Rate: T for historically sensitve content

Mainly about North and South Italy, mentions of GerIta.

Milano. 1945.

With a crashing sound, Lovino finally broke the door, yet just stopped there and sighed.

"So you are here." He didn't walk a step ahead, only stood with his arms folded, and stared at the shivering Feliciano who huddled up in a chair.

Feliciano didn't answer, nor did he move.

"Don't do useless things, Feli." Grasping his "Italian Resistenza" badge, Lovino drawled. "Mussolini's dead, his body is now hanging on display outside. People are spitting in him."

"What about him? Is he alright?..." Feliciano suddenly uttered, seems that he couldn't care less about the fate of the dictators, however...

"Him?! Oh, He...will end soon." Lovino understood what Feliciano meant instantly. "Here." Lovino grabbed a newspaper out of his bag, threw it to his twin brother. "Read it yourself."

"Soviet Army...Berlin..." With his hands tremblingly holding the newspaper, Feliciano carefully read it word by word. "God...This is horrible...completely...unreasonably..."

"Should I use the word 'karma'?" Lovino leaned his head, speaking with a dangerous voice.

"No! Those are two seperate crimes and you cannot..."

"Easy boy! Look at you. You are too overreacted with an interrogative sentence, poor little internationalist. Nevertheless," Lovino walked closer and grasped Feliciano's arms. "You have to go back with me, now."

A moment of silence.

With his eyes closed, Feliciano slowly opened his chapped lips.

"I want to go to Berlin."

"Berlin? Berlin! For God's sake! Feliciano, are you insane?" Lovino grabbed his twin brother's collar, said desperately. "In 1943, if it weren't your continually repeatedly hesitation, Mussolini would definitely have no chance to abduct you, not a bit! Do you have any idea what this Satan follower has done on your land and your people after that? Oh, no, you don't." Lovino's sound had almost turned into roar. "All you care about is that potato bastard, but, wow, your lovely Deutsch, where is he?" Lovino imitated Feliciano's voice with a sarcastic tone. "He had gone already! He never showed up from the day you got house arrested here. I knew that."

"He went back home. He said that was urgent and left me a letter, he told me to...to take care of myself..."

"How touching! So you are going to abandon your land and your people? for a dying enemy in Berlin?"

"That's shameful, isn't it."

"You have a clear self-knowledge, my dear brother."

"So, as I said, compared with me, Lovino, you are a better leader. I have no sense of responsibility and no idea about politics. That's why I immediately hand power to you by the time we recaptured Roma in 1871. Besides, " Feliciano suddenly paused, his face looked gloomy and pale, the air around them seemed deathly still. "He will disappear, right? So will I."

The hand on Feliciano's collar slowly released. "What...did you say?" Lovino's expression was a mixture of confusion and fear.

"Just count how many Allied countries will join the melon-cutting, Ludwig will soon get torn apart, that's for sure." Feliciano spoke with a dry tone, yet he formed an almost smile. "And our Italia...will reunite. By that day, there will be only one Italy, and that must be you, my dear brother. I don't think people will accept a traitor and Nazi follower like me, even if they are from Torino, Milano or Firenze."

Lovino didn't understand what Feliciano intended to, nor did he know if Feliciano really will disappear once they reunite. They had lived together as twin brothers in the Apennine Peninsula from the day they were born, no matter if one got abducted, or regained the sovereignty. It never changed. However, this time, things seemed different. Standing still, Lovino lost in deep thoughts.

"So, please fulfill the last wish of your poor brother, dear Lovino." Feliciano grinned with his eyes squinted.

Lovino didn't reply.

For some reason, a burst of excitement broke out in the plaza where Mussolini's body was being publicly exposed. People started to chant.

Noi fummo da secoli,

calpesti e derisi,

perché non siam popolo,

perché siam divisi.

"Listen! They are expressing their yearning for reunification. Mmm, it's like Puccini's opera." Feliciano grinned even harder. "I must go now, Lovino. May Lord bless you. May Lord bless our Italia!"

Lovino watched his brother walked out of the door without a word. After a while, when he ensured that Feliciano had left Milano, he left the house, and join the ecstatic crowd.

End.

Author Note:

Noi fummo da secoli, calpesti e derisi, perché non siam popolo, perché siam divisi.

English translation (from Wikipedia): We were for centuries; downtrodden, derided, because we are not one people, because we are divided.

adapted from "Il Canto degli Italiani", written by Goffredo Mameli in 1847. It became Italian anthem in 1946.

This is my first English fanfic. Thanks for reading. Reviews are highly welcomed! :)