Disclaimer: I do not own Disney's Pocahontas or Hetalia, rights go to the creators of both works.

Chapter 2: America's Problem

England survived, he'd actually survived the day, through all of the prank calls from intoxicated countries at America's party. It was officially July 5th. He woke up still feeling dizzy, but he hadn't had the urge to throw up yet. England got ready for the day, letting water wash over himself in the shower before fixing himself a nice cuppa. He currently sat at his kitchen table, sipping tea, and munching on a piece of bacon while reading the newspaper.

Ding dong.

The doorbell rang. He wasn't expecting any visitors today. America never really called before showing up but he knew that today would be the only exception. He'd be recovering from a hangover, and wouldn't even think about hopping across the pond to see him. Honestly why would he? This whole holiday celebrated being away from him. So he'd assumed it was a salesmen, they'd leave him alone if he didn't answer the door.

Ding Dong.

Then he felt it, the silvery metallic taste of blood in his mouth. His chest constricted, and he hacked up a significant amount of blood onto the newspaper. He faced the door. The ringing turned to pounding. England rose, it was him. That idiot actually came to see him. He checked his watch, 10:35 am. Bloody hell he'd have to get up at least at 3 to get here. Did he sleep?

England opened the door to America, he was sloshed which explains the lack of sleep. "Bloody hell America why are you here?" "You missed the party duuudde." His cheeks were flushed red. "Right like I told you I would." "I didn't want you to miss the part-tay so I brought it to youuu!" America blew into one of those noise makers and held up a soggy paper bag.

"What is that?" England said, scrunching his face up in disgust and pointing to the bag. "Caaaake my mannn." "Hmm delightful. Now come on and sleep in one of my guest rooms." He said taking the bag and guiding him into the house. "Nuuuu the part-tayyyy you… gotta…" He drifted off, his eyes getting heavy.

England sighed, wrapping an arm around America's waist, letting him lean his body weight against him. "America do you ever think things through?" "Britainnnn are you disappointedddd in me?" America all but pouted. "I think you make rash decisions yes." They'd reached the bedroom and he guided America to lay down on his side. England coughed. "R-rest up ole chap."

America woke up with a splitting headache at around midday. England was in the living room doing some embroidery. America shuffled into the living room holding a cuppa, gently sipping it to alleviate his headache. "Ah I see you've woken up." He said. America sat across from him setting his cup on the coffee table in front of them. "Sorry about coming here like that." "I don't expect anything less from you anymore. You're very impulsive, but I guess that's the drive of youth."

"Mmhmm. But…" America started off, England knew that this was one of the few moments that America was going to be serious with him. It was a rarity in itself, something must be bothering him. "Why didn't you come?" He asked. "I'm not one for parties America, and I get sick around this time you know." England answered, hoping he wouldn't probe further.

"But you've come before. I-I was hoping you'd be there this time." America looked solomemly at his tea cup. "A-ah well, to put it frankly, America your birthday is celebrating your independence from me. Do I really need to be there? I'd assumed it wouldn't matter, we don't really hit it off that well anyway." England coughed up some blood, grabbing a handkerchief.

America looked at him then, he could never resist those sky blue eyes even when he was a little colony. "I thought we were past that Britain. I'm 250; I thought you'd start seeing me as an adult by now. What more can I do?" It wasn't really a question. "It matters that much what I think!?" He yelled, angered that America was putting so much pressure on him. It's hard; he's not ready to let America go in a metaphorical sense yet. He was still angry that he separated from him physically, now he wanted him to pass him the baton! Wanted a pat on the back? "Come on! Spain treats Romano like an adult! Hungry and Austria let Italy go; hell even you and Canada are on good terms and he was under France a significant amount of the time!"

"You want to know what you can do?" England stared at him, hard. America waited, there was a pause.

"Nothing, you little insolent brat! You'll always be a disgrace to me! I'll never see you as an adult!"

"Drop dead Britain!" America stared right back, blue eyes fierce.

"You never should've won." He knew he'd struck a nerve with that one.

America grit his teeth reeling back and landing a punch straight to England's jaw. England stumbled back. "Do you really want to know why I care about your opinion you stodgy old man? You were there when she wasn't."

With that America stormed out of his house, slamming the door. His books fell from the shelves. England rubbed his jaw, America knew how to punch, he didn't break it thankfully. To the frozen peas he goes.

England rolls his eyes, America the impulsive child acting out when things don't go his way.

He'd mentioned her… England tried to push her out of his memory. England was just a young explorer then, just out of his pirating phase, looking for gold. He heard that Spain had struck gold and wanted some for himself too. It was greed that caused her to disappear… the smallpox played a large part too, but mostly greed. America remembers her more than he does, but it struck him that America values him to that degree. Powhatan Tribe, whom he'd called Native America at the time unknowing of the many tribal nations in America, was America's predecessor.

England thought before snapping his fingers. He'd revisit America as a colony, he was much more fond of him then. Just to observe, he knew time travel was murky, he didn't want to upset the balance of Space Time or anything like that. Maybe he'd learn more about Powhatan Tribe, he'd never actually gotten a chance to know her, prejudice of the time and such. The side of England, hungry for knowledge and exploration drove him. No one would be looking for him anyway and it beat staying here being sick until Independence Day faded from the minds of the masses.

He discarded America's unfinished tea and went into his basement.

England searched his old trunk of memorabilia, things he's kept over the years. He knew he had to have had a pocket watch in there somewhere. He'd gotten one in the late 1600's as Charles II made it fashionable by then. He reached around feeling for it, when he found the thing it was worn and had a giant crack across the glass cover of its face. England smiled, it was the perfect vessel to impose magic upon.

England flipped through his book of spells, looking for time travel, landing on a page with ancient text. He scanned over the contents, seemed easy enough.

Closing the book, England went to pack a bag. He put on an old pair of clothes from the 1600's, the one he'd worn when he found America in the field. He couldn't bring himself to get rid of it even when he declared independence. He threw in a journal, as all great explorers did. He threw in a compass and finally the watch.

He looked through his shelves, finding black hair dye. He wanted his eyebrows to match his hair one day but then thought it would look ridiculous so he never wore it.

As for the blue contacts, France bought him a pair, he said blue eyes were in, and that he'd get more attention with them. England at the time gave Francis a black eye for saying something so stupid. He just wanted to make himself feel better because he had those stupid cobalt eyes and women took notice of him whenever they went out. England would never tell France that he thought French women were attractive and was jealous they would approach him at bars. England kept them though, one day if he was desperate he'd wear them.

Today was apparently that day, he didn't want America or himself to recognise him. Once packed and ready to go, he went back to the basement.

He read the incantation, but frowned seeing nothing happen. Wasn't the watch supposed to tick or glow or something. He shook it, grumbling at the fact that the spell didn't work. He poked its face, jamming his index finger onto the glass. Swiping across the crack to clear some dust, he cut his finger. "Bugger." England grumbled as a blot of red formed and dripped onto the clock face. He gasped as the blood seeped into the crack, causing it to glow a deep red colour. The clock hands started spinning counter clockwise, rapidly.

"Brilliant!"

The world around him spun in a blur before he was surrounded in darkness.

A/N: I hope England isn't too OOC, being extremely sore about the American Revolution.

I hope you all enjoy the story!

Thank you for reading. Criticism welcome.