Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

Three weeks ago

"GOD DAMMIT!" England's roars could be heard throughout the house. France sighed and looked up from his cooking. Arthur had been in the basement, working with his spell books for the past three hours. He turned the oven off, and hurried down to the basement. "Angleterre, are you alright?"

"NO YOU BLOODY FROG!" Well, he wasn't being polite, so it couldn't be that bad. England was covering his face with gauze. "Arthur, amour, what happened?" England carefully removed the gauze, and France instinctively flinched. About a half of England's face was bloody, like it had been ripped. However, his self-healing thing all nations had was kicking in; the blood was already stopping. Arthur made a face at the blood. "The spell I was trying to do went wrong. It was a complex one, but not too challenging for me. However, it blew up, taking half of my face with it." Francis shook his head. "We'd better get the first aid kit. You, mon ami, need to stop messing around with those spells. Who knows what might happen next time."

"I guess you're right, love."

Reluctantly, Arthur gave in and put the books away. Once they were back upstairs, Francis began cleaning up the cut. "OOW! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS THAT STUFF?!"

"Relax, it's just antiseptic oil. The fact it stings is good, it means it's working." Grumbling, the nation allowed France to put the oil on, squirming a little. "By the way, Alfred called. He wanted to know if it was okay for him and Mathieu to stay here when you host the G8 meeting in a few weeks." Arthur nodded. "Of course they can, provided Alfred behaves, nobody insults my cooking and Kumajiro stays off of the furniture." They were surprised the little bear wasn't bald from the amount of fur he shed, and it took forever to get rid of. Francis smiled. "It will be nice to have they boys back, non? They haven't stayed the night for ages. We'll need to get their rooms ready." They both reminisced for a bit about their colonies for a bit. Finally Arthur broke the silence. "Yes, it will be nice. However, we have to America-proof the house now. We'd better get started." And with that, they went off to start checking their insurance.

For a summer night, it was surprisingly cold. Unnaturally cold. There was a breeze in the air, tension so thick, yet there was a calm, just like the calm before a storm hits. The roads were for once quiet, with the odd car zooming down or a late drunk stumbling home. The only things that saw her arrival were the foxes, ravishing the bins. As Big Ben struck midnight, a storm broke. Lightening lashed the sky and the parched ground was soaked in minutes. Francis, Arthur, Alfred and Matthew lay awake, listening to the low roll of thunder. It seemed as if the eye of the storm was in their area, or more specifically, their house. The noise was growing incredibly hard to ignore. The flashes of lightening became more frequent, as did the thunder grow louder.

Good grief, thought Arthur. How long is this bloody storm going to last? The others were all thinking along the same line. Alfred snuck into Matthew's room, because, not that he would readily admit it, the great hero was terrified of thunder. Matthew, on the other hand, was fine with the loud noise (he'd grown up with America for his brother, for crying out loud). "How much longer do you think it's gonna last?" wondered Alfred, his face dark, only to be illuminated for a second by lightning. Matthew shrugged, hugging Kumajiro to him. The little bear was cowering in his arms, not caring or bothering to ask who was holding him. In his head, he counted the caterpillars like Arthur had taught them to do when they were little. One caterpillar, two caterpillars, three caterpillars… Suddenly, a bright bolt of lightning flashed through the sky and landed somewhere incredibly close to their house. Thunder roared deafeningly overhead. "That's it, I'm getting Iggy!" cried Alfred, running out the room. Francis and Arthur decided that trying to get to sleep was futile, and as they headed out of their room, they collided with a very scared America and a slightly unnerved Canada. Francis swore quietly in French as he helped up Matthew, whilst a skittish Alfred gingerly pulled up Arthur; who was yelling profanities at the top of his lungs. He reached for the light switch, only to swear again when he found no light. Great, a power-cut. "Arthur, amour, could you get the torch from the cupboard? I need to check the fuse box."

"I'd love to, however, I'm a bit tied up right now." Francis looked over to see Alfred clinging to Arthur, his eyes screwed up tightly. "Alfred, love, you need to let go." Arthur said softly. Alfred just shook his head. "No way. I'm scared Iggy." That threw Arthur. Alfred hadn't called him that, in that voice, for years. Francis felt something tug his hand and he turned to see Matthew hugging Kumajiro. "J'ai peur aussi papa." He whispered, chewing his lip. He gave a small smile and then gently hugged him. "Je sais. Mais il n'y a rien à craindre."

"Vraiment?"

"Vraiment."

"Alfred, I need you to be a hero, and be brave, and to please let go of my arm. That way we can get the lights back on sooner."

"But the zombies will get us when we go down there!"

