Hey there :3 Well, I finally got myself to do something I thought about for years: Publish my first Fanfiction AND in English. I do this to improve my language skills because English isn't my native language. Therefore I apologize for any grammar or spelling mistakes. All reviews are welcome, help me improve ;) Just be nice, pretty please. I hope you like the first chapter.

~~oOo~~

Cold… he felt so cold… and alone. It had been raining for 2 weeks and the dark looming clouds that filled the sky didn't look like they were in the mood to stop already. Seven years… had it already been seven years since the war had ended? He still had a hard time believing that his people were free again, but nothing of it was his doing. On the contrary…

Now, he stood there at the edge of the forest in the pouring rain overlooking a fenced clearance which would soon become part of the new American Air-Base. Germany sighed and took a step back into the deep shadows of the trees. It took him not more than 10 minutes from the Base to the nearest German town. Ramstein used to be a charming small town and he had been here a few times during the war, mainly because of the improvised "Luftwaffe" base now used by America. Especially Italy used to love their stays in this valley surrounded by a forest which was said to inhabit magical bird-like creatures. Oh Italy, how he enjoyed the German fairytales and folklore. There it was again, the picture of the small Italian. His brown hair, this stubborn curl of his and his laughter, now echoing through Germanys head like a taunting record, remembering him of his failure. But he kept on walking. He couldn't cry, not anymore. Seven years of hiding, pain and sorrow had been enough. With his brother lost to Russia his nation needed him more than ever. He had to try at least.

~~oOo~~

Italy yawned and stretched before stepping into the rain. "Ve~ how is it even possible to rain that much in summer?" he said, turning to face his elder brother. "It's not my fault we are stuck here you bastard! It was your idea to help this American idiot, remember? Now move!"

The brothers were already soaked to the bone when they arrived at the newly restored main building of the future military base. "Heyyy dudes! Great day to back me up, isn't it?" The Americans wild blond hair was still damp from outside but he seemed energetic as always.

"Vee~?"

"You know I'm pretty busy here. Lots of important stuff to do… Paperwork, constructions, military stuff…"

"STOP BABBLING!"

"Uh, Romano. Don't yell. Ve~"

"Tell us what to do, bastard, so we can go back home. You know that funny place… WHERE IT IS NOT RAINING!"

"You're still yelling, fratello."

"Shut it, this is all your fault!"

"…"

"Ok, your task is to go into town and make friends with the people. Tell them I'm the hero who won the war. That's all. Easy-peasy."

America sat down behind an enormous desk covered in papers. He opened the first drawer and grabbed a hand full of sweets.

"That sounds fun. I've been here before with…"

Romano, not wanting his brother to start praising the potato eater again, quickly interrupted.

"If it's so easy, why don't you do it?"

"Well, dude I'm the hero and not the sidekick that's why. HAHAHAHA."

~~oOo~~

Germany walked down an empty street. "Hm, like a ghost town." Absently minded he slicked back his wet blond hair that fell into his eyes. At the end of the road there was an old two story building with a small stable beside it. It somehow reminded the German of the house he used to live in before he went into hiding. He wasn't sure how much time had passed while he had been standing there staring at the windows on the ground floor, remembering…

He sat on his couch a book in hand. It was already late and a busy day full of training lay behind them but now there was just silence only interrupted by the crackling of the fire in the fire-place.

"Ve~! German let's have Pasta for dinner!" The tall man closed his eyes. Well, maybe not only the crackling of fire. But that was alright. His full lips curved into a smile, which had become quite rare lately. "If you want to. But please don't make a mess!"But his Italian had already disappeared behind the kitchen door. His Italian… when exactly had Italy become his Italian?

Soon the living-room was filled with the aroma of Italy's favorite pasta.

"I said, can you hear me?" A loud voice brought Germany back to reality. There was a young man standing in the front door of the old house. He was tall, almost as tall as the blond nation himself, and had short brown hair. His face was dominated by rather large nose but he was still handsome in a rough way. "Of course I can hear you."

