Disclaimer: Nope, I don't own Hetalia.

She didn't know when she gave up trying to go outside alone; she just knew Arthur always seemed to be there when she tried. It wasn't like she was a hostage either, no, it was more like the Brit was afraid to let her out of his sight. She appreciated the fact someone cared about her well-being, but his constant presence was becoming a bit stifling.

A few days previous, he had taken her to the library after already exhausting the Englishman's rather extensive one. She had taken the time to email her friends as well sticking with the excuse of a family emergency. She didn't know why she lied. Maybe she just didn't want to worry them…or maybe, she admitted to herself, she just didn't want to leave yet.

No matter how much she complained about the amount of school she was missing or her acting like a prisoner, like it wasn't her choice, she was only here because she didn't have a passport or the money…no, the truth was, being around Arthur was peaceful. It was the most peace she had found since she had lost her parents and she didn't want to lose it just yet.

That didn't mean she didn't miss her freedom. She had also taken the chance with computer access to search for a club nearby. She just needed the chance to let loose for a while, without her temporary guardian around, and a night out at a club was just what the doctor ordered.

Evelyn went to bed early waiting, fully dressed under her covers, until she heard Arthur go to his room then an hour more so he should be firmly asleep. As silently as she was able, she crept down the stairs skipping the one that always creaked and went outside locking the door with the spare key under the flower pot.

She sat on the stoop and put on her boots still listening for any sign that Arthur had heard her. Determining it safe, the American walked to the club humming absently to herself.

The Ruins was a hub of activity. Evelyn sat at the bar letting the music pulse through her and sipping on a Coke as she watched the crowd. She had never been to a club without her friends and she was beginning to think it wasn't such a good idea. She didn't have anyone to watch her back in case of trouble so she couldn't enjoy herself fully.

A guy slid into the seat next to her and ordered a drink. "You here by yourself?" he asked raising his voice to be heard over the music. He didn't have a British accent—a tourist then or a student.

"No, my friends are on the dance floor." If he knew she was lying, he might try something and she definitely didn't want that.

"Really? So then why are you over here?" His tone implied he knew she was lying, but he was trying to be friendly.

She spared him a look. He wasn't half bad: short spiky brown hair and brown eyes with a genuine smile; built, but not overly so. "Yeah, and what about you?"

"My wingman ditched me after he found his own girl."

"That's one of the worst lines I've ever heard," she laughed.

"Nah, I got worse ones, but that one's the truth." He stuck out his hand. "Mark."

She took it. "Evelyn."

"I like it." He hopped down from the stool and sketched a bow. "Would you like to dance Miss Evelyn?"

"I don't know. Clowns aren't really my type."

He put a hand over his heart dramatically. "You wound me! All I wish is for a dance from the prettiest girl at the ball."

She couldn't help it. Evelyn burst out laughing as she took his hand and led him onto the floor. Her heart beat in time with the bass and Mark allowed her to lead resting his hands lightly on her hips. She put one hand against his neck and let herself go. The music and energy of the crowd fueled her and they went from one song to the next with neither talking nor passing that invisible, uncomfortable boundary.

Finally, they pulled apart. Both were slightly out of breath, but it felt good and Evelyn wasn't ready to go home yet.

"I need a drink," said Mark leaving the question hanging.

"Yeah, me too."

"Wait here, I'll get it." He slipped away finding the easiest path through the crowd.

Before she could catch her breath, someone grabbed her hand and spun her moving her through the crowd effortlessly. When she was let go, the back of her knees bumped against a booth seat and she fell into it too dizzy to remain standing.

She looked across the table where a familiar face sat.

"Oh, hell no!"

Francis simply winked raising his glass in a toast. Evelyn tried to stand, to walk away, but another hand grabbed the back of her shirt and pulled her down.

"Relax girly, we just wanted to talk."

She turned to face the speaker. It was an albino, his German accent not quite what she was used to. Directly across from her was a Spaniard; he had been the one who had spun her across the floor.

"And what makes you think I want to talk to you?" she retorted.

"Because I'm the awesome Pru-Gilbert!" he corrected himself at the last second.

"Prugilbert?" she teased crossing her arms. "That's a strange name."

He took a swig of his beer flipping her off.

Rolling her eyes, she asked, "What were you going to say, before you corrected yourself?"

"I'm the awesome Prussia!" he declared proudly.

Evelyn looked to Francis questioningly.

"Think of it as a nickname ma chere."

"Okay, why do they call you Prussia and why do you think you're awesome?" She inquired turning her attention back to the albino.

"Haven't you ever heard of Prussia?" he asked incredulously.

She ran a finger idly around the rim of a glass Francis had pushed her way. "Historically, yes. Prussia was once a small Germanic state which quickly expanded through conquest. Its biggest opposition was Austria-Hungary which was overcome during the time of Otto von Bismarck who was a real political badass. It hasn't been a country in years though; not since before World War I when the Germanic states unified and became Germany, so my question still stands."

