Nations had been 'going' for centuries, but Prussia had been the one to actually coin the term.
It happened not too long after the reunification of East and West Germany. He woke up one morning with the inexplicable urge to just get up and go. So he did. He walked down to the kitchen and said to his brother; "Hey West, I think I'll be going today," Germany nodded but did not look up from his paper. "I just wanted to let you know and say goodbye." He added, bending over to peck his brother on the cheek. The younger German flinched back and looked up at his smiling brother, who looked happier than he had in a long time. In the pit of his heart, Germany knew what his brother meant. He stood up and held him tightly in his arms, pressing his head into the crook of his neck like a parent would a child before releasing him with a soft smile. He walked out the front doors and turned back once to wave goodbye before making his rounds. He visited several other nations – Hungary and Austria, both who gave him similar goodbyes to that of his brother; Italy, who was as oblivious as ever; Russia, who he happily punched in the face; and France to name a few – before wandering off, never to be seen or heard from again.
The next to go was Greece. He went quietly, leaving in the early morning when nobody was looking. He had left a carton of milk out on the counter and a bowl of cereal was half eaten at the table, so when Turkey went poking around a few days later and found them sitting there, spoiled and soggy, he asked himself if the Grecian had known he wasn't coming back when left that morning. Then again, there were three bowls that he presumed were once full of cat food on the floor, so he must have had some idea.
Belarus went kicking and screaming, so to speak. She cried for three long days in the guest bedroom in her brother's house as she fought the need before finally working up her nerve to tell him she was going. He smiled a surprisingly honest smile when she told him and she kissed him full on the lips. She would have gone further and initiated coitus but could stay no longer; she cried as she walked down the driveway and continued straight until she was gone.
China was surprised when he felt it. He had though he was well past the appropriate age for going, he had thought that he was now immortal because he had lived past adolescence. He should have known how silly a presumption that was. So he packed a little rucksack – for who knew how long he would be wandering? – and called his brothers to wish them the best before taking his leave and going out into the great bamboo forests. He hoped he could have seen one last panda before he was all the way gone, but he did not.
Everybody was surprised when Switzerland went. He had been feeling it coming on for years, however, and had saved up so much money he knew that his little sister would never need to work another day in her life. He walked down the hallway to her bedroom just before bed and kissed her forehead, making sure she did not see his eyes as he did. His cheeks were dusted pinked as he mumbled to her about how much she meant to her. "I really love you," he said, darkening considerably. "And I want you to take good care of yourself, alright? Don't talk to strangers." Liechtenstein responded eagerly with her customary 'Yes, big brother' and he gave her one last hug before saying with finality: "I'm going now." The little girl's eyes watered as she nodded and watched him go. He hadn't taken his revolver off the mantle and that was how she knew he was never coming back.
Nobody was surprised when Spain went. He too had known it was coming, and he had used all the time he had to build his relationship with the little Italian that he had neglected as a child. He really loved him, with all his big, Spanish heart and he told Romano every single day. The Italian would just blush and look away, telling him to 'stop being such a stupid Spaniard' or to 'bring me some tomatoes, damnit!'. But when Spain finally left, when he finally whispered into his love's ear that he was going later that day, Romano started crying. "Bastard," he said, pressing his face into the taller man's chest. "You say that like we'll never see each other again. It won't be long, stupid. Not long at all."
And it wasn't. Two weeks later, Veneciano went to his brother's home to find it cold and lifeless, the only metaphysical ray of sunshine being a single frame on the coffee table in the living room; a special photo of Spain and South Italy. In it, both of them were smiling.
France left without his underwear. He spent the whole night before in a passionate entanglement with a blustery Brit, whispering sweet nothings in a language he knew the other man did not understand. It was blissful, he thought as he raided the fridge the next morning for a glass of decent wine. He did not find it. Instead, he found a pencil and some card stock and made a swirly little condolence card, both thanking his rival for a wonderful night and apologizing for leaving so soon after. Au revior, mon amour.
America was the only one to make his going a public event, though nobody realized it until after he was gone that it had been a 'going' party and not just a 'for the sake of having a party' party. He invited all of his friends that hadn't already gone and some people that he even hated. There was a bounce house and an all-you-can-eat ice-cream buffet and a large whale in a swimming pool, but that was normally there. Upon request, everybody brought food but nobody brought presents. With his rationale, why would he need presents if he never got to open them? He partied until his world ended at midnight, when he stood up from his spot on the lawn, took the microphone, thanked everyone for being such great friends, and walked off. Nearly everybody stood in awe as they watched him go, wondering alternately how a superpower could just walk away from it all and if he was aware that only three of them actually called him their friend.
