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[ He wakes up and he's back in Wonderland, and all those foggy memories snap into place. They still stick together like pages of a book that's had soda spilled on it, so it's impossible to separate them chronologically after so long away. But the things he remembers are sharp and clear.

Except he notices that Wonderland is sorta fragmented into pieces. He thinks something catastrophic has happened and, now more than ever, he desperately wishes that his friends are somewhere, happy, that they've escaped what's happened here. They can't still be around after so long. Then again, who knows how long it's been with this place?

The last time he was here, he probably would've sat down and spent an hour freaking out somewhere behind a bush. This time he does the exact same thing, except he doesn't feel ashamed or embarrassed about it. Fuck it he is a global economic power he'll do what he wants.

After a while of rocking and shaking behind a tree, he gets up, dusts himself off, and decides to reintroduce himself.

Somehow he's found his phone again, with everything on it and the chipped in the corner. Just the way he'd left it. Maybe he should take this as a sign that he hasn't been away so long, at least in Wonderland time, but he doesn't. Too busy preparing his reintroduction.

Normal people would probably just turn their device on, say their hellos and see who is around and who is new. If you are expecting normal behavior from America I don't know what to tell you. Except "lower your expectations because this asshole is still a crazy motherfucker."

He'd found himself on a lone piece of forest, which is not the ideal location for his reentry. In the distance looms the lone, floating entrance hall. After a few seconds of debating the value of his life, he realizes he's immortal and abandons the last fuck he could possibly give before making a running start to leap to the next floating island. A manic grin and one thought propel him to his destiny:

Do it for the vine. ]

[ Finally everything is set up just the way he wants it. Camera placed just behind the closed doors of the entrance wall, it's propped up to frame the hall in such a way that it looks like just any normal day in Wonderland. The real trick is turning it on at just the right moment. He decides to turn it on from behind so the video doesn't capture his initial appearance. Slipping away as quietly as possible, the video just captures a few silent seconds of the doors.

Which then BURST OPEN IN AN EXPLOSION OF SHRAPNEL AND FIRE. USA USA USA.

The smoke clears and, surprise surprise, guess who's standing at the center with arms cross and cocky grin in place? No Crowley, that's for fucking sure, like he'd be capable of anything this epic. For those who knew him the changes are small and subtle, probably nothing to catch amidst the chaos. A taller stature, unhindered by painful wounds, a face that's still young but no longer burdened by self-consciousness and undercurrents of fear.

In the split-second he opens his mouth, just before he speaks you might be expecting something like YOUR HERO HAS RETURNED. But no. ]

WHERE THE FUCK ARE MY RAPTORS?

[ Good news: he's even more of a selfish shithead than before. Bad news: that was the good news.

God help you all.

and now a million years later do I add an obligatory nsfw warning?? don't read my threads if you value your time and integrity ]

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[Katniss doesn't care for theatrics, but she does appreciate a familiar face, and America provides that, at least. And the theatrics, but again, she doesn't care. Whatever.

His post brings up a good point, though. What's happened to all the animals? Those horses in the stables? Katniss feels a little sick at the thought that they all just...fell to their deaths.]

I don't know, but I hope they're safe.

[ Using the network again is like getting back in the saddle after years at sea. Familiar, but takes some effort to get back in the swing of using.

And this girl is familiar too. It's frustrating how long it's taking for the pieces to fall back into place; at home, he would have no trouble remember a face from eighty years prior, he'd even recognize them underneath the creases brought on by time.

He doesn't remember a name, but for some reason she makes him think of bread.

But it's right on the tip of his tongue, he knows it, so he does that thing where you pretend you totally know who someone is, waiting for them to slip up and give the necessarily details so you don't have to ask. Plus he doesn't want her to feel bad that he can't remember everything. America might be a selfish, oblivious jerk, even more so since his last stay, but he's not willfully cruel. ]

Me too. They were tough little critters! Er, are. They are, I guess I should say!

[ Maybe. If they're still alive after so long. How long do dinosaurs live, anyway? Would they be like Canada's polar bear and his own whale, or would they die like his rabbits, the innumerable dogs and cats and horses and other pets over the years? ]

[Katniss doesn't notice any hesitation he may show about her identity. She's unfamiliar with this aspect of the mansion, the one where people leave, sometimes, and come back different. They come back and don't remember. She has no idea.

