A/N: Um…Hi. I don't think we've met before. In fact, I'm pretty sure of it. Unless you've been around for a while. But chances are, we've never met. Well, since we met here, you could probably guess…Yeah. I'm Hetalia trash, too. The dumpster is warm and cozy, though. And I've been bouncing this around my noggin for a while now. And I think I started writing it back in November? October, maybe? November! Because I cheated on my NaNoWriMo project with this. But it was an idea and now, here we are. But! How rude of me for not even introducing myself.

I'm Lumi, your internet friend, snappy dresser, and all around good human being. And since you guys are possibly new, we'll hold off on talking about the Compound. You're still in your infancy. You'll learn about the compound later when you're more established. Maybe you already know about it. But all that aside, it's a pleasure to meet you, new friend and how about we get down to what you're here for, yeah?

Why do I have to hurt like this? I know I'm old. My body doesn't have to remind me. Although I came here in a much younger body, I still felt everything. Every scar, every crack. And this rain wasn't helping anything. Someone really needed to turn that off. Now, where did they drop me? I'm cold. I'm drenched. And…Uh-oh…Someone will answer for this. They drop me into this world with no idea of where I am in the rain and to put the cherry on this crap cake, I can't have any clothes either? Someone's ass is getting fired.

I can't exactly walk around like this. Let's see. There's an old newspaper and a box in this gutter. The newspaper is written in English, so that narrows things down. America, Canada, New Zealand, England, Ireland, and Australia. Where would they have dropped me? The country wasn't listed on the paper. As much as I could, I got somewhat dressed and started to get adventurous. Wherever I was, at least it was a city and not in the middle of nowhere. First, I find out where I am. Then, I find a place to sleep tonight. How do I do that, though?

"Excuse me," I walked up to a man standing by a bus stop, "Could you tell me…?"

"Piss off, you harlot!" he jumped back, swatting at me with a more recent paper than the one covering my chest. Ok. It's just one person. I can't give up. I'm better than that. Hey! Another opportunity.

"Excuse me, ma'am," an old woman stood outside a mini mart, "Do you think I could have a minute of your time?"

"Do you want my pocketbook, too?" she spat at me, "Get off!"

Wow. The people of this world could be so cruel. I had no idea things were this bad. It looks like I may have my work cut out for me. But how was I supposed to help when they wouldn't even accept it? Maybe they didn't deserve it. Maybe I should just go back. But I couldn't go back. There's too much to do down here. I can't just leave them. How could I help them, though? I can't even help myself. I'm sitting in a gutter, wearing a box for pants and with a grumble in my stomach. I must look pretty pathetic right now.

"My, my…" a blonde man with a thick accent stopped in front of me, holding his umbrella over me, "Aren't you in a pitiful state…It is a terrible night for rain, wouldn't you agree, cheri?"

I couldn't even speak. My throat was so raw. I felt like I had swallowed glass. The rain and the cold must be making me sick. All I could do was nod my head. And even that was iffy. This damn kink in my neck was killing me.

"In that case," the man took his jacket off and wrapped it around me, "Let's get out of it, shall we?"

"If it's not too much trouble," I spoke meekly, reveling in the warmth of the thick wool, "Could you tell me where I am?"

"Too much to drink?" he chuckled, "I was just on my way to my friend Britain's house."

"Britain…" I thought, "Are we in England?"

"You really have had too much," he teased, "A beauty like you should be careful in the pubs around here. They'd eat you alive and be unworthy of your presence."

"Oh." What little body heat I had quickly relocated to my face, "Good to know. But if the men in the pubs would eat me alive, why should I trust you?"

"I am no Englishman," he draped an arm around me, "In fact, I'm almost insulted. And I don't see anyone else stopping to help you."

"Thank you," I took his hand. Everyone else would yell and hit and sit at me. But this man helped without knowing a thing about me. Yet he's been so kind to me. Without any prompting. His mother must be proud.

