Spain was not at all happy with the turn of things in New Spain. Things had always been difficult concerning controlling that region, but now it was even worse. Spain's boss was getting a bit peeved, and that meant that Spain had to put his foot down. Crushing the leaders of the rebels was relatively easy once Spain got over to that region. So, now he had to have a stern talk with New Spain.

"How long is this going to take?" Romano asked, trying to keep up with Spain. He had grown over the past few years, however, he was still shorter than Spain and had a harder time keeping up.

"Not too long," Spain said, though he had no way of knowing that. He first had to find New Spain.

The nation in question was in a very secluded part of the capital city, where a small mound of stones was erected. There was a flower placed on top of it. He had short dark hair, sloppily cut. The clothes he wore were reminiscent of the rebels that Spain just had to put down. "Hola, diablo," the nation muttered, not looking up from the pile.

"Save it, New Spain," Spain said, getting up to the nation, "We need to have a chat."

"My name is Mexico," the nation said, anger in his eyes, "And we have nothing to talk about. I want you out of my country."

Spain kicked over the stone pile. "You belong to me, New Spain."

Mexico looked at the scattered stones in a bit of shock, before looking back at Spain with a fiery anger in his eyes. "I refuse. For too long you have terrorized my people and I say no more. Get out!"

Spain quickly drew out his sword and made to strike Mexico. The other nation grabbed the blade of the sword with his right hand. Blood spilled down his arm.

"Spagna," Romano said, coming up and putting a hand on Spain's arm, "You're going to get no where here, except for a lot of blood with a lot of people watching. And that's kind of stupid."

Spain glared at Romano. It was a glare that with every other colony of his would make them back off. Not Romano; he met the gaze head on. Spain sheathed his sword and looked back at Mexico. "Get yourself to my office tomorrow morning. This discussion isn't over." With a turn of his heel, Spain walked off.

Spain glanced behind to make sure Romano followed. He saw Romano and Mexico give a singular nod exchange. Mexico mouthed, "Gracias," and Romano came running to Spain's side.

"You know," Romano spoke up after the two of them walked back to Spain's place in the town, "He's not going to be the only one doing this kind of shit pretty soon. You better have a better way of dealing with it than a sword."

"You make it sound like you'll be next."

"I could."

Spain looked at Romano, whose clothes had changed to that of a soldier.

"And would you strike me down too?"

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Spain snapped out of his daydream. The fierceness of Romano's eyes scared him. It was a similar fire that he had seen his other colonies have. But he didn't mind Romano's fire, and even liked it. Why was he so different?

Night had already come onto the ship. England was still passed out from his healing ritual earlier for his captain. The wound on… him… Spain slapped himself in the back of the head. Him, the captain was a him. 'Get over yourself. This isn't the first time you've met someone like him.'

Spain decided to take a walk on his ship and check in on the two captains. Maybe he could get some sort of story from Captain Henderson. Lights were being lit as he stepped out of his quarters. Their lights reflected in the water in a warm sort of way. The only thing that could be seen in every direction.

Spain knocked on Captain García's door and waited. The Spanish captain opened it, his uniform was off but his hair was still neatly combed. "Señor?"

"¿Puedo entrar?" Spain asked. Captain García stepped aside to let his admiral through.

Captain Henderson sat on a stool, his shirt off showing bandages over his chest. He stood up and saluted as Spain walked in. "How can we help, sir?" he asked after Spain told him to be at ease.

"I have a few questions to ask."

Captain Henderson tensed. "Depends what you are asking."

Spain remembered England being defensive about his captain's dignity and decided to not be direct for once. "I want to know how you got on the sea. Someone like you never gets this far."

"Do you want to bet?" Captain Henderson said, raising his eyebrow, "I'm sure you can think of one or two from your own country who defied the odds and did so anyway. Visibly or not."

Spain could feel a crack in the reality of this place start to form. "Please, I would like to know yours."

Captain Henderson sighed. "It took a lot for me to be a sailor. There were many hoops I had to pass, and things I had to hide in order for me to be one. Late nights reading by candlelight, studying mannerisms so that no one would question me, and working through paranoia. No one was there to guide me through, and so I was alone most of the time. Somehow, I was assigned onto Admiral Kirkland's ship, which was in it of itself a high honor. He saw my skill as a navigator and promise of a leader and decided to make me a captain. It was after that he learned of the struggle I had to go through in order for people to see me." Captain Henderson pointed to himself forcefully. "I… I really thought that there and then would be the end of me, let alone my career as a sailor. I had seen the admiral's anger, and knew that it was treacherous. However, Admiral Kirkland didn't seem to mind and from there did all that he could to keep me under his direct command and deflect anything that would attack my honor. I owe him everything that I am."

Spain nodded. "If only you were born later…" he muttered, then stopped.

"Why?"

