France was beginning to wonder if he would ever be warm again. Had it really only been a few days since they rowed down the Chicago River to the Haitian's trading post on the big lake? What a miserable, muddy, brutally cold place with the wind coming off the water all the time. Once the fur is gone that place will never amount to anything France mused. Now Toulon, or Marseilles, those were wonderful towns. Warm, sunny beaches to roam, beautiful women and men to admire …

"Francia, are you awake amigo?" He heard Spain shout back at him from the boat in the front.

"Oui, if you can call it that. Is it time to portage?"

"¡Claro que sí! I knew you would be overjoyed to hear that so I decided to tell you myself. Stop dreaming about that kitchen boy you spooned with at the Haitian's cabin and get out of the boat!"

France glared at Spain, watching him bend over to help the crew haul the large boat out of the water. "I'm getting an idea of who I will spoon with tonight!" He called back, with a wicked grin on his face.

Spain stood up, turned around and put his hand on his hip. He arched a dark eyebrow at the shivering country still sitting in his boat. "The faster you move your ass and get that boat out of the water the faster you will warm up." He said and went back to work, the smile he gave France still showing on his face. France grinned back and somehow his frozen bones were able to hold him up as he jumped out of the boat and began to haul it out over ice and sand to the mouth of the St Joseph River. Getting away from this horrible, freezing lake was motivation enough.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spain looked over the small cluster of British troops standing in the middle of the fort's main ground. Not an officer among them. For some reason this made him very angry. The French commander Poure finished questioning them and walked back to where his forces still stood ready for the attack that would be completely unnecessary now. "Their commander isn't here, and they have no idea when he is to return."

"¡Exelente!" Spain happily replied, though his eyes were still filled with anger. "Then the idiot abandoned his post and we now claim this fort and the land it sits on for His Most Excellent Majesty, Carlos III, King of Spain, King of Naples, King of Sicily and Duke of Parma!" As if on cue, one of the Spanish officers came forward with a Spanish flag and presented it to Poure. The French officer stared at the Spanish officer for a moment, then shrugged and walked to the flagpole to strike England's colors.

"I didn't know your government knew about this enterprise." France replied as he watched the Union Jack come down and the Spanish flag rise up.

Spain's green eyes glowed as he gazed at his country's flag fluttering in the cold winter breeze. "They don't, at least not yet anyway."

France looked around at the dilapidated state of the once important fort his government had built nearly a century earlier. The few British soldiers they found weren't even inside its' walls, but living in cabins nearby. "Then why even bother?"

"Because Francia, I'm thinking of the interests of our countries. America miraculously has been successful against England in the southeast. If Rochambeau can ever get his ass and his troops off the boat in Rhode Island and join forces with Washington and von Steuben, this war could be over this year. England is tired, tired of us attacking in the Caribbean and tired of our efforts on the continent. We've stretched him too thin and he's feeling the effects."

"So you think the boy wonder will actually pull it off and get his independence from big brother England?"

"Sí, if for no other reason than so England can have a siesta."

"Mon Dieu, then all of this land will belong to America." France thought out loud. The realization of the how big the new young country would become sinking in.

"Now you see the problem we are all facing." Spain's eyes glowed brighter, "The chances of this claim ever being accepted are very low, but efforts must be made to check America before he becomes too big for any of us to manage." Spain clapped his hands and rubbed them together. "And now, to inspect the real reason why we are in this hell!"

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

France first began to realize how drunk Spain had become when he started singing very off key and loudly with the group of French and Spanish soldiers still capable of standing. Most of the others had long passed out and were sleeping where they had last stood or sat. France occupied a bench next to the fireplace, slowly nursing one of the many bottles of fine Barbados rum they had found in the enormous amount of supplies stored at Fort St. Joseph.

When Spain had seen the huge cache of guns, ammunition, food and supplies there along with the vast stores of trade goods he had become so angry he stormed back outside shouting and cursing in Spanish at the British soldiers they had taken prisoner and tied up outside. France went out and dragged Spain away from the boy he had been standing over and screaming at just as the front of the soldier's uniform trousers began to show tell tale wet stains coming through.

