Thanksgiving went by in a blur, and Kalda could only imagine what Britain and Russia had done for the holiday.

Kalda had spent much needed quality time with her brothers, laughing and joking around like nothing else in the world had mattered.

Now, it was around the middle of December, and Christmas had seemed to be on its way.

Kalda was excited, though, wanting Christmas to be there now.

She didn't know any Christmas carols, but if she did, she would have been singing them like crazy.

"How was your Thanksgiving, Kalda?" Britain asked, reading the newspaper.

She smiled as she remembered spending time with her brothers.

"It was nice," Kalda told him. "My third oldest brother, Seborga, is staying with us for a while. He's the best! He tells me all of these stories about love, and battles in far away lands! He's like a living history book!"

Britain smiled as he diverted his attention to Kalda, the newspaper still in his hands.

"That's wonderful," he said, and Kalda could hear how genuinely happy Britain was for her. "I'm that glad you had a great time."

Kalda blushed a little out of guilt, turning to face him as she tried not to spill her tea.

"But don't get me wrong!" Kalda stuttered a little. "I love all of your stories, too. Especially the one that you told me as you wrote the follow up letter for the Halloween party. You know, the one about the fancy dances?"

Britain grinned, happy to hear her words of appreciation for his stories.

"Well, there's plenty more that I can tell you if you would like?" he agreed. "I have one picked out right now, even."

Kalda smiled bigger as she sat at the table with him.

"What's it about?" Kalda asked him, getting excited.

Please be about love! Kalda thought happily. I love the romance stories!

"Well, it's about a woman and a man," Britain answered, his voice going soft. "They met a few weeks after the woman had just gotten into a divorce with her current husband."

"Oh no," Kalda sighed. "That's so sad. Why would she just jump into a different relationship so fast?"

"She wanted to move on," Britain continued, "plus, the man was quite handsome in her eyes."

"Is this even a real story?" Kalda giggled. "It sounds like you're just making it up."

"It is a real story," Britain defended. "Now do you want to hear the rest of it or not?"

"Okay, okay," Kalda calmly surrendered. "Sheesh. Don't get yourself in a tizzy. I was just messing with you."

He sighed in annoyance, but continued.

"After a few years had passed, the man and woman got married. After a couple more years passed since their wedding, the couple had a child. However, when their child was no more than a year old, the father had to go off and fight in a war."

"You mean to tell me that he left his wife and child to go and fight?" Kalda wondered sadly. "Why would he just leave them behind like that?"

Britain gave Kalda a surprised look as Kalda continued to speak.

"If he had died, the child wouldn't even know their own father after they grew up! That's not fair to them! Didn't the father think that through at all?" she ranted.

Britain sighed, becoming a little sad.

"The father had no choice," he said. "He was forced to enlist because they had a shortage of soldiers in the army. The mother insisted on coming with her husband to the base, and so the man's recruiter allowed his wife and child to come with him."

"Why do you sound so sad?" Kalda asked with a grin. "They're together now."

"Being together wasn't the point, Kalda," Britain told her. "The point was that he didn't want his family to be with him on the battlefield."

"Oh," Kalda sadly replied.

"On a cold winter's night, deep into December on the war front, the man's camp was attacked," Britain went on. "A small group of men from the attacking army entered the tent in which other women and children were being sheltered in."

Kalda gasped as her heartrate sped up, already seeing the outcome.

Britain let out a shaky breath as tears formed in his closed eyes.

"The man's wife and child, along with every other woman and child in the tent, died," he concluded. "The man was heartbroken, left the war front, and started to live a life of isolation. He had never fully forgiven himself for what had happened to his family ever since."

Kalda felt tears form in her eyes as well.

"So...they died?" she questioned, not quite sure how to feel.

"They did," Britain confirmed. "Every last one."

"B-but," Kalda stuttered, "one of them had to have survived, right? One? At least one?"

Britain smiled softly, and something in his green eyes threw Kalda off guard.

What's this newfound emotion in his eyes all of a sudden? she wondered, trying to figure him out.

"We can't prevent things from happening," he replied, diverting his attention back to his newspaper, "only that we can prepare for them."

"I guess so," Kalda agreed, processing his wise words, "but you can also learn from your mistakes. I mean, there hasn't been a war in a long while, right? I guess maybe the whole world is at peace now, right?"

"As much as I would like to think that as well," Britain began, still reading the newspaper, "I believe that there is a lot more going on in this world than you realize."

Kalda became confused by his words, and she started to feel awkward as the conversation continued.

"What are you doing for Christmas next week?" Kalda questioned, pulling the top of the newspaper down with her fingers to look at Britain.

Britain groaned a little in annoyance.

"Oh, I don't know," he replied tiredly. "Why?"

"I was just asking," Kalda muttered, crossing her arms. "No harm in that, right?"

"Well, I wouldn't mind having it with you," he answered, and Kalda could hear the blush in his voice as he hid his red face behind the newspaper again.

"Ha, ha," she giggled. "I wouldn't mind having it with you, either, but what about America's Christmas party?"

"You want to go to that party, too?" Britain asked, astonished. "Even after what had happened the last time?"

