Chapter Text
Chapter 9
Somewhere Else:
"America, where are you going?" asked NATO, his voice filled with concern. He stood near America, arms crossed, watching as the young nation prepared to leave.
America sighed, rolling his eyes. "I'm going to visit my mom... Obviously. And NATO, no need to worry. It's almost time, and you're about to become an official organization."
"That's not the problem," NATO insisted. "It's just... You never pay attention to your forty-eight children."
America followed NATO’s gaze to the forty-eight stars floating above his head. Each one symbolized a state under his care, a constant reminder of his growing responsibility. He knew NATO was right, but this was something he had to do.
"Don't worry... I'll be back, I promise. And tell Ohio... I won't be back for him."
NATO winced at that. Ohio was a troublemaker, yes, but he was still just a child. No doubt, he was crying in his room right now, feeling abandoned.
With that, America boarded his private jet and took off toward France. He had heard rumors—rumors that ESCE was still alive. He wanted to see for himself.
As he flew, memories surfaced. He remembered when he first met ESCE as a four-year-old. Her resemblance to Weimar Republic was uncanny. Weimar had been kind, gentle, despite the world turning against him. America had considered him a friend. He had watched helplessly as Weimar crumbled, unable to withstand the weight of the economic burdens forced upon him.
His own mother, France, and that old hag Britain had played their part in it, too. If they hadn’t raised the reparations to such an extreme—42,000,000,000 marks for a single loaf of bread—maybe Weimar wouldn’t have fallen. Maybe Third Reich wouldn’t have had to kill him.
Maybe things would have been different.
America shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. The past was the past. Now, he had to focus on ESCE. France had sent him a letter, detailing everything—how a Norwegian citizen had thrown ESCE against a wall, how she had slipped into a vegetative state, and how, miraculously, she was recovering at an unnatural speed.
When he had last been in Europe, months ago, he had searched for her, but she had been nowhere to be found. Now he knew why. He couldn't explain it, but something about this whole situation unsettled him.
The moment his plane landed, he wasted no time. The hospital staff nearly jumped out of their skin when he stormed through the halls, his usual carefree demeanor absent. It wasn’t often that America took things seriously. That alone was enough to put them on edge.
Finally, he arrived at her hospital room. France was already inside, sitting beside ESCE’s bed, her expression unreadable. America hesitated for just a moment before stepping inside, his voice breaking the silence.
"Yo, kid. Long time no see."
ESCE turned her head slightly, locking eyes with him. For a brief moment, America felt his breath hitch. That look—it was the same look Weimar had given him before he died. Tired. Empty. Resigned.
America clenched his fists.
They always said like father, like son. Or Like Father like daughter..But ECSC/ECSE and Third third in this state is Like Grandfather like Granddaughter But in this case, it was more like like granduncle, like grandniece.
Weimar had been her granduncle, after all. If Third Reich was her grandfather, then Weimar had been his older brother. The connection was clear now. America had known ESCE was related to him, but seeing her like this made the resemblance even more striking.
Her features, though, bore traces of Third Reich—especially her sharp canines. That alone was enough to send a shiver down his spine. But then there were her eyes... France had told him in the letter that her eye color had changed. One golden-yellow, the other a crimson red, like Third Reich’s. Something had happened to her. Something unnatural.
"You gonna say anything, or are we just gonna sit here all day?" America tried to keep his tone light.
ESCE stared at him for a few seconds longer before finally speaking. "You're loud."
America blinked, then let out a short laugh. "Still got some sass in you, huh? That’s good. Means you’re not completely gone."
France sighed in relief, a small smile tugging at her lips. It was a small sign, but it meant ESCE was still there—somewhere beneath the surface.
America pulled up a chair, sitting beside her bed. "You know, kid... you remind me of someone I used to know. Weimar Republic. He was a lot like you. Tired, but still trying to hold on."
ESCE’s expression didn’t change, but something in her eyes flickered. Recognition? Interest? America couldn’t tell.
"I’ll tell you about him sometime," he said, leaning back. "He was a good guy. A real good guy."
He left it at that, letting the silence settle. He knew he’d be coming back to visit. There was still so much he needed to say. So much he needed to ask.
Because one thing was for sure—something about ESCE wasn’t right.
And he needed to find out why.