Author's Note: Bringing a story to an end is never easy, but necessary nonetheless. As such, thank you for all the feedback and support! It's a privilege to be able to write for such an amazing community. If you'd like to read my other stories, I will be continuing United Fools of America and Amidst the Sounding Sirens, so stay tuned for those in the near future! I can't wait to show everyone what I have planned, and I hope to continue to grow as a writer. :D

Epilogue:

The morning had been monotone and gray, filling the house with an ominous emptiness that made him sick to his stomach. Months after the incident, and he still couldn't gain his bearings, lost in the knickknacks of a life that eluded him. The entire house was decorated with small symbols of who he used be, and he wondered if he'd ever be able to emulate that life again, or if his choices would lead him to become a completely different individual.

Though dull, the day had been much like the previous ones he'd spent at home. Leaving his estate was a challenge in and of itself because he'd be forced to interact with his people—a people whom he struggled to understand and sympathize with. Yet, his inherent connection with those around him had not been quashed, and he could still note an inkling of familiarity that he shared with them. It would take time, most assuredly, but he was confident that he'd soon rekindle the relationship with his people in due time.

On this particular day, he had ventured out on the porch, overseeing the quiet little suburban area that he was perched in. Summer had arrived, but the temperatures had been mild thus far. He'd tried to keep himself busy, tending to the lawn and tweaking with the furniture in the living room to feel a little less uncomfortable. It gave him a sense of control that he'd yearned for, and if nothing else, it was momentarily therapeutic.

But there was a silver lining to all of the detachment he often felt.

Kumajirou, the animated furry creature residing him, had made things just a bit easier to stomach. He'd retained his love for animals, and the demanding bear had been a godsend—chasing away the loneliness and grief hanging over the property.

Fortunately, his day would soon take a turn toward better company, as foreshadowed by the visitors suddenly clambering up the driveway.

"HEY! What are you doing outside, you dummy?"

Furrowing his brows, he took note of the monstrous amount of balloons in America's hands, accompanied by England and France with bundles of gifts.

"Don't look! Close your eyes!" America demanded, quite irate. "It's supposed to be a surprise!"

Sheepish and flushed, he heeded the order, plastering a hand over his eyes.

"Go inside!"

Blindly groping his way toward the door, Canada hid in the safety of the home, debating whether or not to lock himself in. Then, he could avoid the scene that was bound to take place.

But before he could make up his mind, America had already kicked the door open and meandered into the living room, releasing the balloons in his hands and plopping a gift bag on the couch.

"SURPRISE!"

"Wow, I'm shocked," Canada had replied with dripping sarcasm. "What is all this about anyway?"

As England and France bickered in the doorway, America made the purpose of their visit known without even a smidgeon of hesitation. "Duh, it's your birthday, dude! So, Happy Birthday!"

Birthday? How could he have forgotten?

"Bon anniversaire, Mathieu!"

Caught in a hug, he was quickly getting used to the affectionate tendencies of his former guardian. "Merci."

Another perk…

He could still speak and understand French fluently, for which he was grateful. It was second-nature to him, as though the language had been thriving in his blood the entire time. It was one of the only things from his forgotten life that still brought him comfort and joy, because speaking French always made him feel closer to his roots, helping him to understand a culture that was much different from his own.

Better yet, it made him feel united with another part of the world.

And when he was released, there were a new pair of arms around him, though they were stiffer and less constricting. "I apologize for bringing the frog, but I didn't have much of a choice in the matter. Nonetheless, have a very happy birthday, Canada."

A smile graced his face of its own accord. "Thank you, England."

When all was said and done, there was a whine from the middle of the room. "What about me?"

Chuckling now, Canada sauntered over to his enthusiastic twin, administering his own hug this time. "Thanks to you too, America, even though you're a total nutcase."

Grinning at the comment, America fastened his arms more tightly around his brother, crushing him in a suffocating hug and lifting him slightly off the ground. "No problem, bro! Love ya to bits!"

Coughing and gasping for air, he was happy to have his feet planted on the solid floorboards once more. "Remind me that if I ever need someone to crack my ribs in half, I should come to you."

"Hey, you know I'll always be there for you, even if you become a masochist," America joked, mussing up his twin's hair. "My birthday is in three days, so we'll party it up like there's no tomorrow, 'kay?"

"Sorry to disappoint, but I'm not really the partying type."

"Man, you always say that. Don't worry—I've got you covered. You're gonna have a little fun, even if I've gotta shake it out of you."

It was pleasant, he realized, to suddenly be in the company of his family—a strange and unorthodox family, mind you, but pleasant nonetheless. He had been craving some social interaction, and it was comforting to know that regardless of the differences between their nations, he would have a support system to fall back on.

And so, the festivities commenced. France had been kind enough to prepare a chocolate sponge cake, always taking advantage of the opportunity to showcase his culinary skills. Then, they cracked open some drinks in a carousing manner and had Canada tend to the pile of presents waiting to be received. Among them was a new watch from England, leather loafers from France, and a wireless audio system from America.

