A World Meeting was called soon after; there was no other recourse. The world economy was in shambles, North America was a mess. Someone needed to take over as personification, and all the countries would need to be there for that.

The virtues of a country, humans would say, far outweighed the disadvantages: immortality, of a sort; faster healing abilities; eternal youth; near limitless power.

The countries themselves would say that nothing was worth watching everything around you die. That's why there is an eternal sadness that lurks behind every pair of eyes; that's why they laugh too loud, or too long; that's why they quietly shelve their emotions, leaving behind all of the pain that Lord Death has caused them.

Even so, a new country would have to take over, born pure and happy into the world, only to be torn apart by its cruelties and conspiracies.

Norway couldn't seem to sit still.

That was unusual for him.

But, of course, there was nothing for him to do to calm his nerves -his sense of uneasiness- that would be considered "acceptable behavior" at such a World Meeting.

Normandy sat on his lap, drawing on his agenda. Her hair seemed to curl around his fingers of its own accord.

Denmark sat nearby, watching "covertly"; secrecy was not a strong suit of the Dane. His concern was undue; the only thing that remained to even hint at Norway's injuries was the scars.

For once, the entire meeting was civil; the reason was not spoken of, though everyone know the cause of the solemnity.

China was in the middle of proposing yet another plan to divide what remained of the US (he and Russia had spent the last hour and a half debating the subject; nothing had been accomplished) when the doors swung open.

Everyone looked up.

A man stood there, backlit by the setting sun in the windows.

Norway idly wondered if he'd done that on purpose; melodrama was probably something he enjoyed.

England dropped his tea cup; it shattered.

"Hey, y'all."

"Stars and bloody garters!"

"It's been a coon's age, Mistah Kirkland. You're a sight for sore eyes."

"Oh, don't be so polite, Mr. Williams, as if you were a proper-!"

"I am now."

England laughed. Norway wondered if he'd become unhinged. "You died! That's what we all heard. There is-was-!"

"He was wrong. My only regret is that I did not have time to mend fences with him before… Well, it's behind us now."

"So it is."

Many countries had confused looks on their faces, and several were whispering fiercely amongst themselves. They could not see past this man's resemblance to America. Norway, having recently met the man, knew that he was William Lee Lloyd.

"Mr. Lloyd, if you would sit down, we'll discuss your plans for the Confederacy."

The CSA, in a gesture that was quite reminiscent of the lively Southern gentleman he'd once been, grinned, waltzed over to England's chair, scooped him up, and kissed him quite firmly on the mouth.

"What-?" England spluttered.

"Looks like I caught you with your pants down, England, honey."

"You'd like that, wouldn't you?" England replied softly, flushing.

"You've changed."

"It's been a long time."

"So it has."

"Mr. Lloyd, please, it's 5 o'clock." Norway figured that France would want to get home; the child (which he had not heard much about yet -though he knew it was a girl, at least) was still too young to travel.

The CSA pulled England's chair out for him, then sat down in the one next to him. "I would like my old stomping grounds back."

"The states only, not the territories- well, what were territories," China clarified.

"I feel like I've been given the short end of the stick, but…I have no axe to grind. Take 'em."

"But what will we do with the rest?" Canada asked.

"We'll…think of….something. But we've been at it all day. It's time for a break," England said. "Let's go home."

Norway breathed out. They would not ask that Normandy take over that responsibility. At least, not yet.

A/N: I didn't intend to start shipping the CSA and England; it just happened. I swear. But then, it makes sense, both historically and in my own world (because I am much more of a RusAme person than a USUK person).

Yeah, I shouldn't write chapters at 2 in the morning.

You can look up the southern phrases the CSA uses via Google. That's what I did.

But also, I'm truly sorry about the dirty joke (but not sorry enough to take it out). And I did really have to use the phrase "Stars and garters". (Who's read the latest Homestuck update? )