda!" She snarled, turning on him. She was used to this, sadly.

He grinned. "Prefiero tener usted."

Oh, there was no way this potential rapist was going to lay a hand on her. But she had dealt with these boys before, and they usually left her alone without too much of a fight. She shook her head and started to walk off. He wasn't worth the effort.

He grabbed her shoulder.

She swung around and hit him in the jaw, which was a shame because she'd been aiming for his nose. Still, he took a step back before locking back onto her, his eyes growing dark at her actions.

Okay, vati, help me send this bastard back to hell. She thought, bracing for a fight.

He came at her and she ducked to the side, swinging around and grabbing his arm to twist it. He whirled right as she dropped to a semi kneel and raised her fist towards his groin. She connected, and then leapt up, slamming the sole of her shoe into his instep.

He grabbed her hair to pull her down, and she grinned, putting her elbow out so it landed straight in the middle of his chest. She whirled, and he managed to give her a black eye right before she broke his nose. Blood came rushing out.
A policeman was running over, and she went right to him. "Officer, he tried to grab me!"

"I saw, don't worry miss." The officer said, heading towards the boy with a menace that matched an angry Esperanza in his steps.

Maria waited until the officer was done shouting at the boy to approach him and admire her handy work. He looked like hell, and it would probably be hard for the officer to believe it she had done it if he hadn't seen it happening.

"Officer, may I head home?" She asked after a moment.

He looked at her, and then nodded. "I think you can defend yourself pretty good, miss. Go home."

"Thank you." She said before leaving the park at a light jog, heading straight home. She had no desire to continue the rest of her run with blood on her shirt and a black eye.

***

Mexico liked to consider herself a very easy-going mother.

Sure, she panicked over Maria's illnesses and she'd nearly died of worry the first time she'd went out running in those long pants and long sleeve shirt, but she was a pretty easy mother to have, wasn't she?

But when she saw Maria entering the house, late for dinner for the first time ever, sporting a black eye and blood on her shirt, well...

To say she flipped out would be to put it mildly.

"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU?!"

"I'm fine, Mexico, I'm fine." Maria said as she reached for a t-shirt she kept next to the door.

"THAT'S NOT WHAT I ASKED, MARIA!"

"I got into a bit of a skirmish on my run. That's all."

"What kind of skirmish?!"

"A bit of a fight, okay, but I won and I'm fine, that's all that matters."

"That's not all that matters! Who was it? I'll call the police!"

"That's not necessary, a police officer was there and he told the boy off."

"A boy?! MARIA!"

"Look, I'm fine! ABSOLUTELY FINE! JUST LET ME GET SOMETHING TO EAT BEFORE I GO TO BED!" She snapped, and Mexico snarled before heading back to the dining room.

Dinner was devoured in relative silence, and shortly afterwards, Maria stormed off to take a shower. Esperanza sighed and waited. She would be up for another hour or two, though Maria would likely be in bed within half an hour.

She was about to read a magazine when she heard something being thrown against the wall and shattering. "Fick!"

She stood and went to Maria's door. "Maria? Is everything okay?" When no response came, she opened the door and found Maria crying, holding the Iron Cross pendant in her hand.

"The fucking ribbon snapped." She said, a sob coming through her voice.

Esperanza took it and examined the ribbon. It was past the point of repair. "I'll go put a new ribbon in it." She said. Some of the anger from earlier came through her voice, yet at the same time, she couldn't remain angry at the girl for very long.

Maria nodded as she wiped away the first tears forming in her eyes, and Gilbird settled down next to her, calm.

Esperanza returned and Maria took the Iron Cross, retying it to her neck. The hawk reached up and touched it's beak to the metal, and then flew back up into the rafters, her favorite place since she began to fly.

"Maria?" Esperanza began, but then stopped, unsure if she wanted to know the answer.

She looked at her with blue eyes asking many questions. "Yes?"

"You don't really consider me your mother, do you?"

Maria didn't say anything for a while, but when she began, it hurt.

"No. I remember my mutti, Canada. She found me, saved me. She taught me that others can be trusted. She and Kumajirou are the reason I'm alive. You've raised me, taught me, and I consider you to be a wonderful woman, but no, I don't consider you my mother. Canada is."

Mexico nodded and stood up to leave. She needed to nurse her pain alone.

"Esperanza?"

She turned.

"I love you." Maria whispered, as if those words were forbidden.

Mexico smiled, although it was pained. "Te amo, Maria."

***

Years passed.

Irina grew up in front of her, and yet Canada almost wished she had left when she could.

Irina refused to let her call her Isabella, even in private, and didn't want to learn French or English. She learned Ukrainian happily enough, but she refused to learn anything else. She was her father's daughter, and as stubborn as an ox.

She was six, though her appearance was closer to eight or nine. Russia had finally learned to discipline her occasionally, though often it fell to Madeline to give out punishments. Thus, she was the least favorite parent.

