Author Note:

My DEEPEST apologies, Dear Readers, for not getting this chapter up last weekend! While my home and family were fortunate enough not to be severely impacted by Harvey, the process for the City of Houston getting back to regular business does come with a fair bit of chaos. Add in that the Editor is currently job hunting and you can see how our schedule got a bit battered.

To make it up to you, though, we have some BONUS CONTENT for you to enjoy. Details at the end.

Enjoy!

England determinedly chased after the last drizzles of strawberry flavoring that graced his plate. The long anticipated meal with Canada had actually gone quite well, despite Prussia's unexpected presence.

However, once they broached the touchy subject of the so-called Unites States of America, and his impact on the sweet lad sitting across from him, well, England did not imagine the atmosphere would remain pleasant after that. In fact, England felt very certain that the fiery spirit Canada hid under his normally mild-mannered demeanor was sure to surface as the conversation progressed.

Once the last remnants of his excellent dessert had finally been demolished, England set his fork down quietly and took a small sip of his wine, mentally preparing himself to broach the sensitive topic.

"Canada," England began after swallowing the mouthful of sweet dessert wine, "France and I were hoping we could speak with you about something."

The Commonwealth Nation jerked his head up, giving him a startled look. His eyes then flickered over to Prussia who snorted softly, apparently unsurprised by England's sudden words. Beside him, France frowned softly, his eyes moving between the two men sitting across from him.

"Of course," Canada replied as he tilted his head slightly to the side. Unseen by England or France, his hands shifted under the table, one to press down on his stomach where sharp pain was erupting, the other clutching at the folder hiding in his lap. "I assume you want to talk about America, correct?" he asked, forcing himself to speak normally.

"You must understand," France interjected, swirling his wine glass absentmindedly in one hand, "that we are concerned and wish only the best for you."

"Right, as if you've never had an ulterior motive in your life," Prussia snarked. Rolling his eyes, he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Go ahead, spit it out," he drawled.

England shot an irritated look at Prussia. He had no part in this discussion - he wasn't even a proper Nation anymore. By rights, he should have withdrawn from the room the moment England had spoken! There would be no getting rid of him, though, not when Canada was so taken with him. Perhaps France had been right earlier about sending Prussia packing. But he was getting distracted from the far more important issue at hand.

"As France was saying," England continued, "there are some very really and obvious concerns that are yet to be addressed, and you, well, you my dear boy seem to be completely blind to these very worrisome issues."

Canada's fist clenched, crushing the folder he held. "Really? And exactly what are these issues that I'm so unaware of?" he ground out around near gritted teeth, his eyes igniting.

England and France shifted uncomfortably in their seats at the sudden shift in Canada's mood. To their surprise, Prussia reached out and settled a hand on Canada's arm. The German Nation was appalled by the ridiculous behavior of the men across from him, but he knew Canada wanted this meeting to end well, and the Northern Nation losing his temper would not facilitate that outcome. All three watched as Canada took a deep breath and gradually reigned in his burgeoning emotions.

France, knowing England was woefully lacking in both tact and finesse, decided to take back over. "Canada, it is undeniable that England and myself have made many drunken complaints about America, and clearly neither of us was in good form on any of these occasions; however, with all participants sober and fair-minded, there's no reason that we cannot discuss this like gentlemen. We only ask that you hear us with an open mind."

"And when you're finished maligning my brother, you'll hear me out with an open mind?" the Northern Nation pushed, eyes hard and voice unyielding.

France didn't falter. "Of course," he replied graciously, "like gentlemen, just as I said." When Canada gestured for him to continue, he forged ahead. "Very well, let's start with the events in Austin, shall we? I will freely admit that America's actions to rescue myself and the others were both admirable and extraordinary, but those actions were in sharp contrast to his behavior after the fact. I'm sure you will recall at the hospital that he was rash, uncouth, loud, aggressive . . . need I go on? This man was an emotional powder keg that seemed to be set off at the slightest provocation. Petit, he had confrontations with individuals in hospital beds, and some of those over Micronations. Surely you can see how these wild and contrasting behaviors could lead one to believe that he is unstable."

