"The good ended happily, and the bad unhappily. That is what Fiction means."
– Oscar Wilde

When England came to, he was flat on his back and could hear his brothers arguing loudly over his head. It didn't feel like he had knocked his head, though, so at least one of them must have been decent enough to catch him before he hit the floor. Sorting through his fuzzy thoughts, it took him a few moments to figure out why his brothers sounded so worried. They were debating how to best search for British West Florida, knowing full well that America would go nuclear on their arses if they didn't find her.

"...searching for the Loch Ness Monster for more than 100 years and you still haven't found her! And that's just one lake," Northern Ireland complained, hands on his hips.

"It's not a lake!" Scotland protested. "It's a loch."

"Shouldn't we do something about England first?" Wales asked, nudging England's leg with his foot. "Never mind, he's awake."

Scotland smirked. "Strange, he hasn't even been drinking."

"Oh, belt up," England complained as he sat up and then, still feeling a little lightheaded, slowly climbed to his feet. He was grateful that their concerns about America's anger had distracted his brothers from mocking his fainting spell as much as they normally would. He pulled out his phone and scrolled to America's number at the top of his contact list.

Wales tilted his head to get a good look at the screen. "You aren't thinking of calling him, are you?" he asked incredulously.

"Lying is what got us into this situation in the first place," England replied reasonably. "She's as much his as she is mine, and he deserves to know that she's gone missing."

"Wait! Give me an hour head start to catch a flight out of the country," Northern Ireland interrupted, running a hand through his auburn hair. "I've always wanted to visit North Korea." When his brothers looked askance at him, he added, "Oh, come on! It's the only other country with North in its name."

"Ignore him. I'm not scared of America and I'll help you find the lass," Scotland promised.

"You're just saying that because you have nukes," Northern Ireland grumbled under his breath, but he joined the others as they gathered around a map. They divided the nearby area into quadrants, assigning a section to each brother. While his three brothers left to go their separate ways, England stared at his phone with trepidation. He took a deep breath and pressed the call button.

"England! How is she? Where are you?" America cried as soon as he answered the call. His voice sounded a little hoarse.

"I got your envelope," England replied. "About British West Florida."

"You believe it, right? 'Cause my boss has trouble with―"

"Yes, I believe it," England interrupted, biting his lip as he prepared to eat crow. "I'm sorry, America. I should have given you a chance to explain. And I shouldn't have just taken her without hearing your explanation first."

"It's okay, I knew she would be safe with you."

"Uh, about that..."

"Look, I get why you did it. I shouldn't've pretended I was pregnant when I was coming up with the micronation plan. Hell, I don't even know why I thought pregnancy would be a good prank. I'm sorry, England."

England paused for a moment to appreciate the contrite earnestness in America's voice. Unfortunately, he somehow doubted America would be singing the same tune when he told the other nation that Rosemary had gone missing.

"So... is silence a good thing or a bad thing?" America finally asked.

"Well, bad, but probably not how you think. You see, I have some news for you too. I'm afraid that Rosemary has... slightly wandered off, and I'm not sure where she is." There was silence on the other end for a moment and England held his breath.

"YOU LOST HER?" America shouted. "HOW COULD YOU LOSE OUR DAUGHTER? YOU ARE OFFICIALLY THE WORST FATHER EVER."

"Well, at least I didn't lie to the whole world about being pregnant!" England snapped.

"You were the one who invited them! I was so damn close to telling you the truth, but then all these other nations showed up and screwed it up."

"Don't you dare... ugh..." England rubbed his throbbing temples and took a deep breath. "As much as I would like to shout this out here and now, we have a micronation to find."

"Crap." He heard America sigh. "You're right."

They met outside Buckingham and began a search of the area directly south of the Palace. The silence between them was tense and awkward as they walked along the crowded streets, standing at least an arms' length apart while they looked high and low (but mostly low) for a blond toddler with a cherubic grin.

England glanced out of the corner of his eye at America and tried to make sense of his jumbled emotions. His self-righteous anger had been replaced by a gnawing uncertainty. Miscommunications had led to fights in the past, but never any as serious as this one. And never before had the stakes been so high. How were they supposed to care for a child if they couldn't speak to each other honestly?

Moving ahead of him, America strode along a pedestrian walk that led from the palace to Westminster Cathedral, peeking his head into stores as they followed the walkway steadily southward. The tourists and shoppers who filled the busy streets looked nothing like a lost micronation.