"What the-! Alfred, zombies do not exist. The only thing down there is the kitchen, the living room and the fuse box. I swear on a flying mint bunny, nothing's down there!"

Cautiously, Alfred opened his eyes. "Really?"

"Really." And with that, Alfred released his grip on Arthur. He and Francis shared a look. Yep, they still had their parent skills on hand and ready to kick in at any given moment. It was as they were fixing the fuse box when Arthur heard a noise. Francis was talking Alfred through the fuse box, making sure he didn't fry himself. "Sshh." He said, putting his hand up for silence. "Iggy, what's wrong?" asked America. "Is it zombies?" his eyes widened with fear. Damn it, he was going to have to find some way to control what Alfred watched. "No, you idiot. There was a noise." Francis coughed. "Well, there is a storm raging outside, of course there is noise!"

"No, you bloody frog! Listen." Everyone was silent. "Can't you hear it?"

"Hear what? England, are you ok? This isn't like your hallucinations again, is it?"

"Wait." whispered Matthew. "I hear it too." It sounded, like, crying. Like a baby, crying. "I can hear it, also." Said Francis. "Outside. Something's outside" declared Arthur, who, before anyone could stop him, had flung open the door and gone outside into the rain. Francis could see him stop at the end of the drive way and scoop something up. When he came back in they could see a small bundle, pressed close to his chest. "Matthew, Alfred, get some blankets and a towel. Francis, love could you heat up some milk and get one of the boy's old bottles?"

Francis nodded, confused. Alfred and Matthew stood there, unsure what to do. "Why, Arthur? What is it?" Arthur carefully put the wet bundle down and they all crowded round it. Francis flicked the light switch and, to his delight, the lights came on. Suddenly, the bundle gave a small wail, for this new light was harsh, and the man who'd found it and soothed it had put it down. "Oh mon dieu" whispered Francis. Alfred, for the first time in his life, was speechless. Matthew looked stunned. What Arthur had found outside, was a baby. "It looks like somebody left her. Those cruel, merciless bastards, how could they leave a baby on a night like this? They couldn't be bothered to go to a shelter!" England was now shaking with rage. The baby began to cry. She didn't like the amount of noise the man who'd found her was making. "Angleterre, you are scaring her!" cried France. "Boys, do as your père asked you to. This little one will catch her death otherwise!" Nodding mutely, Alfred and Matthew charged up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Francis gently rocked the baby. "Hush, petite fleur, don't let the loud, grouchy man upset you. He doesn't mean it." Slowly, she began to quieten down. Arthur, having regained his composure, though the look on his face could have rivalled the storm outside, came over to him. "Can-can I hold her?" Francis nodded. "Of course. I need to make this little one a drink, seeing as you'd most likely burn it." Arthur scowled. "Shut up, frog!"

"Arthur, not in front of the baby!"

Sighing, Arthur sat down with the baby, whose eyes were trained onto his face. She was studying him; trying to piece together who this strange man with weird eyebrows was. "This must be a very strange night for you, dear." He said tiredly. The girl looked like she was only a few weeks old. This just made him angrier. How could someone just leave a child, especially one as young as this, on a night like this? He reached out a hand to brush some strands of black-brown hair from the child's face. Instantly, the baby's tiny hand locked onto one of his fingers. Arthur smiled at the little girl, who gave a small cough. His eyes scanned her, trying to find some kind of identification. She had short soft hair, which was a brown so dark it could have been black, and skin which was a pale brown, like milky coffee. She had light brown eyes, which seemed to almost sparkle and glow, showing the emotions this child could otherwise be incapable of showing.

He blinked. Did he just see what he thought he just saw? He looked again. The girl seemed to, almost, shimmer. It was brief, but he was certain she did. "Francis, come here, quick!" Francis came running from the kitchen, bottle in hand. "What, amour? Is she alright?"

"Look." France looked. "I just see her, a small, but otherwise healthy baby."

"No, frog, really look." This time France really looked. He gave a gasp as he saw what England saw. "Angleterre," he breathed. "C-can it be? C-could she really be like us?"

"I don't know, love, I don't know" was Arthur's reply. But what they'd seen was something they hadn't seen for 400 years. The sparkle of hope, discovery and new life. The sparkle of a new nation.

So, good, bad, neutral? I apologise if the translations are wrong (it's google translates fault):

Angleterre – England

Amour – love

mon ami – my friend

non – no

J'ai peur aussi papa – I'm scared too dad

Je sais. Mais il n'y a rien à craindre – I know. But there's nothing to be afraid of

Vraiment – Really

Oh mon dieu – oh my God

petite fleur – little flower