"I—I'm Carica. I think. Is that right?"

Russia blinked in response. Everyone was filing away. He vainly scanned the room for England or France, and frowned. "You know where you live, da?"

"Uh, no. I don't, actually."

Russia frowned a bit more. "You will come to my home for a while until we find your brother, yes?"

It was Carica's turn to blink and ask a stupid question. "Are you my brother?"

Russia was taken aback. Surely England was her brother, or France, or maybe both of them. But certainly not him. "I am not your brother. Uh, should I get you some vodka?"

"Huh?"

"It's just Russian water, don't worry. Here."

Carica did not take the vial, but rather stared at him in a perplexed manner. Slowly she extended a tiny hand and took the metal container. She looked at it for a second before downing the entire thing.

"Russia! What are you doing to that child?"

"Hm? England, I was just talking about you," Russia said brightly, and Carica nodded, trying to copy the smile.
"I—never mind that. Who is that?"

"This one? Carica. She can down a lot of vodka, too."

"You don't mean, you couldn't possibly be suggesting," England babbled. Carica. It pained his heart to hear the name.

"I do not know. This is not exactly my strong suit. You deal with it."

The scene was all too familiar. A scruffy, blonde, blue-eyed child in a white shift, complete with a little red bow…

"Is it my fault? Whatever I did, I'm sorry." Carica fiddled with the ribbon on the front of her dress awkwardly.

England knelt and stared at the young nation. "No, it's not your fault."

She even had the stray hair. Just where America's was, but it drooped in front of her face the way Canada's did. Did she have his eyebrows? England traced his own absently.

Then the same question befell England. "Are you my brother?"

"I… I may be."

Russia knelt down and pushed his spine a bit lower so he was roughly eye-level with her. "You are going to stay with this man because he might be your brother, da?"

Carica squirmed under the gaze of the men. "Okay."

"So how do you move it?"

"'It' is a 'her.' Furthermore, you carry her. Do I need to do this for you?"

"N-no."

England picked Carica up carefully. She was wavy-haired… like France… But she had his eyebrows! His! She was surely his little sister. "Right. To the embassy, I suppose."

Carica found the embassy a very fun place to run around. England let her stay in his room and immediately regretted it when he came back from the last meeting of the day.

"You ate the whole wheel of cheese?" he asked, surveying the damage done in the room.

She nodded and scuffed at the floor. "I'm sorry."

"No, I'm not even mad.That's amazing."

England scooped the nation into his arms again, rocking her gently until she was soundly asleep.

Then he placed her in her own room so she wouldn't hear him cry.