"It's a Christmas party though, right?" Kalda tried to reason out. "No one will get drunk wasted on Christmas, right?"

"It happened last year," Britain sighed. "And the year before that, and the year before that, and the year before that, and the year before-"

"I get it," Kalda flatly replied. "They get drunk on Christmas."

"I just don't want to have another outcome like the last time," he told her, and Kalda could tell that he was serious. "There's a lot of other people who would have done things that are a lot worse to you than what I did. You were lucky."

Kalda stayed silent, thinking through his words.

He's right, she thought. Prussia would have done something awful to me.

"Well, part of that was your fault, too," Kalda told him. "You got drunk when I had told you not to. I trusted you. I thought that you would be better than everyone else."

Britain sighed a little, knowing that she was right.

"You have a point there, I guess," he told her honestly.

"What's so important in the paper this morning?" Kalda asked, changing the subject again.

"Nothing much," Britain lied to her.

Nothing but Germany building up his army to destroy us all, he thought sarcastically.

"Okay," Kalda said, not wanting to push his lie. "Just was wondering."

Britain rolled his eyes as he looked down at his watch.

That was when he suddenly remembered that he had a Meeting to go to.

"Bollocks!" he cried as he grabbed his coat. "I'm late!"

"Late?" Kalda wondered, looking at him. "For what?"

"I was supposed to meet America for something," Britain lied again. "Watch the house for me, won't you Kalda?"

"I thought that you didn't trust me," she answered, standing in the doorway.

"Well," he sighed, "here's to firsts."

Kalda gave him a sullen look before she nodded and closed the door.

Britain got into his car and drove off to the airport, catching his plane just in time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Sorry, I'm so late!" Britain yelled as he crashed into the Meeting room, clearly out of breath. "I got here as fast as I could!"

"For once I am not late," Russia grinned.

Britain sighed, not wanting to be laughed at.

He wasn't used to being late, for he always took extra precautions to make sure that he arrived to every Meeting before everyone else.

"Too busy kissing my niece?" France smirked, and Britain immediately lost it.

"That's not what I was doing at all, Frog Face!" he yelled at him. "And you would dare to say that if you were spied on like we were!"

"Ouch," China cringed. "That was harsh."

Britain stayed silent, his eyes competing with France's eyes for dominance.

"One day," he started, still glaring at France, "I will slap you."

He sat down at that, not looking at anyone.

No one said a word, but Britain could feel their eyes on him.

"If all of you must know, I was reading the newspaper until I lost track of time," he admitted honestly, still upset. "There, all of you wanted the truth, so there you have it."

"No one asked, but okay," America awkwardly replied.

"While we are on topic of newspaper, what should we do about Germany?" Russia inquired. "Is becoming quite strong."

"I suggest that we fight back," China piped in.

"But how?" America wondered. "He's already got like...a hundred fleets."

"I can always get a group of my military to do a reconnaissance mission," Britain informed them. "I have a whole fleet of grounded bomber planes that are of no use to me right now."

"How do you have a whole fleet of bomber planes," France whined dramatically, "and why haven't you sent any to me when I have needed zhem zhe most?"

"Because one, I don't like you, and two, why don't you build your own planes?" Britain retorted. "I shouldn't be forced to build something and give it to you for your own use! That's not how this works."

"We are friends," Russia said quietly.

Britain sighed, exasperated.

"If you want a plane, then I guess that I could give you one," Britain reluctantly agreed, "but you follow my orders when you join my fleet, got it? I'm the General, here, so you have to obey me and whatever I say."

"Aye, aye Captain," France laughed, doing a salute to Britain.

"So, you have bomber planes?" America asked, looking impressed. "Can I hitch a ride, too?"

Britain groaned, banging his forehead on the table.

Maybe if I hit my head on this table hard enough I'll die? he wondered to himself.

"I suppose that all of you want a ride, huh?" he asked sarcastically.

The others looked serious, and Britain knew that he had lost.

"Ugh, fine," he agreed, wanting to die already.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I never thought that I'd be in a plane! This is so awesome!" America said through the com-link.

"Shut up, will you?" Britain begged hopelessly. "These rides are supposed to be quiet and enjoyable until the pilots reach their destinations."

"If I can add in one thing, Britain?" Russia cheerfully asked.

"Go ahead," Britain sighed. "The ride isn't very quiet or enjoyable anymore, anyway."

"Is there button to drop bombs out of?" Russia questioned.

"Actually, no," Britain told him. "There's a lever. Why?"

"I do not think plane possesses bombs anymore," Russia laughed, and Britain screamed.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL, RUSSIA?" he shrieked. "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY ANYTHING SOONER?"

"You said that you wanted to have quiet and enjoyable flight," Russia replied.

"Hmm," America hummed in thought, "I thought that I heard a loud boom in the distance a few miles back."

"UGH!" Britain screamed. "ALL OF YOU ARE NOT GRASPING THE SIMPLE CONCEPT OF FLYING IN A BLOODY AIRPLANE!"

"Calm down, Britain," France answered soothingly. "Zhey were just trying to have some fun."

