The boys quickly made their way into the kitchen; one giggling to himself, while the other followed along not quite as enthusiastically. America dropped Canada's wrist to run off on his own, as soon as they reached the middle of the room. Canada, who was very glad the running had stopped, stayed in place to catch his breath. Also very glad to get his arm back, he rubbed his wrist where America had been squeezing it.

Meanwhile, America's bare feet pattered their way up to a table in the kitchen. Once beside the table, America began jumping up and down. With every little jump, his eager eyes would peak over the top of the kitchen table and search for England's cookies. His sharp, baby blues finally caught sight of the treats resting on a tray at the opposite end of the table.

Canada still had his own eyes on his wrist. He had not been paying any attention to his bouncing brother. Concluding that his arm was ok, Canada was about to return to the room where England was working on his bear. America could have his biscuit; he wasn't interested in a snack at the moment. Just as Canada was about to turn to go, the little one was knocked off his feet by a streak of energy that dashed past him, without warning.

Canada "OOPH-ED" in surprise when he landed on his bottom. The boy looked up to see what had happened. He saw that his twin was no longer at the table, but was now at another part of the room, maneuvering a small stool around to face the table he had just left. Canada watched as America hurried to push the wooden stool past him and up to the table. When America was finished, he brushed his hands off, proudly, and then whipped his head around to face. Canada jumped at the sudden return of America's attention. America just grinned.

"What're ya waitin' for?" America yelled before charging the quiet boy on the ground.

Canada almost wanted to run away from the oncoming boy, but America got to him before he could decide on how to act.

"C'mon!"

Once again, Canada's arm was seized, and once again, he was pulled forward against his will. America led him to the table, and climbed up on his little stool. He reached a hand over the edge of the table to pull the tray of cookies closer. Canada sighed and waited while America combed through the cookies, looking for the best of the batch.

"One for me," Canada heard America say as he picked up a particularly big one, "and one for you!" the colony finished cheerfully, as he took another. Tightly holding the cookies in one hand, America hopped back to Canada's level. He released Canada, and held one of the cookies out to him. "Here ya go! This'll make ya feel better!" he told Canada with a smile.

Canada gulped. He held up his hands in an attempt to politely refuse, but America only shoved the cookie into Canada's open hands. Canada had no choice but to take it. America then appeared satisfied with the knowledge that he had done his duty in providing a delicious snack for his playmate. As soon as the cookie had been accepted, America sat down cross-legged in front of Canada. He didn't seem to want to waste any more time before getting to the snack.

Canada remained standing. America might have been happy, but Canada grimaced as he looked at what he had been given. The boy didn't know how a cookie made by England was supposed to make him feel better. How could he even think about eating at a time like this, anyway? There was no way he would be able to enjoy anything, knowing that his faithful bear was in the hands of England, at that very moment.

Down on the floor, America was licking his lips. The boy couldn't wait to attack his cookie. He opened his mouth wide for the first bite of his special treat. Fortunately, His eyes happened to glance upward as the top of his mouth rose. The boy on the ground paused in mid-bite, when he caught Canada looking sadly at his own cookie. With his mouth still hanging open, America frowned. Slowly, he lowered his cookie. He watched Canada just stand there in front of him with this hopeless look on his face. America felt confused and worried over his brother's countenance. Canada was supposed to be happy. They both held sugary goodness in the palm of their hands. What was there to be sad about? Maybe these weren't Canada's favorite cookie? Could Canada had been hoping for a different kind?

See, in America's excitement over being permitted to eat cookies before bedtime, he had almost forgotten everything else that had happened that night. America finally remembered the bear a few moments after he had started wondering what could be wrong with Canada, and once he did, the boy could feel himself beginning to shrink. He couldn't believe that he had already started to forget that important fact. The little American felt as if he was failing in the role which he had recently taken up. As the "big brother," he was supposed to keep his new little brother feeling safe and happy. America once again found himself wanting to help Canada, somehow. After all, that's what big brothers were for, right? As America looked down to think, he noticed his large cookie. It was then that America brightened. He instantly knew what he should do. It would be a sacrifice (just about the biggest sacrifice a kid his age could make), but if that's what it took to save Canada's day, he would do it…just this once. His decision made, America scooted himself closer to Canada to carry out his mission. If this didn't cheer his other half up, he didn't know what would!

