Hello, everyone. This is what I meant when I said I was making new fics (see "The Darkness Within" fic, written by me). This one is another Germancest. It starts off based on a scene from Episode 1. Enjoy and please, please review!

Also please forgive me for not updating. Please check my profile for more information… I will update as soon as possible on some of my fics! Danke for your help!

We find ourselves in the present, long after World War I and II, Adolf Hitler's time, the Berlin Wall, or any such matter that had once shaken the world into a state of terror and death. Time passed, small wars erupted in some countries, all eventually passing, all in the past. Then the first World Meeting was carried out, although it little helped to unite the world in peace. In fact, it seemed to serve to the nations as more of a convenient place to argue with one another.

The second World Meeting, it must be said, was not much different from the first. Or any more useful altogether.

"We should design a huge hero to protect the earth from global warmi—" America was halfway through his sentence, the same idea he had been clinging on to since the last meeting, before the rest of the countries were pouncing upon his remark.

"What a stupid idea!" Turkey yelled, not at all afraid to express his opinion, whether it was cruel or not. He apparently had forgotten that he no longer owned a large, powerful empire and that he now lacked the control over other countries that he once had, as well as momentarily losing his talent for speech.

"I agree with Mr. Amer—" Honda Kiku tried to speak loudly, attempting to as usual give in to all of Alfred's demands, but was drowned out by all the others and finally he gave up, lowering his head and staring down at his notes in surrender, feeling nearly as invisible as Canada.

Again Switzerland was pounding his hand upon the oak table and shouting furiously that he refused to follow such a preposterous plan, or any plan belonging to anyone other than himself for that matter, and his little sister Liechenstein clutched his hand, nodding her head to whatever Vash had to say for himself.

"What a ridiculous idea! I say! What a ridiculous idea!" stormed Arthur Kirkland, sipping his tea in an infuriated manner. "I will not follow such a stupid plan, Alfred! Will you be quiet for once and perhaps make some sense while you're at it?"

Near the end of the table Greece sat, his eyelids drooping as he watched the others quarrel over the proposed idea as he slowly ran his slender fingers through the fur of a small, light-gray haired kitten that he had somehow smuggled into the meeting room. He took all this fighting to be rather tedious, and already he was finding himself drifting off, and the next thing Kiku knew Heracles' head was resting on his arm. Of course, Kiku was rather embaressed by this, but was much too polite to simply shake the other man awake or move his head, so he sat, flushing and trying to relax.

Poland finally managed to stop gossiping about Russia to Lithuania to laugh at Heracles and Kiku and immediately after he began to chortle at the pair of them all of hell was unleashed in the meeting room.

Gilbert Beilschmidt chuckled to himself at this sight, leaning back on his chair's back legs and putting his black leather boots on the table's speckless surface, not caring that Arthur had now turned to him and was screaming at him who seemed not to care what any other country thought of his racket. And indeed they too did not care either, for they were occupied with jeering at one another and making the most foolish remarks.

"Prussia! You damn bastard, can't you even sit politely at a meeting? You're even worse than Alfred! Sit up like a soldier and do some good to remain unnoticed in this kind of enviroment!" shrieked Arthur as Gilbert yawned, not listening to a word the other cared to utter.

All this was quite normal in the World Meeting, of course, if not even less chaotic than usual. At least Gilbert thought it was normal… until he noticed that Germany wasn't shouting at him.

At first this fact did not exactly register in Gilbert's shallow mind—he simply thought it and didn't even know what it meant until the entire idea hit him at full force. Taking this as a cue, Gilbert glanced to the side and saw his brother sitting beside him, looking sick to his stomach and gripping the arms of his chair tightly.

Ludwig's face was pale. Very pale, almost white. His face was fixed with a most poignant expression of fear, even, and there was not even a flash of anger to be seen in those blue orbs.

"Oi, West… are you okay…?" Gilbert let his chair fall to the ground on all four legs, not even noticing that England had turned red with rage in the face at this, and he pulled his chair closer to the German's own seat. "West… I've never seen you so white. What's wrong with you? The awesome me is too much for you to put up with?"

He cackled to himself at his own remark but fell silent almost immediately when he became aware that Ludwig was not even scolding him for his behaviour as he would've in any given case.

This was definitely not normal. Everything about Ludwig was out of place—at this point he would've stood and began to scream at all the other nations and start ordering everyone around him. No, it was rather that all of Ludwig's traits that made him the army general he was had somehow lost their effect.

"West! Seriously, what's wrong with you?" Gilbert shook his little brother's shoulders worriedly. "You look terrible! Do you need get some air? Or go home? … are you going to answer me or not!"

