"How much better is it to weep at joy, than to joy at weeping?"

- William Shakespeare, Much Ado About Nothing, 1623

London always seemed to be set underneath a permanently calm, gray sky as people below carried umbrellas in hand with anticipation for a downpour on the charming town. In fact, there were still some puddles left from a recent shower as stunning, scarlet red double-deckers cut through their glistening surfaces, and down a progression of drenched roads.

It was a rather quiet day today, fitting into the solemn mood established by the equally grave weather. Many English people were listening to music, or books on numerous devices, when an abrupt, but light rain began to send its' grave warnings from the vast view of the skies above. Some ignored it, while others decided to head back to their homes as they all absentmindedly rushed past a man of sophisticated stature, who was helping himself to a nice book while sitting on a bench.

His intelligent, forest green eyes scanned the pages carefully from underneath dark, bushy eyebrows, that would rise every now and again at anything that seemed to be of particular interest within the peculiar tome. A raven, black umbrella was wedged between the silts of the bench, and seemed to shield the older gentleman well from the ongoing downpour. It appeared almost like a bird of death itself, spreading wide its wings with rain streaming down and past its tips. He seemed to be ignoring the dreary conditions with intent focus on his book, and would only take a moment to tuck a strand of hay blonde hair behind his ear occasionally, without anything else looking as if it were to serve as a viable distraction.

His attire consisted of a grayish-green wool coat over a crisp collared shirt, slacks, and a matching emerald tie that always appeared to remain perfectly in place, no matter his movement. His air was stately and proper, but with a whisper of mysteriousness and previous ambition from his youthful days as well.

England let out a breath of relief that he didn't have to worry about any more work for the day. He was finally free to be with his own thoughts, and to catch up on some pieces of magic from the Dark Ages . . .

However, whenever he tried to study a certain enchantment that he found particularly fascinating, his mind couldn't help but somehow think back to a certain nation of love and beauty back at the world meetings. As much as he and France had their many disagreements and fights in the past, which still occurred frequently in the present, England still very much couldn't imagine doing something harsh to the delicate country, unless he was seriously asking to be fought against. It was also from knowing the affectionate nation so long that he was able to tell when there was something off about him, especially around the month of May.

Oh, there was no doubt he was still irritatingly sociable and flowery as bloody possible. England didn't think that he could possibly cease those traits of his personality, it was just too ingrained in the annoying frog's culture. But he also seemed to be much more quiet during their usual meetings, and social gatherings in recent times. It was almost as if he were thinking to himself all of the time nowadays, and flirting much less than he normally would be too. He would stray towards the side of the room with a small smile set on his lips and away from the rest of the crowd until he was addressed to partake in a conversation, or to assist in a mild favor. England knew that even Prussia and Spain, who were two of France's closest friends and virtually inseparable ever since their alliance back in the Austrian Succession War, would just cast him saddened looks and then turn away to seek out other festivities.

It always seemed to go on like this for years and years now, right around the same time of the month. The United Kingdom couldn't seem to place what could be troubling his old foe, and companion. It was a mystery far beyond anything that, perhaps, even Sir Conan Doyle could conceive in the analytical recesses of his intellect.

However, another issue that arose to investigating the matter further was that England was not particularly able to speak to the Frenchman, without sounding cross, or demanding. It wasn't that he wasn't capable of caring for another individual, the Lord forbid such a thing to be true. But he wasn't especially good at conveying emotion without it coming across as being disdainful or awkward, unless he was rather angered by something.

And to make matters even more difficult, as much as his people liked to poke fun at France's tendency to surrender, it also made the frog highly skillful in evading as well. It was almost astounding to the Brit how well France could pretend that there was nothing wrong, when in truth, his people were declaring strikes left and right on the news!

Bloody hell you frog, why don't you ever complain for once? No one's preventing you . . .

Just then, his phone began to vibrate and he pressed the cold metal against his ear to listen. The screen had said it was his boss calling, so it obviously was important. "Hello?" he inquired.

A puzzled look immediately crossed over his face as his deep, green eyes blinked with shock. "Here?" England repeated with a look of complete surprise. "You mean that he's here in the country?!"

The English gentleman paused and sat higher up in his seat with confusion riddling his already perplexed expression. He listened even more carefully as his boss relayed a few more details, and then thanked him when he was through as he shut off his phone. Apparently, France had been spotted arriving and checking into a hotel in Winchester that morning, without any visible company of his own. The United Kingdom had instructed his boss to have someone trace his actions within the city, but was otherwise confident that France wasn't here with any malicious intentions.

. . . hopefully.

It was just too strange to England that France would choose to travel here, especially without telling anyone to come with him. The bleakness of England's home was far too serious and calm, compared to the vibrant and expressive lifestyle the romantic nation was accustomed too. And if he ever did come into the country, he at least usually had a few friends to share the sights and joys of his trips with. Or, he would practically beg to spend some time with England by either going out to dinner, or sightseeing.

