9 November 1989

Local time, 8:00pm

East Berlin

Something was happening.

Gilbert could feel something happening. He could feel it in his head, buzzing with voices and feelings and hope. He could feel it in his heart, that was swelled to the brim with the emotions and longing of his people.

He had felt this before. It was a feeling that was unique to nations - a feeling when a country grows, wins a war, gains independence, or changes so radically that history is forever changed. But this time was different. This wasn't winning a war, or gaining independence, this was all of that, and then some, this was a quest for freedom, in its purest and rawest form.

"Let us out! Let us out!" They had chanted.

His people had been protesting. His poor, oppressed, exhausted, frustrated, fed-up people were protesting. Had been protesting, for months. Several nights ago he was with them. Alexanderplatz had been stuffed with protesters, half a million strong that night. Gilbert supposed that they felt the tides of history were changing as well.

Something was happening.

On this night, on the ninth of November, Gilbert was not out protesting. He was in his apartment, lonely and cold and laying on the couch trying to fight a wave of nausea that probably stemmed from that feeling, either that or the questionable canned dinner he had eaten earlier.

Suddenly the door burst open and into his apartment ran a familiar and surprising face - Elizaveta. She looked out of breath, and seemed surprised to even see Gilbert. "Have you heard the news?"

"What news?" Gilbert mumbled, perking his head up. He was surprised to see Elizaveta there, but not enough for alarm - she came around often, usually sporting beer and a host of complaints about her government. But this night was different. He could feel it. They both could.

"Is something happening?"

Local time, 10:43pm

West Berlin

"…Right, right…I'll be returning to Bonn shortly, yes. I'm only here for a few days for business - no, it has nothing to do with your department…that's classified information…"

Ludwig hated it when his bosses would insist on checking up on him. Every time he even stepped foot outside of his capital city of Bonn, they would constantly wire him, or call whatever hotel he had tried to escape to. It was especially bad whenever he went to his residence in Berlin. It used to be a large home fit for two, but had now downsized since he only spent some of his time there, and when he did, it was by himself. Just like tonight.

One of his bosses rambled on about proper procedure, or something of that nature, while Ludwig stood in his living room, watched the nightly television idly. A football match had just ended, and the nightly news was on.

Tonight's breaking news: "This ninth of November is a historic day….East Germany has announced that, starting immediately, its borders are open to everyone."

Ludwig froze in his spot and stared at the screen. The news programme cut to a press conference just hours before, and he watched Guenter Schabowski, spokesperson of the East German Politburo, stumble his way through a press conference and a question about East German travel regulations. "Exit via border crossings…possible for every citizen…" Someone asked when the changes in travel regulations take effect. "Immediately, right away."

The phone slipped out of Ludwig's hand and fell to the floor. Border crossings open? for every citizen? Right away? That meant…

His eyes slid over to the window, where in the daytime you could see the Berlin Wall. He heard a voice coming from the distance, and realized that it was from the telephone, laying on the floor.

"Hello? Ludwig? Are you still there? Hello?"

Ludwig reached down and picked up the receiver. "I'm going to call you back," he lied, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. This feeling…

"Something is happening."

Local Time, 11:00pm
East Berlin, Bornholmer Street

"Open the gate! Open the gate!" Everyone knew at this point. Everyone who knew someone who knew someone who had a television who even glanced outside of their house knew at this point.

People had swelled to the Bornholmer Street checkpoint after watching the announcement on Western Television, demanding that they open the gates and let the people through. That's what Schabowski had said! Effective immediately! They had watched it on the television!

The border guards would not let them through. The police were called in, announcing over loudspeaker that it was not that simple to just go through. But still people came, still people demanded to go to freedom.

"You okay?" Elizaveta held onto Gilbert's arm. They were there, in the midst of the crowds. They had been there for two hours, with the growing swell of people. Some were going through, some weren't. There was so much confusion, so many people, and it made Gilbert dizzy.

"I'm fine," he said with a small smile. "We're going to go through. I know it. It's happening."

A cheer from further up in the crowd, close to the checkpoint. "The gates are open! The gates are open!"

The two nations held onto each other as they were streamlined close to the checkpoint to avoid being separated and they went through. They passed the checkpoint, and when they did, that feeling that Gilbert had came at an apex - enough for him to almost empty his stomach right then and there - but it passed the moment that he stepped foot in the West.

That feeling flatlined and then dissipated. Not because it was over, but because everything for the past several months, years, decades - had all come to this. He hadn't stepped foot in West Berlin in 40 years. He hd almost forgotten what it looked like. Almost.