Ludwig's eyes were clouded with fear, and he seemed to be frightened terribly… but by what? Gilbert took his brother's hand and noticed that the other man was trembling uncontrollably, his breath coming out shaky.

"Come on! Ludwig!" He found himself using the boy's human name for the first time since his childhood, "I'm getting you out of here! You could be sick! Sta-stand up…! I'll get you out!"

With that he managed to convince Ludwig to stand, shuddering, and Gilbert stood and began to tug his brother towards the door; but as they approached a crowd of countries observing Alfred's plans, Ludwig jerked back, trying to pull his hand from Gilbert's in a fearful manner, but the Prussian shook his head, pulling the German around the group. Ludwig, however, continued to struggle as Gilbert pulled him through the various groups of peoples.

As they stepped out the door, Gilbert quietly swung the door shut—then grabbed Ludwig by the shoulders and slammed the younger one against the wall angrily.

"WEST! WHAT WAS THAT ALL ABOUT? ARE YOU PLAIN GONE STUPID OR—oh... no, Ludwig, listen, I didn't mean it that way… no, don't cry, please! Godverdammt, what's wrong with you today, West? You-you're acting like a child! Talk about strange!"

It would've originally been a comic scene for Gilbert to see his little brother Ludwig in such an awful predicament as he was at that moment, but somehow it didn't appear exactly humourous to Gilbert, as much as he had always thought it would. The poor boy was slumping against the wall, tears slipping from his eyes, which he had shut tightly, unable to endure it much longer, and Gilbert lowered him onto one knee to observe his little brother, a feeling of guilt rising in his chest. He really hadn't meant to treat Ludwig so violently, but the blonde had been acting so strangely that Gilbert really hadn't known how to react.

"Ludwig, listen, I'm sorry… I just got out of hand, okay? I didn't know why you were… acting that way…" The albino shook his head regrettably as he moved to sit down against the wall with Ludwig, sighing heavily. "Really… why were you being like that? It's not you… oh, come on and stop crying… be like a man…"

To Gilbert it seemed that Ludwig had suddenly become a young child again, lost and helpless, and the Prussian could not help but put an arm around Ludwig's shoulders, holding him sympathetically. But what Ludwig said next sent him into a state of surprise and confusion.

"G-Gilbert…" Germany was sobbing. "Please… t-take me away from th-this place… I can't stand i-it here… please! Please, Gilbert! I'm so… so afraid… of them…"

"L-Ludwig! Who's them? What are you talking about? You have to tell me or… or I can't help you…"

"Gilbert, I don't… I d-don't know… it just happened to me… I don't kn-know why, or how, but… oh Gott, what is happening to me now? Tell me, G-Gilbert, please tell me what's going on with me…"

Ludwig was clutching at his brother's jacket, crying silently, begging him… Gilbert couldn't stand it any longer, to see his little brother in such pain, such fear. It was unbearable.

"Come on now, Ludwig… we're getting you back to your house… and we're going to find out what's wrong with you," guarenteed Gilbert as he helped Ludwig to his feet. "Don't fall apart now, Ludwig. We'll help you… I promise."

In the car Ludwig was dreadfully quiet. It frightened Gilbert to see Ludwig so still, so taken over. As he drove towards the exit of the freeway, he at last gained the courage to say, "… Ludwig… do you want to tell me what's wrong?"

He hadn't dared to bring it up for the past hour or so that they had been on the road for fear that Ludwig would suddenly become himself once more and smack him on the head for being such a dolt as to leave the meeting without so much as informing one of the other countries.

Ludwig was silent. Gibert waited for a few minutes, then he heaved another sigh. "Fine, then you can tell me when we get home. Okay?"

Still Ludwig did not utter the slightest sound. Gilbert scoffed and turned his attention to the streets of Berlin, which they were now traversing. But he knew, somehow, that Ludwig would not say anything to him on the subject.

And Gilbert turned out to be right, for the first time since he could remember. The moment they got into the house, Ludwig had sprinted up the stairs without any warning and dashed into his room, and the next second there was the click of a lock as Ludwig prepared to shut himself into his room for the next 24 hours.

Gilbert made his way to the couch and sat down wearily, stretching across the leather in exhaustion.

What a day it had been. And he was not looking forward to having any others like this one.

The next day Gilbert somehow gathered the strength, after washing the dishes and vacuuming the rug (more or less doing all of Ludwig's chores since the German hadn't emerged from his room for a day), to climb up the stairs to call through the door, "Ludwig! When are you getting out of there?"

"Never!" was the unexpected response.

Gilbert stiffened at receiving an answer. He had tried, countless times before, to get Ludwig to speak to him throughout the past day. He had gotten no evidence that Ludwig was still healthy and alive but this was the first time Ludwig had shown any sign of not being dead.