But staying in Winchester, all alone, without a single word to even England? That just didn't seem to settle right.

The United Kingdom paused and gingerly dialed another number into his phone as it rang a few times.

Come on you bloody frog, pick up . . .

"Bonjour, Angleterre~" chirped a familiarly warm and amiable voice on the other end.

England let out a sigh of relief, but then realized that he hadn't exactly thought through why he had called in the first place. It had just seemed to be the thing to do at the time, and now that he finally got into contact with France, he wasn't sure what to say! "U-Uh, France!" he demanded, his tone going straight to the only nature it seemed to know: cross. "Wh-What are you doing here in my country?"

"I didn't realize that it was a crime to do so, Angleterre!" France laughed teasingly, as he always seemed to do to the irritable Englishman. "I'm just visiting for a few days to appreciate a new background other than my own, non?"

"You hate it here." England said flatly.

"Now how could I ever come to hate you, Angleterre?" France asked, though his voice was notably softer now. "Anyway, did you call to ask me something, or was that it? Because I think that housekeeping is coming to bring me my dinner."

"Wh-What?!" England spluttered, beginning to get visibly mixed up as he sorted through his memory to try and get the information he had originally wanted. What was the real reason France had travelled into England's domain? What was he hiding? Why was he hiding it? Why was he acting so strangely again? And why had his tone gone so much quieter in that last sentence? It was all just too infuriating and difficult to process while also desperately trying to keep civil.

"Y-You bloody frog—" he started with his face beginning to burn.

"Oui?" France chirped in joking pride as England could already envision the teasing look he liked giving his old friend, even over the phone.

"I-I'm c-conc . . . wh-what do you think . . . " the normally composed nation tried to say while his words only came out strangled and forced. He shut his eyes and felt his face burning brightly as he clenched his fists at his side, and gritted his teeth from all of his effort. "M-Might I ask what the b-bloody hell—"

But before he could finish, there was an abrupt knocking and France exclaimed breezily, "Ah! Je suis désolé, Angleterre!" But I must go! Au revior~" he apologized before hanging up.

England cursed angrily and snapped his phone shut while shoving it into his pocket with an aggravated growl. The bloody git was avoiding him again. And worse of all, he had once again failed to keep his tone calm enough to actually get some answers to help someone who seemed to need the assistance.

Bloody perfect.

"You really shouldn't keep frowning like that love~" giggled an almost eerily chipper voice.

So eerie that it would have almost been identical too . . .

England yelped and instantly shot away from the puddle beside his feet, resulting in the nation tumbling off of the bench, and landing onto the soaking sidewalk with his personal belongings following soon after him. The bottom of his dress pants was absolutely ruined, and just a few feet away, a lone reflection lay rippling on the street with its original counterpart gazing at it with a venomous glare.

Carefully, the nation muttered a few enchantments to protect him from evil as he approached the puddle, knowing fully well whom he was going to come face-to-face with.

2P-England grinned ecstatically with a childish look of happiness plastered across his face. The first thing England immediately noticed was his counterpart's sickening taste of apparel. The cheerful nation was dressed in a magenta vest over a long sleeved, carnation pink shirt that bore a dorky looking teal bow tie around the neckline. His hair was somewhat light, golden blonde, but was mainly tainted with a gaudy pink hue, and always seemed to be messy no matter what you did with it. The only saving grace in the bizarre ensemble was his pair of regular, tan pants, which was horribly stained with pastel colored frostings.

If there was anyone out of all of the world countries who resented their 2P self more than the rest, it was England. While the prestigious United Kingdom was dignified, serious, and preferred to be left alone in all hours of the day, the mirror image standing before him shattered all of those expectations in a heartbeat. 2P-England was an overly energetic, cheery, and clingy country who seemed to always have a Cheshire cat-like grin always across his cheeks. He also had an unhealthy obsession about France for whatever twisted reason that England could never seem to understand.

Oh, and did he mention that his lookalike was insane?!

"Aw, I'm sorry. Did I give you a fright, love?" 2P-England asked with his abnormal blue and pink swirled pupils that were displaying a sort of chilling innocence.

England scowled and glared down at the hated reflection. "Go away, I'm not talking to you." He snapped as he kicked his leg down towards the puddle to make the image go away.

2P-England smiled at the Brit with unfading cheeriness as he clapped his hands together gleefully, not the least scared of his threat. "Whatever you want love, I just thought that you would be worried about France!" He chirped.

The Englishman felt his heart skip a beat as he halted his position and went wide-eyed, with his leg frozen in mid-kick. He had to have heard that wrong. There was just no way . . .

His strict, forest green eyes seemed to weaken just a little as he growled under his breath through gritted teeth. "What did you say?"

