The quiet in the car was unnerving. Riding in Alfred's Mustang without Allen driving didn't make things better. Anything was better than Oliver, but this…I had so many questions that were going unanswered. I had Francois, though. I didn't think I'd ever have Francois, but here we are. He has to know something. He wouldn't have had that much power over Oliver without knowing anything. It didn't hurt to ask, right?

"Francois…" I spoke softly, so I didn't spook him, "What do you know?"

"I know almost nothing," Francois kept his eyes on the road, practically ignoring me, "I've fried a lot of brain cells over the years, Amy. Stay away from drugs."

"Francois…" I wasn't buying it. I mean, I know Francois has likely fried a lot of brain cells over the years, but that didn't mean he was clueless, "Why am I so special?"

"Everyone's special in their own way," he avoided me yet again, "If you believe that after school special bullshit."

"Francois," I started getting pissed, "Tell me. What do you know? You called Oliver my uncle back there. How is he my uncle?"

"You want to know?" Francois let out a heavy sigh of exasperation, "Because heaven forbid you wait to find these things out. Look, Amy, Oliver's your uncle in the same way I am. On both accounts. You're not just Amelia Williams. Hell, your last name isn't even Williams by birth. That was your adoptive name. And technically, your brothers' last name. Two of the four of them anyway."

"I have brothers?" I wondered.

"Mon dieu," he groaned, "You haven't figured it out yet? Yes, Amy. You have brothers. Four of them. Two of them are more immediate than the others, though. Ever wonder why you and Allen got along so well so quickly?"

"I thought it was our magnetic personalities."

"No," Francois shook his head, pulling into a paved driveway where a French colonial sat, "Amy, you, Allen, Alfred…You're not just a person. You're a nation."

"A…Nation?" I gave him a look, "I don't understand."

"You're American, right?"

"Yeah."

"No, you're not," Francois clarified, "You're America. You and Allen and Alfred, the three of you make up America. You're America personified. I still remember the day you were born…It was a warm July afternoon. Arthur called me in panic because Francis had gone into labor and…"

"Wait a second," I thought back to my anatomy classes in high school, "Your brother Francis?"

"It's complicated," he went on, "Because he's a nation, Francis, Arthur, me. We have both sets of reproductive organs. With us, there's no such thing as male or female. We're all window dressing. Some of us are more rigid than the others. Some are the full spectrum. At the end of the day, we let them be them."

"Right on."

"And this house in front of us?" Francois pointed out, "This is where your birth parents live."

"You know," I stared down at my feet, "I've never met my birth parents before."

"I don't remember mine," he glanced down at his phone, "Merde…Look, Amy. Arthur's worried shitless about you. Francis is probably even worse. Don't even get me started on your brothers. Allen…Mon dieu. I've never heard him so annoying. Him bitching at me for smoking in the house would've been better."

"What can I say?" I shrugged, showing off the two halves of the popsicle, "He's my best friend."

"He's your older brother."

"He's older than me?!" I never would've guessed that in a million years.

"His lack of maturity hides his age well," Francois figured, "That and his wickedly long skincare routine. High maintenance little shit. That was Oliver's fault. One thing Allen never shook after we left him."

"I can understand why." Whatever the fuck it was Oliver was putting on my face (and I'm assuming Allen's and Matt's, too) did absolute wonders for my skin. I regret not getting the name of it while I was back at Oliver's getting dressed, but I had more important things on my mind, "Hey…Francois…Can I ask you one more question?"

"If you feel you must."

I felt an emptiness in the pit of my stomach, "Why did they give me up? If Arthur and Francis are so worried about me now, why would they have ever put me up for adoption?"

"That I don't know," Francois swore, "Really and truly, I don't know. Francis never talked about it with me and I knew better than to open that wound. Besides, that meant conversation with Francis I didn't want in the first place and even worse, probably fucking crying I don't want to deal with. We'll just let them answer that one. Go on, Amelia. They're waiting in there for you. Whenever you're ready."

"Ok…" Now that we were parked, I couldn't help myself. I threw my arms around Francois, hugging him tight.

"Uh…" he looked down at me, "Ok? What the fuck is this?"

"Thank you, Francois," I held back all the tears I could, "Thank you for coming to save me. Thank you for getting me out of Oliver's hands. Fuck, for snorting powdered sugar for me. I know it was probably hard for you, but it's not going to go unappreciated. Just…Thank you."

"Uh…" Francois wasn't sure how to handle my sudden outburst of affection, but he took it anyway, gently squeezing me back, "You're welcome. Now, go on before your mother sees us. I don't want him to think this is going to be a new regular thing."

"Ok," I pushed my car door open and started walking up to the front porch. Alright, Amy. You've never had a problem meeting new people before. Just because you're about to meet your birth parents doesn't make it any different. I mean, I know it makes a fucking world of difference, but if I don't tell myself that, I won't believe it, right? And I'll be less freaked out by this whole affair? But according to Francois, Alfred and Allen are here, too, right? So, it's not like I'm totally alone. And I do have Francois backing me up.