"This wasn't supposed to be fun!" Britain replied. "This is a mission, remember? China, please back me up, here!"

"Don't come to me," China declined. "I'm trying to ignore you all. Besides, this was your idea to begin with."

"We're entering German territory," Britain stated firmly. "Please try to cooperate with me. Russia, keep an eye out. Since you don't have your cargo, I guess that you can be our lookout, now."

"Sure thing, Britain," Russia cheerfully agreed.

"On my count, the rest of us will pull our levers as soon as we get over Berlin," Britain instructed. "Got it?"

"Yes, sir!" the others answered.

"Alrighty, then," Britain shakily exhaled. "On my count."

The five men reached Berlin, Britain's right hand going to the lever while his left hand stayed on the wheel for the plane.

"Get ready," he said. "First position."

Britain took in a deep breath, exhaling again.

"Pull your levers," he told them.

Britain pulled his own lever as the hatch behind him visibly opened, dropping two bombs onto the city of Berlin below.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"I can't believe that he left me all alone!" Kalda ranted to herself.

She sighed as she turned up the radio a little more.

"At least I have the radio to keep me company," Kalda smiled, listening to the beautiful classical music that came through the speaker.

Suddenly, it stopped as static was heard.

"Sorry for the interruption, but we have just received word that Berlin, Germany has been bombed by British bomber planes," the news reporter announced.

Kalda gasped, listening for more.

"There were five planes, but only four dropped bombs," another news reporter spoke. "We suppose that the fifth plane was a Scout. We will keep you updated in case more bombings occur."

They signed off and the classical music came back on.

Kalda just shut the radio off completely, not feeling in the mood to listen to the music anymore.

"This...can't be," Kalda said to herself. "It...just can't be. Britain would never-"

Kalda sighed, falling to her knees.

"Oh, Britain would do that!" she concluded to herself, tears falling down her face. "Clearly, a war is going on, and he didn't even bother to tell me! And right before Christmas, too."

Kalda started to feel sick, thinking of how Germany must feel.

"Such a shame," Kalda told herself. "They didn't deserve that at all."

Kalda just stared at the ceiling, hoping that God could save her wretched world.

"Please, God," she prayed. "These people need a miracle."

And I do, too, Kalda thought to herself, putting her hands to her face as she started sobbing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Was zhat even necessary?" France yelled at Britain. "Zhey haven't even done anyzhing wrong! Do you want us to be viewed as zhe bad guys now?"

"At this point in time, I don't even know who's who anymore, either," China sighed.

"Well you agreed to do this, so you can just suck up the consequences like I will!" Britain snapped, upset. "You asked for this, not me!"

"Still didn't give us right to do this," Russia stated honestly. "What if Kalda finds out?"

Britain immediately started to freak out.

"I-I haven't thought that far yet," he stuttered. "She probably doesn't even know that it's us, anyway. The news reports will only say British bomber planes, not the pilots."

"Someone's gonna' get in trouble," America said in a sing-song tone.

"Like I said!" Britain told them. "You agreed to do this! I'm not the only one who is at fault here!"

"I hope zhat you do not make a habit of zhis, mon ami," France warned. "Ozherwise, someone is going to get hurt a lot worse zhan what happened today."

Britain sighed, knowing that France was right.

"You're right," he sighed. "I don't know how I'll tell Kalda about this. Heaven only knows what she's doing right now. Probably crying in a corner, I suppose."

"Yeah, but girls are weak," America scoffed. "They cry even when a bug dies."

"But Kalda is different," Britain replied. "She had the guts to sneak into our Meeting practically undetected. This situation would probably make her mad at me, and she's been mad at me once before. She trusts me more than anyone in the whole world. I can lie to her, but for how long?"

"Whoa, calm down!" China interrupted. "You're rambling like crazy!"

"Sorry," Britain nervously apologized. "I tend to do that when I'm nervous."

"Perhaps I can talk to her?" Russia suggested. "Will not know that I took part in this."

"That's actually a good idea," Britain agreed. "I just don't know what to do with her when I get home."

"Just apologize to her!" France complained. "Zhat's all zhere is to it! It's actually quite simple if you zhink about it."

"Well then why don't you come over and apologize for me?" Britain replied sarcastically. "If it's so easy, then you can do it!"

"Maybe I will!" France snapped.

"Fine!" Britain answered.

"Fine!" France replied.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Kalda," Britain called, "I'm back."

"Please tell me that you weren't a part of that Bombing Squad?" Kalda wailed, running up to Britain and taking the sides of his jacket into her hands.

"Calm down," he told her. "I wasn't."

"You must have gotten quite zhe scare," France sighed, being calm for once. "Are you all right, my little niece?"

Kalda sighed, wiping some tears from her eyes as she released her grip on Britain's jacket.

"I guess so," she replied, "but I was so worried for a second that you two were a part of that."

"We weren't," Britain assured her again. "Now go freshen up. I have some guests coming over."

Kalda nodded, running up the stairs to shower.

"See how hard it is?" Britain told France. "You couldn't even tell your own niece the truth."

"I could have if you weren't here," France snapped.

"Just come on," Britain sighed. "I need your help setting up for dinner."