"Do you think there's a way we could sense her?" America wondered aloud.

"How so?"

"Something like this," he suggested, surprising England by taking a step forward and pressing his hand against the British nation's chest. England's heart rate sped up as America closed his eyes in concentration. They held the awkward pose for a few moments, before America sighed and let his hand drop to his side. "Guess not."

"Perhaps we should split up," England suggested, thinking about the large number of streets they had to cover.

"No!" America shouted, his eyes wide. "That's how every horror movie starts."

"This isn't... oh, fine, we can stick together," England huffed. He gasped and nearly had all of the air pressed out of his lungs as America hugged him tightly. A traitorous part of him enjoyed the warmth and comfort of America holding him close. England pushed the other nation away before he lost himself in the warmhearted feeling. "Let me go, and get back to looking!" he snapped.

America grinned. "Don't worry, England. The hero is here! We'll find her in a jiffy."

"I hope so." Gnawing his lip with worry as he looked up and down the walkway, England tried to take consolation in the fact that a micronation was nowhere near as vulnerable as a human child. Rosemary might be lost and scared, but she wasn't in any true danger.

"Hey, she'll be okay," America said reassuringly, his expression softening as he reached out to clasp England's shoulder.

"I know," England replied, stepping out of arm's reach.

America frowned. "Are we going to be okay?"

"I'm... I'm not sure." Avoiding America's gaze, England picked up the pace. His heart leapt when he spotted a head of blond hair toddling up ahead, but as the shoppers in front of him moved to the side, he could see that the girl was holding a woman's hand and wearing different clothes. She wasn't his daughter.

"England, wait!" With his slightly longer strides, America quickly caught up. He reached out to catch England's upper arm and then thought better of it, letting his hand drop to his side. "What happens when we find her?"

"I was thinking of alternating her between our countries month by month."

"You mean... like joint custody?" America's frown deepened.

"Yes, something like that," England said with a nod. Dealing with the mechanics of their custody arrangement felt easier than decoding his own painful emotions. "Would you prefer the odd months or the evens? You'll have her for your birthday and Thanksgiving if you take the odds, and I'll have her for my birthday and Christmas."

"How can you be so Vulcan about this?" America shook his head in disbelief. "What am I supposed to say to Rosemary? I told her we were going to be a happy family."

"Well, you should have consulted me first about being a happy family," England tartly replied. He felt a stab of guilt when he saw the distraught look on America's face. For all of America's flaws, he had genuinely done his best for the girl. England couldn't take out his anger in a way that would harm their daughter. "I'll do my best to ease the transition for her," he promised. "We'll make this work."

"I... I've had her for most of November. I guess it's only fair you have December." America gave England a wan smile. "We just need to find her first."

England nodded and resumed the search until they found themselves in front of the red-and-white-striped Westminster Cathedral. He normally would have spent some time to admire the asymmetrical elegance, but today it was just another building that could be hiding their daughter. He wondered if a prayer would help their efforts, and then tried to remember if he was Catholic or Protestant at the moment.

"Left or right?" America asked, craning his head in both directions. He blushed when his stomach growled loudly enough to make a few heads turn in their direction. "Actually, how about the McDonald's," he suggested, pointing to the golden arches.

"We don't have..." England began to criticize the idea, but his own stomach chose that moment to growl sympathetically and he felt a wave of lightheadedness wash over him. "Perhaps a bite to eat would be a good idea," he agreed.

"Really? You're not going to complain about my junk food? Are you feeling okay?" America asked worriedly, but England just pushed past him and walked into the restaurant. He didn't want to explain that he needed something to eat to save himself the indignity of fainting twice in one day. Even if it was terrible, artery-clogging, greasy junk food.

As soon as he stepped into the store, a blond blur caught his eye. "Rosemary?" England gasped in recognition.

"Father! Daddy!" Rosemary cried happily. She made several customers nearly drop their meals as she dodged between their legs. The girl flung herself at America, who laughed joyfully as he lifted her up above his head and spun her in a happy little circle.

"Rosie!" he said as he pulled her down into a warm hug. He brushed the hair out of her face and smiled. "I missed you too, sweetie," he added, his voice thick with emotion. He reached for England a moment later and pulled him into the family hug. England was so grateful to have his little girl back that he didn't even complain about America's breath-squeezing grip. England wiped his teary eyes and tried to give the girl a stern look.

"You shouldn't run away like that," he admonished. "We were very worried."