"You may call me France," he raised the back of my hand to his lips, "And what do you call yourself, mon belle?"

I smiled at France's gesture, "Terra."

"Terra," France kept a hold of my hand, "It is a pleasure to meet you. Now, we should get to Britain's house. He hates when I'm not on time and he yells at me."

"Is Britain an angry person?" I worried. France seemed so nice. I just assumed his friend would be, too.

"He can be," he admitted, "But at his core, Britain really is a good guy."

"Good." I didn't have the energy to deal with anything like that.

"I'm sure he can find a place for you at his house," France promised.

"I hope so." The new body was still something to get used to. Just like sleeping. I've never felt so run down. Not since my brothers and sisters were born. I could stand a thirty-minute power nap. That's all I really need.

But then, as France and I started walking down the street, my knees gave out from under me and I fell into France's arms, "Mon dieu, Terra. Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," I rubbed my eyes, trying to regain my footing. I'm still getting used to my legs.

"No, no," France held me up, putting a hand to my forehead, "You're running quite the fever, cheri. We really need to get you to Britain's house. Come on. Allons."

"Ok," I felt so dizzy. Maybe if I get a little sleep, I'll be ok.

"She's burning up," a gentle voice spoke. That wasn't France. He sounded more…Uptight. More…posh, "Where did you say she came from?"

"She was naked in the alley." There's a familiar face. Voice anyway, "What was I supposed to do, Arthur? Do I leave her in the rain and let her die?"

"Well, no," he let out a sigh, "But you just bring some random bloody tramp into my house?!"

"I couldn't leave her," France sat by my side, "Do you think she's a micronation?"

"We can ask…"

"She also has feelings," I groaned, opening my eyes, "And she doesn't appreciate you calling her a tramp."

"I'm sorry, Terra," France pushed my hair out of my eyes, "Britain can have a hard time expressing himself."

"I understand," I let it slide, looking up at him from France's lap, "So, you must be Britain."

"I am," Britain nodded, "Who are you and where did you come from?"

"My name is Terra," I introduced myself, "I'm from…a very long way from here."

"And what brings you to my house?" he dug deeper. Always the inquisitive one, isn't he?

"Technically speaking," I pointed out, "France did."

"Oh, I like her," France chuckled, "Come on, Britain. Let her stay. If not just for tonight. If you want her gone by the morning, I'll take her back to my house."

Britain looked me over, still a bit skeptical. I know this didn't exactly look ideal, but like I said, someone's ass was getting fired, "I guess so. Only for tonight!"

"Thank you, Britain," I smiled sweetly, "And if it's not too much trouble, do you think I could get a cup of tea?"

That was enough for Britain's ears to perk up. And France couldn't help but notice. I think I said one of his trigger words, "Why don't we get you a bath and get you into drier clothes that aren't my coat first? We'll se if we can get your fever to break."

"Ok," I took France's hand.

"Wait," Britain stopped us, "How do you take it, Terra?"

"It all depends on what kind of tea you're making," I stipulated, "So, what kind of tea are you making, Britain?"

"I'm not sure," he thought, "Is there anything you'd like?"

"An earl grey would be nice," I requested, "A little honey please."

"Sure." I think I've won Britain's heart. Not to difficult to do if one knows the buttons to push. And apparently, that's the tea button.

"Don't worry about him, mon ami," France assured, "Britain just needs a little time to come around. We've known each other for centuries and he still hardly warms up to me. We'll call it a personality flaw. If there was a personality there that wasn't bitter."

"I HEARD THAT, YOU DAMN FROG!" Britain shrieked from the kitchen.

"See what I mean?" he giggled, "Remercier Dieu pour son cul…Or he wouldn't have much going for him."

"Very nice," I shivered, not realizing France's persuasion until now.

"You understood what I said?" France gave me a look.

"Yeah," I blushed a little, "And I'm a little uncomfortable looking at Britain's ass, so…"

"You did understand," he gasped, "I didn't know you knew my language."

