I couldn't abandon the story. I really couldn't.

So here's more.

Happy Independence Day to everyone! Sorry, Brits.

FILE #7: Fort Maunsell

The morning of September 2nd, 1967 dawned crisp with the whisper of oncoming winter. Fog hung heavy over the streets surrounding England's house and cats curled under any low shelter they could find, their fur hanging lank and damp on their backs. England was swimming in a deep sleep, dreaming of loud noises, bright lights, and clouds of smoke; products of the war he had just (with the help of the Allies) won. Indeed, World War II was newly over and won, yet he found that he could not stop his dreams from reliving the terror. Tonight's dream was particularly bad; the image of America's face, returning from the front lines, swam before his eyes. The dark blonde man's eyes told of the horrors he had witnessed before his mouth could find the words. All England could do was reach to clasp his hand in silent gratitude for the fact that he was still alive.

Still in the hold of deep sleep, England felt something moving on his skin. Slowly he surfaced from his dream, America's face fading from view to be replaced by another, unfamiliar mug. He realized that whoever the new face belonged to was poking him in the cheek. Groggily he swatted at the hand and sat up, rubbing his face. God, but his head hurt. What was he doing last night?

"Well, it's about time you're up," sang a cheerful, childish voice.

England opened his eyes finally and found himself face-to-face with a young boy of about eleven or twelve, with soft medium-blonde hair and wide blue eyes. The boy, slightly surprised to see England awake, backed up a step and grinned. England stared at him and demanded "Who the devil are you?"

The boy frowned. "Why, I'm Sealand, Peter Kirkland! Don't you know your own son?"

England froze, then spluttered, "W-what? What nonsense are you spouting? I have no son, and certainly not one as cheeky as you!"

Sealand put his hands to his chest. "You do too! I've been growing now for quite some time and I am finally ready to declare myself as a country!"

"A country?" England asked, even more surprised. I thought all the land in the world was claimed… "Where is your land?"

Sealand seemed thrilled by the question and very eager to answer it. He dug in his pocket and pulled out a map of the coast of Great Britain. After doing a few calculations in his head, he scrawled an 'X' on the map and handed it over to the confused man. "Right here. It's not very big, only about 6,000 square feet, but it has a lot of heart! Do not underestimate it!"

Squinting at the paper, England couldn't make sense of what he was seeing. Sealand had drawn his 'X' in the ocean, about seven nautical miles off of his own coast. "Young boy, there can't be a country where you've indicated; it's the middle of the ocean. There's nothing there but water and the old Naval sea fort Maunsell from the war." Seeing the child's enthusiastic nods and grins, England suddenly got suspicious. "Wait a bloody minute. You're not…you don't have anything to do with that fort, do you?"

"It's not a fort anymore, it's Sealand!" The boy spread his arms and skipped about. He was dressed in a tidy sailor outfit, complete with waterproof boots and a sailor's beret.

"Oh no you don't!" England said, standing up despite the dizziness in his head. He had been laying on the floor of the front parlor, no doubt a result of last night's post-war merriment. What had happened last night, anyway? He couldn't remember for the life of him. "You can't declare that a country! That's my fort!"

Sealand scowled and crossed his arms, drawing back from the man whom he thought was going to be his greatest ally. "Wrong, jerk! I'm just out of your territory! I'm in international waters! You abandoned me and my land! You're a terrible mother!"

"MOTHER?" England yelled. "You're mental!"

"Am not! You created my land like a mother, so I must be grateful to you, even though I am an independent country now!" The boy was yelling back in England's face. "See? I even have a British accent, though now I'm ashamed to be related to you, you British jerk!"

"That's so, eh? Well, then, who's your father?"

"Easy!" Sealand answered triumphantly. "Him!" He pointed to the floor.

England followed the line of his finger and saw that America was asleep on the floor near where he himself had been sleeping. He gave a start and hopped backwards. "WHAT?" He didn't worry about his volume; the great lump America could sleep through anything; he'd nearly slept through World War II. "Why him? Anyone but him! Well, he and France! Anyone but those two!"

"I got my idea of independence from him and therefore claim him as my father," Sealand explained calmly. "See? I have his eyes."

Sure enough, Sealand's wide blue eyes did echo those of America, especially when he was a tyke, though the new kid's were perhaps a touch more green than his "father's." Now that he looked closely, he noticed with horror that Sealand had big, bushy eyebrows, exactly like his. "Oh no, no, no," he moaned, a pleading note in the undertones of his voice. "this can't be right…I mean…America and I…we didn't…we've never…I think I would have known if we'd…you know…made a child…" DEAR GOD WHAT HAPPENED LAST NIGHT? What did I miss? I'm never drinking again!