"You get the hell out of there before I knock this door down, Ludwig!"

"I-I can't! You don't understand!" And after a while of speculating Ludwig hastily added, "And don't you dare knock my door down!"

"Why the hell should I care about your door, Ludwig? You can get it fixed! What's the problem with that?"

Ludwig, on the other side, gritted his teeth with irritation. "You know that we're in an economic situation!"

"I don't care, Ludwig!" Gilbert banged a fist against the door—and then it all poured out. All his emotions, his feeling that he'd always kept inside. "Ludwig! Open this door! I don't care how much this door costs! You know why, Ludwig? Because you're more important to me than some damn door!"

For a moment there was no communication from Ludwig, and Gilbert wondered whether he'd gone too far, maybe used too many curse words or told the boy more than he had wanted to hear, but then all his fears dissolved.

"W-what… did you… what d-did you say…?" Ludwig's voice was a hushed whisper, but Gilbert heard it.

"Did you hear me, West?" He lowered his voice. "You're more important to me than anything. I love you, Ludwig, and I'd do anything for you. Do you hear me, Ludwig? I love you. Nothing's going to change about it, because even if China or Russia or America… or even the world threatened war against you… I wouldn't leave you. And if I wouldn't leave you then, I wouldn't leave you now. Or ever. Listen to me and understand, Ludwig… I love you. You're my bruder, and that will never change."

Ludwig took some time to comprehend all this. "D-do you really… care about me that much?"

Gilbert shook his head tiredly. "You know that. Of course I care about you. Do you need to hear it all again?"

There was no reply. But then the door opened, and Ludwig stood before him, and Gilbert exhaled deeply, relieved. His brother was a mess—his shirt was rumpled, as if he had slept in it, he wore nothing other than the shirt than boxers, and his eyes were tired and dull, wandering dazedly about the room—but nevertheless he was safe and healthy.

Gilbert pushed past the blonde and made his way into the room and sat down on the bed, motioning to Ludwig to shut and lock the door before he came back to sit with his older brother.

"Now… please… I need you to tell me… what happened in there yesterday? I want to help you… you know that."

Ludwig's shoulders sagged, he lowered his head shamefully. "I… I don't even know what happened myself."

"That's alright," assured Gilbert, putting his hand on Ludwig's comfortingly. "Just start from the beginning."

"I… I'll try… but… Gilbert, I think… I think I know what's going on. I-I just walked into that meeting—and it was like I'd walked into hell or something… but I instantly… I froze. It was as if…" Ludwig trailed off there and stared at the wall, unable to face Gilbert, afraid that Gilbert would judge him according to all that he had said.

"… Ludwig. Tell me, what was it that…" Gilbert tried to choose his words carefully. "What was it that scared you so much?"

"… Gilbert… please don't tell anyone." Ludwig inhaled anxiously. "Gilbert… it wasn't a thing that frightened me. It was… it's even worse. What scared me… was all the other countries. Just seeing them, seeing how different they are… how unlike us they are… made me terrified of them."

Gilbert stared at Ludwig for a few seconds, not knowing what to think. Then it all occurred to him at once. It was all so clear now, it made so much sense to him. Now he understood everything.

"Ludwig! You mean to say that you're… that… th-that you're—"

"Ja, Gilbert. I can't keep it from you anymore. I think… that I'm xenophobic." And immediately the German man burst out into tears. "G-Gilbert, I knew it yesterday, when I was sitting in that room! I figured it out, but… I'm so sorry, I'm sorry tha-that I didn't tell you! I know it now, I know that I can't be there anymore! I can never go to another meeting anymore; I probably won't even be able to go out of my own country!"

Gilbert was shocked, he had no idea how to answer to that as Ludwig cried in his arms, and now he fully became aware of what danger this disease was to Ludwig. There had been so many things for Ludwig to do, so many meetings, so many battles, economic problems—and now, this illness that plagued him could as well ruin his country.

He understood how much Ludwig had been to his country, how hard he had worked. And now he could no longer complete any of his responsibilities.

And how the hell in the first place did Ludwig turn out to be xenophobic anyways! But then Gilbert realized that lately the man hadn't been himself. He had refused all visits from Feliciano or Kiku, he had even ignored the invitation Ivan had sent to offer lodgings at his house for a week to discuss peace treaties.

And Gilbert knew now how much he had depended on all of Ludwig's toiling and hard work, and how much he had depended on Ludwig himself. It all made sense to him—and he suddenly was aware of just how much he loved his brother… perhaps… perhaps too much… and he abruptly felt an desire that had been building up inside him, piece by piece, over the years he had spent with Ludwig.