Madeline often found herself in bed with Russia anymore. She had learned that in order to have quality time with her daughter, she needed to spend time in Ivan's bed. It had lead to some interesting arguments, but what had hurt most was when Switzerland called her a traitorous whore, and Hungary had refused to look her in the eyes.

So she clung close to what she had left. North Italy was affectionate enough towards her, and she couldn't help but smile in his presence. Ukraine still liked her, and the Baltics seemed kind enough towards her.

She had flown to Italy's house for several reasons, but there was another reason as well.

Cuba was visiting.

Italy greeted her at the airport, grinning. "Ciao!"

Despite his grin, she knew he still hurt. That was part of his strength. Being able to hide the pain behind a smile. She smiled back, and the nation took her by the hand, skipping off towards his car.

She enjoyed the ride in the Ferrari. Feliciano had grinned when he showed her. "This is my baby." He said affectionately. "Hasn't failed me yet."

She smiled at his enthusiasm, and climbed in.

The house was warm, as she remembered it from her visits before the war. Lovino had shown her around once, and even gave her an incredible copy of one of the pieces of artwork hanging in the living room. It showed a Roman woman holding a basket of fruit on her hips, smiling at some unseen figure in the distance.

When she saw the original, she smiled. Feli was in the kitchen, excited to share his pasta with a guest. She could hear him moving around while he worked.

It was evening, and she looked out the western window to watch the sunset. It was gorgeous, the colors making her wish she had lived in Ancient Rome, or during the Renaissance, just so she could have experienced it all.

When he came back into the room, the sun had just finished setting, and he found Madeline gazing at the painting.
"That was one of Lovi's painting." He said, looking at it as well, his voice only hinting a note of sorrow.

"It's always been one of my favorites." She replied, looking at it. "He gave me a beautiful copy of it once. It used to hang in my apartment in Vancouver."

"Used too?" Italy asked curiously.

She looked up and met his eyes sadly. "The building was destroyed during a battle. I was in Toronto at the time."

He nodded, and for a moment they simply stood there in silence.

"Well, the pasta will get cold soon." He finally said, and Canada nodded. They needed to return to the present for the moment.

They ate their meal peacefully, sipping on wine and talking about the old days.

***

The next morning, they drove to the hotel Cuba was staying at. Italy dropped her off in the back and she went up the fire escape to the fifth floor. She'd checked earlier, and the hotel was being watched and protected by the Cuban government, so the Russians were temporarily displaced.

She knocked on the window, and it was opened quickly, and she lept inside.

Carlos nodded to her, and she nodded back. He held up two fingers.

Ah. The room's been bugged by the Russians, though. She thought as she glanced at him.

He pulled out a notepad and pen and handed her a note. She's almost an adult.

She scribbled back a response. How old does she look?

Sixteen. Mexico has been raising her like you asked. The past few years she aged normally, but before that, it was in bursts.

Canada nodded, and Carlos handed her photos. She stared at the young woman in front of her, grinning at the camera with a hawk on her shoulder and a military uniform on.

Mexico has let her train her own police squad the past few years, and she's been studying with my generals, like you requested. Carlos added swiftly, and Canada nodded again, proud of this girl.

Cuba watched her and then showed her another piece of paper, a note.

Whenever you're ready, mutti, I'm ready to make vati proud.

-Maria

Madeline took a deep breath, wishing her child hadn't grown up so fast.

You could go back home. Cuba suggested. She would be delighted to see you.

She shook her head. I have Isabella to worry about now, though she hates me.

Isabella? I thought your daughter was named Irina.

He didn't ask, so I didn't either. Two names.

Cuba nodded, just as someone knocked on his door. He turned."Sir, the Italian ambassador is downstairs." The voice called out through the door.

"Ah, very good. I'll just be a moment." Carlos replied.

He turned to tell Madeline one last thing, but she was already gone. The window was open, and the curtains lifted softly in the breeze.

But then he spotted something on the ground.

He picked up the small piece of wood and realized it was a carving of a mother holding a child.

He smiled slightly, tucking it away for Maria.

Translations

French
Mon fille-my daughter
Votre petite-fille est magnifique, papa.- Your granddaughter is beautiful, papa.
Tu me manque. Tout de toi. -I miss you. All of you.

Spanish
Ciudadano Mexicano-Mexican citizen
¡Vete a la mierda!-Fuck off!
Prefiero tener usted.-I prefer you instead.
Te amo, Maria.-I love you, Maria

German
Hör auf! Hör auf! Hör auf!-Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!
Luftangriff, jetzt!-Airstrike, now!
Nien, Quadrant Four, dummkopf!-No, Quadrant Four, idiot!
Vati-dad
Fick -fuck
Mutti-mom

Italian
Ciao!-Hello