"I know a lot of different languages," I explained, "Even some of the dead ones."

"Rumor has it," France told me, "If you start speaking in Latin to a little friend of ours, he'll start going on about his grandfather. He'll tell stories about him in a language he doesn't even really comprehend. But when you translate it, they're just stories about his various conquests with various women that boggle the mind. Some of them you don't even think they're physically possible."

"Are you talking about Italy speaking in tongues?" Britain came back with a cup full of earl grey tea still steaming.

"Oui," France chuckled under his breath.

"It's worse to do it when he's drunk," Britain suggested, "That's when some of the truly haunting stories come out. I still have nightmares about one."

"The bowl of fruit?"

"And the Chinese finger trap?"

"I know the one," France started laughing hysterically, leaving me completely in the dark.

"I can never eat grapefruit again," Britain shuddered, give me the cup, "Here, Terra. You did say a little honey, right?"

"That's right," I shook off any images of what they could possibly be talking about, "Thank you, Britain."

"You're welcome," Britain's hard face softened into a smile, sending my heart all aflutter. Maybe he's starting to come around as promised.

"Oh, ma chère, douce Angleterre," France came down, wiping the tear from his eye, "You're such a prude."

"You call it being a prude," Britain defended, losing that cute, little smile of his, "I call it a bit of modesty. It's not going to kill you."

"You don't know that."

"And don't think I didn't hear that comment about my ass!"

"I wish you'd show it off a little more!"

"Pervert!"

"Buzzkill!"

I just sat back and let those two fight it out, casually sipping on my tea. To think I was going to stick closer to home. And miss out on this? I've always been the type to watch the drama from a distance. Seeing it close up is so much better. France and Britain's insults grew meaner and meaner and if we come out of this without bloodshed, I'll be amazed. As much fun as this is, these two need a whistleblower or someone's going to either say something they regret or someone's getting punched.

"Alright, boys," I stopped them, already feeling better. It's amazing what a cup of tea can cure, "That's enough. Before either one of you pull something."

"Fine then," France decided to be the bigger man, "We'll stop."

"Hey!" Britain tried to start things back up, "What do you mean, we'll stop? I wasn't done!"

"Come along, Terra," France helped me onto my feet, "I did promise you a bath, did I not?"

"HEY!" Britain called after us as France led me down the hall, "GET YOUR FRENCH ASS BACK HERE!"

"Sorry, Britain!" France yelled back, "I'm busy!"

Yeah. To say that I have my work cut out for me is an EXTREME understatement. But I can manage. I can't give up on them now. Not when I've come all this way already.

A/N: Hi. I'm back again! And I think we're off to a good start here. We have a little bit of France and Britain at each other's throats. France is an absolute sweetheart and a true gentleman. Britain needs a night off. And…Well…Terra has a backstory that we're going to keep under wraps for the time being. You'll see, though. You'll see how she fits into the grand scheme of things.

Can I just say this? I'd really appreciate if we didn't get into shipping wars here. I'll admit, I'm a massive slut for FrUK. But there are going to be some other ships going on. So, I think now would be a good time for this question. Without all the shouting…What does your Hetalia fleet look like? I say fleet, because I know better. There's no way you can narrow it down to one OTP. That O in OTP is just a suggestion. Kind of like dry clean only labels. But all that aside, who do you (yes, you.) ship? And who knows? Maybe your ships could end up in this someway, somehow.

Personally, I love a good FrUK. Some casual Spamano (but so help me god, if it's with chibi Romano, we're going to have a problem. I do have a moral compass here.). I'm a MASSIVE slut for the FACE family. That's always good for a case of the warm and fuzzies. GerIta is too damn cute not to love…I don't know. I just have a lot of feelings, ok? So, who makes your face melt with cuteness? Who makes your squees so loud, your throat hurts? I'm curious. Well, see you next chapter! xx