"You guys really shouldn't have done all of this for me," he assured upon having opened each of the boxes wrapped in colorful assortments of paper. "It's too much, and now I feel guilty for putting you all through such trouble."

England took a swig of his drink with a lofty air, waving off Canada's concerns. "Nonsense—it wasn't any trouble at all. We decided it was high-time we surprised you with a little cheer to bolster your spirits."

There was a warm feeling stirring and swelling in his chest, and suddenly, it didn't matter that he'd lost the majority of his memories, or that he hadn't even remembered something as important as his birthday. Being surrounded by people who cared for him regardless of his obliviousness made everything seem exactly the way it was supposed to be again—like nothing had changed at all.

"Are you up for playing some videogames after you have some cake?" America had asked almost eagerly, squishing himself against his brother on the couch. He gave his twin a thoughtful look, carefully scrutinizing Canada's new watch. "Damn, England never got me anything that nice. I didn't even know he had such good taste. Guess he's obviously playing favorites now."

England merely scowled at the remark, crossing his arms. "You're an ungrateful brat. I've gotten you plenty of exquisite gifts over the years. It still isn't too late for me to return this year's—"

"You got me something? What is it? Give me a hint."

"No, and if you keep up that act—"

America flashed a brilliant smile, trying to appear innocent. "I was just wondering—"

"Well, you'll have to patient," England finished firmly as France brought in the cake from the kitchen. "The mystery is sometimes more satisfying than the present itself."

America's smile quickly faded into a frown, and he shot Canada a forlorn glance. "That's England's lingo for 'my gift isn't that great'. Whatever though, I bet France still has some pretty awesome gifts up his sleeve. Right, dude?"

"Of course," France remarked with a wink, lighting the candles. "Mathieu, have you prepared your wish?"

It was a silly tradition, making wishes on one's birthday. He knew it was done as a nicety and nothing more, but he still gave his request a little thought, deciding that if something was actually worth wishing for, then it required some premeditation.

And then a poorly sung rendition of 'Happy Birthday' made its debut, and he couldn't help but outright laugh at the trio. When they'd finished the dissonant harmony, America had tried to prolong the torture with 'How Old Are You Now?' Fortunately, England and France had rightfully intervened.

Wish-making time had arrived all-too-soon, and so, he wished for the only thing that came to his addled mind through the fits of laughter that he was still trying to dispel (in vain).

He closed his eyes and blew out the candles, earning himself a strong pat on the back from America.

"What'd you wish for?"

It was all so insignificant in the more grandiose lifespan of their existence—their skirmishes in Svalbard, the lost memories, one of the many birthdays to come—but the little things held so much more respect in his heart after the nuggets of knowledge that he'd forgotten.

He was certain he'd never forget this—the calm serenity of his dysfunctional family standing around him with the gentlest of smiles on each of their faces.

"I wished everyone could have a family like mine."

The resounding silence afterward had brought him all the glee he could have ever wanted, and when everyone had processed his words, America found a response and lifted his glass of champagne into the air.

"For all the memories we'll get to make. Cheers!"

And all was seemingly right with the world again.

"Prussia, I'm hungry!"

"Ja, keep it down! I'm finishing up the schnitzel now!"

Sealand came barreling down the stairs, sock-clad feet sliding across the floor and coming to a halt in front of his new babysitter. "How much longer?"

The older nation seemed to fumble around a moment, flipping the breadcrumb covered meat on its opposite side. "Ten more minutes. Sit down and be quiet until then."

"Will there be dessert?"

"No, England said no more sugar for you."

The child puffed out his cheeks with a pout, depositing himself in a chair by the kitchen table. "But—"

"If you're good, I'll think about it," Prussia bargained with a smirk, passing Sealand a fizzy drink to keep him content. "We have another few hours together."

There was a moment of peace, and then Sealand brought up the inevitable question. "Why didn't we get invited to Canada's surprise party too?"

"Because we don't want to overwhelm him. He needs to spend some time with his family for now," Prussia reasoned, turning off the gas on the stove and setting the table for two. "Believe me, I wouldn't be doing this if England wasn't desperate. Not to mention he promised to buy me a beer, and you should never pass up a beer."

Sealand snorted, sipping on his beverage. "Thanks for the life lesson."

Prussia shot the child a glare but did not make any further comments, choosing instead to start serving the dinner that he'd been slaving over for the last two hours. When they were both settled and in the process of filling their grumbling stomachs, they exchanged some small talk.

However, they did not expect someone to ring the doorbell while discussing which language was superior to the other—English or German.

"German is a far more powerful and stronger language, and knowing it will get you places, kid," Prussia finished as he stood up to answer the door, dropping his handkerchief on the table.

He hadn't been expecting anyone, and it was too early for England to have returned unless something was wrong, so he felt a little knot of worry in his stomach as he unlocked the home and greeted the intruder.

"Gilbert—I'm sorry for barging in on you like this, but I was hoping we could talk?"

Star-struck for a moment, he struggled to collect the rush of emotions imprisoning his normally adamant demeanor. "Ja, of course, Elizabeta. Come in. The more the merrier, right?"

"You have guests?" she inquired with a raised eyebrow. "In that case, I really shouldn't impose."

