PickleToast: Hey all! I'm terribly sorry that this story has not gotten the attention it rightfully deserves. Unfortunately, the next chapter should have been DarkinUnderground's chapter, but she couldn't find the inspiration to write it. After a while, it sort of left both of our minds for a while. However, I had a sudden plot bunny show up, so I'm going to write another Romano chapter. Hopefully this should help my friend write an Edgar chapter. However, I can't make her do so. So fair warning, this might be the last chapter of this story unless one of the following occurs: DarkinUnderground decides to write a chapter (the chances of this increases with reviews and messages to her directly *winkwinkhinthint*) or someone decides to adopt her part of the story. If the second option occurs, please make sure you have DarkinUnderground's full permission, as Edgar a.k.a. The Confederate States of America is her character completely (it is for that reason that I will not write an Edgar chapter). So thank you all so much for reading, and I hope you have enjoyed it. I apologize for any bad grammar, I noticed some when I re-read, and for the craziness of the story (we had planned for it to get more serious later).

Another note: The Side Story Chapter with Romania… If anyone liked it despite the issues the chapter had, I am willing to turn it into its own story. If it indeed becomes its own story, I will be taking suggestions and prompts for it, including any pairings you might have. Just let me know!

Disclaimer: I, PickleToast, do not in any way own Hetalia. I only own the plotline, and DarkinUnderground owns Edgar.

D.A.R.K.E.R.P.E.R.S.P.E.C.T.I.V.E.S.R.O.M.A.N.O.C.H.A.P.T.E.R.

Romano was not having a good day. That was an understatement. After having the worst morning ever, having to deal with Potato Bastard Two and One, being woken up by his fratello from a wonderful dream, and having to deal with the Potato Bastards AGAIN…he really wasn't happy right now.

Somehow the group of four managed to find a restaurant to eat at without too much trouble, or damage for that matter. Romano was grudgingly thankful for Potato Bastard One for keeping the other Potato Bastard in line and away from him. Though, he was a little disappointed that the place that his fratello had chosen was a burger place. At least they had a pretty good chicken sandwich. He'd rather that then be eat one of those far to greasy and unhealthy things that America loves to shove in his face all the time. Honestly, how does America stand that?

Lunch was actually going fairly well, the others seemed content to just let him stay quiet and eat. That and that stupid albino was not next to or across from him. Feli had also let him have the seat in the booth that was easiest to get out of. Romano spaced out, calmly eating and casually picking up a fry now and then, letting the sounds of the patrons, his brother and their…companions, become his background noise.

Romano continued on like this for a while, until he had almost no fries left and his glass of tea only had ice cubes left in it. He lazily turned his attention back to the other people in the booth with him. Feli had somehow managed to find a way to make a three-way tic-tac-toe game that they were playing. He almost asked him how the hell he had done that, but stopped himself, figuring that he really did NOT want to know. After watching for a few seconds, he decided to go use the bathroom. Standing up without telling them where he was going, he made his way to the men's restroom. Once he finished his business, he looked at his reflection.

Wow. He looked like crap. Turning on the tap, Romano quickly washed his face before taking out a comb that he always had in his pocket and combing out his hair until it was to his liking. When he got back to the table, the plates were gone and they were figuring out how to split the bill. Romano sat down and pulled out a twenty dollar bill and handing it to Feli.

"Here, just take it. I don't want change."

"Ve~ Grazie fratello!" Feli said as he rearranged his wallet before placing their part of the bill on the table.

"Well, now that that is done. What should we do now?" Potato Bastard One asked, putting his part down on the table as well.

"Ve…. Well I do not think I have ever been in this part of America's home before… Let's explore a bit! Ve ~ What do you think, Romano?" Feli said as they all walked out of the restaurant.

"Chigi… I don't care."

"Yay!" Feli threw his hands up in the air, waving them around, causing Romano to just sigh. He followed behind. They walked around the town for about twenty minutes, stopping here and there for Feli to look at something or other. Romano wasn't sure. He wasn't paying attention. Though, in hind sight, he probably should have. It wasn't long before Romano found himself standing next to a certain albino with a chicken on his head. An albino whose hands still couldn't seem to keep to themselves. An albino who was going to lose said hands.

"Dammit Potato Eater! Keep your hands to yourself or I'll chop them off!"

"Kesesese! Why should the awesome me do that? You should be glad that I am giving you my attention! I am just dripping with awesomeness and want to share some of it with you! Besides, if you start yelling at me here our bruders would be very mad and upset! Not to mention that it would be unawesome of you, and that after last time in Belgium's place, you wouldn't want to upset America by ruining this awesomely quaint town, right?" he said coyly. Romano's blood boiled.

"I…just…CHIGI!" he shouted, getting attention from everyone in the area. Feli looked scared, thinking something was wrong. The blonde Potato Bastard looked annoyed and disappointed. And the albino? He was smirking. Freaking smirking, like he just won the best prize in the whole world. "Fine! That's it! I'm going back to the hotel! Don't any of you even think of bothering me until after the sun goes down, you hear me?! Chigi, stupid Potato Bastard!" He fumed, turning sharply on his heels and storming off in the direction of the hotel, ignoring his brother calling out after him.

'Bah! Who cares? Why does he have to hang out with THEM of all people? WHY? Grrr…even annoying Spain and France are better than them. Argh! They make me so damn mad…' he thought to himself as he kept up his pace. So lost was he in his internal musings that he didn't notice the person in front of him until he literally walked into them.