"I'm sowwy." Her lower lip quivered and she gave him a close imitation of America's puppy dog eyes.

"It's all right." England could feel his heart melting as he took the girl from America and hugged her close. "Just don't do it again."

"Daddy," she asked sweetly, turning to look at America, "may I ask a question?"

"Sure!" America said brightly. "Your manners have really rubbed off on her," he whispered to England.

"What's a dick?" she asked.

America blushed. "Yikes! Manners aren't the only thing you've been teaching."

"Spotted dick is a type of pudding popular here in the U.K.," England replied, feeling a sudden burst of inspiration. "It's a custard with dried fruit inside it. Quite tasty."

"People here like to eat dick?"

It was England's turn to sputter and blush while America came to the rescue. "Some people. It's kind of an acquired taste. You want a happy meal, sweetie?"

"Yeah!" she nodded eagerly, distracted from the topic by food. In some ways, England realized, she was a lot like her dad. He suddenly felt like a fool. Knowing that she was looking for America, he should have made searching all of the nearby McDonald's locations his top priority. He glanced over at America, while smiled brightly back.

"I'll get us take-out, you call off the search, and then let's head home," America suggested.

England thought it sounded like a wonderful plan.

He woke up from a blissful nap with Rosemary curled in his arms. As he glanced around the room, he noticed a few changes. Someone had cleaned up the liquor bottles and the shredded pink unicorn. The room wasn't as clean as England usually kept it, but it looked much nicer. He left Rosemary sleeping in his bed and padded down the hallway, pausing when he noticed the new furniture in one of his guest bedrooms. He must have been sleeping very heavily, because someone had set up a nursery with the spare furniture he had selected from Buckingham Palace. By the time he reached his office, he wasn't surprised to see that the notices of missing children and empty tea cups were gone.

England followed the delicate scent of roses down to the living room and he turned his head to see new flowers sitting in a vase. A box of chocolates sat next to it on the table. He glanced toward the kitchen as he heard footsteps coming his way.

"Wait, you gotta go back upstairs!" America cried playfully, smiling at England as he stepped into the living room. He was wearing one of England's frilly aprons, and the effect was rather cute. "I was gonna make you breakfast in bed, but it doesn't work if you're not in bed."

England glanced at a clock. "It's almost suppertime," he replied. He looked back at America and noticed the dark bags under his eyes. "Shouldn't you be tired?"

"I've had like five cups of coffee!" America said, bouncing on his feet. "And your brothers helped with the furniture."

"I see." England felt a sinking suspicion in the pit of his stomach. "You have a list somewhere of things to do to make me forgive you, don't you?"

"Uh..." A guilty look flashed across America's face.

"I think you should stay somewhere else tonight."

"Not even the couch?" America pleaded. "What about your hot bubble bath and the really awesome make-up sex? You always love make-up sex!"

England's glare was softened by a blush. "I'm not ready to forgive you," he said, "and I'm not sure you should be ready to forgive me either."

"Oh."

England nearly relented when he saw America's crestfallen face, but he reminded himself that he didn't want to paper over their relationship issues just for the sake of creating the appearance of a happy family. "I need some time on my own to think," he said firmly.

America sighed and slipped off the apron and tossed it onto the back of one of the sofas. "There are pancakes in the kitchen," he said in a flat voice. He glanced back one last time from the doorway. "I want you to trust me again. Whatever it takes, England, I'll do it," he promised, before letting the door fall shut behind him.

'Whatever it took' apparently meant more chocolates and more flowers, delivered to England's home and office each day for the next two weeks. America himself had flown back to his own country after explaining to Rosemary that England would be taking care of her because daddy had work to do at home. Reminded of his lover's persistence, England sighed with fond annoyance each time he saw a new floral or chocolaty delivery.

"If I didn't know you were having a tiff with your boyfriend, I would think that he was trying to court me," his secretary said with a laugh as she popped one of the chocolates into her mouth. "Mmm. At least he has good taste."

"He's diligent, I'll give him that," England agreed. He picked up Rosemary from her child-minder and was surprised to find America waiting for them on his stoop, thankfully not holding another bouquet of flowers.

"Daddy!" Rosemary cried, letting go of England's hand to rush into her dad's arms. The British nation tried not to feel jealous, reminding himself that it was only natural for the girl to be excited to see America again after his fortnight-long absence.

"Have you been a good girl?" America asked, before glancing up and giving England a hesitant smile. "You look like you could use some fun. Dinner and a play?"