Canada was still lost in thought over his bear, when he felt something grab the front of his clothes. A hard tug came next. Suddenly, Canada was sitting on the ground with America. A startled Canada met eyes with an excited America, who was presenting him with another cookie.

"Here, you can have da big one!" America said, as he held out the always highly coveted "biggest cookie" out to him.

Canada gave America a nervous half-smile. "Eh, you do not have t—"

But America was already switching the cookies. He snagged Canada's cookie as the boy was in the middle of trying to explain that giving away the bigger cookie would not be necessary. Of course, America wouldn't listen to any of that. The American pushed the other cookie onto Canada, much like he did with the first.

"There ya go! Go on, take it!" he happily insisted. No one could stop this boy from doing an act of good will! "It's ok! I don't mind, weally!"

Canada couldn't stop America from biting into the smaller cookie after that. Now there was no way the cookies could be re-exchanged. Defeated yet again, Canada sighed down at the larger portion of taste-bud torture he had been given.

"Th…Thank you," was all he could say.

"S'ok!" America proudly answered, before taking another bite out of his cookie. He then tried to encourage Canada to do the same. "Go on, twy it!" he said with a full mouth. "It's good!"

Canada whimpered at America's urging. He couldn't ignore the hopeful looks his brother was sending his way. America seemed to be under the impression that his mood would improve if he ate the cookie-present. Canada understood that his playmate was trying to be kind, and he really did appreciate the effort…but still…why did things always have to turn out this way for him? The poor Canadian didn't want the English biscuit, but he felt an inborn obligation to be polite and partake of the offering, so that his brother would be put at ease.

He looked down and turned the cookie over in his hands. It didn't look (he took a cautious sniff) or smell that bad. His stomach began to rumble as he conducted his cookie inspection. The boy had forgotten that he hadn't had any dinner. When he realized his hunger, the cookie suddenly began to look more appetizing.

"Go on," Canada heard America prod.

Canada's stomach growled again, as he raised the cookie to his mouth. The colony held his tummy. He hesitated. Canada was hungry, yes, but was he really that desperate?

"Go on," America kept saying.

Canada closed his eyes and took a tiny nibble.

After the taste settled in his mouth, Canada waited for his gagging reflex to kick in. Funny thing was, it never did. Canada slowly opened his eyes. He was still alive. He felt fine. Canada now eyed the rest of the cookie in his hands. Was it really, truly possible that he could actually eat it? Canada chose to take a chance. He tore into the cookie and ate it heartily.

Next to him, America was looking on with approval. "See?" he said with a happy grin. "It's good, wight? Told ya so."

Canada didn't reply. He just ate. The cookie was dry, didn't have much flavor, and was charred on the bottom, but all in all, it was very edible. That biscuit was the best thing Canada had eaten in weeks! Canada actually began to feel a little better with something in his stomach. He briefly wondered if part of the reason he had been so emotional that evening was due to the fact that he had skipped a meal. France had always made sure Canada was well-feed. Canada could remember a few times when he had felt grumpy, but France had always known just what to do.

"Why so disagreeable, mon petite?" France would ask him with a frown. "This is not like the Mathieu I know. Ah!" then, when he would pretend to figure out the mystery, he would always act surprised; as if he had realized that he should have known the problem all along. "But of course, ma petite colonie is hungry, non?" Finally, he would pick Canada up in a caressing hug. The older male would only chuckle at Canada's irritated pouting which always followed the parental gesture. "Not to worry, Mathieu," France would assure. "Your big brother, France, will whip up a little something for us right away. Some fine nourishment is just the thing for you~"

Canada had to smile at the memories. France's philosophy on child rearing must have been something along the lines of "A child filled up with good food, was a happy child." As Canada filled the empty spaces in his belly, he became certain that his brother had been right. The plain cookie was making him feel so much better.