"But-"

"Non, please, I am not finished. Petit, I am happy to hear your side, but I think that we will progress best if England and I are allowed to air all of our grievances first, no?"

Canada nodded in concession. It was likely that if he started speaking now that the conversation would degenerate into an argument and nothing that he'd planned would get accomplished. He just hoped France would hurry. The strange pain was intensifying, a feeling like knives sliding across his skin, and he didn't know how much longer he could hide it.

Unaware of Canada's growing discomfort, France pressed on. "So, even if there were a reasonable explanation for his erratic behavior, you also must admit that the timing of the events is quite suspect. We are really to believe that for hundreds of years he avoided others like ourselves, as well as his own government, but then he just happens to be at a conference with nearly a dozen Nations in attendance, and just happens to be enrolled as a student at the University where the conference is being held and, more than that, has intimate and detailed knowledge of a network of underground tunnels that are otherwise closed to all but a select few campus personnel? I'm afraid, dear one, that the coincidences are far too many with too few explanations."

Prussia looked to Canada, gauging his reaction. Even to him, even with his memories of a young America at Valley Forge, France was making some compelling arguments. But one glimpse of Canada's stony visage in the face of France's onslaught of logical points solidified his resolve. Of everyone at the table, Canada knew America best. If he was unfazed, then Prussia would continue to support him. It was time to move this along.

"Frog, you talk and talk. Enough. If you have a point, then make it. Otherwise, be a man of your word and allow Canada to speak."

France glared at Prussia. "My point, is simply this: with all of these coincidences and variables and a lack of any verifiable information, then is it not unreasonable for England or myself to question America's motives, his sudden appearance on the world stage, or whether or not he may have been complicit in the events in Austin?"

Unable to remain silent any longer, England finally cut in. "Canada, can't you see this charlatan has hoodwinked you? There are 7 billion people in the world, and certainly there is a striking resemblance between you, but stories of doppelgangers abound for a reason. The truth is we have no evidence that he truly is who he claims to be. Can you not see that we are worried for you? We are worried for everyone of our kind. You mustn't allow him to sway you so," England implored, "at least, not until we know more about him, have some more concrete information as to his identity and his past."

"Are you done?" Canada asked icily. "Is it my turn now?"

"Of course," France agreed, somewhat disturbed by Canada's continued hostile demeanor, "a deal is a deal."

"Fine, you wanted to start in Austin, we'll start in Austin. His actions in Austin were nothing short of heroic. He saved you. He saved you all, and, if you'll recall, he did so with Prussia and I's help. Yes, the plan was sparse, but it wasn't as non-existent as you always suppose it was. And no, he didn't have much intel, or help, but that didn't stop him from facing overwhelming odds to rescue each and everyone of you.

"As for his behavior at the hospital, is it really that surprising to you? Is it surprising that a Nation that has spent hundreds of years isolated from his own kind might suddenly find it overwhelming to be surrounded by a number of other Nations he doesn't know? Do you really find it that hard to believe that after so long by himself that he might struggle with even the most basic of interactions, even though I'd hardly call the situation he found himself in basic? Did it occur to you, even for moment, that he was coming down from an epic adrenaline rush, and that maybe, just maybe, after facing off with several dozen terrorists that he might be even the slightest bit out of sorts, off kilter? In that context, was his behavior really that strange?

"None of us, not even you, were at our best that evening. We were all exhausted and frazzled. Given that America was also having to deal with being thrown into a completely foreign situation, I would say he did a hell of a job of keeping things together that night."

England cut in belligerently. "You cannot discount the coincidence-"

"Let. Me. Finish."

England started, shocked at the commanding tone.

