A/N: Holy crap, it's another multichapter! Don't expect anything super grand, though. It'll probably be less than ten chapters in all. This story was inspired by the scene from Toy Story III when Buzz is "reset" and morphs back into his "Space Ranger" mode. It should be noted that I started working on this while I was still writing Guardian, but the falling down the stairs was actually a seperate thought - Tumble Through Time is the story mentioned in the Bonus Chapter. This would be the third story I've written that involves an unfortunate meeting between Ludwig and a staircase, but one of those stories was written for a Prussia RP diary that I put together as a cosplay prop. Apparently, stairs and Germans do not mix. Now, without further ado... the story!

Summary:

It all began with a fateful tumble (mostly at the fault of his elder brother) that sent Ludwig slipping back in time to an era of mounting tension and strict militancy.

Contains some GerIta.

Chapter 1

"Gilbert!" The call echoed suddenly through the house, ringing with thinly veiled annoyance. "Gilbert, where is my brief? The meeting is in less than an hour and I was supposed to be on the train thirteen minutes ago!"

From his position on the couch, the albino rolled his eyes, absently flipping through the painfully long-winded document. "I dunno. Is it the fifty page bore-fest on some EU shit?"

"Goddamn it, Gilbert!" Heavy footsteps overhead accompanied the roar of fury.

The elder chuckled, tossing the thick sheaf onto the coffee table. Up above, his brother's pace quickened. At any second, Ludwig would be flying down the stairs to reclaim his brief and possibly throttle the basement-dwelling freeloader to death. Then, the young German's progress ground to a mysterious halt. Gilbert was just able to hear a garbled cry of, "Berlitz!" before the heart –stopping noise of a body thudding down a flight of stairs reached his pale ears.

West.

"West!" He launched himself from the couch in a heartbeat, racing to the bottom of the staircase. "Holy shit, are you okay?"

The answer became apparent when his brother came into view sprawled awkwardly across the floor. His forehead was split and dripping onto the one-spotless cement, and his eyes were rolled up in his head. Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Berlitz wagged sheepishly.

"Shit… shit!" Gilbert slapped the blond across the face, watching as his head lolled weakly to the side. "C'mon, West, talk to me!"

Pale lashes fluttered. "Bruder?"

"Ah, Jesus Christ! You're alive!"

"Get off of me." Ludwig frowned sharply, shrugging away his brother's overly relieved embrace. Clutching his still-bleeding brow, he blinked at the other male. "What the hell are you wearing?"

For a moment, the albino wondered if he'd rolled out of bed without his pajamas again. A quick downward glance told him otherwise.

"Uh, jeans? Stuff, y'know?" He raised an eyebrow to his brother's inquiry. "What the hell'd you think I've be wearing? I'm not going anywhere."

"We have a meeting in…" The young German consulted his watch, a hand-wound relic from the earlier half of the twentieth century. "Ach! Forty-five minutes!"

He fairly leapt to his feet, nearly stumbling into a wall as he did. Gilbert caught him deftly.

"The hell is this 'we' stuff? I haven't gone to a meeting in ages."

"But…" Stony blue eyes flickered in confusion. "You said you would continue to aid me in the war effort, I mean, despite your recent abolition…"

A sour flavor flooded the ex-nation's senses. "War effort?"

"Ja, natürlich."

"West," Gilbert rested a steady hand on his brother's broad shoulder. "We haven't been at war since 1945."

Ludwig had allowed his brother to drive on this rare occasion, partially due to his possible concussion as a result of having tripped over the dog and falling head first down the stairs. Well, that and the fact that the vehicle (so misleadingly marked with the familiar "VW") was almost completely alien to him. Luckily – or perhaps unluckily – Gilbert seemed quite familiar with the magnificent glowing dials and flashing displays.

Apparently he had been thrown forward in time by a span of approximately seventy-two years. His people were not (according to his rather recently disbanded and very possibly mentally unstable brother) led by Adolf Hitler, nor were they seeking German expansion or revenge on Europe. In fact, it seemed as though the continent was in a state of relative pace. He grunted. The world was never at peace, and so long as humans reigned supreme, war would always be looming on the horizon.

If asked, Gilbert would reason that he was a tough, courageous guy who wasn't all too frightened of anything. His little brother's current behavior, however, was scaring him shitless. The whole seven minutes it had taken to get the blond into the car (something with which he'd been entirely mesmerized), he'd been praying that he wouldn't try to sieg heil the neighbor. This was another reason they were driving to Italy rather than travelling publicly: Ludwig had spent the better part of the last seventy-some years trying to escape the demons of the past, and this recent development was a surefire way to undo all of it.

The older male could sense the rage boiling over in the other's hard, glacial stare. He hadn't seen so much bitter loathing in those familiar eyes for a long time, and he wished not to see it now. A chill crept down his spine.

"Eh, so…" he coughed nervously in an attempt to draw the younger nation's attention away from whatever dangerous, angry thoughts he might have been having. "The meeting's at Feli's place?"

"Yes."

"Then do me a favor, 'kay?" Gilbert leaned into a turn as he took a corner a tad too quickly. "Don't talk about the war with him."

"Why not?" The confusion was obvious in his voice and he raised a brow to his brother. "We're allies."

He shook his head wearily. "You were allies, West. Now you're just…"

Words failed and he left Ludwig to wonder exactly what he and the Italian were to each other. Gilbert was afraid to say "in love".

Note: In case math failed you as you read this, Ludwig was "pulled" from the year 1939... preferably the early summer. Germany has made the Pact of Steel with Italy, but has not yet invaded Poland.