But, since she isn't expecting it, she's not looking for it, so she remains beautifully oblivious.]

Tough enough to survive a fall like that?

[She doesn't mean to be cynical. She's just trying to be realistic.]

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Have you checked the roof?

[ If he could find a piece of it, anyway. ]

WHAT.

[ Wait a sec... after the headless adventure, right before he found himself back home... oops. ]

HA HA VERY FUNNY. IT'S BEEN THIRTY YEARS. LET IT GO.

[His heart is exploding in joy, but this is terrible timing. Luke's barely into the swing of moping. He hasn't even shouted at anyone about his terrible life yet, and now America's back and negating all the angst he's been building up to.

He's too taken by the random display of badassery to notice all the little differences in character and dress. Even as some logical part of his brain asks whether this was really necessary, his entire being lights up with admiration and hopes that are just waiting to be dashed. He's not even slowed down by the oh-shit realisation that the raptors are now kittens he's left to roam a jagged piece of rock. But is he going to admit that?

No. No he is not, the little bastard.]

No idea. I think they're a mile southeast of you.

[Please love me more than the raptors his reverent expression screams.]

[ That voice. He knows that voice. He was so sure he'd never hear that voice again, and he accepted that nearly two decades ago. Part of him actually hoped he'd never hear that voice again, much less see that squishy face that hasn't faded or aged in the slightest, because that would mean Luke had gone home like was supposed to. Moved on and lived a happy life. That's what humans are supposed to do.

He stares blankly at the screen even when the message is done. He has to lean against a broken section of wall to steady himself, trying to compose himself and failing miserably.

When he finally manages the will to respond, America still hasn't settled on just one emotion. Sadness flashes across his face thinking that maybe Luke had been here all along waiting for him, careening into some upset anger that Wonderland might've done this. ]

You're still here? But it's been... you aren't home...?

[ The turmoil he feels is only brief storm behind his eyes, quickly calming into confusion because Luke doesn't look upset. He doesn't look mad or bitter. He actually looks glad to see America.

This never fucking happens.

There are so many amazing things happening that he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Except smile. He can't help smile, which cracks into a grateful laugh where tears pool at the corner of his eyes. ]

You're still here!

[ The sentence climbs from a relived sigh to giddy disbelief. Truly, it looks like he's matured, because his laughter sounds like it's grounded. ]

[ But you would be wrong because the second he trails off his next breath hitches into a sob that dissolves into hysteric sobbing. ]

LUUUUUUUUUUUUUKKKKKEEEEE!

[ Emotional maturity is for people who aren't personified countries. I would say it's just America, but no, they're all fuckin children.

It's just now America isn't so timid about wearing his heart on his sleeve because his bones are made of steel and his blood is saturated with oil. HE CAN CRY ALL HE WANTS AND HE'S STILL AMAZING that is how much his confidence has grown. ]

[Now that explosions aren’t dazzling him, he can start looking at America. This real, living, talking America, not simply the image that appears every time he closes his eyes. There’s small differences there. Luke’s spent a long time learning every crevice of America’s body, so it’s not like he misses how he stands taller, looks broader, and has lost that weight that was always there, like a cloud over his head. Imperceptible a week ago, but now stunningly noticeable for its absence.

He looks amazing.

He shouldn’t be thinking things like that right now, because Luke’s spent a week telling himself he never wanted to see America again, and he’s almost started to believe it. He can’t help feeling twinges of guilt at how light and manageable his world is when America’s in it.

Guilt that only intensifies when the guy starts bawling like a fucking toddler, which is crazy because he seems to remember everything so he can’t have gotten younger when he was away.]

Hey. [He implores softly, wiping away the moisture around his eyes.]

C’mon, don’t, America. It's not that bad having to see my face again, is it?

[Even this can’t stop him smiling. Even this can’t stop the terrible jokes. Jokes that he hopes will get America smiling again, too, even if there’s no happy way to say ‘welcome back to unchangeable imprisonment’.]

I missed you.