Spain tried to steer away from the conversation, but Captain Henderson wasn't having any of it. Eventually, Captain García sat Spain down and said, "Listen, we know as you do that none of this is real."

Spain could feel a shift in the world around him, like the words had cracked the reality of this place. Sure, he already knew that this place wasn't real, but he wasn't expecting the denizens of this place to know this as well. He asked how his captain knew.

"Señor, we are apart of you and Admiral Kirkland. The two of you know that this place isn't real. It stands to reason we would know as well."

"Since we are being all chummy and sharing stories, will you tell me how this one got under your command?" Captain Henderson said, then turned to look at Captain García, "You heard mine, I want to know yours."

Spain looked at his captain, who said, "He knows about me… and what you are as well."

Spain slowly looked back at Captain Henderson. "You know who I am?"

"Both you and Admiral Kirkland. It definitely has made a very interesting voyage, seeing the both of you. Admiral Kirkland told me he was Britain after he found out about me. He said it was only fair."

Spain gathered his thoughts before telling the story, "I heard about Diego from a ship captain, saying that he had someone who was very in tune with the sea. I wasn't impressed and wanted to see for myself. So, I sailed with this captain in order to see how good Diego was. The short story is that he proved me wrong."

Captain García grinned.

"A few years later, I was able to get him moved onto my ship. He was the best navigator I ever had."

"Me conmueve." Captain García said genuinely.

"So… when did he profess his love to you?" Captain Henderson asked.

Spain was stunned shocked; Captain García laughed. "It was after I moved to his ship," the Spanish captain explained, "He overheard a speech I was giving about laying down my life for my country, and was deeply swayed by it."

Spain remembered that day. He was in the other room when he heard Captain García speaking about his passion for his country. He was deeply moved. And of course, he didn't leave so the good Captain García saw him blushing and flustered. It was a very awkward night, and they both came to the conclusion they were disaster gays… 'Except, not in those words,' Spain thought.

"Did you ever think that your country would be an actual person?" Captain Henderson asked.

"And also be attractive?" Captain García glanced over to Spain, "No, never in a thousand years. Yet, here we are."

The crack of reality deepened. Nothing about the world around, except that it looked dreamlike and fake. Spain didn't feel like he was really on a ship slowly rocking in the sea. He couldn't smell the salt water or the lamp oil. He felt like he was watching a movie. And then, reality broke.

Now, when this happens in a dream, usually it wakes a person up. However, Spain was still in the dream. He was still on the ship. But he had all his memories in place. "Why am I still here?"

"Señor," Captain García said, "You hit your head hard and you were using something very powerful. I highly doubt your head will be in its right place for you to wake up for a while."

"Besides, you still have some stuff to work out," Captain Henderson spoke up, "For instance, what kind of person you are? And how you really feel about Lovino? After all, it's because of him you got here in the first place."

Spain was going to have to get used to both captains knowing a lot more than he was comfortable with them knowing. "Enough to be in a coma for," Spain said quietly.

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Romano looked utterly exhausted. He and Spain were on a train, heading to a world meeting. Italy was somewhere else on the train, talking with some of the other occupants because he was a social butterfly.

Spain eventually felt a weight on his shoulder. Romano fell asleep, as Spain had been expecting from his expression. He wondered what was going on with Romano. The train jerked unexpectedly, and Romano shot up, as wide awake as he could be.

"Didn't get sleep last night?" Spain asked once Romano calmed down a bit.

"No, not for the past week," Romano groaned. He put his head in his hands in frustration. Spain looked at Romano with pleading eyes for an explanation. Romano looked at him, and groaned again. "It's Veneziano… he's been having nightmares again and there's nothing I can do to alleviate them. It's fucking annoying."

"Nightmares?"

"Si. I told you before. Veneziano gets nightmares… it's been getting worse though… since the end of WW2…"

"It's been over a decade since then."

Romano nodded.

Spain thought about it for a moment. "Has he seen Germany yet?"

"Why would that potato bastard matter?"

"Calm down. It was only a question. The two of them were friends."

"Yeah, except that he dumped his ass during the war."

"And what was he like when that happened?"

Romano opened his mouth of object, then stopped as he actually thought about it. "He was a mess. He hated what he did. It tore him apart on the inside."

"I think that he will be better after this meeting," Spain said, "After all, this is the first one that Germany will be able to attend."

"I really really hope you're right." Romano sighed heavily. He looked to be at wit's end and could just fall asleep for a week straight.

"We still have a bit to go before getting to the meeting. Take a siesta. I'll wake you when we get there."

Romano thought about it for a moment, then sighed and took Spain's offer. He was out like a light in a matter of moments. Spain prayed that his theory was right, for Romano's sake as much as Italy's.


Translation Notes: Puedo entrar - May I come in (essentially), Me conmueve - I'm moved (in the same line as in "I'm touched")