The cookie was a far cry from France's edible masterpieces, though. While Canada munched on his tasteless biscuit, he tried to imagine that it was a delicious French dessert, but there were some things that even his imagination couldn't improve. Oh well. It might not have been French cuisine, but Canada was still grateful for the biscuit. It wasn't bad at all, really; it just needed something to give it flavor (As Canada contemplated this to himself, his mouth was working extra-hard to break the cookie apart), and something to moisten it, he also decided. After Canada's jaw got a good workout, he was able to swallow his first few bites. Here, he took a moment to look the cookie over again. He thought of what would work best to fix the flaws in the baked good.

Maple syrup might work.

Canada did love the taste of maple. He took another tough bite and imagined the possibilities…. Yes, maple syrup would work wonders on it! Why had he not thought of this before? Canada made a mental note to try adding syrup on England's other dishes. Maybe if he covered England's bad food with enough of the stuff, it would help to cancel out the disgusting.

Thinking of the healing powers of maple made Canada smile again. His attitude was getting better and better, as he continued to eat his snack. For the first time, he felt he had hope for surviving England's poor cooking skills.

Beside the boy, America was noticing his happy expressions and decided to comment on what he thought was the cause. "Engwand's food is da best!"

Canada ate on, but thought about America's exclamation. Taking into account everything that had happened since their meeting, Canada made a mental observation on his twin: America seemed to think that England was a wonder at everything. The Canadian wondered to himself how his brother could be so clueless—especially when it came to England's cooking.

Suddenly, Canada's mood plummeted again. The boy choked on his cookie. A terrible thought had just hit him! What if England was just as bad at sewing, as he was at cooking? Canada's thoughts went back to his toy in England's care. For all he knew, England could have the arm sewed on the bear's head by now! Canada was now ready to shoot up from his seat on the floor and scramble back to rescue his bear!

"Hey, what's it wike at your pwace?"

Canada jumped at America's voice. "E-Eh?" he stammered. The bear was momentarily put on hold. The interruption had stalled Canada's thought process.

"What's it wike where you wiv?" America repeated with a curious look.

"Uh…" Canada tried to recollect his thoughts. The image of his mutated bear came back into his head. The boy developed a worried squirm. He kept looking towards the door of the kitchen. He wanted to run away, but he was afraid that America might try to stop him, if he tried.

"It is like it is here…I suppose," Canada finally began. He did his best to answer America's question without thinking about the fate of his bear. "It is really big…and really nice…." How was Canada supposed to describe his home, anyway? "Ah, but it is colder than it is here," Canada finally came up with something he could use as a distinction between his home and America's.

America shuddered. "I don't wike it when it's cold," he said.

"I-It is not that bad…" Canada reluctantly continued the conversation. He sat with his back to the kitchen door. He took deep breaths and tried to calm himself. He told himself that it wouldn't make any sense for England to sew the bear's arm to its head, when the empire had already started sewing it back on at the right place...then again, it didn't make any sense that England could burn water, but Canada had seen England manage that….

"A-And it is not cold all the time," Canada slowly added. His mind wasn't really on the conversation. He stole another glance in the door's direction. In his mind, it seemed improbable that England could make any huge mistakes with his bear when things had started out well, but he was debating on going to check on the process, anyway. It did seem to be taking a long time to fix his bear. Why was it taking so long? They had been in the kitchen for…for forever! (And this was coming from a normally patient boy, who didn't like to rush anything) Shouldn't England have been done by now?

While Canada worried, America stretched his legs out. He had finished his cookie by now, and was starting to get a little bored. He had failed to notice his brother's nervous ticks. He was still half-listening to Canada, but the inattentive and slow way Canada answered questions didn't exactly grab the boy's attention. America was beginning to lose interest.