"Which play?" England asked. He quirked his lips when America handed over an envelope and he found two tickets to The Importance of Being Earnest inside.

"You don't have to go with me," America was quick to add. "I'll watch her if you'd rather go with someone else."

"Like one of my brothers?" England gave him a wry smile. "I think not. Just promise me that you're not thinking of changing your name to Ernest."

America grinned. "Would it help?"

"No," England replied, inviting America to wait inside while he got ready for the play. He straightened his lapels in the mirror and glanced at the patchwork pink unicorn that lay on his bed. It didn't look as good as new, but it was still Rosemary's favorite toy. She had been remarkably sanguine about staying with England. After her first few weeks with America, she apparently expected to shuttle between their houses.

As he closed his bedroom door behind him, he wondered what America planned to do with the toddler while they were at the theatre. England paused and craned his neck when he reached the landing. He could hear America and Rosemary's voices, and it sounded like they were talking about him.

"Why are you and father fighting?" Rosemary asked, a faint tremor in her voice.

"Oh, sweetie. We both needed some time to think about some things. I'm really sorry that it happened, but it's not anything you've done."

"Can I help make it better?"

America laughed fondly. "You make everything better just by being here. No matter what happens, we're both going to love you and take care of you, okay?"

"Okay!"

England waited a few moments, blinking to get rid of the dampness in his eyes. He had always thought that America would be a wonderful dad. It was part of the reason he had wanted a child so badly. They had both nearly bollixed it up, but his time apart from America had given him a chance to reflect on what was really important. Warmth spread throughout his chest as he realized that all three of them were going to be okay.

He smiled at America when he reached the base of the stairs and clasped the other nation's hand. America beamed back at him lovingly.

"So who's taking care of Rosemary tonight?" England asked.

"Sweden and Finland," America explained, pointing out the front window as the two nations got out of a taxi and walked up the front walkway. Sweden seemed to be carrying a bundle of blankets while Sealand rushed forward between them. The blond boy raced into England's house and made a beeline for the other micronation.

"Prepare to recognize me as your uncle!" he cried, picking up Rosemary while she laughed excitedly.

"Don't recognize him as anything other than a pain in the neck," England teased. He turned to greet Finland and Sweden. "Thank you for taking care of her," he said politely.

"Who's this?" America asked excitedly, pointing to the bundle in Sweden's arms. England gaped in shock when he realized it was a child.

"Åland," Finland replied with a gentle smile.

"Hey, congratulations! We should be back in three hours or so," America said, leaving England still confused as they walked out to his car hand-in-hand.

"Wait... did they...?"

"Yep." America grinned. "Isn't it awesome? They're so grateful that we've got babysitting duties covered for at least the next century."

"I have a sudden feeling that the number of micronations in the world is about to spike."

America laughed as he slid into the passenger's seat of England's car. He gave England a hesitant smile as he reached for his hand again. "So... have you forgiven me?"

"Yes. I forgive you for being the liar who made my dreams come true."

"Good. 'Cause I forgive you for fainting when I wasn't there to catch you."

"What?" England demanded, blushing as he started the car and began the short drive to the theatre. "Those wankers need to learn when to keep their mouths shut."

"Don't get too mad. I think they brought it up when they delivered the furniture because I was discussing with my fists whether or not I should punch them."

"And did you?"

America shook his head. "Nah, you know how much I love Ireland! He was the nice dude who gave me Saint Patty's Day!"

"Actually, that was... never mind." England smiled back at America. They were going to need to be more honest with each other, but there was always room for white lies.

They arrived just in time for the opening act, although they ended up missing the second half of the play. The intermission make-up sex in the cloak room was just too good; even better, he dared to admit, than Mr. Wilde's witty dialogue. England smiled to himself in the post-coital glow. He always loved happy endings.

THE END.

Author's Notes

The title is a pun, so of course I have to end it on a pun. How is the title a pun? A Parent Lies. Feel free to groan! ;)

Next time, America is going to stick to a simple Halloween prank. Like dressing up as a wolf, and then catching England when he faints!

Åland Islands are an autonomous Swedish-speaking region of Finland. I'm so grateful that I have the internet to help me with all of my shipping needs.

Thank you to everyone who read, faved, followed, and reviewed! As always, special thanks to Fire Bear1 for doing a much better job of catching my typos than I do. I hope you've all enjoyed this ridiculous fic about serious issues.