"Oh, so you do care!" 2P-England gushed with a blush crawling its way across his cheeks. "That's so cute of you Iggy! So concerned about such a handsome romantic. Oh, it just makes me weak in the knees thinking about him~"

"Shut up! I do not care about him!" England snarled.

"Oh, well that's rather rude, now isn't it?"

"I-I mean—" England stumbled over his words and grimaced to stop himself before he started sounding anymore ridiculous. "Wh-What do you know about France?! You shouldn't be bloody messing around in this world! Much less knowing anything about him! Why aren't you gallivanting about in your own universe and doing whatever nonsense it is that you enjoy?!"

2P-England giggled as his cheeks turned even more rosy pink with amusement. "Oh, you worry about the silliest things, Iggy!" he smiled as he waved his serious counterpart off casually. "It's a shame that you're so boring all of the time! It's a wonder that you even have any friends!"

"Excuse me?" England demanded as he felt a headache already starting to mount dauntingly.

"Well you don't honestly think that shouting like a bossy-bottom all of the time is a nice way to treat people, do you?" 2P-England asked with bewilderment in his chipper, English accented voice. He shook his head knowingly and clucked his tongue. "No, no! That won't do at all! You need to be happy around people and make them smile!"

England rolled his eyes and crossed his arms stubbornly. "Absolutely not. I am a gentleman, and that institutes that I treat others with respect and dignity. Not sugarcoated cheer that sickens the stomach."

"But you should feel free to express those lovely colors of yours'!" 2P-England contended with an encouraging look.

"I am a British gentleman!" England continued to argue. "We do not simply go frolicking about and making fools of ourselves! I have manners and rules to follow by, within societal expectations!"

"But don't you think how nice it would be if you just acted so much more pleasantly?" 2P-England asked with a bright smile as he leaned in closer towards the ridged country. "After all, how are you going to helps others open up, if you can't do it yourself? You remember what happened in the Revolutionary War, don't you love?"

A harsh wind whipped up England's coat with his thoughts just as turbulent. The nation's eyes were narrowed with concentration, and he simply stood there, ever deep in thought. As much as he couldn't stand his 2P self, he was making a troublingly good point. Not to mention his last sentence had left a smarting wound to the Englishman's pride. The one war that he had lost, and it had ended up costing him something far too valuable for him to even remember without a glass of scotch to follow soon after.

But, if what he was saying about France was true, maybe he did have good advice to offer . . .

"That was a long time ago . . . " England murmured as he took his time to speak his restless thoughts. " . . . how do you even know about France anyway?"

"Because unlike you, he tells me everything!" 2P-England laughed as he spun around joyfully while hugging himself like a mad man. He began speaking in a trilling, almost singsong like voice. "After all, why wouldn't he want an England like me? Someone happy and fun to be around who doesn't push him away~"

"Wait, you spoke to him?!" England gasped in horror as he felt his heart stop.

"Of course, not! I have many ways of getting my information~" 2P-England replied lightheartedly as he rested his chin underneath his hands while batting his eyelashes. "After all, I'm simply a part of you, that exists only for you~"

The United Kingdom actually felt his entire body relax in profound relief as he wiped some sweat away from his brow. There was no way in hell that he would allow his 2P to be known by anyone. They already thought that he was crazy enough with his imaginary friends, he didn't need to add a jovial psychopath to his list.

2P-England beamed and held out his hand excitedly while rocking on his heels as the excitement between the two, almost twin-like counterparts grew. "Make an alliance with me love, and I can help you express yourself more~" he offered with a tempting smile that promised everything his lips spoke.

England stared at his 2P self wistfully for just a moment, and actually found his desire to do so beginning to amount. He took in a nervous breath and gingerly lowered himself closer to the puddle with his arm reaching down to touch the glassy surface, but then he paused and stared at his open hand. There was a drawn out period of time where England just pondered that single palm for a while, making his 2P begin to tap his foot a little impatiently. England thought of just what he was doing, why he was taking such an offer, and most importantly, who he was . . .

And where he stood.

"You almost fooled me . . . " he muttered.

"Excuse me?" 2P-England asked with cute inquiry as he tilted his head to the side. "Whatever do you mean, love?"

"I applaud you for almost deceiving the entire United Kingdom of this world into believing that you actually could help him." England spoke up with a stern look having returned back into his eyes. "Clever git."

"B-But don't you want to be nicer to the other nations?" 2P-England asked in confusion. "America? France? The rest of the Allies?"

"Tell me this, how is it a cheery country like you could possibly help anyone?" he demanded as he folded his hands behind his back like a father disciplining his child. "Do you honestly think that I could believe that someone like you would have the ability to actually solve someone's problems? No, and do you know why?"