America stuck a foot up and wriggled his toes in the air for no reason at all. As he was about to tune Canada out completely, America remembered something that brought up another question about Canada's home. He remembered how Canada had explained earlier that his all-white bear (or "polar bears") lived where it was very cold. Now that he knew that his twin lived in a cold place, his mind had made the connection. America became very excited all of a sudden, for he really wanted to see one of those white bears for himself.

"Oh!" he cried out and turned to Canada with new animation. "Do ya have pol…"

America cut himself off before he finished his sentence. He had been going to ask, "Do you have polar bears in your home?" But thankfully, he had realized halfway through the word "polar" that he had been about to make a horrible mistake! Looking at who he was talking to, brought him back to the memory of Canada's broken bear and his own responsibility as the older sibling. That's right! He was supposed to be keeping the little brother happy. Canada seemed ok now, but America was afraid that one false move could knock him back into depression. Bringing up something that would make Canada think about his damaged toy might do just that. It struck America that he should be trying to help Canada forget about his bear, not remind him of it.

"Pol…pol…" America continued stuttering awkwardly, in spite of himself. Canada was waiting for the rest of the question. He had to say something, now! (Something that preferably started with a "pol") And if he didn't hurry up, he would look stupid! America quickly ransacked his little vocabulary for anything that started with "pol." He had a hard time finding a good word. The questioning looks Canada was giving added extra pressure, until America finally just said the first animal that popped into his head:

"Pol…polecats?"

Phew! That was close. America thought that he had made a good save.

But Canada cocked his head in confusion. "Pardon?"

Maybe it had not worked as well as he had thought. America took a deep breath. "Do you have polecats there?" he tried again. He acted as if that was totally what he had meant to say. He hoped that Canada would buy the substituted animal, but Canada was starting to look somewhat upset. America tensed up as he waited for what his twin to say something.

"…Wha…ah…pardon me, but…what is a polecat?" Canada eventually, and very shyly, inquired.

America let out a thankful breath. "A skunk," he happily explained.

Canada still looked lost.

"You know!" America waved his hand around, trying to describe the animal. "It's wike a…a widdle bwack cat, wif a poofy tail, and white stwipes on its back—and it spways stinky stuff on you, if ya get it mad."

"Ah, mouffette," Canada nodded as he finally understood. He was still not yet an expert on English. "Y-Yes. We have…po…suh…"

"Skunks."

"We have those."

"Good."

A moment of silence came after that. America was so relieved that Canada seemed to have fallen for the skunk thing that he blanked out on what to say after that. Canada went back to his biscuit. Not one who was comfortable with silence, America tried to think back to what the original exchange had been about.

"Um, could ya show it ta me?"

Canada gave America another puzzled look as he chewed the hard bits of his cookie. "You want me to show you the skunks?" he questioned after swallowing his food.

"No!" America shook his head. "I wanna see your home! Could ya show it all ta me?"

"Eh?"

Realizing what his new brother was asking, Canada blinked in surprise. America actually wanted to see his home? He gave the idea some thought. He liked America. His new brother had made a good playmate that evening. It didn't take long for Canada to decide that it might be fun if America could come over to his place, sometime. Canada liked the idea of being able to show America his little house and his other toys. And he wouldn't feel nearly as out of place if he were in his own home-land.

"I-If you come for a visit, I could show it to you," Canada softly offered with a bashful smile.

"Gweat!" America shouted. "And while you're here, I can show you all kinds of stuff! Maybe tomorrow, we can go explorin'!"

America chatted on for a long time after that. He launched into an impromptu list of ideas for Canada and he that seemed endless. The boy bragged about how he knew where all the best climbing trees were, and where to find the tastiest berries, and the coolest hide-outs. He behaved as if he had had a stroke of pure genius when he remembered that he also knew the location of a mamma rabbit's burrow. With eyes shining, he told his brother of how cute the bunnies were, and of how much fun it was to play with them. He then suggested that they should try to get England to take them both on a picnic. America recalled a tall hill that he thought would be the perfect spot for one. According to him, a person could see everything all around from the top of that hill. But best of all, the grass on that hill was soft and the incline was smooth. America described it as perfect for rolling and tumbling down. The colony then went on to describe a shallow river, not far from the hill, that they could splash in. The fun options America held went on and on.

