A/N: And now for the Indictment Arc. Haha... Tragic.

America couldn't help but to laugh. "Short Stack?"

England debated punching him, but settled on shooting the admiral a dark glare. "No, no. It isn't funny. He literally called me that for years. It was horrible."

"Can't blame him; you are short," America pointed out.

What was keeping England from punching America? He took a deep breath. No, it was best not to let his temper get the best of him. If he did, who knows what America would do to annoy him. "Git," England muttered, the only outward sign of his agitation.

America was honestly surprised that England had actually told him all of that. He hadn't be expecting much when he'd asked, and he could only come up with two reasons why the pirate would confide in him. One, England found America highly annoying as is. Or two, England trusted America. The former seemed most likely.

"So, your own first mate tried to kill you? Some crew you have."

England snorted. "He wasn't trying to kill me. If he was, then I would not be here right now. He was merely trying to make me flinch."

America grinned. "Whatever you say, Short Stack." This time, England did punch him. America jumped back, cradling his arm. "Ouch! What was that for?"

"Don't call me that. If you do, I just might have to drown you in a pool of your own blood."

"But–"

"Don't."

"Then can I call you something else?"

England frowned. "Like what?"

"Um…" What was that other name? On the pocket watch? "Arthur…?"

"Arthur…" England's eyebrows furrowed. "No, don't call me that, either."

America huffed. "Then what can I call you?"

"My name would be nice."

"Fine, my name."

England hardly kept from punching him again. "England. Call me England, like you always do. Got it?"

"But is that even your name?"

"Who cares if it's my name or not? That's what I go by, and that's what you'll call me. That's what you do call me. Okay? Can you deal with that?"

Maybe. But England sounded so… irked at him, and it made America almost want to apologize. Almost. The admiral understood that England's past was a touchy subject for him, but his was too. Not that he would tell England that, since America didn't want to talk about his own personal demons. Because demons were unheroic.

America nodded. "I can deal."

"Good."

"England…"

"Hm?"

"Thanks."

England blinked. "For what?"

America smiled lightly. "Everything, you know? Yelling at me to spend some time with Canada, telling me all of this, and just for being here and putting up with me. It means a lot. I know that I bother you, so the fact that you talk to me like this just makes me feel really… happy, and like I'm worth someone's attention." He glanced at England, realizing that the pirate was staring at him as if he were on fire. "I – err, what I mean to say is… just… thanks." He played with his fingers in his lap while waiting for England to respond.

"Um, n-no problem," England finally stammered out. America didn't miss the color in his cheeks. "But you know, I really haven't had a choice but to… oh, never mind."

America shrugged it off with a laugh. He really didn't like being in over-emotional situations. "Anyway, how about getting something to eat? Canada made pancakes for breakfast this morning, but that was a few hours ago. I'm starving!"

England sighed. "Of course you are hungry. It's you. Why wouldn't you be hungry? Fine, let's go get food."

Excited, America jumped up. "Yeah, let's go!"

Much calmer about it than the admiral, England stood, walking towards the door. America led him to the kitchen, but stopped abruptly in the doorway of the dining room. What was Spain doing here? England tapped him on the shoulder and warm breath hit America's ear. "Antonio," England whispered. "Call Spain Antonio."

America didn't even get a chance to nod before eyes turned to him. "There you are, America," China addressed. Spain stood next to him. "This man says he knows you, aru."

"Yeah." America grinned. "Antonio, long time no see."

Spain smiled. "Si, y tu. I was hoping we could spend some time catching up."

America stared pleadingly at China, who nodded slowly. "Fine, go do something," China allowed. He glanced at England as if he'd just noticed that the pirate was there. "You can… I'll go find Lithuania, I suppose, aru."

The admiral pumped a fist in the air. "All right! I know this really awesome restaurant, so we could go there."

Spain agreed and they set off, chatting politely until they got to the restaurant and ordered their food. Then they both turned serious. Or at least as serious as they could get at the moment. "¿Cómo estás? E Inglaterra. ¿Qué pasa?"

"Uh…" America blinked, confused. "What?"

"What happened?" Spain clarified. "Why is Inglaterra at the navy base?"

"Ingla… ter… ra?"

"England."

"Oh. Oh! Right. I knew that." America laughed. "Yeah. Um, anyway, you know about our meeting, right? France followed me there – the bastard – and that's how he got caught, because he didn't want to lead France back to his crew – stupid heroic pirate – so yeah. He got China to agree to let him walk around the base as long as he has a guard. Hm, anything else… The scar on his shoulder is really cool looking. I got him to tell me about how he became captain, too. And, uh… that's it, I think."

Spain nodded slowly. "Ah, so he must really trust you, si?"

America shook his head. "No, I doubt that."

The pirate leaned forward. "América, I know Inglaterra probably better than anyone alive. No, scratch the probably. I can tell when he begins to trust a person and lets his guard down around them. You," he pointed at America, "are one of the people England trusts."

"O-oh, okay."

"I know you don't quite believe me, but it's true, even if England doesn't realize it himself. So that just leaves the final question I have for you: how much do you care about Inglaterra?"

"How much I care about England…" Good question. "I… don't have an answer to that, really. I consider him my friend, but as far as caring about him goes… I have no idea."

"Then you care about him that much. People generally tend to care about their friends."

"Yeah, you're right."

Spain snorted. "Yo siempre tengo la razón. At least when it comes to Inglaterra."

~0~0~0~

"Vous avez besoin de faire quelque chose."

China looked up at France, sighing. "I need to do a lot of things, aru. Would you care to be more specific?"

"About the maudit pirate," France spat.

"France, don't you think you might be a bit biased because of what happened with your parents?"

"That has nothing to do with this. That doesn't change the fact that he's a pirate, and that doesn't change the fact he's brainwashing our little Amerique."

"I never said that changed any of that, aru," China reasoned. "I know that I need to do something about England. I've been thinking about that, but I can't just make a brash decision about it. He's not an ordinary pirate, aru. That's why I've been putting careful thought into what the best choice would be on what to do with him."

"Oui, je sais. You want to find something out from him. Or about him. But do you really think that you can trust him? Pourl'amour de Dieu, he's still a pirate! Even if he is different he still kidnapped Amerique and piracy in and of itself is still a crime."

"I know, aru."

~0~0~0~

Three hours. Spain and America have been gone for three bloody hours. What the hell could they possibly be talking about? Whatever; England didn't care. Much. He could be patient. Lithuania and Canada have taken over watching him (somewhat awkwardly). At one point, France had walked by and shot England a dirty look. Stupid frog.

Anyway, the two cheerful idiots still weren't back yet. It was annoying but expected. What wasn't expected, however, was when China entered the room, staring straight at England and looking grim. All he had to say was a single sentence.

"England, after careful thought and consideration, I've reached my decision: On accounts of piracy and the kidnapping of an admiral, in one week's time you are to be executed by hanging."