"Ready to go?" The Prussian pulled his jacket closer around him, patiently waiting at the front door. Germany appeared from one of the rooms down the hall, putting on a thick wool coat. He nodded and walked out into the winter air, the harsh wind pricking his cheeks. It had been their tradition from the night the Wall fell to walk along it's path. Other than this day, he never really saw his older brother, so he cherished the times he could spend with him. But he'd never say it to his face though.
Never admit he missed him.
He dug his hands deeper in his pockets as snow fell down upon Berlin. He and his brother walked silently along the streets, not needing the memorial tan line to guide them. He noticed people stopping and whispering, as parents told their children that only on this day could they see East and West Germany walk the streets, remembering the times when they were apart. When all they saw were dark days ahead.
Slowly, Prussia and Germany made their way to the sparser parts of the capital, only a few houses here and there. Prussia suddenly stopped, facing a small street ankle-deep in snow.
"What?" Germany asked, looking down the street confused.
"Sh!" Prussia hissed, slowly taking steps down the road. They both quieted, and for a minute heard nothing. Then a sharp cry rose up, and Prussia started running down toward the sound. Germany followed as the crying continued, mixing with the sound of the compacted snow beneath their feet.
Prussia slowed to a house, farther away than the rest. In the front was a garden, all the rose bushes dormant and frosted generously. A stone path led them across it, brushed clean of snow. The porch creaked beneath them as Prussia went to knock on the door. But it opened without him touching it, to a small baby blue living room. But the oriental rug soon gave way to bright red as their eyes fell upon a woman's body. Her stomach was riddled with bullet holes, and her eyes remained wide open. A man's body lay only lay a few feet from her, a distinct hole in his forehead.
Seemingly unphased, Prussia knelt beside the woman and closed her blue eyes. Germany assumed the cry had been her dying. But then they heard it again. A more distinct, recognizable sound as they entered a pink and white nursery. In the small crib lay a baby girl, her face flushed from crying. She was still quite small, with a light brown fuzz covering the top of her head. On the wall above her hung her birth certificate, next to a wedding photo. Prussia sighed, feeling sympathy for the un-knowing orphan.
"She's only a week old," he commented, fixing his eyes on her, "What do you think we should do?" Germany leaned down and gently touched the infant's cheek. He slowly glanced at his big brother.
"I know this is going to sound crazy," He sighed nervously, "but I want to keep her."
Prussia looked at him in surprise. "But she's not ours."
"I know."
"And she might have family we don't know about."
"I know."
"So why?"
Germany took a deep breath and looked in him in the eyes. "I would like to be a big brother too."
Prussia smiled.
"Alright."
"What?"
"We can keep her. But we'd better leave, before someone else comes along." Prussia left the nursery, and Germany slowly smiled.
They made their way back home, the girl now asleep in the folds of Germany's jacket, while Prussia held the birth certificate closely to his chest, where the words Parker Elizabeth Robinson were printed in bold black letters.