Canada wasn't much without his brother, and maybe that was why he left not a day later. Around noon, as he was helping England and Russia clean up the yard, he stood abruptly, pulled his remaining father figure into a hug, flipped Russia the bird – because America would want him to – and followed the same path his brother had twelve hours earlier.
Hungary left one day on rather short notice. She called Austria from the supermarket, telling him that he would need to buy his own groceries from now on because she was going. Austria was not the least bit confused, he knew why she was leaving and he knew he could not stop her, but he was obligated to ask, if only as her ex-husband. "I miss him," she said simply, to which he replied in kind. Prussia had left a bit of a void in both of them and despite the fact that they had not been too fond of him in his life they missed him in his going. After he hung up, Austria lamented the fact that now there would be two empty guest bedrooms full of personal objects he would feel obligated to dust now and again.
Japan was another to leave without telling anyone. He disappeared so swiftly that if God had blinked he would have missed it. The tiny Asian dressed in his best and climbed Mt. Fuji, the evening air cool on his face. He stood into the wind and let the feeling rush over him. Most of his friends had already gone, and he was sure that Turkey would understand he did not feel like going back home to leave a note and have to climb the mountain again. It was as he walked back down that he finally went, there one second and gone in the next.
Denmark and Sweden went out fighting, for old time's sake. Denmark approached his once-nemesis halberd in hand, asking for a fight before he got going. Sweden found he could not say no. Metal clashed and Denmark taunted "Ha! You've gotten soft, Sverige!" to which Sweden had an intelligent reply that went unheard due to his mumbling speech and another loud clang. No blood was spilt even though the pair tired their very hardest to land a blow. They lost track of time and eventually not only Denmark, but Sweden had gone. Their footprints in the snow were all that was left when Finland and Norway went around looking for them. Though both were perfectly aware that the old rivalry between Denmark and Sweden meant more to them than anything else, it still hurt.
Russia spent his last knight before going in the cold. It was always cold in Russia, he knew. He lamented his misfortune at never of having lived near the sea and his tears froze on his cheeks. Winter, a benevolent spirit when it cam right down to it, took pity in his frozen son and came down to wish him well. He touched the side of his face and the pale flesh grew even paler. Russia appreciated the sentiment and he told Winter so, but he was secretly upset that he had come. There would be no warmth where there was General Winter, and Russia's going was as cold as his heart.
England felt the need to go while jogging one morning. His life had been hollow since everyone he had ever cared about left him, and he had no real reason to stay. He sat down on a bench in a park and pulled out his cell phone, scanning to see if there was anybody left to call. He saw Germany's number and dialed it, but he hung up when he received voicemail. He pulled his iPod out of his pocket and wound the headphones around it, leaving it on the park bench for some lucky hobo to find. When he walked off into the future, he was never surer of anything than he had been in his whole life.
Austria also left out of loneliness. He had spent his days with Germany after Hungary went to be with Prussia, but a stone-faced German was no substitute for a softened Hungarian or a wry Prussian. The day before he decided to go – because he felt no compulsion as the rest did, he simply knew there was nothing left for him here – he cleaned all three once-inhabited rooms in his house. Prussia's room was eerie to be in. He had straightened it up a few times and there was no clutter or garbage, which made it feel like the home of a memory (which it was) rather than a person. Hungary's room was just as she had left it, though. Pleasant, warm, much like she was. He sat on her bed for a few moments before going to fix his own. He left his room as he would have liked to have been remembered – there was an open book on the mattress and his glasses were left on the end table. He spent the next night at Germany's house, telling him in the morning that he was going. Germany smiled and shook his hand. "Tell my brother I miss him." He said simply. Austria promised he would.
Turkey finally, finally went, after being the Sick Man of Europe and after living through persecution and hate and wars. He was afraid of the urge to go at first. Like China, he had thought that he had outlived the urge to go. He held on for a week after it started, locking himself in his bedroom and talking like a madman about his gone friends and all of the younger nations who had already had their goings and why was he even still here? When he could resist no longer he made sure that the world would never forget him. He spilled all of his alcohol on the floors in his house, poured all of the oils out on the linoleum; kerosene hit concrete in the garage. He lit a match and dropped it as he closed his front door. Nobody forgot the fire that raged strong for six months on two continents.
