A/N: I've been stuck on this for so long, and I'm glad that I have finally come up with an ending.
Disclaimer: Hetalia does not belong to me.
The border between sanity and insanity wears thin.
As she hurriedly raced to her friend's home, she never stops to wonder why she's even doing this.
Ever since she began supporting Roderich, Gilbert seems to have grown more distant towards her. He would always tell her that she needed to drop the lady act and be who she really is. It annoyed her that he would say something like that, but at the same time she was disappointed that he doesn't seem to like her anymore; she feels torn between the two men.
Regardless of her obvious dilemma, she still saw it fit to make sure that Gilbert was okay no matter how much he ignored her. For even if he cared nothing of her, it would not change how she feels about him.
Which is why when he didn't answer his door on the first couple of knocks, she wasn't surprised at all. She sighed, knowing that he was home. Ever since his brothers' dissolve and death, he locked himself away and refused to leave his house. As much as he tried to hide it, she knew that he was upset at the demise of the Holy Roman Empire.
"Gilbert!" she called, "I know that you're in there!"
No answer. She sighed in frustration, knowing that he probably wouldn't answer no matter what she said or did; she wasn't going to give up that easily, though.
If someone had told her about what she was going to do momentarily, she would have called them a liar. A complete and utter liar.
She resorted to begging.
"Gilbert… Please? I just want to know that you're okay and—"
Before she could even finish her sentence, the door swung open to reveal Prussia with an unreadable expression on his face.
"Elizabeta," he acknowledged, "What are you doing here?"
She looked flabbergasted. "What are you talking about? I came here to see you, idiot!"
"I got that much," he replied dryly, eyes not willing to meet her gaze.
"Then why are you asking?"
"You didn't say that you would be coming."
"Well, I was worried about you," she responded sincerely, "I haven't seen you in a long time and… I've missed you, Gil."
His face remained emotionless, not at all phased by her heartfelt words. He moved to the side, and extended an arm thus inviting her inside. She looked at him in question, but entered anyway. He wordlessly rushed past her, and, taking the hint, she followed him quickly.
"Where are we going?" she questioned as they continued to weave through the various hallways in the Prussian's large home. He didn't give her a response, but soon he stopped outside of a door, turned around, and gave her a stern look. There weren't many cases in which he was this serious, and it caught her off guard.
"I'm about to show you something. You can't tell anyone about this, not even Specs. Got it?"
"Gilbert, just tell me what the hell is going on!"
"Just promise me."
"Why should I?"
"Just do it, damnit!"
She sighed in defeat. "Fine. I won't tell anyone." He looked at her expectantly. "That includes Roderich."
"Good. If anyone—especially France," he said the name in disgust, "—heard about this, it would be off with my head." She raised an eyebrow in question. "Here, you'll see."
He pushed open the door gently and stepped inside. After a moment of hesitation, she walked in and looked around the room until her eyes transfixed on the bed that was pressed flush against the wall. It was then that she noticed the lump on the bed, and the mop of blond hair. It took her a second to realise what was going on, and then it suddenly all made sense.
"Is that…?"
"Yes," he replied with a grin that made her afraid of his state of mind. "See, Liz? He's alive! France didn't actually kill him!"
"Are you crazy? You can't just keep a dead nation in your house!" She paused in consideration, and her tone of voice turned gentler, "Look, I know that you're upset over his death, but you can't be this delusional."
His face was blank, and he didn't seem to know how to respond; soon, however, his expression morphed into anger.
"What the fuck are you talking about? He isn't dead! He has a pulse, and he's breathing! If he were actually dead, his body would have disappeared like any dead nations would. The only explanation is that… well, he's not dead!" Gilbert's hopeful explanation sent chills down Elizabeta's spine. He was serious, and he really thought that his brother was okay. Her gaze drifted back to the boy on the bed, and she noticed that slight and labored breathing—Gilbert wasn't lying. The boy's face was still deathly pale, an almost grey color, and his features were contorted into pain, or perhaps he was suffering in a nightmarish dream state. Gilbert seemed to notice her worried gaze, and he began to speak in a gentle tone.