They stared at her.

The American shrugged. "I'm a history major." She thought about it for a minute. "Oh, I get it. You were cool at one time, but now you're just part of something else—in short, history."

Gilbert choked on his beer overdramatically while Francis and the Spaniard laughed.

"I like her," the Spaniard managed to get out. "Me llamo Antonio. Nice to meet you." He added a playful wink to the end of his introduction.

"Evelyn. Now, if you don't mind, I was actually enjoying myself until you kidnapped me," she threw a look at Francis, "again."

France had seen her at the bar and had watched as she danced with the boy. He had pointed her out to Prussia and Spain telling them about his suspicions about who she truly was.

"America? No way," Prussia had immediately shot it down.

"I have to agree with him on this one, mi amigo," Spain said. "She doesn't seem anything like that idiot."

"Talk to her yourself," France challenged. Spain and Prussia shared a look before the former went to get her, spinning the American at a dizzying pace through the throng.

She held her own well against Prussia not realizing just how close to the truth she was. France was positive that this girl was America, but England was being difficult. The English nation was afraid—afraid to hope, afraid that she might disappear—just in case she wasn't who they thought…but he was also afraid of what would happen if she regained all of America's memories.

Francis couldn't help but sigh every time he thought about that. Everyone could see just how much Arthur had been hurt with the lost of the American nation, but the Brit would never admit to it. Evelyn had become something of a replacement, and Francis believed the girl thought more of Arthur than even she knew, but the Englishman was still afraid. If she regained all of America's memories, would she leave?

Evelyn turned to leave flinging one last insult over her shoulder, but she paused on the edge of her seat giving the flashing lights rapt attention.

Prussia went to prod her, but France stopped him.

"Watch mon ami." He had seen her eyes glaze over—the prelude to one of her episodes. She didn't disappoint him. Within the next few seconds, she began to speak, but her words weren't her own and the three nations couldn't help but listen.

"Hey Iggy, it's the fourth of July." She paused and France stopped the other two from answering. "Well, I was just thinking, if you ignore all the other stuff, those flares kind of look like fireworks." She laughed nervously. "I never thought I would spend my birthday in a hole, but you've been here longer than me, huh? Never mind, I shouldn't have brought it up." She sounded so dejected, but the next moment she smiled saying, "Thanks Iggy."

Evelyn blinked as the memory faded falling back against the seat. She looked between the three of them before asking, "What did I say?"

"You don't remember?" Antonio asked.

She shook her head. "I never can. My friends always have to keep track of it; I have a whole journal at home filled with random half conversations. Damn it, why am I even asking? I gave up trying to figure it out a while ago."

Francis still told her what she said. Gilbert looked to him asking for an explanation, but the Frenchman waved him off; he would explain later.

The American rubbed her eyes tiredly. "I've had that one before during the actual fourth of July. Scared Jessica…tried to rush me to the hospital…"

"Does Arthur know where you are?" France asked already knowing the answer.

She stiffened, not meeting his gaze. "I'm an adult and he's not my dad. I don't have to tell him anything."

Then why did she sound like a kid caught doing something they shouldn't? He had sounded like that through much of the Revolution. Prussia and Spain recognized it as well from their dealings with the idiotic American during World Meetings.

Prussia slung an arm around her shoulders. "Come on America, we'll walk ya back."

"It's Evelyn," she snapped. "Geez, just because I'm American doesn't mean you can call me that and you don't have to take me back. I don't need a babysitter."

"Oui, but it can get dangerous at night." France reminded her.

"And that just shows how awesome I am."

She rolled her eyes, but allowed them to lead her from the club.

Evelyn got up the next morning thinking she had successfully snuck out and came back without Arthur knowing. Said Brit was sitting at the table when she went downstairs reading the paper, a cup of tea sitting by his elbow.

She poured a bowl of cereal and sat across from him.

"Good morning," he greeted her, amusement all too evident in his voice. "Have a good night?"

Her spoon splashed back in the bowl. He knew. The bastard knew and he had let her go. Evelyn cursed and then asked, "How?"

He folded the paper setting it aside. There was the hint of a smile on his face. "I'm a light sleeper," his brow furrowed in annoyance, "and the frog called."

She cursed again.

Arthur sipped at his tea as Evelyn returned to her cereal, pouting.

A/N: And here's the next chapter as promised! Thank you to my Prussia awesome beta Fall in Snow and to all my reviewers/favorites/alerts. You guys seriously make my day!

Next chapter, the other countries get to meet Evelyn and chaos ensues. Mwuhahahaha! I should not write these notes on a caffeine high….

Reviews are loved and appreciated as always. Until next time!