"I've now realized for the first time in my life the vital Importance of Being Earnest."
– Oscar Wilde

After spending the entire flight worrying instead of sleeping, America was dog-tired when he finally arrived at Heathrow. Operating on autopilot, he hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address for England's townhouse in London. Resting his forehead against the window, he watched familiar landmarks pass by, reminding him of happier times.

America's heart clenched as England's house pulled into view, looking as stately and beautiful as ever. He paid the driver and breathed a sigh of relief to find that England's spare key was still hidden under the ugliest gnome in the garden. America let himself in through the back door, slipping off his shoes by the door and padding silently through the mud room. The house seemed cold and forlorn, although it was hard to tell if the house felt that way or if was just America.

He wandered into the kitchen. The kettle on the stove was cold; if England had made his morning cup of tea, it had happened at least an hour earlier. Walking through the empty living room and up the stairs, America thought about what he would say to England when he found him. Whatever he said, he wondered if it would be enough.

At the top of the landing, America noticed something strange out of the corner of his eye. He stepped into England's office and was shocked to see the desk and part of the floor covered with a mess of papers. Even during the height of the Blitz, he had never seen England's office in such disarray. America picked a few papers off the floor.

They were notices for missing girls, each filled with photos and descriptions of where she had gone missing and heartfelt pleas from the family for help finding their child.

America let the papers in his hand flutter to the floor. He knew that Rosemary's picture wouldn't be in the pile, but it was easy to see that England had spent the evening trying to find her. Tea cups stacked at the edge of the desk testified to a night poring over papers instead of sleeping.

Moving on to England's bedroom, America yelped as he stubbed his toes on a glass bottle that went careening across the floor, stopping with a loud thud against the wall. He winced, recognizing it as a bottle of scotch. There weren't many reasons for England to have an empty bottle of scotch in his bedroom, and none of them were good.

But of all the depressing things in the house, it was then that America noticed the most depressing of them all. He could see pieces of pink fluff spread across the floor. A stuffed horn lay near another empty bottle, telling him that the pink fluff had once been part of the cute fluffy unicorn he had won for England in a ridiculous carnival game at a county fair. England had acted annoyed at the gift, as he always did, but America knew that he secretly loved it. America dropped to his knees and desperately gathered the pink fluff together until he had a unicorn-sized pile. He had to believe that he could fix it. It wasn't until he noticed droplets falling onto his glasses that he realized he was crying.

America wasn't sure how long he spent huddled over the shredded stuffed animal, but it was the sound of his patriotic ring tone that eventually pierced his despondent thoughts.

He looked down and saw that Germany was calling. He probably wanted to know why America was late for the meeting. America ignored the call. He had more important matters to handle, beginning with a trip to the American Embassy.

It was time for the truth, the full truth, and nothing but the truth.

He just hoped that it would be enough.

Several hours earlier...

Rosemary pressed her forehead against the airplane window and blinked in amazement as the pale light of dawn colored the water far below. She squealed in delight as she bounced up and down in Scotland's lap. "Look, Uncle Scottie! The ocean!"

"Yes, it's lovely," he agreed. "Have you ever seen the ocean before?"

"Mmm-hmm. I was born near the ocean!"

"Really? Where?" Scotland asked her encouragingly.

"Daddy tells me that I came out of Florida."

"He said what?" Scotland demanded as he and Wales shared a look above Rosemary's head. Scotland shook his head. "America should not be allowed near children."

Wales rubbed his chin. "And if America was the pregnant one, shouldn't he have told her that she came from Cornwall or Manhood Peninsula or something?"

"Guys," Northern Ireland interrupted from his aisle seat. "I don't want to talk about which part of the English coastline represents England's dick."

Rosemary tilted her head to the side. "What's a dick, Uncle Scottie?"

While Northern Ireland snickered and the passengers near them gasped in shock, Scotland choked on a cough. "That's really a question to ask your parents, lass."

"Oh. Will I see Engwand soon?"

"As soon as we land."

"And Daddy will join us when his meeting's over?"

"Aye," Scotland lied. "Now, lass... other than America, can you remember people who spent time taking care of you?" he asked gently.

Rosemary shook her head. "Just Daddy."

Scotland tried not to swear in disappointment.

"Perhaps England found something in the notices," Wales suggested.

After the plane landed, Rosemary urged her uncle Scotland to go faster as he carried her to the baggage claim area. Knowing that England was waiting for her, she whipped her head in all directions, until a messy head of blond hair came into view.

"Father! Father!" she cried happily, taking advantage of Scotland's surprise to wiggle out of his arms. She dodged between legs and rolling suitcases to reach England as quickly as her short stubby legs could carry her.

England's eyes widened as the little girl wrapped her arms around his leg and clutched him tightly. He gathered her into his arms and slowly rose to his feet as his brothers pushed their way through the crowd. "Any luck?" he asked them.

Scotland shook his head. "'Fraid not. The wee lass doesn't seem to remember anything about her real parents."

"Father, what's a dick?" Rosemary asked sweetly.

England nearly dropped her in shock. "What have you three been teaching her?"

