Disclaimer: As everyone keeps reminding me, I don't own Hetalia.

…

When he woke the next morning, he was stiff from being in such an awkward position all night. He laid the toy soldier to the side and stretched, his spine cracking loudly in the otherwise silent office, noticing the cold cup of Earl Grey on his desk.

Strange.

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he thought back to the night before. The cup hadn't been there when he came to his study and he hadn't left to get one. If he had left his office, it would've been to get rum. He had been sorely disappointed to find the decanter in his office was empty, but he didn't want to go out and get anything with his American guest around.

Especially if it looked like he had been crying—which he had most certainly not been doing, that would be ungentlemanly.

The spare blanket fell from his shoulders and the still slightly groggy England put two and two together. Evelyn must've come in last night; had she been worried?

He picked up the teacup and took it to the kitchen to rinse out. Evelyn hadn't woken yet judging by the lack of dishes in the sink; it was an annoying habit of hers—she would rinse her dishes out, but leave them in the sink instead of putting them in the dishwasher.

Arthur sighed still stretching out all the kinks from the night. Realizing he never retrieved the mail from yesterday (and the American certainly wouldn't pick it up), the Brit made his way to the front door pausing when he noticed his guest in the living room. He was about to wish her a good morning when he looked closer. There was a book open on her lap, but her eyes were closed and her breathing was regular. She was sprawled out on the couch with her head resting against the armrest, mouth slightly open, twitching occasionally as she slept. Arthur shook his head in wonder. He had given her a nice bed, her own room, and she had chosen to fall asleep on the old couch—well, she had no right to complain when she woke as sore and stiff as him.

"Sorry Iggy. I should've been here sooner."

His whole body tensed. There was only one person who had ever called him that infernal nickname. For a fleeting instance, he had the overwhelming urge to lock himself in his office again, but no, it had been several years now and it was time to man up and move on.

He eyed the girl on his couch critically. The words had come from her mouth, but the tone and inflection, the apology, had been another person entirely…and it was a person he had been trying hard to forget. Perhaps it was time to face those memories head on.

Was France right? Could this girl be…? No it was better to squash all false hopes before they began.

He continued to retrieve the mail sorting quickly through it. Among the items was a small package labeled "Priority mail" which he opened shaking the contents into his palm. A little blue book fell out, the front bearing an Eagle clutching arrows and an olive branch in its talons—an American passport.

The Englishman flipped it open revealing the smiling face of Evelyn along with her information. Glancing through, he saw she had been to France once, but the book was empty otherwise. That piqued his interest; why go to a place when you claim to hate the culture?

He could always ask her later. Arthur turned back to her information where the birth date caught his eye: July 4. He felt like he had just been punched in the gut. England gripped the passport tightly leaning against the door to stay standing.

This didn't mean anything, he told himself. There were plenty of children born every day, in America and around the world. There were probably dozens born on the fourth of July. It was just a large coincidence; it didn't mean anything. He had her passport now. He could send her home and then all this foolishness would end.

Nodding to himself, he went to the living room intent on waking the American and telling her the news. When he saw her however, he wavered. She was tossing and turning mumbling in her sleep. The book fell to the floor with a dull thump, but she still didn't wake. Arthur reached out hoping to stop her thrashing when she suddenly stilled breathing in short gasps.

"I'm sorry…Iggy."

Arthur recoiled as if slapped while Evelyn jerked awake. That apology had sounded so full of regret, so sad, so final; it broke his heart all over again. His earlier resolve completely crumbled. He couldn't send her away yet, not without knowing for certain.

Evelyn rubbed at her eyes, blinking away the last vestiges of her dreams, startling when she caught sight of her English host. "Oh! Mornin' Artie."

"It's 'morning' not 'mornin'. You should learn to enunciate and good morning to you as well."

She rolled her eyes as she stretched. Then, as if realizing something, she turned to him seriously. "Hey, do you know if my passport has come in yet? It's been about a week now."

Arthur slipped the little book into his pocket casually keeping an indifferent mask so she wouldn't detect the lie. "No, there's been no sign of it yet. Things are quite busy however and there's been no one to send for it."

Evelyn gave a heavy sigh and then brightened suddenly. "I know! I'll just call Jess and ask her to mail it to me."

England found himself panicking a little. This girl actually had some intelligence unlike a certain other idiot. Thinking quickly, he reminded her of the lie she had told. "Didn't you tell them you were staying with family overseas? Do you really wish to explain how you got here without your passport?"

"Aw crap, I forgot about that." She seemed to deflate thinking about what he said. "I'll just leave it up to you then." She smiled stretching one last time before jumping up.

Arthur shook his head at her second-by-second mood swings.

"I'm going to make breakfast: eggs and bacon and toast. You want tea, right Artie?"

He followed her into the kitchen fingering the passport in his pocket. He felt guilty for lying to her, but it wasn't as if she was unhappy here and he would send her home once he found the truth.