"I will admit," Canada reluctantly continued, "that America's presence in Austin was rather coincidental, and that I can't account for. However, I can account for why he eluded both us and his government. As far as his lack of contact with others like ourselves, you are misinformed. As we have discussed before, he did have contact with Native Nations and it did not go well. But regarding his government, it wasn't his fault he never worked with them, it was theirs."

"How do you mean?" France inquired, curiosity piqued.

Canada pulled the folder from his lap, laying it on the table while he extracted the two sets of copies, then extended them to England and France. "These documents not only address the issue of why America was not a part of his government, it also provides the proof of identity you so desperately desire," he stated in a cold, flat voice.

Wordlessly, England took the documents and flipped through the pages, France doing the same with his own copy.

The men were silent for several minutes as they read through the letter. France's expression turned thoughtful, and he pursed his lips as his eyes flickered from line to line.

"You don't expect us to believe this," England sputtered after he finally flipped to the last page. "It's clearly a forgery."

"We got in touch with Ms. Williams at the State Department, and it was she who provided these to us," Canada replied simply.

"Also, the University of Virginia is always forging Presidential documents," Prussia responded sarcastically. "Dummkopf. But if it still is not enough, I also had some memories surface after reading the letter."

"You?" France inquired. His expression had closed off, eyes intense. The wheels turning in his mind were practically visible as he absorbed this new information; Prussia had seen it countless times. England might still be holding out but France, at least, was willing to listen.

Grimacing, Prussia slouched down in his seat. "I came over with Steuben during the Revolution, remember that, France?" When the other Nation nodded, Prussia continued. "Steuben and I trained the Americans in being proper soldiers. And they desperately needed the help of my awesome self. They had the passion and sharpshooting skills, but there's more to being a soldier.

"Training the Americans meant living with them, even during the worst winter in Valley Forge." Prussia shuddered. It had taken over a century for the horror of the biting cold, frostbite, starvation, and constant death to fade. Even now, that time, that place, brought back awful memories. Pushing them aside, Prussia continued. "I didn't think anything of it then," he continued. "Why would I? England," he cast a quick look at the green eyed Nation, "had been going on for more than a century about his new territory; that it was just a larger part of himself. So naturally, it didn't have a new personification."

"What precisely are you saying?" France asked.

Reaching forward, Prussia tugged the copy of Washington's letter from France's hands and slapped it down on the table. He quickly paged through until he found the description of the young personification and jabbed a finger down on the relevant paragraph.

"There were a lot of kids running around. Too many, really, if you judge it by modern values. But one of them stood out."

"You saw him," France realized. If this was true, it would go a long way to confirming everything America had said.

Prussia nodded. "I did. Und felt his presence. I didn't recognize him, though," he regretfully admitted. "Everyone knew, unlike Canada, that England's American colonies had no personification, so I assumed it was someone else, another Nation supporting the rebellion but didn't want word getting out."

Canada turned his head slightly to look at Prussia. "Were there a lot of Nations who were doing that?" he asked, suddenly curious.

"A few," Prussia responded, hesitating for a moment before pushing on. "That guy," he continued, jerking his head towards England, "pissed off a lot of guys back then. So when the American colonists declared independence, there were many Nations who wanted to stir up trouble for him."

"Prussia is correct," France confirmed. "I also heard from several Nations who wished to offer aid and support to the rebellious forces. I must confess, I did help arrange the transfer of funds and goods from many others."

England shot him a shocked look, a feeling of betrayal sweeping through him.

France was undaunted by the dismay emanating from England, however, and continued. "These Nations also conveyed their expectation that they would have the opportunity to aid in the development of the personification who they believed would appear should the rebelling forces prove victorious."

A palpable chill swept through the room. How would things have changed had the Nations of Europe been given the opportunity to mold and shape the young American personification? With no experience in their ways or formal education in politics, would he have been able to withstand the power struggle that would have followed? Would he have been able to stand against the self-serving guidance being offered to him, seeking to sway the developing Nation to favor one Nation or another?

