A/N: Thank you for all the Favs and watches~ Here is the new chapter. :D featuring Pirate England~~~

I do hope to write a ton more chapters because writing this is a of fun.

Really this Fanfiction was the cause of one song Dangerous and Moving by T.A.T.U.

Chapter 2

-Broken Wings-

America, England and Italy were all in the back room of a pub in London.

"Ve~ Untie me!" Italy whines tied to a chair. America and England are standing next to each other and stare at him.

"Blimey, you wouldn't be much of a hostage if we let you go." England grins, looking toward the window. "America, I wonder if Germany noticed yet." He laughed lightly.

"Well if he hasn't he isn't much of Hero, then again no one can compare to me! hahaha~" America shoves a burger in his mouth. "So what was the plan with this brat?"

"… You do not remember. It was you plan. Bloody hell, America!" England smacks America in the back of the head.

"I was joshing, of course I remember." He laughs evilly. "I doubt Germany will go down without a fight. That's why I, the hero, have a sidekick."

"Shut up, America. I am not your sidekick. I am in an alliance with you that is it. I hate you." England spat angrily.

"Oh silly, England." America grins.

"DOITSU! DOITSU!" Cries Italy, unable to get free from the bonds of rope that are securing him in the chair.

"Make him eat Potatoes. I heard that Italy hates them." England sighs as he heads for the door. "I'll take control of the port to stop Germany, as a former Pirate. Here is some powder that will transport you to your boss by use of fireplace. " He quickly handed America a small bag of powder. "Simply throw the powder in the fireplace and say your destination clearly."

"Wait! Wait!" Italy cries out, flailing the two hands behind his back. "I will do anything don't hurt my Germany!"

"Shut up." America glares at Italy. "You are allies, that jerk which is exactly why we have you. It will get to him. He will surrender." He yanked lightly on Italy's curl, which cause Italy to yelp in pain. America grins a lets the curl go.

"Yup, he's a wimp, as our bosses said." America produces a Slurpee out of this pocket. He puts his mouth on the straw and begins drinking it down. He grabbed the chair Italy was in and dragged it toward the fireplace. "Ha, why would Germany partner with such an idiot?"

OOOOO

England walks into his house. He strips off his uniform and walks into his closet. Walking over to his closet, he pulls out his old dusty Pirate uniform. "Aye, it has been centuries since I last wore this." He slowly slips it on, including an eye patch. "Argh Matey!" Shortly after, he bursts out in laughter. "America, I am starting to think you only wanted to see me in this old thing again."

He walks over to his bed and pulls out a sheathed sword. He unsheathes the blade. The blade is still sharp and shines brightly even after all the centuries that have passed. England stares into his reflection of the blade. He slowly remembers all the blood that he had shed using this blade. All the pillaging and plundering, even though he was drunk plenty of the time, things still bleed through.

He could remember training young pirates, fighting off strong opponents. He even remembered his last battle where he defeated Black Beard. He could almost remember the taste of rum in his mouth. "Oh rum, how I miss you." He began to remember how ruthless he was before the time of America.

He did not give a crud for anyone who stood in his way in those days. He cut them down without any problems. The blood soaking his figure tips, the crew that would heed and bend to his every demand. Unnoticed to him his hand was shaking just holding that old blade. These memories he did not want anymore. The blade slips from his trembling hand and clangs on the floor. He was not a pirate anymore. He just could not be the same pirate. Inhaling deeply he stares at his hand. Then tiny memories started popping up of young America.

Cute little America, he was so small and clueless. England began to remember from the first day that he saw the little tyke that it changed him. The change was slow and true. The smile, the laughter, his ability to make English words in that ridiculous accent. Aluminum, the word that America could not say properly. England giggles, picking up the blade.

"I am fighting for America this time." He sheathed the sword at his side. " Ahoy. I am bloody freaking Captain England." He would protect America. He could protect America. He just knew that he had to defeat Germany. "There is no way around it." England mumbles to himself.

OOOOO

Germany puts his coat on and grabs a rifle. He secures the rifle on his back. His rage and worry floating around his mind. It was threatening to take control of him. 'Damn zat America, damn him.' Such thoughts were floating around his head. At moments in the past few minutes he was waiting for Italy to pop out of nowhere and say "Veh~ I was just joking Germany. I read this in a book somewhere and it said that this would be fun. Was it fun?"

That was not the case. He knew, he just knew that America was probably doing something horrible to Italy. He could just hear Italy crying repeatedly in his head. He kicks over the coffee table, breaking it in half. America was going to pay.

Though in the corner of his mind, he wasn't sure what was making him the most angry. That he had not been there when Italy had been taken or if he was helplessly yearning for Italy to just be there. Italy his only friend. Though the pounding of his heart was giving him a different message. Something was starting to click into place.

It was like the sound of a combination lock slowly clicking down to last number just ready to open. The thought of Italy's presence warmed him somehow. Before, he knew that he had not slept well. However, whenever Italy crawled up beside him every night, he slept very well. Almost like a babe always waking up refreshed.

He knew he had read something like this in a book. The way it had been explained was love, something above like, as in friends. Was it true?

"Do I love I-Italy?" Germany he stammered, suddenly it was as if his heart was aching. He places his right hand on his heart. He felt as if he was going to fall over. His mind was racing. 'Is this what you call the ache of love?' His face felt hot, as if he was blushing. Quickly he dashes toward a mirror. Indeed, his face was a s red of one of Italy's tomatoes. "I am in love." He says to himself in an unfamiliar happy voice.

His mind trails off and he slams a hand on the wall beside him as he stares at his reflection. "I WILL GET ITALY BACK!" He declares.

Comments, Suggestions, Ideas?