Evelyn busied herself with making breakfast taking it upon herself to start the water for his tea. Arthur sat at the table watching her. She did remind him an awful lot of another American, but there were some stark differences as well—their genders and heights the least of those differences.

"Here you go!" She placed a plate of food in front of him along with his tea, sitting opposite. The American dug in oblivious to the Brit's internal struggle.

He took a sip of the tea and immediately spit it back out.

"What's wrong?" Evelyn asked concerned.

Arthur looked at his teacup like it was a personal affront against nature. "How the bloody hell do you mess up tea?"

…

Evelyn continued asking about her passport over the next few days. Arthur kept up his lie keeping her attention elsewhere with visits into the city and his personal collection of books. She was quite persistent however and it was beginning to wear down the Brit.

Her passport was actually sitting in the top drawer of his desk underneath a stack of papers. England checked it every morning always debating about whether he was doing the right thing. In the end, he would always slam the drawer shut once more and return to his daily tasks.

After one such time, he exited his office to find one of his least favorite nations sitting at his kitchen table. France sipped at a glass of wine seeming to ignore the English nation whose house he had so casually invaded.

"What are you doing here frog?" Arthur snapped.

"Why, mon cher, I simply came to check up on you and petite Amérique."

The Englishman stomped into the kitchen. He wanted a drink, but he would be a gentleman and settle for tea. "I don't see how it's any of your business."

Francis shrugged. "I was the one who found her."

"And then promptly dumped her on my doorstep!"

They could hear Evelyn coming down the stairs; the only time she was quiet was when she was reading. "Hey Artie, I heard yelling and…" She saw the Frenchman sitting at the table and was immediately pissed.

Arthur was always amazed how quickly her moods could change and there was never any warning. She was much like the sea in that aspect, constantly changing—one minute as calm and smooth as glass only for the peace to be shattered moments later by a sudden tempest. How he missed the sea; the old pirate never had to be a gentleman for her.

"Oi! French fry!" Evelyn yelled glaring at Francis. "I've got a bone to pick with you!"

France smiled placing a hand over his heart. "Moi?" he asked innocently. "I couldn't imagine why."

She stomped up and got in his face placing her hands on her hips. "You know perfectly well why! Who do you think you are randomly kidnapping people like that especially when they've shown you a bit of hospitality?"

"I was merely returning the favor ma petite." France replied simply.

"And how do you figure that?"

"If I had not, then you would not have met Angleterre." Francis took a sip of wine grinning in that way of his. He leaned in close until he could whisper in her ear saying, "You seemed most grateful when I returned your wallet ma chere, why so angry now?" The Frenchman blew into her ear and Evelyn backpedaled, face a deep crimson as she covered both ears.

"Th-th-that's not the point!" she managed to stutter out.

France got up from his seat moving back into the girl's personal space as he leaned in close. "Why so flustered ma petite?" He tilted her head up with one finger; her blush deepened.

A cookbook collided with the Frenchman's head. "Leave her alone frog," Arthur threatened one hand straying to more lethal projectiles while using his other to sip his tea.

Evelyn took her chance and bolted back upstairs.

France straightened rubbing at the new lump on the side of his head. "So mean, Angleterre."

"Go be a pervert somewhere else Francis. I'm not in the mood to deal with you." England sipped at his tea listening as the American stomped around upstairs obviously upset.

France sat back at the table picking up his wineglass once more. "So you believe she is Amérique?"

"I'm not sure what I believe," England sighed.

Francis looked at him with a quirked eyebrow. "Vraiment? I thought you would've sent her home by now if you weren't convinced."

Arthur stared into his teacup as if it would hold all the answers. "I just don't know anymore, Francis. I had accepted that he was dead and now there's Evelyn and she acts so much like him and yet…" he ran a hand through his already messy hair, sighing again, "I don't want to get my hopes up."

The Frenchman set his glass to the side picking up on his friend's melancholy. "Fear not Angleterre," he said trying to help the English nation's mood. "Have I ever steered you wrong?"

Arthur scowled. "Several times," he growled. "Shall I start listing them chronologically or alphabetically?"

"Oh, how you wound me!" Francis declared dramatically.

"Get out frog before I find something more lethal to throw and maim you with."

A casual observer might take that threat jokingly, but France had known the shorter nation for a long time and he had no doubt the Englishman would follow through; Francis shuddered as he remembered Arthur's pirating days.

He swiftly took his leave.

…

A/N: Yay! Another chapter! Btw, there's a Sherlock Holmes reference in this one thanks to my lovely beta Fall in Snow.

Also, I found out that I can see who's reading my story and what country they're from! You have no idea how amazing this was for me. I was like a kid in a candy store. It was awesome to see people from different countries were reading this. Of course, now I have to make sure I do my research and I apologize in advance if I insult anyone. I have no intention of doing this, but you never know what might happen unintentionally.

Did you know French fries are actually from Belgium? Random trivia for the day.

Reviews are always appreciated. Until next time!