"I will concede that this does explain why his government did not seek him out," France concluded after allowing his last statement to linger, "but it does not explain why he was not drawn to his government, to the seat of political power as we all were."

"Doesn't it though?" Prussia challenged. "The United States of America is not like us, like Europe. The ideals of this country, they do not put political power with an individual. Nein, Americans believe, Washington believed, that political power rested with the people. His story is more believable because of this. He claims to have spent all these years simply among his people, learning from them. If the ideals of this country are that political power lies with the people, then it makes sense that he chose to spend time with them. There was no reason for him to be drawn to Washington, D.C. It may have been the center of the government, but it was not the place of political power. By your own reasoning, he was exactly where he was supposed to be."

"No!" England snapped. "We are Nations. We work with our national governments. It is not a choice. It is an obligation, our duty. We do not have the luxury or freedom to choose otherwise. We are servants, we have always been servants, and we will always be servants. Nobody, not one other Nation for the thousands of years we have existed has been afforded this kind of opportunity, but we are just supposed to believe that America is different, so he gets to be special? Preposterous!

"Furthermore, nothing you have shown us address the more recent issues. Has the American State Department found another letter that shows he chose the University of Texas at random? Have they verified that he has never been in contact with other personifications or foreign powers? This-" he slammed his hand down on the photocopy sitting on the table, "absolutely fails to address the very real danger we found ourselves in mere months ago! No, I need evidence, proof that he isn't a charlatan. That he isn't working with them for some selfish reason!"

"What do you want?!" Canada roared, slamming his hands down on the table and surging to his feet. His chair toppled over backwards, the hardwood impacting the metal plate on the wall with a sudden clatter. Across the table, France and England recoiled in shock, but he didn't care. His blood was boiling in a way that was rare. "Do you need a recording of his entire life, documentation of each and every decision he has ever made? What would it take?"

Slowly, Canada straightened, his hands falling to his sides. "I remember him, England. For years, I thought I was remembering an imaginary friend because I couldn't see any other reason why there would ever be someone that close to me. I've lived centuries without him. We're connected, in a way I can't even begin to describe, and have been even while we were apart. And now that I have him back?" He shook his head slowly, angry eyes never leaving England's face. "I will not give him up. Not even for you or your self righteous jealousy."

Canada bent over and dragged his chair back upright. Then, with a final angry look, he turned and stalked out of the room.

"That could have gone better," Prussia muttered. "Well, that's all for tonight," he announced as he stood up, pushing his chair back, the legs scraping across tile. "You may have noticed I shared some personal memories of the American War for Independence. You'll find those after the Washington letter. Have a nice flight."

With a final jaunty wave, Prussia sauntered out of the room, conscious of the eyes following his every movement. Once he passed through the doorway and was out of sight, he broke into a run and darted through the main dining room, the hotel lobby, and dashed up the staircase, racing towards Canada's room. The gentle hearted Nation was going to need a friend.

Back in the narrow private room, France drained the last of his wine and stood. Plucking the half-empty wine bottle from its stand and the documents off the table, he tucked the items under an arm and bent down to gently kiss England's cheek. "I believe we both have much to consider this evening," he murmured. "I am at your disposal should you need it." Then, he, too, straightened and left the room.

And now, England was alone. Silence filled the room, bearing down on the isolated Nation like a lead blanket. A small tremor briefly appeared before being quickly stifled. But then it returned, again and again. Shaking, England clamored to his feet, hands clumsy as he gathered the papers Canada had given him. A familiar burning filled his cheeks and eyes. His lips were determinedly pressed together to hide the way they wanted to quiver. It had been a long, long time since he'd felt so thoroughly rejected. So alone. It hurt, pain knotting up inside him. Clutching the papers to his chest, England fled.

Author Note: England, what in the world are you doing? Well, to find out more, we've started a companion story:Tales of Woe. Go check it out!