"He hasn't woken up since France tried to kill him. When I found him he was very badly injured, and even now his wounds aren't healing as fast as they should. It's almost like he's in a coma…" His voice trailed off, and Elizabeta noticed the tired grimace that he was trying to hide. Until now, she hadn't notice how exhausted her old friend looked to be. He had dark bags under his eyes, and his clothes looked to be wrinkled from restless bouts of waiting by his brother's side.
She was surprised when his voice turned cheerful, and she felt even stronger in her assumption that he was losing his mind over this.
"This time, he'll be okay!" he went on, rambling enthusiastically, "I won't let anyone touch him until he gets strong enough to fend for himself, and even then I'll always support him because I am just the best big brother in the world and I won't fail him next time!" Gilbert boasted on and on, but by this point Elizabeta had stopped listening. She was far too worried and scared for him, and wanted desperately for him to snap out of this delusion.
Something struck her as odd, though. Even if he was going crazy, his point was still valid: Holy Rome's body was still intact, so it could be possible that he is alive…
Regardless, he was still acting foolishly.
"I just… I don't understand why you're doing this. These things happen, and I'm sure, and you can't keep him a secret forever, anyway. Someone is bound to notice sooner or later."
She expected an angered retort.
"Heh, they'll have to get through me, first." Was what she got instead.
What surprised her most is that she actually chuckled and said, "Oh, Gil…"
The atmosphere in the room suddenly changed, making way to be much calmer and comfortable. It surprised the two how just moments ago they were fighting, and the next they were getting along well. All the earlier tension was gone, and the two were more relaxed, and, for a moment, they seemed to forget about the boy on the bed, Gilbert's alleged insanity, and Elizabeta's loyalty to Roderich.
In that raw and tender moment, Elizabeta saw her chance to help him.
"Why don't you go get some sleep and I'll watch him for a while," she offered, and his head snapped up to look at her with wide eyes in disbelieve. She noticed the uncertainty that flashed behind the red irises, but as soon as it appeared, it was gone. He nodded, but stood in place for a few moments in hesitation.
"You don't have to…"
"Just go. You need sleep."
"But…" he tried weakly.
"Relax. He'll be fine," she assured, and with a look of uncertainty, he actually left the room this time. Now, she was alone, save for the boy on the bed, so she sat down in the old wooden chair that was against the wall. She let her head roll back and hit the wall behind her with a thunk, and stared at the wall ahead of her in silence. She got so deep in thought that she didn't seem to realize that her eyes were fluttering closed, and escaped into a deep sleep, much like the boy in the bed.
A rapid knocking woke her up.
Elizabeta jolted awake, almost falling over at the sudden noise. Someone was rapping on the door furiously, but once she thought about it, she knew that it was more anxious than anything. She got up and opened the door, and Gilbert bounded inside as if he was about to have a heart attack.
She chuckled at his behaviour. "Relax, he's just fine." He did indeed relax at her words, as he checked on the figure in the bed and realizing that he was perfectly fine just like she had said.
"You didn't answer the door right away," he mumbled.
"Don't you trust me?" she asked jokingly, but he only looked away. Her features fell when she realized that it was possible that he didn't, which reminded her of something.
"Why have you been ignoring me?"
"I haven't been ignoring you," he denied.
She sighed. "If this is about Roderich, you can tell me."
"I don't care about him, and I'm not ignoring you. I just can't leave him here alone, and even having you here right now is dangerous. The only reason I let you in here is because I thought you were going to bust down my damned door," he explained without looking at her, and she felt a pang of sadness at his cold words. All the same, she could understand where he was coming from.
"I still don't know about this, Gilbert."
"I don't care what you think. Just don't say anything about this to anyone."
"You know that I won't," she assured, even though she knew that she should tell someone or ask for help, otherwise he would go utterly insane and worst of all: he would be all alone in the end. His brother could be slowly dying in his sleep, and he may never wake up.
But she won't break her promise, because she cares too much.
"I'm sorry, but I can't stay here and watch you do this," she tells him earnestly, and he smirks at her.
"I know. You don't want to watch me go crazy and all of that. Don't worry about me, I'll be fine." He stops. "We'll be fine."
And the pit in her stomach grew even more.
Without much more of a goodbye other than a few small words, she let herself out of his house and walked back from where she came. All the while, the pouring rain blended with her tears.