Scotland glanced at Wales, Wales looked at Northern Ireland. Northern Ireland stared at his phone and pretended that he had an urgent email. Scotland finally shrugged and lied. "No idea. Must be America's fault."

"It's good that we rescued her in time," Northern Ireland piped in.

"I see... well, I'm afraid that I didn't find a single match in the notices." England sighed and rubbed the dark bags under his eyes. "Two sets of parents wanted to see her in person, just to be sure. I hate to raise their hopes, but I don't see what else we can do."

"See Daddy soon?" Rosemary murmured as she buried her face in the crook of England's neck with a contented sigh.

"We'll try to find your mother and father as soon as possible," England promised her, rubbing the toddler's back comfortingly. She snuggled against him and fell asleep cradled in his arms as the UK brothers piled into England's car. He yawned and wished he could sleep too. It had been a hard night, and it promised to be a harder day.

Rosemary slept through the meeting with the first parents, and England was grateful that she didn't hear the couple's muffled sobs when they looked at her in despair and told England that she wasn't their missing daughter. He apologized for wasting their time and carried her back to the car, gently rocking the girl back and forth as she continued to snooze against his chest. She reminded him of another nation he had cradled against his chest, but he immediately pushed that thought away in anger and sorrow.

Wales glanced back from the driver's seat, a worried expression crossing his face as he took in England's haggard state. "Ready for the next couple?" he asked.

"I don't think we have much choice," England replied, leaning back into his seat with a sigh. He just hoped that Rosemary would remember her real parents when she saw them. She seemed utterly convinced that he was her father; he wasn't sure he wanted to witness her disappointment when she learned the truth.

"Want me to handle this one?" Wales asked sympathetically.

England nodded, grateful that at least one of his brothers could be halfway decent, at least when football matches weren't involved. "If you would."

When they arrived at the next address, Wales disappeared into the house and returned two minutes later with a struggling and screaming child in his arms. "I want my father!" a very-awake and very-angry Rosemary shrieked. "FATHER!"

Driven by the girl's screams, England jumped out of the car and raced toward her.

"You'd better cwtch her," Wales said, quickly passing over the child.

England cradled her against his chest, murmuring soothingly as she sobbed. "There, there," he said softly. "We'll find your father."

"Why are you trying to get rid of me?" Rosemary wailed.

"We aren't, sweetie. We're just trying to find your real parents," England replied.

She looked up at him with red-rimmed eyes. "I don't understand! There's just you and Daddy. Please don't leave me."

"I'm not... it isn't that... I'm sorry, darling. I'll be here to take care of you as long as you need me, I promise," England said, brushing away her tears. He gently patted her on the back, even as he worried that every kind gesture would make it harder for her to return to her real parents. She nodded and snuggled into his arms as he slipped back into the car.

"Do you think America found an amnesiac orphan?" Scotland suggested.

"I honestly have no idea," England admitted, absentmindedly rocking Rosemary back and forth in a gentle motion as he buckled his seatbelt.

"I still say we should have beaten him for answers when we had the chance," Northern Ireland complained.

"Oh?" England arched an eyebrow. "He called you Ireland again, didn't he?"

"Yep," Wales replied.

"Aye," Scotland agreed.

"Shut up," Northern Ireland said with a pout.

They sat in the car in huffy silence as England contemplated what to do next. He hadn't eaten breakfast, he was dying for a cup of tea, and it seemed that he was responsible for a small child who had been brainwashed into believing that he was her father. They had been planning to take turns caring for Rosemary, but it was starting to look like England would have to take on the full caregiver responsibility.

"Look. If we can't find her parents right away, I'm going to need some supplies for a temporary nursery," England finally said, rubbing his forehead with one hand to ease the headache that was building behind his eyes. "The Queen offered me Prince George's hand-me-downs when I told her the news about... well..." he trailed off.

"You still haven't told her the truth have you?" Wales asked as he took the car out of park and expertly navigated the narrow London streets.

England flushed. "I was merely waiting for the right time," he said defensively, glaring out the window as they drew closer to Buckingham Palace.

"Hah! I don't think there's ever a right time to admit to the Queen that your boyfriend is a lying wanker who isn't pregnant."

England grimaced and covered the girl's ears as quickly as he could. "North!" he growled. "Stop swearing!" He really didn't want to have to explain to her parents why she had learned so many naughty words while in their care.

"Don't get too attached to the wean," Scotland warned. "You can't keep her."

"I'm not getting attached," England replied defensively. He wasn't cosseting the child, he was just behaving like a reasonable, mature adult. Unlike his brothers. When he was sure that they had stopped swearing, at least for the moment, he uncovered her ears.

Rosemary tilted her head in confusion and looked up at him with big pleading eyes. "Are we going home soon?" she asked. "I'm hungry and I need to wee-wee."

"I wouldn't say no to elevenses and a WC myself," Northern Ireland agreed.

Thirding the idea, Wales picked a nice bakery near the palace. While his brothers happily gorged themselves on sweets, England found himself in the awkward position of taking Rosemary to the men's restroom. He waited outside the stall door and then helped her reach the sink to wash her hands when she was done.