As America reveled in his plans, Canada finished his cookie and listened quietly. America's words were so alluring, that the bear almost left his mind completely. All of the ideas sounded like so much fun to Canada. He loved nature. Most might mistake him for a child that preferred to sit quietly around the house, but that was not him. He might appear somewhat and reserved, but he could become a different person out in the fresh air. Sometimes, there was no place he would rather be than outside, running, playing, and enjoying the wilder world. He was glad to find out that his new brother seemed to enjoy the outdoors, as much as him. It seemed like an eternity since Canada had played outside with his friends, like a normal Canadian child. France had played with him a few times, but he had never been as eager to get in touch with nature the way Canada did. He had always been too concerned about soiling his clothes. Not to say that Canada hadn't been fine with that. He had never minded playing tamer games outdoors, or even conducting most of playtime indoors, for his big brother's sake, but he missed going back to his roots. He couldn't wait to see everything America's wildernesses had to offer. At some point, Canada also began to think of all the special things in his own lands that he would like to show America. He really hoped that he would get the chance to be a tour guide for his new brother.

Somehow, it didn't seem so strange to Canada that he had a twin, anymore. In fact, it didn't seem strange to America, either. Although they had only known each other for a few hours, both boys amazingly felt like they had known the other always. It was hard to describe. It all felt so natural, that they just had to be real brothers. It was as if the two had been reunited after a long separation. Now they both felt that they had some catching up to do. The boys became so lost in their own worlds, that neither of them heard it when another person entered the kitchen.

"Canada," a voice broke the spell on the children.

America stopped talking and looked at the new speaker. Canada turned around. England stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

America smiled, but Canada instinctively backed away. The Canadian's action was like a reflex. He had thought that he had been prepared to dash to England's side by himself only a few minutes ago, but now that the real England had come to him and was standing in front of him, the boy suddenly felt shy. Plus, he couldn't help feeling awfully uncomfortable with the way England was looking at him. England was only smiling, but Canada was still not accustomed to seeing the normally scowling England in a good mood. Just trying to imagine a happy England was strange enough, but experiencing it was honestly just downright creepy to the little colony. Well, Canada found it creepy when it was directed at him, anyway.

England's sudden presence made Canada want to hug his bear. He moved to squeeze his toy without giving it any thought…but (surprise-surprise), no bear. The absence of something to hug for comfort only made Canada want to withdraw even more from the Englishman. Still, he forced himself to search England for any sign of his bear before he retreated any further. But it didn't look like England had his bear. England was all alone. Worry grabbed Canada. What had happened to his friend?

Then, England walked forward. Canada panicked and hid behind America, as his brother stood. Canada could make himself face the empire if he had to, but with a friend by his side, and no stuffed animal to help give him courage, it was just easier to use the person he trusted as a shield. America acted surprised when Canada jumped behind him and grabbed his shoulders. Then he saw his brother's scared face.

"It's ok," he whispered to Canada.

America tried to make Canada come out from behind him, but the boy wouldn't budge. England was soon before them. America gave up on Canada and just greeted England as the man kneeled down before the boys.

England nodded at America briefly. "I believe I have someone that belongs to you," England spoke; addressing Canada again.

Canada automatically shrunk down from England's attention. He hid his face behind America's shoulder a little more, but he kept his eyes peeking out so that he had a good view of England. He watched carefully as England moved a hand out from behind his back and held out his bear. England looked very proud of himself.

Canada gave a small gasp when his white friend was revealed. Everything seemed to slow down for Canada at that moment. Slowly, Canada moved his head out from behind America for a better look. He couldn't believe it. He bear really appeared to be fixed. The broken arm was attached to its proper place. The bear itself seemed none the worse for the wear. Actually, Canada could almost swear that his old friend was smiling back at him. And to top it off, England had tied a ribbon around its neck. Canada's bear now proudly sported a bright red bow.