He looked next to him to speak to Elizaveta and found her gone. He was all alone, with people rushing past him, cheering wildly.

Somehow this is how it always was.

He called for his companion, but there was nothing. So, instead, he began to walk, through the crowds of people, through the cheers, through the suffocating feeling of joy and disbelief.

He tried not to look for familiar faces, to just relish the moment and the fact that he was /on the other side/ when just a year ago they had told him that he would be cut off for another 50 or even 100 years.

Someone next to him grabbed his arm in joy. "They opened the gates! I can see my sister! I can't believe they opened the gates!"

Gilbert was initially surprised by being jostled so suddenly, but smiled nonetheless.

"It finally happened."

Local time, 11:45pm

West Berlin, Bornholmer Street

Somehow, Ludwig knew where to go. There were dozens of checkpoints being breached all around the city, but he knew, somehow, that he needed to be at Bornholmer Street. That was what his heart was telling him.

Berlin was, even when divided into two or four and even cut off from the rest of the world, his heart. He could feel when it despaired, when it was damaged, and when it was overjoyed, and he could feel when something was happening. He felt that now, on that night, and he had felt it for several months. It had drawn him to suddenly leave the safe borders of West Germany and venture through enemy territory to the place he would always call home.

It drew him out of his apartment that night, and it drew him to run, not walk, but run to Bornholmer Street.

He shared his heart with one other individual. An individual who had built this damned city from the ground up and shown him everything it could offer, who had cherished every street corner and decrepit alleyway and every building and every man, woman, child, and living creature that breathed within its borders. An individual who could also feel all that he felt, and probably even more.

An individual that he had not seen nor heard from in decades.

The street was buzzing when Ludwig rushed in. People were coming through in droves, cheering, laughing, celebrating, crying, and it was almost too much for Ludwig to handle, because he could feel it all, and he felt like his heart was going to explode-

Ludwig stopped short. There, in the crowd — Gilbert.

Wearing a tattered coat that wasn't even buttoned up, and a faded beanie, looking around the scene, seeming a bit lost and overwhelmed.

The blond opened his mouth to call for his brother, but his name remained lodged in his throat. He couldn't. He just couldn't. Suddenly he was removed from the scene; He was back in time, in February of 1947, in an interrogation room, alone with Gilbert.

This was the last time he had seen him.

He remembered how haggard and tired Gilbert had learned then. That was the day that Gilbert learned there would be no more Prussia, and the day that he would be shoved haphazardly into the role of "East Germany" to avoid - what he said - a dignified death.

He remembered the silent rage that pulsed underneath his skin. He remembered his hands shaking underneath black gloves, and he remembered all of that - anger, frustration, grief - all being directed at him.

"Prussia will not be reinstated. They blamed me for the war," Gilbert had said. "They said it was my fault." He remembered that, and it struck like lightening to his core. A world without Prussia? How could that be?

"What? The war? No, Gilbert, it wasn't your-"

"I know that," Gilbert had snapped, slamming his hand down on the table. Something had lit up in his eyes. A fire - an angry fire. "You think I don't fucking know? When my cities and lands were destroyed, when my people were slaughtered, when my legacy was destroyed? You think I didn't see this coming?!"

Never had Ludwig ever seen Gilbert so enraged. Above everything they had been through, above all their years of winning and losing wars, Ludwig had never seen Gilbert in such a way - and in that moment, perhaps for the first time ever, he had been afraid of his brother.

"I gave you everything." Gilbert's words were venom. Ludwig remembered the scene like reliving a sharp pain. "Everything! I trusted you! My land, my nation, my people, my power! And you destroyed all of it! You left me with nothing!"

Gilbert had suddenly turned his head and made eye contact. Suddenly, Ludwig felt like retreating back to his apartment. He wasn't moving. He was just staring, a slightly panicked look in his eyes.

It was happening, right then, it was happening.

And some part of Ludwig didn't want it to.

Local time, 11:50pm

West Berlin, Bornholmer Street

Gilbert was still looking for Elizaveta and still trying to get ahold of his emotions when he saw a familiar, brawny figure that towered over so many others.

Ludwig.

Gilbert's blood ran cold and his body ceased moving. The one person that he had spent so much time trying not to think about - there he was. And he had noticed him, that was even worse.

Suddenly he was removed from the scene; He was back in time, in February of 1947, in an interrogation room, alone with Ludwig.

This was the last time he had seen him.

