Written for a friend as a request. It took me a total of...oh gosh, how many months to finish..? D| We're talking like six months. Anyway, just a little warning here, they have sex on an American flag in the last chapter, so if that's not your thing, then mozy on outta here. Hetalia belongs to Hidekaz Himaruya, not me, don't sue me, I just like watching his characters make out. :3

England sighed. The faint sound of thunder echoed throughout the London streets, rain pelting down like bullets out of a machine gun, frightening any pedestrians unfortunate enough to be without an umbrella inside. It wasn't terribly unusual for rain to fall at his house, but today the showers were borderline a torrential downpour, and according to the weather report, it was going to stay like this well into the night, possibly into the morning. He wasn't the type who minded rain, having grown up in a place where the rain was frequent and, normally, he would simply settle down in front of the telly, or read a book while sipping his Prince of Wales, Earl Grey or Darjeeling. It was a bit different today, however, as he was expecting a visitor, who was already forty-five minutes late, and he simply continued to stare out the window, rivers of water running down to pool at the bottom of the pane outside. He had been at this for at least the last half hour, not that he'd ever admit to his 'fashionably late' guest that he was eager enough to see him to do something like that, but so far he hadn't caught sight of a taxi, and he hadn't gotten any calls. He wasn't worried, since nations didn't die at the hands of anything other than fellow nations and severe financial decline so, even through the sheets of water pouring down, if there was an accident, the worse that could happen was his visitor getting a little scratched up.

A faint glow and quiet whispers alerted him that the faeries had decided to check up on him and, after assuring them that he was alright, he stood from his chair, running his fingers through his hair for a brief moment. Well, if America was going to be this late, he might as well go ahead and start cleaning out his attic... He had been avoiding that particular chore for a few years now, almost fearing the memories it would dredge up, but he knew that he had to get it done eventually anyway, and he had already finished his other house chores for the day. He willed himself to move, though he really didn't want to, and he made sure to get himself a glass of cold tea before trudging up the fold-out stairs in a back room to the dust-blanketed attic. Lifting up the small hatch, he climbed up the rest of the way and looked around in distaste. It was a complete mess. Boxes stacked on top of each other came dangerously close to the ceiling, papers scattered the floor giving the almost appearance of carpet, cobwebs and spiderwebs adorned the corners with the illusion of lace... England sneezed. This would be fun...

To his credit, he didn't stall for time as much as he could have; within five minutes he had begrudgingly opened his first box, taking a look inside. Of course, by this point, his tea was gone, but he could always just use that as another excuse to put off the work and go back downstairs. As he pulled out the first item he saw, however, he smiled. It was his old pirate hat... He had kept all of his clothing from different parts of his life, and his old captain's uniform was folded neatly in the box as well, along with his cutlass and a few pieces of eight. His captain's log was tucked in the corner, and as he pulled it out, he began to read.

"8 April, 1654

The Treaty of Westminster was signed today. Yes, the war is finally officially over.

Witte and George proved to be decent opponents, but Admiral Blake and I fought

well and, though I failed to take the title of the dominant nation of trade from

that Dutch, I also hid a trap for him that prevented his Prince William III from

becoming the stadtholder. I still remember the look on his face when he saw what

I had done... It was amazing! I picture it and, even now, a smile comes to my lips.

Denmark may not have quite lost the war, but I'm going to make sure that he didn't

really win it, either. I suppose you might call me a poor loser..."

His smile grew to a smirk. That's right, he remembered... He had made it so that any imports sent to England had to be sent via English ships, but that whole war had really started because Lieutenant-Admiral Tromp didn't lower his flags in respect to the British vessels. He had won the minor battles, but when things escalated into something a bit more, they eventually ended in a sort of draw. He didn't have very good luck with Denmark, though, and he ended up getting defeated multiple times... But he wasn't going to focus on that. No, he had an entire room of boxes to go through, so he re-placed the journal carefully inside and, marking the box with a marker he had slipped into his pocket, he shoved the box to the side, reaching for another one. This one held a few cassette tapes, some folders with old, miscellaneous pictures in them, small knickknacks, nothing important, and after labeling several other boxes like this, some "trash", some "give away", some just "misc.", he came across a box that was a little bit lighter than the rest. Inside, he found a scrapbook and some children's clothes, a small bottle of maple syrup, a flag, and a pair of old spectacles. Canada's things... Flipping open the scrapbook, unable to resist, he came across the page from when Canada had met America for the first time. America never had been able to pay attention to that boy...

