First off thanks to everyone who's reviewed. All so thanks to my beat Fyearth her new chapter of lady liberty is up. I may or may not have sacrificed my head cannon Portugal to her for this chapter.

Second I got a review commenting on the chair being removed from Arthur's home. No it's not Busby's Chair. It's not really described in this story (it is in England Private Moments) but it's a horribly over sized gaudy floral print. One of those chairs that so ugly your ashamed of it until you sit in it. Then it becomes the most comfortable chair you've ever been in.

Angus POV

"Order up," Patrick's voice called from the back of the bar. He knew generally we couldn't hear him, but it amused him to do so. That and all the female customers loved teasing him when he poked his head out from the back.

The phone rang and I answered it cradling it between my shoulder and ear as I stuck several glasses under the beer tap filling them with just the right amount of foam. I snickered to myself.

"O'Mally's what d'ya want?" I answered. Normally I would be lectured for this, but the pub was filled to the gills so I could care less.

"Uncle Angus," A voice almost whispered on the line.

"Matt," I chirped happy to hear from Canada.

"Uhh," the voice trailed off as I slid the glasses down the bar counter to the waiting patrons.

"Hold a tick I'll get yer Mother." I set the phone down without hanging up.

"Oi, Brat." I called out hands cupped around my mouth.

"What!" Arthur screamed from the right of me towards the back were Patrick had called out from.

"Your kid's on the line," I called out.

"Which one," a patron yelled.

"Canada," I called back. There was some whooping and hollering and the name was written on a sheet of paper that had been put on the wall.

"I love this pub," I smiled watching the patrons be just as happy as Arthur over hearing from his kids.

"I've got the bar," Bran said coming up behind me. "Take your break, Paddy's got food." I nodded to him throwing my apron in the little box under the counter.

I wiggled my way around tables smiling at people as I made my way to the back.

"It's under control!" Patrick shouted at me. I looked over at the rolling flames he had on top of the grill as O'Mally rubbed the side of his head. "You said charbroiled." Patrick gave him a big innocent look. The man sighed falling victim again to Patrick.

"Go make salads boy." He said shooing Patrick away from the on fire grill top.

"I'm more fire proof than you." Patrick countered.

"I don't set the food on fire." O'Mally countered.

"Then how do you char it?" Patrick asked eyes wide in curiosity.

"Why can't you work the bar again?" O'Mally asked him. Patrick poked the remains of a burger with his tongues.

"My physical appearance is too young to serve alcohol." He replied with a sigh like it was the worst thing to happen to him.

The two looked at me as I snickered.

"He's half-Irish. He could drink your whole bar and walk in a straight line. Then again he can't walk a straight line sober."

"I heard a commotion, one of the boys call?" O'Mally asked.

"Yes, Canada." I responded poking at the food Paddy had left me.

"I'll go help out on the floor. Patrick people don't eat charcoal." O'Mally said walking out the door.

"Wasn't my intention." Patrick smiled waving the tongs at his back.

I hummed at that letting my mind wander to my own world. In my mind I recalled how we ended up working at O'Mally's.

I still couldn't believe how fast the world had turned on end. They said it was stress. The stress of trying to defend us, the stress of knowing she failed. We had kissed her cheek, gave her smiles and told her we would be fine.

We walked away from the Kirkland Manor. We left the home we had built the same way we arrived on foot—in a line. Arthur cradled that box to his chest. I didn't know he had kept it. I didn't realize what those memories meant to him.

We walked because we didn't want the UN breathing down her neck that she had driven us somewhere and given us shelter. We walked away expecting to see her alive one day in the future. I knew the twins would be curled up together somewhere. I was hoping Paddy would come to me; the boy didn't handle loss well. Shamus was back in his own land.

I thought back to what had happened after we walked away from our Protector and most fearsome defender. Arthur hunched over the box eyes glazed over as he blindly followed his twin in front of him.

We were walking down the street. We had separated to look for cheap lodging for the evening. Arthur and myself while Patrick and Bran went in another direction. We were hoping the twins could use their freaky twin thing to let the other know if they had found something, Arthur fell to the side his head tilted back and he let out a sob.

"My babies," I made out of his blubbering. I freaked. I wasn't sure what to do with him. Pain I could help with, but this was losing America all over again and I sucked at helping with that.

"What's wrong with him?" asked an elderly lady kneeling down next to him. "Poor dear, shush shush." She tried calming him.

"Mother," an annoyed woman spoke. "Let's…" she dropped the bag she was holding. "England," her voice was breathless.

"Mummy, why is that man crying?" a little girl held onto her skirts looking at Arthur.

"Babies?" the elderly woman questioned Arthur who was inconsolable.

"His colonies maybe." A business man spoke up. Arthur's commotion had drawn a crowd.

"Listen sport," another man with graying hair knelt down to Arthur. "I'm going to Australia tomorrow. What's the lad's name? I'll find him and find some way to let you know..." he voice trailed off as he realized his problem.

"You can call my pub." Another man spoke handing out a business card to the gray haired man. "That way they can find out." Arthur sniffled emerald eyes wide and watery as he looked at the people around him.

"My sister's abroad in America. I'll have her see if she can find information on him." A teenage girl offered flashing Arthur a smile. The pub owner handed her a card too.

"Thank you," Arthur whispered. "I'm just so worried about them all. They're really good lads, they just…" he trailed off.

"Oh honey," the elderly woman rocked him. "Boys will be boys."