He was angry that day, so angry. Fed up and tired and he had just found out that the world would go on without Prussia. He had expected to die then, quickly and quietly and awarded a dignified death of a nation that had gone down fighting until the last breath. But that was not to be. They had told him that day that there would, in due time, be two Germanies. And he would be one of them.

He remembered his anger. He took it out on Ludwig - he said such vile, hateful things, because he didn't know what else to do. Gilbert knew that the war wasn't his brother's fault, he knew that Ludwig was just as relieved as he was when it was over. As much as they liked to pretend otherwise, nations had very little say over the course of their own histories.

They had argued. Or, rather, Gilbert had argued. Ludwig had never raised his voice once, and had taken every verbal lashing - perhaps that's what had made Gilbert even more upset. So he had turned to leave when he was spent, and Ludwig had asked where he was going. He could still remember his tone - he sounded like a child being abandoned.

"I'm leaving," he had said at the end of it, with an added spit at Ludwig's feet. "Before you destroy any more of me."

How ironic. Gilbert had left so he could become strong, so he could avoid his brother's toxic influence and put him to shame. And yet — yet, by the time that Gilbert realized that he did need Ludwig, that he would always need Ludwig, and that he was absolutely nothing without him, it was too late. The Berlin Wall had been erected, slicing clean through his heart, and any hope of salvation.

Here they were now, though. Ludwig was forty-something meters away from him after forty-something years of separation. And he couldn't move. He wanted to scream that he missed him, that he was here, now, and that he was sorry, that he was wrong, so wrong, for his accusations, for the things he had said—

Ludwig probably hated him. What was he even doing in Berlin, anyways? Bonn was where his capital was now. Not Berlin. Why was he here, this night, in Bornholmer Street, staring at him with such a longing expression? Why wasn't he angry?! Why wasn't he laughing at Gilbert, laughing at how useless Gilbert was, about how his country was so shitty it was just now breaking its bonds?

Someone had to say something. Someone had to do something, had to break the maddening tension, someone had to close the distance between them.

Gilbert took one step forward. A second later, he saw Ludwig do the same. Gilbert took another step. Ludwig took another.

Some part of Gilbert fantasized a running start, laughing and grinning, flying into Ludwig's arms, where they would embrace and kiss until they were breathless. That did not happen. It was a slow, steady progression towards one another, something akin to a death march.

Then, they reached one another.

Local time, 11:55pm

West Berlin, Bornholmer Street

Gilbert had always shown more courage than Ludwig in the face of adversary. He had always been the first to charge, the first to speak, the first to act. And now, he was the first to walk. They had been at a terrible standoff. Ludwig had no idea what was going through his brother's head. Did Gilbert hate him? After all, their last encounter…

The man was /at him/ now and staring up at him, a pained expression on his face. Gilbert opened his mouth to speak, and it took a few tries before something finally came out. "…I didn't expect to see you here." he finally said with a strained voice.

The words hurt. Perhaps Gilbert didn't mean for them to hurt, perhaps he did. It was hard to tell. Did his brother not want him here? He was trying to think, trying to rationalize this, however his heart was beating so fast in his chest that it was difficult to even hear himself think. "I knew something was happening," he choked out. Just looking at Gilbert, so close to him, made his mind almost crazy with emotion. "I wanted…to see you again."

Ludwig looked away for a moment, focusing on some part of the now useless Berlin Wall. This was it. He had finally seen his brother, after so long, after working so hard and it was this…

"Don't you hate me?" he heard Gilbert whisper.

It made Ludwig's head snap back to attention. There was so much emotion and pain behind his eyes, and they might have even been watering a little bit, and oh God was Gilbert about to cry?

"Why would I hate you?" the German finally said.

"Those things I said, when we last met, I said awful things and I didn't mean it, Ludwig, I didn't mean it, I was just angry, not at you but at the whole situation…" his voice faded off and he swallowed his emotions before finally saying, "So you don't…hate me?"

Ludwig shook his head, incredulous. "Gilbert I thought this entire time you hated me. The things you said and…you never came back and…all I wanted after that was to prove to you that…I wasn't a failure."

Both of them seemed to realize that they had been wrong about one another the entire time. Ludwig watched as Gilbert's lower lip quivered and he suddenly looked away, sniffling.

This, for some reason, caused Ludwig to smile, and he reached out, putting a gentle hand on his arm. "Are you crying?"

"NO," Gilbert said roughly, wiping his ears. "It's just…cold."

Hilariously bad excuse. But it opened things up between them a little bit more, and he slowly reached out and pulled his brother into a tight hug. "Then let me warm you."