"It's just England's boy—I'm watching him for the evening."

She was genuinely surprised by the news, though in a positive connotation of the word. "Oh, how kind of you."

"Ja, this experience has made us all better friends, I think," he admitted sheepishly. It was amazing how quickly he found himself at a loss of words in Hungary's presence. It was uncharacteristic of him, being docile, but it was an involuntary coping mechanism. "I-I made schnitzel, if you're hungry. It'll be cold if—"

"I interrupted your dinner? Now I really feel terrible."

"Don't! I mean—it's all right, really… Why don't you come and join us?"

Hungary shook her head politely, offering him a wan smile. "I can't stay long. I stopped by just to thank you once again for getting us out of that dreadful place. It's overdue, I know, but—"

There was an awkward moment of silence between them, and then Hungary stepped forward to press a light kiss on his lips. "Thank you."

He felt like a young schoolboy, straining to catch his breath. "I told you already—you don't need to thank me."

"But I wanted to," Hungary said softly, letting out a little laugh. "I wondered what it would feel like—"

Blushing furiously, Prussia scratched at the back of his neck absently. "Heh…"

"It was—it felt a little weird to be honest."

They both chuckled, finding the entire situation rather amusing. As much as he had longed for Hungary to someday approach him like this, he understood what she meant… It simply wasn't meant to be, and he accepted that.

"Not that you're a bad kisser by any means!" she swiftly amended, recognizing her mistake. "I only—"

He laughed gently at her qualms. "I understand."

"PRUSSIA? Where are you?"

Hungary smirked coyly at him, glancing in the direction of the kitchen. "Well, I'll let you get back to your little date then. I don't want to keep you too long."

"Very funny," Prussia griped, rolling his eyes as Sealand's fervent calls grew with intensity. "I'm coming, brat! One minute!"

They walked back to the door together, sharing a mutual understanding as to how things would be from now on—they would simply pretend that none of this had ever happened.

"Tell the Austrian that I want my CD back. He'll know which one I'm talking about."

"I'll try to remember," Hungary assured, eyes glittering with the light in the foyer. "Well, I wish you the best."

"I wish you wouldn't be such an annoyance," Prussia teased, holding the door open. "Who do you think you are? Storming into my house while I'm having dinner—unbelievable!"

"I know, I'm awful," she agreed with a cheeky smile. "Take care of yourself."

"You too."

"Goodbye for now."

"Gute Nacht."

And with that, they parted ways, but he was sure their paths would cross again soon.

Sealand had taken the time to shake him out of his stupor, looking quite peeved in the doorway to the kitchen. "I was calling you! The food is cold!"

Clicking his tongue, Prussia clapped a hand onto Sealand's shoulder. "Do me a favor?"

"What is it?"

He smiled to himself, feeling a bubble of happiness burst in his stomach. "Stay away from girls. Now, let's eat."

While the boy seemed to want to ask follow-up questions regarding the strange vow, his hunger won the battle in the end, sending him trailing after Prussia once more and over to their dinner.

The rest of their night was spent rather peacefully, and when it was finally time for the young nation to be returned to the person who had deposited him on Prussia's doorstep, Sealand found himself mourning over the loss of the man's company.

"Did you have a good time?" England had asked him, accompanied by America at the threshold.

Not trying to boost the man's ego higher than it already was, Sealand hid his sudden liking of the other nation. "Well, he's not as bad as he seems, I guess."

England chuckled at the remark, exchanging a knowing look with Prussia. "Hmm, then I suppose we'll have to hire him more often."

"Yeah, can I stay at America's house next?"

Upon hearing his name, the North American nation lowered his gaze to the pint-sized boy, holding up his hands in concession. "Whoa, whoa, whoa! Who said I'm babysitting anyone? I don't have time for that kind of stuff—I'm a busy nation! England, explain the situation to him!"

"I'll consider it," England said tauntingly, a mischievous gleam in his eyes as he regarded America. Then, he observed Sealand with a suppressed smirk. "I'm sure America would love to spend some quality time with you in the future. Right, America?"

Sullen, the aforementioned nation cocked his head to the side. "Yeah, sure… Whatever. Look, I've got a meeting with Germany tomorrow morning, so there's no time to waste."

"We can do all sorts of things! I can show you the new computer game that Japan loaned me and—"

"Do I have to?" America groaned as the younger pulled on his arm, dragging him down the walkway of the house and over to the car.

Prussia sighed at the pair, the hint of a grin ghosting his face. "Those two are starting to get along, I see."

"Yes, a bit worrisome, if you ask me," England murmured, exchanging a brief word of thanks with Prussia before saying goodbye. "I'll see you at the next World Conference then?"

"No, you still owe me a beer first," the man reminded, antagonizing. "I'll call you, and we'll work something out."

Nodding with a smile of his own, England waved to the nation before going after the two younger countries.

It was a small world, he decided as he ambled away, and they were all alike, whether they liked to admit it or not. No—the globe wasn't as divided as it seemed anymore, and it was held together by the common thread of humanity that they each shared.

One and the same—never ravaged beyond repair.

And that was something spectacular worth celebrating.