As Canada stood in awe, America couldn't contain his excitement. "Wook! Wook! See? I told ya he could fix it! I told ya!" America started shouting to Canada with joy, while furiously pointing to the bear.

Canada simply closed his own open mouth, and slowly came out of hiding. He continued staring transfixed on the plushy bear cub. He desperately wanted to sprint to it, reclaim it, and never let it go, but being too afraid that he might wake himself up, he cautiously walked to his bear. England grinned at his expression as he held the toy out to him. Canada very timidly reached up, and hesitantly took the bear from England.

It is impossible to describe how Canada felt when he got his favorite toy back at last! The boy openly stared in wonder and amazement at the bear in his hands. He had hardly dared to believe that his bear could really be repaired. It had just seemed impossible in a little boy's understanding. When he had seen the ripped bear for the first time, all hope had been lost. Even with all the assurance given to Canada, his mind had doubted that his bear would ever be the same again. But here his bear was: all fixed up, and looking as good as new.

"Wow!" America exclaimed next to Canada. He was still obsessing over the bear in his own way. "It's even got a wed bow, now!"

Canada couldn't take his eyes off the bear. It was like a miracle to him! He held his bear's hand. As he looked closer, he couldn't even tell where it had broken. The stitching looked identical to rest of the bear.

"What do you say, Canada?" the stunned boy heard England ask.

Canada knew the answer, but he couldn't speak. Luckily for him, America chose that moment to jump in England's face.

"Hey, Engwand!" America called; waving his arms to make sure that he got attention.

Canada unconsciously ignored the other two in the room at this point. He was in his own world; just him and his bear. The boy ran his finger over the stitching on his bear's arm. Maybe it was the ribbon that did it, but his bear seemed to look better than it ever had. Could it be possible that instead of mending the old one, England had somehow gotten a new one? No, he couldn't have. Canada felt happiness rising in him. He couldn't hold himself back anymore. He smiled and hugged his bear with all his might! He took a deep breath and smelled the familiar scent of roses. It was his bear! It really was the same old bear that France had given to him. It was like that stupid accident never happened.

But in the middle of Canada's inner celebration, he paused. Something wasn't right. He could still smell the roses clearly, but now he realized that he could also smell something else. Confused, the boy held the bear out in front of him and sniffed. He realized that the new smell was the ribbon…and it smelt like England.

England's smell was different. It was not like the smell of France's flowery perfumes. It was a stronger, richer smell. It wasn't as pleasant as France's beautiful fragrance…but it was not a repulsive smell. It wasn't bad. And it was not one fragrance, but a mix of many. Canada could recognize the smell of the clean threads and cloth from England's sewing basket. He could also catch the leafy scent of England's favorite tea. Maybe there was a slight smell of sea-salt, too. There were a few other elements that Canada couldn't place, but recognized them easily as the smells that made up England. He had apparently been living with England long enough to distinguish England's unique smell.

The young colony's first reaction to this new finding was to take his bear's new bow by one of its ends. He wanted to take the ribbon off. He didn't like the idea of his big brother's scent being stifled by England's. However, Canada stopped in that position. He found that it was hard to make himself mess up that pretty bow. Despite the unwelcome aroma, Canada really liked the way the ribbon looked on his bear. He liked the bright color of the red against his bear's white fur. The ribbon was also a very nice one. Canada loved the silky feel of it. Not able to make a decision at that moment, the boy looked over at England.

America was pulling on England's arm and dancing around him. Canada had only been alone with his thoughts for a few seconds. America had not told England the reason for his interruption, yet.

"Hey, hey, hey, Engwand, Engwand!" America chanted. "I want one too!" he declared at last. "Can my wabbit have a bow too?"

Canada watched England.

"Please, mayI have a bow for my rabbit," England corrected America before giving a real answer. (With the way England had said it, Canada assumed that the man probably made fruitless attempts at righting his brother's impolite speech, often. "And yes," England went with an added sigh and a faint smile. "I suppose you may have one, as well. Go get your rabbit and pick out a ribbon from my basket in the other room."