"Gah!" startled, Romano took a few steps back before looking up. "Chigi! Dammit America, watch yourself! If you had said something, I wouldn't have run into you! You and your dumb lack of special awareness, I swear I-" he stopped.

Romano wasn't sure what was happening. He looked straight into America's eyes and now…he couldn't seem to be able to peel his gaze away. He felt…something…wash over him. He couldn't describe it. It was like being under the weight of the ocean while also being lighter than air at the same time. His chest felt heavy, but he was breathing so deeply and clearly. His mind temporarily went blank.

There was only one other time he had felt like this. It had been when Italy had officially united...and Feli was the crowd favorite to be the country's singular avatar. Romano had slowly started to lose connection to his land. He felt himself slowly start to fade away. He had lost all of his spunk, sitting around staring blankly ahead and simply breathing. It had been hard to move, his limbs feeling like they had weights strapped to them. He honestly didn't really remember much during that time. Only that Feli couldn't handle doing both internal and international affairs, so he had given Romano all of the internal affairs to handle so the he could deal with the international affairs. A smart choice, considering Romano was NOT a people person, but he did love his people. From that one decision, Romano came back as grumpy as ever. If Feli had noticed anything amiss he hadn't shown it or said anything and Romano never brought it up.

Suddenly, almost as if a curtain had been pulled up or a fog being lifted, Romano started to notice something. Rather, he started to notice somethings. America's hair was not quite the correct shade. His eyes not the same shade of blue. His glasses were not correct, they had a different frame and were quite stylish if Romano were to say so himself. America also felt different. He didn't feel like how America, the superpower, felt. He felt….

'He feels like me…and the albino…a country, but not.' Romano kept staring still unable to look away. This America did not feel like the one he knew. He felt...warmer. Romano's mind was reeling, trying to figure out what was going on. 'Could…could it be? I wonder…' It was pretty unlikely. But it wasn't impossible. America had a civil war, which had divided his people, and land in half. The Northern and the Southern. It would make sense that that fact alone would lead to there being two Americas, one to represent each half. But they united again and as far as he could tell there had only been one America. The Burger Bastard that he had known. Which would mean that if there had been two, then the one that lost would have faded away, leaving only the victor. Like how he should have faded.

'If there were two and there still are two, then when the one lost he didn't fade away as he should have. I should have faded too, but Feli gave me the responsibility of handling all of the internal affairs, which kept me alive. He gave me a purpose. Could the winner of the civil war done the same thing? Given the other one a purpose like mine? To handle internal affairs?' It made sense. It really did. But Romano had no proof. His mind was telling him that without that proof it couldn't be true. However, somewhere deep inside of himself, Romano knew, just knew that it was true.

His shoulders sagged and his stare softened into a blank look of longing, sadness, and understanding. "You…you are America. But you are not Alfred…are you?" he asked quietly, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. He couldn't make out what the other's expression was, too deep into this weird trance as he was. He could not seem to be able to control his body anymore. Any other time he would have panicked. But right now? He didn't give a crap. He just let whatever had a hold on him continue.

"It wasn't your fault." He didn't know why he said that, but it felt right. It felt like the right thing to say. He wasn't sure where he was getting it, but for some reason, he knew that he was saying the right thing and that the other would understand somehow. "He was a good man." He kept on. Where had that come from? Who was 'he'? "The world lost a great man, when he died. He loved this land and its people. He loved America in its entirety." Again, who was 'he'? Romano still had no clue, but he had no control over his mouth or his words. "We represent our land. We represent our people. As such, we are the land…but we are not the people. Our thoughts, our ideas, our feelings are our own. Our people can influence these heavily, but they are not us." He paused and breathed.

"What that man thought, it did not reflect you. That event did not reflect you. You know your feelings, you know they were different from that man's." what was he even talking about anymore? "He loved America. He loved you, despite everything. And I believe you loved him back. You are saddened by what happened and feel responsible for it. But please know this. It was not your fault. It was that man's. I can't say that I understand what you went through then. But I do understand the feeling of wallowing in the past, and let me tell you now. Stop. Don't think about it anymore. Don't forget, but don't think about it. Do not waste your time and life idling on things that can't be changed. It does no one any good, least of all yourself. You will only end up hurting yourself more and more. So stop. Breathe. Look into the present and wonder about the future. It does a person good. While it doesn't make the pain or guilt go away, it will lessen it. And for those like us who are not chained by Father Time, it is the best medicine and the best therapy there is. So please…don't hurt yourself more. I've been there…and I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Not even that annoying albino."

Romano still had no clue what was going on or why he had said any of that. But he felt good. He felt like he had helped someone, even if just a small bit. Also, more importantly, he was finally able to control his voice and body again. Hesitantly, he reached up and patted this other America on the shoulder before finally breaking eye contact. Moving aside he walked passed and kept heading for the hotel.

The whole time Romano felt cold. He was shivering. His throat was closing up and his eyes felt hot. He felt empty, but his chest was heavy and his stomach was doing flip flops. He wasn't sure when he got back to his hotel room. He slipped off his shoes and jacket before crawling back into bed and laying down, gazing at the ceiling. His eyes were now too hot and heavy to keep open anymore. He fell asleep, letting his mind drag him down memory lane.

D.A.R.K.E.R.P.E.R.S.P.E.C.T.I.V.E.S.R.O.M.A.N.O.C.H.A.P.T.E.R.

And that's it! Once again, I thank you all for reading and liking this story. If you want to see it continued please let me know. If you are interested in adopting this story let me know as well.

Also make sure to let me know if 'Detective Romania' should be its own story. More details are up above in the beginning author's note.

PickleToast, signing off.