"I have never seen you around here. You're not from Ramstein. So why exactly are you standing there staring at my house. Can I help you with something?" The man's voice was rough like his features.

"I think I will stay here for a while. Do you know a place where I could sleep? I… I don't have any money, but I'm willing to work for everything."

"These are still hard times, aren't they? Well then, come inside. It's a huge house and I'm all by myself. I think I could use some help."

Germany gladly nodded and took a few steps towards the heavy-looking front door.

"Why are you limping? Are you hurt?" The young German's expressive brown eyes showed true concern.

"No, it's nothing. Just…" The nation hadn't even noticed that he started limping again. He started to feel the old pain again.

"A reminder of war, hm? I'm sorry, never mind just come inside. My name is Norbert Roth."

"Beilschmidt, Ludwig. Nice to meet you and thank you."

The men exchanged a quick shake of hands.

It had been ages since Germany had used his real name the last time. He followed Norbert into a spacious kitchen which was the room behind the window he had been staring at. On the kitchen table there was a half eaten meal of bread and Leberwurst.

"Take a seat. I'll be right back. I think there are still some clothes from my elder brothers in their old rooms. They should fit you." Norbert left the kitchen and soon after that Ludwig could hear the creaking of stairs.

He was still shivering from the cold and wet clothing but he couldn't sit down. His gaze drifted through the room until his eyes fixed on something familiar. Small spare parts for watches, a few alarm clocks and small screwdrivers were scattered on top of one kitchen counter. "Well, look at that: a watchmaker." On the wall above the heap of small parts he noticed a picture of a beautiful young woman, not older than 20. He reached out to caress the simple black frame.

"She's beautiful, isn't she? That's my girl and hopefully future wife, you know." The blond German jerked back in surprise. He hadn't heard Norbert return. And just a few years ago nobody had ever been able to sneak up on him.

"Ja, she is." A sudden wave of sadness washed trough him.

"Oh, I know that look of yours. Do you miss your girlfriend?"

"Well, it's complicated." Ludwig looked back at the picture and thought of a different pair of brown, almost golden, eyes.

"Isn't it always?" Norbert chuckled and handed him some pants and a washed out shirt. "This is all I've got."

The German nation gratefully took the clothes and headed for the door, the young man was pointing at. With his hand on the doorknob Ludwig turned around. "Why are you helping me? I'm a total stranger to you."

Norbert looked into these icy blue eyes of his new companion and answered: "You know my dad used to say: Tue Recht und scheue niemand! (rough translation: Do the right thing and let nobody stop you / don't be afraid of anybody) I think it is the right thing to do."

"Your father is an intelligent man. Where is he?"

"He died in the last days of war in a Nazi Prison. He was old, you know."

Germany felt a tension coming to his shoulders. "Why was he in prison?"

The young German just looked him in the eyes for a few seconds before responding: "He refused to hoist the flag of Nazi-Germany in our front yard."

Ludwig only realized that he had closed the door of the small storage room behind him when there was nothing but darkness around him. Strangely he felt absolutely nothing but a single tear rolling down his cheek.

Yet another good man who had died because of his weakness.

~~oOo~~

Italy sat down on a bench on the tiny marketplace in the center of town. There was a cute little fountain in the middle of it. It was called "the Cat Fountain". Germany had told him the story behind the name on their first stay, but he couldn't remember the words. There was still rain dripping on his head. He had no idea why, but he had had the feeling that Germany would come to inspect the new American Air Base, so he agreed to help America and come over. Nobody had seen Germany for over 7 years. France and Russia even said him to be dead. He… he can't be…

"Ve ~ Why Germany? I was so sure that you would be here. Back then you send me away but I never got the chance to say Goodbye to you." Murmured the young Italian. Ever so slightly he touched his lips with his finger tips. "Or got the chance to give you a last kiss."

That was when the first sob forced its way out of his mouth. He let the tears flow and curled up to a shivering, crying ball on this cold park bench. "Don't be dead… please."

Consumed in his sorrow he didn't notice the dark figure standing in the shadows at the other side of the market place. Smirking…