"Yay!"

America was so happy, that he twirled around the room a few times. While the boy celebrated, England watched with affection. Canada smiled at the expression on his new guardian's face. He couldn't believe it, but England's pleasant smile was starting to look a little more natural. Canada began to contemplate the man before him. Maybe…just maybe…England wasn't all bad. Canada had seen glimpses of kindness from the empire that day. Now, as he witnessed more of England's tender interactions with America, and remembered how his twin seemed to think the world of England, Canada had a hard time supporting the belief that his new guardian as a heartless beast. If Canada had never met England before that very moment, he would have thought that England was a kind hearted big brother, just like France. The boy liked England this way. He wished that England would show this side of himself more often. Something told him deep down that the kind England was actually closer to the true England. He suspected that the real England was nicer that he let on. He just didn't understand why England chose to act so calloused most of the time. That did not make any sense to the Canadian.

But Canada still felt nervous around England. He couldn't help it. After all he had been through, after the cold way that England had treated him before this day, he was still unsure if he could completely trust England. Something in Canada wanted to trust him, though. England was stern, but he was nice enough to fix his bear. Canada was still young, and he desperately needed an adult in his life that he felt he could depend on.

Canada turned back to the problem of what to do about the ribbon on his bear. He hugged the bear close again. He breathed in the combined fragrances. After a moment, Canada decided that he liked it. France's roses calmed him, but there was something comforting in England's scent, as well. He took a moment to admire his bear's new appearance again. It really was thoughtful of England to add a bow. It might have been a small gesture, but Canada almost felt like England had given him a present. The boy knew that he really should thank England for everything that he had done.

Back to America, he was still hopping around the kitchen, excitedly. When he had danced to his heart's content, he rushed off to find his stuffed animal and a ribbon of his own. England laughed out loud and took a step to follow after his colony. Suddenly, England felt a soft tug on his pant leg. The nation stopped and looked down to see what it was. He was taken aback to see Canada holding his pants. For a moment there, England had forgotten that Canada had also been in the room.

"Yes?" England asked when the boy didn't let go.

Canada was not looking at him. His head was lowered. His little fist trembled slightly as it grasped England's breeches. His other arm was hugging his stuffed bear. He started stammering very softly, like he was nervous about something. England waited.

"Um…er…th-thank you…," Canada finally whispered, shyly; still not looking at England. He held his bear very close. "Thank you very much."

England was quiet. He couldn't stop his heart from swelling at those little words. Canada seemed so cute and pitiful, that all words failed England for a few seconds. The empire gave a sad smile at his new colony. Looking down at the timid boy, he could feel that same pinch of guilt for being so harsh with him. England put a hand on the boy's head. It was meant to be a comforting move, but the surprise of it caused Canada to draw back from it, slightly. More guilt assaulted England when he felt the child flinch under his touch. He didn't want the boy to fear him. Well, Canada was his colony, so actually England did want to be feared by the boy to some degree, but he didn't like that his mere presence seemed to terrify Canada so. Perhaps he could afford to loosen up more around Canada. He still felt bad about the way he had handled the ripped bear incident, earlier. However, he tried not to let his guilt show. Being the proud British Empire that he was, he couldn't exactly apologies to a former French colony for his bad parenting. But he did have a desire to start over with Canada.

"You're quite welcome," England spoke kindly. He wanted to communicate that it had been his pleasure to help. It had never been easy for England to express himself, especially when he felt uncomfortable around the other party. He certainly didn't feel comfortable around Canada. The boy wasn't like America. America was so accepting that he made talking easy. Then, England had an idea. He remembered putting himself down before for not holding Canada (the way he would have naturally held America) when the boy had been crying over his bear. Now alone with Canada like this, England felt an urge to hold the cute little boy. This time, he acted on his instincts.