"Pssh," Sealand waved a hand. "You're sure thick for an established country. Countries don't reproduce like humans. I claim you as my parents but we aren't actually related by blood. Do they not have education in your land? Maybe I should rethink having you as my mother."

"Yes! Rethink it! You should definitely rethink it!"

"No…on second thought…we're far too close. You're just going to have to stay my mother after all." England facepalmed. Sealand continued. "Now that that's settled, take me to one of your world meetings and introduce me to all the other countries! I'm going to assert myself!"

Beginning to gather up the clothes and gin bottles strewn about the floor, England shook his head. "Absolutely not."

"What? Why not?" Sealand demanded angrily.

A vein began to pulse in England's forehead. "Because you're not a bloody country, that's why. You are an abandoned sea fort from World War II!"

"Am not! I'm just as much a country as you! I've a Crown Prince (though he's currently for sale) and a flag and currency and all!"

"Bugger off!" England grumped over to the slumbering America and kicked him in the side, more gently than he expected. "Hey, you great bumbling git, wake up!"

America stirred and stretched, yawning hugely. "Whazzat?"

"I said get up! You shouldn't sleep on other people's floors!"

Another groan, then "Yeah, yeah, I'm getting up if you'll shut up." America pulled himself to his feet and brushed dust off his clothes. "Man, last night was a PARTY! Hoorah for winning the war!" He noticed Sealand. "Hey, who's the kid?"

Sealand saluted America. "I'm Sealand! I'm a new country! England's my mother and you're my f-" His word was cut off by a panicked England hoisting him up and tossing him into a closet and blocking the door closed.

America looked at England with shock. "Mother? You have a kid? W-with who?" He looked as if his heart had been ripped open.

"BLOODY NO ONE, THAT'S WHO." England shouted. "He's not my son! He's not even a country! He's a bloody war fort that I should have blown to bits years ago!"

America's face registered a ridiculous amount of relief. "Well," he said stupidly, breathing hard. "Glad to hear that." He pulled himself together and cleared his throat. "After all, you'd totally feed him your scones and kill him, poor little dude."

"Oi! You wouldn't be any better! You'd feed him so much saturated fat he'd have a heart attack before he was eighteen!"

"Hey, I eat hamburgers all the time and I'm plenty healthy!" America thumped his chest. "I'm so healthy that I just bailed your Britishness out of the war!"

England sprang at the larger country angrily. "Your arse just earned a date with my boot!" Unwittingly, he let Sealand out of the closet behind him.

Sealand tumbled out, jumped up, and dusted himself off. "I've heard quite enough of your rough talk, misters! I don't think countries ought to behave like you two and I intend to make my thoughts known at the meeting today."

America looked at him more closely. "Hey, dude, your eyes look just like mine! Righteous!"

"I know!" Sealand exclaimed, eyes sparkling. "That's because you're-"

"NO THEY BLOODY DO NOT, NOW GOODBYE!" England shrieked, shoving America out the front door. He then whirled on Sealand. "Listen here, you! You leave off this nonsense about America being your father, d'you hear! If I ever catch wind that you have told him of it, I swear to the throne I'll blow your bleeding fort and wanking Crown Prince all the way to Atlantis!"

Sealand paled, but shook his mini fist in England's face. "You're such a jerk! Fine! I'm leaving!" He shoved past England and strode out the door. "Oh, you'll rue the day that you ever threatened Sealand! I'm going to be a great power; greater than you! I'm the mighty Sealand and you're nothing but a great big bully with ratty hair and a big dumb-" England slammed the door.

"What a nightmare," he moaned. Someone knocked on the door. England swung it open to see Sealand on his front doorstep. "Bugger off!"

The child stuck out his lip. "Listen…can I have twenty pounds?"

"What for?"

"I…I'm hungry."

Cantankerous though he was, England couldn't help but feel bad for Sealand. "I…sure." He found his wallet, pulled out the money, and handed it to the blonde boy.

Sealand walked a few steps away from the house, then turned around and yelled "Hah! I got you good, you jerk! I have plenty of food at my house! I'm going to take these pounds and build an army and take you over! You just watch!"

"As if!" England shouted back, slamming the door again. Taunts continued to come from outside his door and he wrenched it open again. "And get off my lawn!"

"You'll bow down to me one day, England Jerk! You're not my mum anymore!"

"Go play with France!"

…and so began (and simultaneously ended) England's short career as a mother. His troubles with Sealand, however, was not to be disposed of so quickly.

oOoOo

Incidentally, France had been at the party and was still lying in the front parlor, having heard everything. His eviction was somewhat ruder than America's had been, as England dumped a whole pot of cold tea on his head in irritation, then kicked him out the door.

What happened last night? The shivering Brit asked himself, pulling at his hair.

He never found out.

oOoOo

Nice to meet you, Sealand! Do your best!