Local time, 12:00am

West Berlin, Bornholmer Street

This was too much. Gilbert's brain was working so fast and so hard he was certain it would short-circuit at some point and just fry into a crisp, either that or melt and drip out of his ears. Ludwig didn't hate him? Not for all of the awful things he said, not for leaving him? He didn't blame him for putting a fucking wall up through his city?

He wasn't crying. He really wasn't. That was stupid. This whole thing was stupid. IT was stupid, and dumb, and idiotic, and it was something he had wanted, and prayed for, and been desperate for, and now…

Now Ludwig had his arms around him. It was so easy for him, wasn't it? He didn't have baggage. He didn't have forty years of guilt. He didn't have his lover's shattered face being the last thing he had ever seen of him. He didn't have the self-esteem to think that Ludwig would forgive him and worry about him and still love him, after all this time.

"You don't hate me?" Gilbert needed to hear it one more time. He gently put shaking arms up to hold onto Ludwig.

"No. Never."

Gilbert looked up at him then, wiping the undeniable tears from his cheeks. "Do you still love me?" That came out as nearly a whisper.

Ludwig seemed a bit choked up as well. He simply nodded.

"Say it!" Gilbert demanded, his emotions spilling out faster than he could catch them. "Say you love me!"

"I love you." Ludwig squeezed Gilbert before letting go and then grabbing his face, looking at him with renewed intensity. "I love you, Gilbert. I have never stopped loving you, after all this time, I still love you."

Gilbert grabbed his face too and nodded stiffly, swallowing a lump in his throat. "Good."

He then smashed their faces together in a desperate kiss.

It took Ludwig a few moments to react, however soon he kissed back enthusiastically, wrapping his arms around Gilbert again and lifting him up. Gilbert responded by quickly hugging his neck and instinctively wrapping his legs around his waist. Like muscle memory, even after all this time.

They parted after several minutes, breathless, hot breaths mingling with one another. "I love you," Gilbert whispered, pressing hsi forehead against Ludwig's. "I do love you. And I'm sorry, I'm so sorr-"

"Don't." Ludwig silenced him with another kiss. "Don't apologize. For anything. Ever. Just…be happy. Please, that's all I want. You're here, I'm here, that…stupid wall is obsolete and it will never come between us again, and nothing ever will, I swear I will do…the most irrational things if I ever have to go without you again."

Gilbert couldn't help but laugh. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment before reopening them and focusing on Ludwig's face. He was so stupidly handsome, with a determined look that Gilbert couldn't help but become weak-kneed over. Good thing that the man was still holding him firmly off the ground.

"Say you love me again. Please, I want to hear it - say you love me."

"I love you," Ludwig whispered.

"Say it again."

"I love you, Gilbert."

"And again!"

"I love you!" Ludwig kissed him fiercely, and then let go to kiss his cheeks, his neck, his forehead, his nose. "I love you, I love you, I love you," He said in between each kiss. It made Gilbert dizzy in only the most wonderful of ways. Ludwig readjusted his grip slightly and spun around without stopping his tirade. It made Gilbert laugh again.

When he stopped, and Gilbert's world stopped spinning again, he looked out onto the crowds. There, sitting on top of the wall, sat Elizaveta, smoking a cigarette and watching them intently. Slowly, he smiled at her. She gave him a thumbs-up in return. Somehow, Gilbert thought, she had known this would happen. Who knows, perhaps she orchestrated it all herself.

Ludwig set him down on the ground and held his hand. "We need to catch up," he said.

Gilbert glanced at him and smiled lightly. "I want to stay," he said. "Just for now…I just want to savour all of this." He gestured to the people around him.

So they did. They stayed for another hour, never leaving each other's side, never letting go of hands or arms (or butts, in one instanceAt the end of it, Ludwig carried Gilbert back to his apartment. He lay in the man's arms, eyes closed, arms firmly around his neck, cheek rested on his shoulder. Their ordeal was not over, Gilbert knew that. There was still so much to talk about, so much baggage to sort out, there was the future of both nations to consider, there were governments that needed to communicate with one another. All that would come later. In this moment, at half-one in the morning on November tenth, nineteen eighty-nine, there was only Gilbert, Ludwig, and two unified hearts.

A/N: So I wrote this in response to a kink-meme fill that I had no idea was actually about five years old. I saw it and realized that I actually had not written a reunification/Berlin Wall fic that I was satisfied with...so I decided to put all of my effort into doing so now. I tried my best to keep it as historically accurate as possible, down to the sequence of events and the hour that they occurred. I hope you like it!