It got worse. The shut down spread up America's legs to his hands, and he grew increasingly worried. But Canada and Native America stayed with him. The other nations heard of the shutdown, and there was one in particular that wasn't very happy with him.

"Why the bloody hell didn't you tell me, you git!?" America shrugged. "I wasn't aware of it at the time."

"..."

"What?"

"Nothing."

"Come on, man, chill out, it's not a big deal."

"Yes it is! You went into a coma last time!"

"I remember."

"Then why are you so blasted calm about it?!"

"'Cause I'm scared!"

Silence.

England looked at America. "I'm scared, okay?" America repeated. England sighed. "Okay. But you can't just cover up for everyone and pretend it's fine." America shrugged.

The shutdown went on for two years. America had lapsed into a coma, just like he had feared. It was bad, but not as worse as before. The other nations talked to him, reassured him. They played music, and movie, and several comedy shows. He wasn't unnoticed. He wasn't left alone at the hospital all the time.

There was a squeak and America heard footsteps. "America?" Mom? He wanted to scream, shout, say something, even a whisper would do. "Hey, honey," she said, and he felt her hand take his. "I haven't visited you in a while, I know. I'm sorry. I have to cut this conversation short too. I hear your government is planning on trying to lift the shutdown."

America felt relieved. "America, I just...I just wanted to let you know that I'm proud of my sons. America, you fought and won your liberty, and I am proud of the nation you are, and the same goes for Canada. I love you both." She let go, and left.

One day he just woke up. He opened his eyes, the colors and light so bright that his eyes almost ached. "He's up!" America sat up to face the three nations at the end of the hospital bed. Canada, Britain, and Japan. He smiled, and flexed his fingers, in awe that he could move. He could see.

He scoffed. "I'm awake," he said softly. Britain smiled. "Yeah, you git, the government reopened this morning." America sighed. He looked at Canada. "Where's Mom?" Canada looked sad then. They got him a wheelchair and took him down a floor, and two hallways over.

Native America lay in a hospital bed, a life support tube sticking out of the corner of her mouth. She still looked brilliant and healthy, as though she was just asleep. America bit his lip, running his finger through his honey-colored hair. "When..when did this happen?" Canada crossed his arms. "About a week ago." Canada sat on a stool next to Native America, Canada at her side.

They still remembered her, from long ago.

America poked Canada. "Bwuder!" he giggled. Canada beamed back at him, his chubby cheeks showing little dimples. "Amadahy, Catori, hic venit." (America, Canada, come here.) They waddled over to her. She smiled at them, and one her finger there was a stick bug. "Bug!" said America. She glanced at his awed expression. "Etiam parvulus." (Yes, little one.)

Native America had taught them Latin at a very early age, since knowing Native American would not benefit them. Some might think they were Native Americans, and treat them as such. But Native America did not use English, and she didn't plan to. "Mama, cibum?" asked Canada, looking at her pitifully. (Mama, food?)

She kissed one his his little cheeks. "Lorem ipsum dolor sit pauxillum mi. Ludere cum fratre tuo." (It's almost ready my son. Play with your brother.) They pulled at leaves, and poked each other with their tiny little chubby fingers.

Native America smiled at her beautiful boys. Then there was footsteps from up the path, which was a little ways from them. Native America rose to her feet, and peeked through the branches of the bramble. It was the fancy country, come to visit her son.

Dressed in green, with light hair and emerald eyes. He was looking around. Native America quickly went over to her little boy. "Mel ut aliquam," she said softly. (Honey, it's time to go." America thought for a moment. "Big bwuder?" Native America nodded, scooping the tiny thing up in her arms, and putting him down in the bramble, watching him find his way to the green suited man.

Canada whimpered, and tried going after his brother, but Native America held him. Canada looked after America, mournfully. "Suus alright," she cooed. "It's alright."

Native America became transparant, then disappeared. The two sons gasped in shock, their eyes shining with tears. "Mom? Mom!" But she didn't come back. Native America was gone.