"America, really, the least you could do is play with the lad!"

"Aww, England, I don't want to! I want to play with you instead! You don't visit me much!"

England sighed, indicating over to the Canadian, who was beginning to tear up.

"He's your brother. You'll have to play with him eventually, and you need to get used to him, since France dumped him off on me... You'll be seeing him quite a bit from now on, America."

"You're my brother too though! And if I can see him all the time, then I'll just play with him when you're not here!"

Their first meeting...had been a disaster. England vaguely remembered promising Canada that he would buy him a treat later in making up for America's rude behaviour. They all used to have such good times together... The dirty-blonde smiled, almost sadly. He kind of wondered what had happened to them... He stared at the page for a moment, getting lost in his memories, but another crack of thunder shook him out of his thoughts, and he placed everything back in, labeling that box as well. He was already losing what little motivation he had to clean the room in the first place and, glancing around, the many, many boxes left leaving him a bit downhearted, he spotted one on the other side of the room with a piece of cloth sticking out. Sometimes he thought he was too curious for his own good, and he walked over to that box, having to move another few cardboard containers from atop it. He almost wanted to place them back on though, when he saw what that piece of cloth was... His old military uniform. The red one from America's revolution. He hadn't taken very good care of it after that particular design had been discontinued, since he hated so much the memories attached but, despite his better judgment, he opened the lid with shaking hands. Another journal, some more old military uniforms and a few handguns, a pair of boots and some rags for shining said boots with the polish that was tucked away behind one of the uniforms. He didn't even bother to look inside the journal, which he knew held memories too painful to want to go back to.

Turning his attention back to one of the boxes he took off of the top of the one he had just looked in, he realized just why he hadn't wanted to clean this place out... It was a pile of scrapbooks, more clothes and a smaller box, which held more handguns and ammo, a flag folded neatly in the bottom, and a crude picture drawn in crayon of America and himself standing on top of the world. America had drawn it a long time ago, and had given it to him before he left on one of the ships taking him back to his native land. He told him to keep it in his pocket, and to look at it all the time so he wouldn't forget to come back and visit... Told him to make sure and take over the world soon so that they could live together. America was still too young to understand the concept of countries taking over other countries. He was so small...so innocent...so loving. England sniffled. The dust was so thick, it must have been upsetting his sinuses...

Ignoring the feeling that nagged him to stop, he began to sift through the box, finding a small stuffed bunny hidden in the corner, almost under the flag, and he remembered the time that he first gave it to America. It was the boy's first time sleeping inside, and he missed his woodland friends. England bought him the toy the next day so that he wouldn't feel so lonesome. He skimmed through the scrapbook and he remembered when America had said his name correctly for the first time, at least in his presence, and he was reminded that he hadn't heard that sweet "Engwand" in hundreds of years... He remembered reading America his favourite stories, bringing him samples of new tea flavours to try, playing with him in the warm air of the new land... He remembered the first time he saw America towering over him, when America had continued to sleep with him when scared, even though he was really too old, and he remembered when he had started feeling the most forbidden things for his brother. Each page held a separate memory, and with each memory came different emotions, not all of them pleasant. A few pages had actually been ripped out of the book, something he had done when America had rebelled, and he felt tears stinging at the corners of his eyes. He had been so angry and so hurt that he had torn apart some of his best memories... He sniffled again, this time reaching up to rub at his moistened eyes.

"Hey, England? You in here?"

He jumped. He had been so wrapped up in the past that he hadn't even heard the American come in...