"¡Bastardos!" Spain continued to scream, "English bastards! The only reason to have this much here was to attack San Luis again!"

"Yes, and now they can't thanks to us." France stated, "You can scream at the British later, we need to decide what to do with all of this stuff."

"We take it with us! There is no fucking way I'm leaving so much as a powder horn for these British bastards." Spain shouted.

"There's too much Spain, even with the French and Indians we picked up through Illinois there is no way we can manage all of it," France's bemusement at the other country showing through.

"Then we take everything we can manage, and let the locals take the rest. I want these store rooms bare before we leave!"

And bare they now were. After they had loaded their boats almost to the point of grounding them Spain had thrown open the gates of the fort and the local Indians and fur trappers living in the area poured in, grabbing everything they could. Cheers went up from everyone when barrels of rum and wine were produced, and an enormous deer from the forest was brought in and set to roasting over the large fire in the main meetinghouse. The party had gone on all afternoon and well into the night. Everyone was stuffed with venison, rum and even more rum. Spain flopped down next to France on the bench and smiled broadly "Gracias, amigo … for everything!" He said, spilling rum over the edge of his cup as he gestured wildly at the room.

"You're most welcome Spain," France grinned into the fire, "Oh your cup is empty, here, let me fill it for you."

"Gracias again Francia!" Spain slurred, sucking down half of the cup. "If only Romano were here, he loves a good party."

"Where is Romano?" France's grin grew broader.

"I left him at home. To be honest, I needed some time to myself."

"Oh? Are you still having problems with him?" France tried his best to sound nonchalant, making sure Spain's cup stayed full. He moved closer to the drunken country on the bench.

"Sí, I jus' don't understand him sometimes. He acts like he hates me, no matter what I do." A tear slid down Spain's cheek as he drained his cup. "Yet when I left for America he screamed at me an' cursed me an' threatened to leave me and go live wi' his useless brother!"

France put his arm around Spain and gently pushed his head down to rest on his shoulder. He filled the sobbing country's cup again. "That ungrateful brat, and after everything you've done for him!" He said, as he began untying the laces at the top of Spain's shirt.

Spain lifted his tear filled eyes to look up into France's smiling face, "Francia, you're the – " Then his eyes went back into his head, and his head flopped back down on France's shoulder. As the snores grew steadily louder, France could only stare into the fire.

"Merde."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spain wasn't sure which hurt worse, the morning sun in his eyes, the pounding in his head, or the fact that he awoke to find France's bare left thigh nestled between his own. At least his pants were still on, but only after France confessed he had to give up trying to take them off after Spain had passed out.

France's head was also pounding. Not from rum, but rather from the rum bottle Spain had smashed over his head. Knowing that France was also in pain this morning made Spain feel somewhat better.

The Spanish colors were struck, and the men turned to prepare the boats for departure. Only a short time earlier a fur trapper had arrived at the fort with news that the British officers that should have been there had just learned about the French and Spanish attack, and were on their way to intercept them.

Spain held the British flag in his hand. He looked at it for a moment, then smiled slightly and looked up at the British soldiers they had just set free. "I'll let you explain why your standard is bare." He stuffed the flag into his belt, then turned and walked out of the fort. He couldn't wait to get back to San Luis.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Author's note: Why the French and Spanish decided to attack Fort St Joseph in the middle of winter has never been determined. Some historians speculate that Spain wanted to make a claim of territory east of the Mississippi and saw this as an opportunity to do it, but there is no record that the Spanish Government ever officially sanctioned the attack. The lure of the large amount of supplies the British had stored there is most likely the genuine reason, as well as to make sure the British didn't attack Saint Louis again. By 1795 the fort was completely abandoned and in 1820 when the town of Niles, Michigan was founded the location of the fort was already in question. The actual site of Fort St Joseph was rediscovered in 1998. The City of Niles claims with pride they are the only Michigan city that has had four countries' flags flying over it.