Slowly, I opened the door, trying not to sweat through my t-shirt and into Allen's jacket. Happy place, Amy. Happy place. Anywhere that isn't Oliver's. That's pretty fucking happy to me, "Allen…? Alfred…?"

"Amelia?" a gentle gasp came from around the corner. Along with a man that looked exactly like Oliver. Just…without the insane diabetes anyone in a five mile radius got from him. His eyes started to swell and a few tears ran down his cheeks. Another man stood behind him, taking his hand, "Francis…Our…"

"Amelia!" the other man hugged me tight. Jesus Christ, he looked like if Francois spent six months in rehab and found God. You must be Francis. The two of them sandwiched me in the biggest hug I've ever had.

For the first time in…possibly ever…I felt so loved. So protected. Like nothing in the world could ever hurt me. And for whatever reason, I found myself crying with them. So, these two were my birth parents, huh? Yeah. I think I could get used to them. Was this what a sense of home felt like? Permeance? A family? Because after the shit that I've been through in the last few months, I don't think I'll ever forget what that feels like.

"Get the fuck off her," a familiar voice set me totally at ease. And there was the last piece of this puzzle. The only thing missing.

I looked over Arthur's shoulder at the worried face of my best friend, "Allen…Allen!"

Immediately, I wiggled out of their embrace and threw myself into Allen's arms, my crying only getting worse. He held me as tight as he could, "Hey, Amy…"

"I tried, Allen," I bawled, "I tried to get away. I wanted to run away from him, but I couldn't. Not without people I love getting hurt."

"Shh…" Allen soothed me, "I know, Ames, I know. It's alright. You're ok now. I promise. Oliver's not going to get near you ever again. There's no fucking way any of us are going to allow it. You're going to be ok."

"Amelia…" Arthur stepped in, "Do you think we could talk?"

"Yeah," I wiped my eyes, "But it's…Amy. Amy…Jones, from what I understand."

"That's right," Allen confirmed, running his fingers down my spine, "Amy, I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you so bad. But…That would've meant freaking you out and I couldn't do that to you. Not when things between us were going so well. I didn't want to ruin it."

"I understand," I let him have that one, "But…It's…Arthur, right?"

"Yes," Arthur nodded, "I'm assuming you've heard about me from my brother."

"Yeah," I remembered everything Oliver said to me about Arthur. And now, I understood why Arthur was the bad man, "We can talk. But only if you and Francis answer a question for me first."

"Of course, cheri," Francis assured, "Anything you'd like. I'm sure you have quite a few you want to ask us."

"Good," I moved into the living room in need of somewhere to sit.

"Come on, Allen," Francois stood in the doorway, "We should probably be getting home."

"It's not too much trouble, Francois," Francis offered, "You and Allen can stay here for the night. Alfred and Mattie are going to be back by tomorrow morning. Besides, it is kind of late."

Francois gave his brother a skeptical look, "If we stay here, do you promise me you'll leave me alone? And I won't wake up in the morning with you standing over my bed?"

"Promise." What the fuck kind of family have I fallen into?

"Well then," Arthur brought the conversation back, "What was it you wanted to ask, Amy?"

"This might not be an easy question to hear," I began, "But…Why did you and Francis give me up for adoption?"

I could see it all over their faces. Arthur and Francis were heartbroken. Francis slipped his hand into Arthur's, unable to speak. But that didn't stop Arthur from answering me, "Because we were trying to keep you safe, Amy. We didn't want Oliver getting you. He had already attempted to go after Alfred and Mattie. We couldn't let him try for you, too. We love you, darling. And we've missed you so much."

"We're so happy to have you back in our lives," Francis pulled himself together, "And we don't have to worry about Oliver. Don't get me wrong, mon amour. I understand he's your brother, but…"

"No," Arthur put his finger up to Francis's mouth, "Hush. We've been over this, frog. Oliver, as much as I love him, is an absolute powder keg. And he'll do it with a smile. Now, I know there's a lot for you to take in, Amy. I'm sure you're tired. Why don't you get some rest?"

"That sounds like a fucking wonderful idea," I swooned, suddenly realizing what I said and wincing out of reflex, "Sorry. Please tell me you guys don't have a swear jar, too."

"Can't say we do," Arthur assured, "I know. Oliver's is rather annoying, yeah?"

"Oh, god, yes," Allen agreed, rolling his eyes.

"He gave up with me," Francois chuckled to himself, "I don't have to pay to the swear jar anymore. Haven't since we had you and Matt."

"How'd you get so lucky?" Allen scoffed.

"He had a blind love for me," Francois shrugged, "And he's a slut for a project. If I still had a little rebellious streak in me, it meant he had something to do."

"Your brother concerns me," Francis cuddled into Arthur's shoulder.

"Yours, too," Arthur giggled.

"But you're right, Angleterre," Francis got up, "Come with me, Amy. I'll show you where you can sleep tonight. We'll talk more in the morning."

"Ok." In all honesty, I was pretty tired. Then again, it's Oliver. Oliver can be rather taxing on someone's nerves.

"I'll go with you," Allen offered.

"My, my, Allen," Francis teased, "I didn't think you'd be so bold."