England reached down and lifted Canada up. The boy gasped and stiffened in his arms. That reaction was understandable. England had never picked Canada up like that before, so of course the child was not used to being held by him. Canada finally lifted his head. England saw that he had gotten this wide, shocked look in his eyes. The boy hugged his bear all the more. He almost looked like he wanted to scream and jump out of the embrace, but he didn't dare move a muscle. England had to laugh quietly to himself at the child's surprised expression. It was cute in a way. Still, he wanted to eventually fix that. Canada shouldn't be afraid of being held by him. Then, England saw that Canada was tearing up. England tried to give Canada a reassuring smile. He hoped Canada would see that it was genuine. The older man tenderly brushed the moist ends of the toddler's eyes with his thumb.

"No more tears…alright?" he whispered.

"Yes sir, Mister England," Canada promptly answered—though, it was more out of habit than fear. Canada actually felt no malice from England as he spoke. Still, he wasn't going to take a chance at upsetting his new guardian, if he could help it. After Canada's quick reply, the boy watched England's smile grow gentler, though also a bit more awkward.

"And you needn't keep calling me 'Mister England,'" the nation continued with a nervous laugh. "'England' will do."

And Canada had thought that getting picked up and held by England was a shock! Now England wanted him to just say "England?" No more "Mister?" Canada didn't know if he could do that. He still wasn't very close to England. After living with the powerful empire and calling him "Mister England" for so long, dropping the "Mister" seemed way too familiar. It was almost disrespectful in Canada's opinion.

From England's point of view, Canada seemed to pale some. England frowned. He didn't understand the need for that. All he had said was that Canada could address him by his name. Suddenly, Canada spoke.

"Eh…y-yes sir, Mi…E-E-England," he clumsily, but obediently, replied. Canada looked away after he spoke. He appeared apologetic for leaving out the "Mister," even though he had been given permission to do that.

England smiled again with approval. This was going better than he thought it would. Outside, he kept his composure, but inside, he was jumping! He was delighted that he seemed to be making progress with his new colony.

"Not bad for a start," England said cheerfully.

Canada slowly raised his head again.

"Now, what's say we find your brother?" England asked; wanting to move on. "He's spent a fair amount of time searching through my things for a ribbon, don't you think? I fear he might be getting himself tangled in my threads as we speak."

England then carried Canada off with him to search for the other colony. Canada relaxed slightly in England's hold. The boy didn't know what to think of all this. It had been one crazy day. At the beginning of it he had been an only child with no family. Now, he had a twin brother. His new sibling was kind of strange, but he made a very enjoyable playmate. At the beginning of this day, Canada had also felt a strong disliking for England. Now, he was not sure how he felt about the man. He knew he didn't hate him anymore. He wasn't sure if he could say that he liked England, but Canada did feel a little, teeny, tiny bit better about him.

Well, as England said, that was a start.

Phew! I can't believe I'm finally done with this story! I meant to have it finished by Sunday, but once again, I'm late. I hope the extra work I put into it made it worth the wait, and I hope the ending was a pretty solid one. Most of the focus of this story was on America and Canada, but it still kind of made sense to me to end it with England and Canada and end it with an ending that was similar to "A New Guardian," (only happier ^^ ) since that story started this one. I wanted the two to be reconciled in some way, I guess. I wanted them to go from Canada being scared of an intimidating England, to England trying to be nicer and Canada starting to warm up to his new guardian. And I am planning on writing more stories about this little family and more about Canada and England becoming more accustomed to each other. I might take a break from that for a bit, though.

There is a little symbolism in this (obviously) with the red ribbon on Canada's white bear. I thought it would be nice for England to add a bow or something to Canada's bear, and then I realized how well that would work, because (according to my sources) the white in the Canadian flag is supposed to represent Canada's French roots, and the red is the English roots. So the white bear was given to Canada by France, and the ribbon was given to him by England. I do find it funny that the bear smelled like roses, when roses are actually England's national flower, though. XP But France always has these romantic roses around him. I couldn't imagine him smelling like anything else!

Thanks so much to everyone who read this story all the way through! I really, really hope you all enjoyed it!