"Well, bruder… if you can't have anyone else… if you're going to be lonely for the rest of your life… you'll always have me."

And somehow, as if by impulse, as if he couldn't control himself, Gilbert pushed his hand—slowly—deep into Ludwig's shirt, relaxing at the feeling of the warm skin; he knew he was addicted to the sensation of it now.

Ludwig gave a sharp gasp at this unanticipated action and demanded, "Wait. Bru-bruder… what are you doing? Gilbert—bitte—stop, please! Do-don't touch me li-like that…!"

Ludwig tried struggling against Gilbert, but it seemed to him that he had forgotten just how strong Gilbert truly was—either that or it was just that he was too weak from the day before.

"If you wanted me to stop…" Gilbert whispered quietly, seductively, into his ear, "you would have stopped me… long ago…"

His brother was right. Ludwig trembled anticipatingly as Gilbert leisurely took his time, slowly unbuttoning his shirt until he was able to pull the unneeded article of clothing off his little sibling.

"Oh… it's only now… that I know how much I love you, Ludwig…"

Ludwig's eyes widened—Gilbert pushed him onto his back onto the blankets as trailed his tongue across the boy's pale chest, enjoying the sweet taste of Ludwig's smooth skin, and Ludwig jerked uncontrollably with alarm as the other took his erected nipple between his teeth, teasing him. Gilbert ran his tongue across the nipple, watching Ludwig shudder with pleasure before turning his attention to the German's boxers, which by now was irking him tremendously. He smirked, liking the way Ludwig shivered as he pulled the underwear off.

At this point Ludwig had surely gone mad, in his own mind—driven with an uncontrollable wanting, he began to pull Gilbert's clothes off, and it would be unfair to say that Gilbert did not aid him in this. Soon they both were entirely unclothed, and Gilbert forced his younger brother against the headboard.

"Ludwig… I want to ask you before I go any further… are you sure… are you sure… that you want to carry out with this…? I don't want to… to force you into any of this."

Gilbert fixed his gaze on his brother intently, hoping for a "yes". But this was one thing he could not guarentee Ludwig would agree to.

Ludwig might have agreed to all of Hitler's infernal plans, he might have accepted all the torture he had to inflict upon six million people during World War II, and he might have at that time been a ruthless man, but there was one thing that Gilbert knew about Ludwig.

Ludwig was a holy man, and if he was not quite holy he was a good man. And did good men do such things? As to give in to having intercourse with other men?

Ludwig swallowed nervously and backed away slightly from Gilbert, staring into those red eyes—those beautiful, ethereal, ruby eyes—in a state of utter befuddlement. Then it all suddenly became… real. One moment it had seemed that this was only a dream, a state of mind that had taken him to hallucination, but in the next he realized what he was doing—lying in bed, naked, with his older brother on top of him. And abruptly he began to struggle once more, to try to escape.

Oh, God… I'm a Christian… how can I be doing this? And with my brother, no less!

It was haunting him, the thought of it, the very fact that he, of all people, was contributing to such a vulgar, senseless behaviour—an act that was surely against God! This was, no doubt, a one way ticket to hell…

"N-nein! Gilbert… please don't do this… stop it… I can't do it!" He nearly screamed the words; "I can't do it! Please don't do this to me… or t-to yourself…!"

And he broke down into tears again, not knowing if there was any end to the torture, the sadness.

"… bruder…" Gilbert drew back, disappointed, but nevertheless he respected his brother's wishes. "If that's what you want… I won't object. I'm sorry, I'm sorry I put you through all this…"

He bent over to pick up his clothing, and, redressing himself quickly, he mumbled, "Forgive me…" and then stepped hastily out of the room, shutting the door.

And everything became reality, everything was vivid in his mind—what a terrible, terrible thing he had done! And to his little brother! He could have never, never imagine himself in that position… to be the one commiting the sin!

Gilbert's knees were shaking—cold shudders shook his body, and he collapsed to his knees on the floor outside Ludwig's room, weeping sorrowfully.

"Ludwig… I'm so sorry… can you ever… f-forgive me…?"

He was asking the question more to himself though than to Ludwig. And at the same time Ludwig, locked in his room, cried. For he knew that he loved Gilbert in just the same way that Gilbert loved him.

With an addiction. And with an obsession.

Oh ho, I hope you enjoyed what goes on in my stupid imagination. And bitte means "please" in German, just a little something I wanted to add. Adios! And remember, reviews are love =3. I planned for this to be the end, but it anyone wants it continued, just ask. I'll be fine with continuing it, but if you like the sad ending that's okay. Thank you!