Italy was initially happy on the day of his going. He woke up happy, made breakfast happy. He was even happy when Germany made him run laps around the block. He made a special dinner for his best friend in the whole world and made sure to remind him several times that he was such an interesting person with such interesting, German tendencies. Germany chuckled, brushing off the words like they meant nothing as he would any other day. After dinner though, Italy turned somber. For the first time, Germany saw an insecure side to his Italian friend. He spoke about how much he missed his big brother Romano and how much he missed France and Spain and Prussia and even America, because America was so silly sometimes and they were supposed to have bought an elevator together! One that reached all the way to the top floor! Germany held Veneciano and frowned, telling him that everything would be all right, even though he didn't believe it. Italy continued: he didn't know if it would hurt, and he was scared that once he was gone he would be nothing and he really, really didn't want to be nothing. He was Catholic; he had never had to think about being nothing before! It was scary. "You could never be nothing," Germany said to him once he had calmed down. "You could be gone and away and over and done, but you could never be nothing." And he kissed him. The Italian kissed back – but only a little – before pulling away and resting comfortably in his friend's arms. They fell asleep together, but Germany woke alone.
Germany was all alone. His friends were gone, his enemies were gone, his brother was gone and his almost-lover was gone. There was nothing left for him but he never felt the urge to go. He spent some days thinking about how lucky he was to have survived 'the great going', as the cocky and obnoxious young nations that had replaced all the old ones called it. He spent other days about how unfortunate it was that he could not have gone when he still had someone to miss him. One day though, he thought he would take a walk. He had already walked the dogs that morning, so he left them home. Before he left, he filled their bowls and opened the back door. He walked down the road with his hands in his pockets, looking at the world and how much it had changed. He did not like this strange, new world, where people did not look at him and there were no churches and no castles and no wars. He did not like the equality. He did not like the tranquility. He did not like the peace. He wanted to just…to just go, and leave it all behind. He continued his walk and continued to look and continued to dislike, not really sure where he was headed. Halfway to nowhere, he heard a familiar voice call out to him. It was Liechtenstein. She was a beautiful woman now, her blond hair still cut like her long-gone brother's but otherwise a voluptuous adult. She was one of the last from his generation, Germany mused. One of the last to know true strife and hardships. She was rich now, thanks to her brother, but once she had stood at death's door. She asked him in her high voice that never seemed to bee any less polite when he would be back. He shrugged. She asked him where he was going. He shrugged again. "I'm just…going." He said. She smiled sadly and blew him a kiss before she headed back inside. Germany continued walking until eventually there was nowhere left for him to go.
A/N: Whooo. That just consumed three hours of my life. Damn, I'm supposed to be writing a position paper for Model UN right now, haha. But the UN got me thinking, 'the world is disgustingly peaceful now, isn't it?' and viola! This was born. I apologize for any grammar mistakes and such - maybe I'll go back and edit in a few days, but I'd like to get this up now so I can finish up my paper and go to bed. Feel free to correct my spelling or punctuation if you see it's off anywhere (as it likely is). I'm exhausted and I cannot read this story again right now, arrgh.
About Italy and Germany's 'Goings': I had Italy freak out a little because he was afraid of dying and there being no afterlife. Even the most religious of us have to think of it at least once, and I figured that Italy would only start thinking like that if his life was in danger. Germany was built on 'Blood and Iron' and even though it's a peaceful country right now, I think the idea of world peace would really bother Ludwig. Overall, I tried to be cynical and realistic when writing this and I know I hit a few soft spots that made even me cringe (America has no friends, anyone? Or how about Canada being nothing without America?) so please keep that in mind when reviewing. And do review, I love it muchly ^_^
I hope everyone enjoyed, I know I writing was a blast. I hope it was worth it; it's 3:32 AM in my corner of the world and I have until tomorrow to find some UN official Resolution on Conflict and Peace in Colombia and Venezuela. Wish me luck!
Also, to those of you reading/watching for X over Y, the chapter is a beast. Seriously, a beast. So if you want shorter chapters and quicker updates, please vote on my poll, because otherwise, updates might just be as slow as molasses.