"Because everything you do is a blanket solution. You may know what it is that troubles others, but in the end, simply smiling won't make their problems go away!" England growled with his green eyes piercing through his counterpart's smiling mask. "Telling them to forget it all and to cheer up doesn't work! And I refuse to let you puppeteer me into believing in such nonsense! I may not be able to express myself, but at least I don't try to lead people into a sense of false security!"

"But getting tongue tied and thrashing out isn't solving anything either, Iggy~" 2P-England giggled with a nauseatingly, sweet smile.

"Then I will do my best as a gentleman to care for my friends in the best way I can." England snapped back irritably. "Even France. But I will be courteous to his feelings, and do everything in my power to set him straight, even if it seems a little forceful."

"Wouldn't it just be easier if you let me help you, love?" 2P-England asked sweetly with his lips cast in a slight pout.

England tapped underneath his chin contemplatively and then just shrugged in a somewhat relenting response. "Perhaps. But the fact still remains that I do not trust you, and that I can manage on my own." He further pushed as he turned on his heel to take his leave. "While it is quite challenging for me to convey how I feel, I have never, nor will I ever, support the idea that covering your ears and pretending something never happened is the correct way to live your life."

Pain glistened genuinely in the Englishman's eyes as he sucked in some of the cold, surrounding air. "Take it from someone who suffers from losing the Revolutionary War . . . " he mumbled. "Trying to forget just makes it harder to endure."

"So, a gentleman is someone who leaves his friends to fend for themselves then?" 2P-England giggled as he twisted his two index fingers into the corners of his cheeks, while swaying side to side adorably.

England scowled in disgust and shook his head with absolutely no respect left for the excessively cheerful . . . thing, beside his feet. How dare that imposter insult his title as a refined gentleman, when the git was nothing but a collection of fake smiles! However, because he was nobler than the psychotic counterpart, he could also practice some self-control.

The clouds began to darken again and brought the atmosphere back to an even graver scene, as the chivalrous nation knelt beside the puddle with a small smile. "No, I believe that a gentleman is someone who respects his companions' wishes, even in times of great turmoil. But his friends are also aware that if they need someone to sit and listen to them, he is right there to assist." He whispered calmly, but with a firm edge to his tone. "I may push the other countries away, like America and France. But I would never dream of hurting them unreasonably. Ever."

"Because while a gentleman is sympathetic, he is also, very courteous."

And with a final look of stern resolve, England set his foot down into the puddle, and the image disappeared. The United Kingdom shook his head slowly from his migraine-inducing encounter, but simply turned to the skies above London as he made his way back to his house. Even though it had cost him just a little bit of his sanity, the older nation somehow felt a little better than earlier. Perhaps he owed at least that to his 2P self, because as the sky began to shed its tears onto his woolen coat, it began dawning on him as he strolled just how accustomed he felt towards it.

After all, who ever said crying was a bad thing?

Finally finishing this [censored by the dark magic of British censorship] chapter! - . -'

Sorry that took so long guys, but I wanted to do a really good job since 2P-England is one of the most popular and well-known 2Ps in the fandom! But I finally got it done, so no problem! ^^

Now then, thank you all so much for all of your reviews! I'm so, so, so happy to see more reviewers jumping on board who enjoy my story! Now then, let's open today's mailbag!

Thatwolfbutler: You're welcome for the shout out! I like giving them to my loyal reviewers since they go out of the way to make my day! ^^
And I'm ecstatic that you enjoy my portrayal of 2P!America! I love 2P Hetalia, but sometimes I feel like everyone's personalities are too similar since they're all antagonistic. So I wanted to try something a little different! Oh, and France's chapter is next, so stay tuned! His was the one I was most looking forward too, so we'll both have to be patient! It's going to be great, trust me!

silverheartlugia2000: Yeah, heart power is classic! I hope that you liked Daddy Iggy here. ^^

wsjio: I really appreciate that you think that I'm doing a great job, and I hope that I don't disappoint! Things are going to start heating up pretty soon between the 1Ps and 2Ps, so prepare yourself! And I'm so happy that you noticed my take on the 2Ps! Like I said with thatwolfbutler, I absolutely love 2P!Hetalia, but I want to see the parallels between the 2Ps and 1Ps explored more. To me, they're just like you said, they're not all just evil, but nightmarish versions of the original cast who have to see their own faces destroy and disregard everything that they believe is right.
Oh, and I love 2P-Italy as the dominatrix too. In my mind, he's honestly the only reason why the Axis of that world were able to win. XD

2P-talian: Thanks! And I love your profile pic and pen name! Much cooler than mine. So far, who is your favorite 2P that I've been able to write?
(From your profile, I see that you like 2P-Austria! ^^)

Okay guys, see you next chapter! Oh, and here's a thought that I'd like to hear you guys talk about in reviews, why do you think that France is in England domain at the moment?