She insisted on holding his hand as they walked back to the dining area, humming happily to herself as she swung their hands back and forth. England looked down at her eager grin and realized that Scotland was right about the dangers of getting attached. It hurt to look at her and know that he would have to give her up to her real parents, once they could find them. Even worse, England almost found himself hoping that something bad had happened to her parents, so he could keep her guilt-free.

The familiar and relaxing scent of tea enveloped them as soon as they joined the UK brothers at their table. England gratefully prepared himself a cup while his brothers continued to scarf down the biscuits and jam that were a traditional part of elevenses.

"Can I have some?" Rosemary asked as she snuggled closer to England. She leaned against his thigh and gave the tea cup a curious look.

"The question you should ask is 'May I have some?'" he corrected her gently.

"Oh." She smiled up at him. "May I?"

"Of course, darling." He handed over the cup and watched her carefully as she took a sip.

Her face broke into a grin of delight. "This is weally good!"

"Well, I'm glad America didn't ruin your sense of taste," England said fondly.

"Maybe it's dangerous to let her stay with you," Wales teased between bites.

"Sod off," England complained as he rolled his eyes, deciding that his quietest brother wasn't halfway decent after all. He returned to his tea and felt immeasurably better after he finished the cup. It wasn't quite as refreshing as eight hours of sleep, but it was a decent substitute.

"Daddy makes tea sometimes," Rosemary remarked.

"He does?"

"Uh huh. But he doesn't drink it. He just likes the smell."

"I see." If England wasn't so upset with America, he would have found the information fascinating. As it was, he had to choke down the anger that rose in his throat. America didn't have a right to pine for him when he was a bloody liar.

With full bellies and empty bladders, they headed to Buckingham Palace to claim the children's furniture and toys that the Queen had promised him. England was glad that Her Majesty wasn't in residence. He wasn't up to the task of introducing her to Rosemary and explaining that the toddler wasn't actually his child. And the girl didn't quite seem to understand that she wasn't supposed to refer to the Queen as 'grandma.' He blamed America's lax attitudes toward royalty.

England left Rosemary with his brothers and wandered through the storage rooms, picking from the spare baby furniture and excess toys. The royal family had received a plethora of baby gifts when the young Prince was born. They had donated most, but even the small amount they kept would be enough to fill dozens of nurseries.

He fought down tears as he noticed a crib that looked exactly like the one he had picked with America. It hurt to think about their shopping trip. It hurt to remember how excited he had been for the birth of their child. Excited enough to push away his doubts and suspicions about the preposterous idea of a pregnant nation. He should have known better than to trust America's sweet promises.

Wiping the tears from his eyes, England gave the crib one last look, knowing that it was never meant to be. He didn't have time to wallow in despair when there was a little girl depending on him. Even if she wasn't his, she deserved his best. After a moment to compose himself, he returned to find his brothers playing with the corgis that wandered around the palace. He shook his head fondly, and then began to panic when he noticed that someone was missing.

"Where's Rosemary?" England asked.

"She was here a minute ago," Scotland said, frowning as he glanced around the room.

Northern Ireland shrugged. "I thought she was with you? She mentioned wanting to find her daddy."

"She calls me her father. She calls America her daddy!" England shouted. His panic reached a crescendo as they searched the room from top to bottom without success. The guards were called and divided up into search parties. England hurried from room to room, calling for Rosemary. He knew if she would respond to anyone, it would be him.

"Rosemary, this isn't a good time to play hide and seek," England called.

"Darling, do you want to go out for ice cream?" he tried in the next room.

"Please, sweetie. I'll... I'll call America. You can talk to him on the phone. Doesn't that sound nice?"

In the sinking pit of his heart, England knew that the girl was well and truly lost. He and the guards expanded the search outside of Buckingham Palace. Rosemary seemed like a clever girl. If she was looking for America, she would know better than to look inside a palace. As he finalized the search parameters, one of the guards delivered a sharp salute and an envelope marked 'urgent.'

It was from the American Embassy. England considered ignoring the envelope, certain that it was from America himself. They had both avoided official government channels after their break-up, not wanting their bosses to confuse personal issues for national ones. But if there was some chance it would help him find Rosemary, he had to open it.

England sliced through the top seal with a letter opener. He frowned to see there was only one piece of paper inside the envelope. It was a legal document describing a land transfer from Alfred F. Jones, on behalf of the U.S. government, to one self-described Earl of Rum, receiving the land for the Dominion of British West Florida.

The Dominion of British West Florida.

The paper slipped from England's numb fingers as his body froze in cold shock. He couldn't hear the sound of the envelope hitting the floor over the sound of blood pounding in his ears. His heart thundered painfully in his chest.

She was a micronation.

The guard looked concerned. "Sir, are you quite all right?"

A British micronation.

"He was up all night," Scotland explained. "We should probably take him home."

A British-American micronation.

England wanted to explain that he was fine. Wonderful, actually. There was just a strange pounding in his chest and his head felt like it was filled with fuzzy clouds.

He was a father.

Ecstatic and exhausted, England fainted.

5 of 6

Author Note's

Manhood Peninsula is a real place. Just sayin'

Also, this fic has definitely always been six chapters. Yep. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.