Ever since she had been born, Québec knew some day he would move out of her Papa's house. She also knew that when her Papa and uncle each moved out, it didn't go so well for either. She was terrified of this happening when it was time for her to move out, but still she knew it needed to be done. When she finally decided to move out, she was 143 years old, and it took her more than a year to actually leave.
The morning she told Canada was a relatively normal morning. He had gotten up at nine and made pancakes and coffee for them, as he did almost every morning. When his daughter finally meandered her way down to the kitchen, it was about 11:30. He handed her a plate and she mumbled a "Merci", just like every morning. The difference was that today, instead of wolfing down her breakfast then running off to see her boyfriend, Romano, she just sat there, idly picking at her pancakes, not even eating. Eventually Canada noticed and asked his French Canadian offspring;
"Are you okay? Is something wrong?" he asked worriedly, as only a parent can. Almost immediately his hand flew to her forehead to check for a fever. She raised her hand, and lightly pusher her father's hand into his lap. After that both of her hands felling to her lap and she began staring at them.
"I think it's about time I moved out." She said in a low, almost inaudible, voice.
"Oh." Was all he could say. He knew this day was a long time coming. Neither of them wanted to fight about this. "What made you have this realization?" he asked calmly.
"You remember how I used to baby sit a little girl named Sarah Miller when I was in high school? Well yesterday Veneziano, Romano Germany and I were visiting Grandpa Rome's grave, and I saw it. Sarah's Grave." She said on the brink of tears. "She was six the last time I saw her. Six. And now she's dead. Not even that. I looked at the date. She died over fifty years ago." She was practically screaming at this point. Canada got up and wrapped his arms around his daughter, trying to sooth her. "The point is," she said, wiping the tears from her eyes. "I've been alive for more than a century, and I have done nothing but act like a child, mean while the world has gone and changed without me. It's time I stopped acting like a drunken teenager and lived up to my responsibilities. In nation years I'm 21, and my land is even older. It's time I stopped making you do everything for me, and started taking my nation into my own hands." She finished with a determined look in her eyes. The look Canada had seen in his brother's eyes when he had moved out. The look he knew he had in his own eyes when he moved out. He frowned.
"Are you sure? I don't mind doing your work. Actually I like it. I-"
"Papa." She said as she put her hand on his. "I'm a big girl. It's time I take my nation into my own hands."
"But, becoming a nation is harder than just signing papers and cutting ribbons. It's hard work."
"I realize that. I'm not saying I want to separate completely. Baby steps. I promise not to sever our relationship, and I don't expect it to happen over night. It will take time. Heck, I haven't even found a place for me to live. The point is, I have to start somewhere. I chose here." The two looked at each other for a moment.
"I'm not going to be a prick like England, so I won't try and stop you. That's being said, I still worry."
"Don't worry. I'll be fine. Don't forget, I still have my guns."
"How many do you have on your person?" he chuckled
"Right now? Since I was only planning to tell you then go to the Italys'… two." She laughed. 'Wait. When did she become so grown up? She really is beautiful. She looks so much like her grandfathers. What ever happened to that innocent little girl who couldn't pronounce her name?' Canada thought. After that, Québec engulfed her breakfast and got up to up to leave." Au revoir, papa. Merci d'être si compréhensive." And she ran out the door.
On July 7, 2125, Québec legally became its own country, though no one recognized it as such until April 29, 2163. 'Till this day, Québec still relies heavily on Canada, just as Canada relies on America. Quebec doesn't have the same international ties as Canada. She is close with Italy, Germany, France, England and of course, the other two north Americas. Her main exports pretty much the same as Canada, with the exemption of poutine. By the time she was recognized, she had stopped wearing the fake glasses. Also, as much as she hated to admit it, she was 1/8 British. She finally accepted that, and it turns out, she inherited some of the punk. Her casual clothes look like some kind of punk-mafia, and she still has her guns. She is still quite quite, and never hesitates to shoot her guns. No one ever knows how she doesn't run out of ammo. As she promised, Québec still has a great relationship with Canada, and even though she can't call him dad in public, when she's not in public she still calls him papa, and she will always be his little girl. Oh, one last thing. In Québec, their day of independence, July 7, is celebrated as Jour-de-Fleur which loosely translates to flower day, after her fleur-de-lis.