"She's my fucking sister, you pervert," Allen groaned, "And we've been hella close since we met. Hell, she's already stealing my clothes from me."

"Really?" Francis looked me over.

"The jacket is Allen's," I took it off and gave it back, "Thank you. I thought Oliver was going to lose his shit over that. You should've seen it, Allen. His heart stopped."

"Good," Allen smiled, "Let him be scared."

"Upstairs with you," Francis insisted, shooing us toward the entrance.

"Good night, Amy," Arthur smiled, sending me off to bed, "Sleep well, love."

"Good night," I think this is going to work out alright. I mean, it's going to take a little while to get used to Arthur and not panic, thinking he's Oliver, but everything's going to take a little time.

Allen and I followed Francis upstairs into an empty bedroom. Without even thinking about it, I peeled my shirt and my skirt off, stripping to my underwear. Instantly, Francis covered his eyes, "Mon dieu, Amelia. You might take after your mother more than we thought you would."

"Francis," Allen had his eyes covered, too, "Aren't you her mother?"

"By technicality," Francis confirmed, "Like I said, she takes more after her mother than I thought she would. My money would've been her taking after Arthur, but here we are with her half naked in front of us."

"And that's something I get from you?" I assumed.

"Exhibition runs in the family, cheri."

"It's not like I have pajamas here," I pointed out, "I'm a little warm, so sue me for stripping down to my undies. It's not the end of the world. Besides, I know Allen's sexual orientation and that we share blood and Francis, I'm pretty sure you're in the same boat. Neither one of you are going to care."

"She has a fair point, Francis," Allen agreed.

"Yeah," Francis nodded, "Still. You could've given us some sort of warning, Amy."

"Sorry," I crawled into bed.

"And how bold of you to assume you don't have pajamas here," Francis went into the closet and grabbed a pair of shorts and a tank top with no rhyme or reason to them. Thank God. No pastel colors. No little animals on them. This is definitely not Oliver's house.

"Thank you," I got redressed. As nice as it would've been to sleep half naked tonight, pajamas just set the mood.

"You're welcome," Francis tucked me into bed, "You've had a long day, mon petite. Get some sleep, oui?"

"I will," I could already feel my eyelids getting heavier.

"Allen," Francis gave me one little kiss on the forehead. Oh, yeah. I can get used to this, "Say good night to Amy and let her go to sleep."

"Yeah," Allen nodded, "But Francis, do you think you could give us a minute? Alone?"

"Sure," Francis allowed, "Good night, Amy. Je t'aime."

"Je t'aime," I melted inside. I knew almost nothing for French, but I knew enough to know when someone's telling me they love me. If I didn't know any better, I'd think a tear just fell out of his eye. Francis left Allen and me alone.

"Could you move over a little?" Allen crawled into bed next to me.

"What do you think you're doing?" I wondered, moving closer to the wall.

"Did you really think I was going to leave you by yourself?" he scoffed, wrapping his arms around me, "Amy, my first night away from Oliver, I would've killed for something like this. For someone to hold onto me and let me know everything was going to be ok. Not to mention, I've been worried sick for the last three days. I had no fucking clue where you had gone off to. I didn't know if you were alive or dead. I am not leaving you tonight. And…Well…I kind of missed you."

"Relax, Allen," I settled him, curling into his shoulder, "I get it. You're worried about me. I never said I was kicking you out of my bed. You're more than welcome to stay here. I appreciate your concern, but I'm sure I'd be fine by myself. If you need to stay here, then fuck, man, stay here. I'm not going to stop you. I missed you, too. Sure, before all this shit went down, you were kind of a pain in my ass. But you were still my pain in the ass. I love you, Allen. I mean, my god, you're my brother. It's still weird for me to wrap my head around, but that doesn't stop it from being true. You and Alfred. And now, I get even more why it was weird to think Alfred had a nice ass for both of us."

"See?" Allen gave me a little nudge, "You know, sometimes, I think about what it would've been like if we all grew up together. Chaotic, but it'd be a hell of a ride."

"Hold on," I wondered, "Since you're my brother, does that mean Matt's my brother, too?"

"Sort of," he explained, "Don't get me wrong, Ames, I love you to pieces. But you're more of a sister to Alfred than you're a sister to me. Biologically speaking. They'll be here tomorrow morning probably."

"Ok." I've never met Mattie before. I've heard all about him, but I've only met Alfred and Matt.

"But Francis was right," Allen pulled the blankets over us, "You really should get some sleep. Oliver didn't…juice you with anything…did he?"

"It's already been out of my system," I assumed, "Just some light sedatives. Xiao knows more about it than I do, if you're looking to ask questions."

"I'll call him in the morning," he let out a little yawn, "But for serious. Sleep."

"My pleasure," I shut my eyes, "Good night, Allen."

"Good night, Amy," Allen kissed the top of my head and hugged me tight. Was this what home felt like? Because I'm pretty sure this was what people mean when they talk about the feeling of home. I can't quite describe it, but I could feel something in the deepest corners of my heart. Something warm. And I didn't want it to ever go away.