The car is moving along paved road and douglas firs of a nearby forest. The rain outside is the only sound between the two of them, only surpassed by his pressing the break and the eventual slowing and then stopping the car at the occasional red light. Canada watches the shadow outline of raindrops pelting the vehicle move around the car from where it was momentarily bathed in the light of a street lamp.

America shifts in the passenger seat. This is an oxymoron, her, evening gown on dark blue and him, a suit with a tie that is the same color as her dress. His jacket and her shoes were thrown into the backseat. They compliment each other almost on accident. The thought makes his head hurt. She is tracing lines on the window, trying to ignore the buzz in her brain brought on by two glasses of champagne.

Politics and parties do not go together. Neither does pettiness.

"My head feels fuzzy," she mutters. It did, but not enough for her to voice her complaints. No, this was only a moment of weakness that she allows to bleed out to get him to speak. To say something.

The car moves again 70 mph down the road. He is exactly four miles above the speed limit and doesn't really care. Matthew grinds his teeth against each other for a moment, both hands clenching and unclenching on the steering wheel. "Just get to bed. Close your eyes and you'll be spinning." A beat. "Can't believe you."

"You didn't say anything about being cynical." Amelia's words are bored. "You left me anyways"


"The second we got there-"

"Don't, for fuck's sake, Ames-"

"To go be with her, someone that you don't even like!"

"No. Stop it! Just shut up, okay?!"

Amelia lifts herself up in her seat, glaring at him. "What is your problem?!"

"You are! You have something to drink and too little sleep and you think it justifies you being a complete-"

"What happened? Did she say something to you? Poor little Nicole, representation who couldn't handle a few words of reality? I told your little Quebec to back off! Neither of us want anything to do with her, you told me that!"

He doesn't say anything, grinding and grinding and grinding his teeth. It's making her want to smash his face in. The car slows down at another red light, and America's fingers are twisting the fabric of her dress. It would have to be ironed later. She bit her bottom lip, running a hand through her hair.

"You said it. You did. To come to this event. To get me out of paperwork. To play nice. But no." she turns her gaze back outside. "Courtesy over common sense."

"Yeah." There's a headache blooming in his skull. He is trying to ignore the feeling that certainly is not guilt swirling in his stomach. "Yeah, I did. Because I thought it would fucking help. And you know what you did? You went out there with your heroine complex and your pathetic need to have everyone feel something towards you-"

"You know what, it's none of your business how I feel or don't feel!"

He gives a strangled laugh. "It's none of my business?"

"It's none of your fucking business!" she snarls.

"I'm your brother!" He slams his hand against the steering wheel, the sound heavy and dull in her ears and for a brief, fleeting moment, she wonders if he would turn that blow onto her as quickly as she would onto him. "Of course it's my business!"

"Yeah, newsflash, I don't need you looking out for me!" she shouts back.

The car is moving again, and the space between them is too live with electricity and seething hatred and lack of sleep on both their parts. He doesn't think he's hated her more than he has in this moment. She feels the same. His violet eyes meet her blue with that same searching, piercing look that seemed to go through her as if she was nothing.

The lights come out of nowhere, and her gaze moves from him to the road before something of a scream tears out of her throat, one arm coming up in vain to his side and reaching the steering wheel before there is nothing but light and the sound of crunching metal and broken glass. Her body, their bodies, in slow motion as the owner of the bright blue vehicle slams into the front of their Prius.

She screams his name once before the world goes black.

Nicole: Representation of Quebec. Dated Canada sometime in the 1990's and ended the relationship quite cruelly. Canada doesn't like her and rightfully so, but America has a bit more hatred in herself.