August 3 | Three weeks after battle

Greece emerged from the excavation shaft and planted his shovel into the ground. The sun beat heavily upon his back as he took a gulp from his canteen.

For three weeks, he'd been trying to uncover the Roman siege tunnel that Ancient Rome had abandoned amidst the invasion of an alien entity—the Frost Men, a subterranean anomaly bent on wiping out the human race.

Even with the help of a dozen other diggers, he'd been having no luck penetrating the actual chambers of the tunnels. Most of it collapsed centuries ago. Finding a good section was proving to be a nuisance.

He sat down on a lone limestone block, a dozen questions racing through his mind.

It wouldn't be long now before someone actually broke through. The problem was what he would find in there once it's been breached. Would the Frost Men be in there, waiting in the shadows? Could they even live for that long down there? Although it was possible for them to die, no one said they weren't immortal.

"Heracles, you need to take a break."

The Grecian shifted slightly to the side as a taller figure sat down beside him. "Why are you here again?"

"Helping you," said Sadik Adnan. "Though I must admit it hasn't been productive. Maybe you should stop."

"I know it's in there. If you think it's futile, then leave. I don't need your help anyway."

"Don't you think you're being a little obsessive with it?"

"Obsessive?" Greece blinked slowly. "You wouldn't understand."

Sadik raised his eyebrows provocatively. "Try me."

Heracles tried. He tried unsuccessfully in getting the Turk to leave. But Sadik wasn't budging. Heracles had no choice but to tell him the truth. (It wasn't like Turkey had anyone to gossip to—he wasn't even in the EU.)

"I haven't told anyone yet, not even Japan," Heracles began. "The reason my mother died was not because of the Romans. It was the Frost Men. They were the ones who sent away the Romans, but they also drew my mother to her downfall. Right here—it happened in these tunnels. With her dying breath, she sealed them away, hoping to stop their advance."

"So what's with you wanting to uncover them if you know she had a good reason for sealing it in the first place? Don't you think that she sealed the tunnels away to protect you? Whatever's in there, there was a reason she closed it off—"

"I've considered that. It's not easy, especially when it's a memory you want to avoid remembering. I need to know why she sealed away these tunnels and not the others littered about under my country. What makes these tunnels that much more important?"

Sadik patted Heracles shoulder. Heracles slapped his hand off. "Look, I have no objections with your project—I mean, Ancient Greece is your mother—but you need to at least stop and eat once in a while. You're a nation, but with your current economy, you should consider keeping your strength up."

Heracles knew he was right, much to his chagrin. He stood and headed to the tent, preferably to take a much needed nap. "You can also go home already, you know. I don't need you here."

"Yeah, right. You're not getting rid of me so easily."

Brrrinnng . . . brrrinnng . . . brrrinnng . . . brr—

"Heeello? The Awesome Me is speaking."

"Ve~ Can I talk to Germany?"

"Sure thing. Let me call him down."

Gilbert placed a hand over the speaking part of the phone and took a deep breath:

"WEST! GET YOUR FREAKING BUTT DOWN HERE THIS INSTANT! ITALY WANTS TO TALK TO YOU!" Gilbert released his hand. "He's coming."

"Thank you, Gil!"

The sound of thumping feet could be heard all the way through the house. Ludwig showed up at the top of the staircase, looking very much aggravated. "Bruder, why can't you just bring the phone to me like a normal person? You don't need to yell and wake up everyone in the house."

"Sorry, West. I didn't want to walk upstairs."

"Ja, about that . . . When are you going to move out my basement? Your drums are annoying the hell out of everyone."

"Hey! For your information, you are living in my upstairs."

"That makes absolutely zero sense. Pass me the phone."

Gilbert tossed up the cordless phone and returned back to his epic drum solo. Ludwig pressed the phone to his ear, moving well away from his brother and to a secluded corner of his home.

"Hello, Feliciano. What did you want to talk about?"

The Italian ve'd happily. "I just thought—maybe—that we could hang out today. We've been so busy these past few weeks that we haven't had any time for a breather. Do you want to go see a movie today? Or maybe we can go out and enjoy some pasta together. Actually, I've made some already. If you want—"

"Sorry, Feliciano. I'm still busy today. Maybe another time."

"You said that yesterday."

"You can't expect me to be free the day after you call me."

"But I called three days ago too, and you said you were busy."

"Italy, how about I call you when I'm free?—seeing as you always seem to be free."

"Um, okay."

He sounded so disappointed. Ludwig felt guilty for making Feliciano go through this. "Besides," he added quickly, "I'm sure you have your own responsibilities to take care of. With Romano out of commission, you have to take care of his work and yours. You do know that, right?"

There was silence on the other end.

"Feliciano . . . ? You did do the paperwork, right?"

"Umm, Ludwig, I . . . I didn't really notice."

"It's on your desk!"

"Oh! So it is. Wow, that's a big pile."

Ludwig mentally face palmed. "You can send some over and I'll do it."

"But you said you were busy."

"Ja, but I'll just make Prussia do it. He has so much time now that he isn't a nation anymore. Maybe finally I can cease his constant drumming—he thinks he's actually good at it."

"Speaking of Gilbert, he's been informing me about how you've been out of it these past few weeks. Are you okay? Is there anything I can do?"

Ludwig considered running downstairs and smashing Gilbert's drum set through his head. The banging was so damn loud. "Did he tell you?"

"Not in detail. But I've already noticed a change in you. Maybe you should take a break after all, si?"

"Feliciano, you really don't need to worry about me. Worry about your own country. How's Lovino been doing?"

"He's still sleeping. Ludwig, ever since we brought him back to Rome, he hasn't woken up once . . . I tried, but he hasn't eaten, he hasn't spoken, he hasn't moved—he just sleeps all the time. Is that normal?"

"That sounds like what Italians usually do. He'll be fine, Feliciano. He's just recuperating."

"Ve, I hope you're right."

"If that's all, I need to get back to work. Will you be fine on your own?"

"Yes. Thanks for talking with me, Ludwig."

"It's no problem. If that's all, I'll be ending this talk."

"Yep, that's all. Bye, Ludwig!"

"Goodbye, Feliciano."

Click.

Truthfully, Ludwig didn't think he'd be spending any time with Italy at all.

Remember, this is series 2 of The Other Side Of Us. If you haven't read it, go there first. Or else this fic will be really confusing for you.

For those who have stuck with me this whole way, thank you for reading! I fear that this fic will be the end of this story, but that doesn't mean I'll stop writing Hetalia. (Okay, maybe I will since I do have other interests, but one day I'LL BE BACK.)

Next chapter is titled Memories. Romano's dreams and England's regrets.