"My husband's in New Zealand I'll call him." A pregnant woman spoke up. The Pub owner handed her a card.

The woman who first identified Arthur took his arm pulling him to feet. "Let's get you some food then we can get some information about your boys so people can find them." She cooed to him. Her little girl peeked around her ankles and smiled at Arthur.

"Well I'll open up early." The pub owner rubbed the back of his head.

"Come on Scotland let's go." The grey haired man going to Australia placed his hand on my shoulder making me realize I had secluded myself mentally from what was going on. I blindly followed the mass about us. The little girl was now swinging my arm as she walked beside me telling me about how she was using the wishing well near her school to wish for a baby brother.

When we arrived at the pub, Bran and Paddy were already there. So the twin thing did work. The pub owner gave us food and food to the people who were finding the missing Kirkland kids. We also found a free room for the night courtesy of the pub owner.

We stayed in the palace for a week after losing the Queen. Not even the UN could bitch about us or they would have more problems. O'Mally hunted us down after. Said he had heard from a few of the boys and got contact information.

Arthur smothered that poor man in hugs and tears.

O'Mally let us stay in the pub again that night and, when things turned rowdy, I picked the punk ass up and kicked him out. It gave O'Mally an idea. Now we lived at the pub and worked for him.

Arthur POV

My feet throbbed, my knees hurt and my lower back ached. To sum everything up, I'm glad the bar's closed now. I dragged myself to the armchair O'Mally had given to us. It wasn't anything compared to my overly comfortable chair, but it belonged to the government now. I slumped bonelessly next to a sprawled out Alba. His red locks fell freely as his head was draped over the back of the chair limbs spread haphazardly.

As I sat he looped an arm around me and pulled me against his body only for him to flop his head on top of mine.

"Why can't you be a few centimeters taller," he whined. "Then you'd be the perfect height to rest my head on." I rolled my eyes at him, but didn't grace him with a response. Instead I wiggled a bit, this chair was really too small for the two of us, and rested my head on his shoulder. His body radiated heat like my own personal furnace and I could feel the heat loosening my muscles.

We sat in silence listening to Patrick's snoring and the shower run. My world was dimming as I sunk further into the relaxing warmth around me.

"How's Mathew?" Alba asked startling me back awake.

"He's worried about the tension rising between the American government and the Chinese government." We brothers had made it a point to distinguish the governments form the countries since the UN wanted it that way.

Alba made a humming sound at me. "What a petty thing to fight over." He mused moving his head off of mine and looking away.

All of Alfred's belongings were supposed to have been auctioned off and the money gathered was to pay off America's government's debt to China's government. Only the really high priced items had disappeared. Some have appeared in the hands of high ranking officials and such. The Chinese government took offense and it appeared the two were on the brink of war.

We didn't have a T.V., but the regulars gave me an update when they came in. With all of us here O'Mally had started opening at noon offering sandwiches and tea. None of us complained because it gave us more hours.

Alba made a humming sound again, and I realized the shower had been turned off. Bran padded into the room in too big pants, a giant shirt and a towel on his head. Everything had been given to us to borrow and use. Another reason we worked our asses off for O'Mally and his patrons.

Bran grabbed the waist band of the pants and moved towards us. His head cocked a few different ways as he looked at the chair. My chair we could have all fit in. This chair would collapse under our weight.

Alba's hands moved to my shoulders and he gave me a light push up. "If you're not taking a shower, go to bed." He stood up once I was on my feet and stretched.

"You should sleep on the bed tonight." Bran spoke up. It wasn't much of a bed. It was an air mattress with a small leak so by the end of the night you were mostly on the floor anyway. We had patched several of the holes; it used to go flat after an hour of having air in it.

"You two fit better with Patrick," Alba said. Bran and I were too far apart for him to look at us both so he had focused his gaze on Bran since he had suggested it.

"It's fine Alba," I chimed in. "We should switch off anyways. That way, at least one night a week, we all have a decent sleep." Alba turned to me.

"When we have the money we'll get another mattress," Bran said.

"Or a real mattress," I mumbled. Bran gave me a flat look. I held my hand out in mock surrender. "Bran's right, we'll get a mattress. If we're lucky, one of those huge ones we can all sleep on. If not, we'll have a mattress and the air bed and can switch off on the two of them." Alba grunted too tired to really argue with us both.

"At least take the pillow." He grumbled moving into the bedroom that Patrick already occupied. The teen had already sprawled himself across the air mattress body smack dab in the middle. Alba sighed again.

"We'll sleep together." Bran and I said in unison. Alba put a hand to his forehead.

"Fine," he pulled the pillow out from under Patrick's head and picked up the other handing one to each of us. As he did his kissed our foreheads. "Sweet dreams." He told us.

We made our way back to the chair. Bran twitched his nose and I could feel my back already forming knots from looking at it.

"Let's go sleep in a booth." I told him moving towards the stairs that would take us to the bar. Bran silently followed me.

We curled up in a corner one the tops of our heads almost touching.

"You don't think it'll come to war, do you?" Bran's voice was barely a whisper.

"I hope not." I sighed.

"Hope for the best but prepare for the worst," Bran quoted the old saying. "How do we prepare for war when we can't afford tea without charity?"

"I don't know," I responded truthfully. I tilted my head up to look at him and he did the same. "But we'll make it though just like always." He smiled at me and I smiled back as our hands connected and we let sleep claim us.

In the words of my favorite video game charter, Zero, from the mega man X games "It's not over yet!"

Please review they make me happy.