Chapter Text
The sun hung low over the Capitol, its light smeared across the sky like blood on parchment. America stood alone atop the marble steps, mirrored sunglasses sparing him both the glare and the world’s scrutiny. His shadow reached down the staircase—flickering half‑a‑heartbeat behind him, as though another silhouette were trying to crawl free.
A breeze tugged at his bomber jacket. He didn’t feel it.
Inside, the United States of America managed a smile. Not the dazzling grin that launched a thousand headlines, but a tight, brittle curl of the lips—a mask already spider‑webbed with cracks.
Behind that mask, something pulsed.
---
“America.”
Britain’s voice—clipped yet hesitant—called from below. A polished cane clicked against marble; green eyes watched him like a historian fearing an unwritten page. “The summit’s starting.”
America lingered a heartbeat longer, surveying the city where every monument was a memory and every flagpole a tombstone. He exhaled. “Yeah, yeah. I’m comin’.”
As he descended, Britain studied his gait—stiffer, slower, the grin too shiny to be real. “Have you been sleeping?” he ventured, concern edged with suspicion.
America chuckled. “You know me. Sleep’s for the dead.”
Britain flinched—he hid it, but America felt the recoil like gun smoke between them.
---
The summit chamber hummed with diplomatic tension and muted magic; suppression runes pulsed pale blue beneath the parquet. France sparred verbally with Germany, while Japan—quiet, armour‑straight—took notes, a sheathed katana resting beside his chair. Mexico rolled his eyes when Poland (she) offered a *fashion‑forward* compromise, and India (she) responded with a jewelled smile that promised steel beneath silk.
Canada hovered near the coffee urn, trying to fold six‑foot shoulders into invisibility. His lavender gaze found America’s at once—a silent warning, a silent plea.
America looked away.
He played hero flawlessly—cracking jokes, nudging agendas—but underneath it all, he felt a heartbeat that was not his own. It echoed in his skull on sleepless nights, whispered beneath the floorboards of his soul: an old voice, an old sin.
He adjusted his tie; fingers brushed the hidden sigil stitched into the star‑spangled silk. A cold pulse answered from inside his chest. Canada’s paper cup froze halfway to his lips.
America’s smile twitched.
---
After adjournment, dusk bruised the sky lavender as streetlamps flickered awake. Canada intercepted him by the reflecting pool.
“Ame,” he murmured. “You look worse.”
America snorted softly, rubbing the back of his neck where phantom chains sometimes burned. “Appreciate the encouragement.”
Canada hesitated, then said more carefully, “It’s getting stronger, isn’t it?”
America didn’t answer at first. His jaw locked. And for a blink, his eyes gleamed red.
Canada inhaled sharply. “You need help.”
“No,” America said, voice flat as stone. “I need time.”
“But how long until—”
America stepped closer. “Nada. Don’t. Not here.”
The tremor in his voice wasn’t fear. It was heavier.
Guilt.
---
Later that night, America sat alone in his private quarters, deep within secure government grounds—his sanctuary, not the Oval Office. He wasn’t the President, just a personification in the halls of mortal power, acting through whispers and signatures no one ever read too closely.
A bottle of bourbon sat uncapped beside splayed maps, each parchment overlaid with glowing annotations—flashpoints where unrest might feed something starving. The floor was a web of Celtic knots and Algonquin sigils, Britain’s grudging gift woven with Canada’s solemn promise.
In the black window, America’s reflection loomed—broad‑shouldered, tousled blond, a grin too sharp. Behind it, a second outline lagged: antlered, winged, eyes twin coals of spiteful fire, moving just out of sync.
“Not tonight,” he whispered. “Not yet.”
The shadow grinned with his own teeth.
From the basement of his soul—far below the wards, deeper than self‑forgiveness—a voice like burned magnolias hissed, *One crack, hero. That’s all it takes.*
America closed his eyes and counted the cracks he swore no one else could hear.