To Carry You Home
GerIta

-Germany POV-

"The moment a soldier dons his uniform, he accepts the reality that he may be buried in it." -Fuhrer King Bradley, FMA

I remember that I told you I would carry you across a river of blood if I had to.

I never expected you'd lay in my arms with your head against my chest, bitter smile spread across your face because of the pain you were in. Yet your voice didn't tremble, your breath didn't hitch, your eyes didn't slide to and fro, and you didn't falter when you said, "Ludwig, it'll be okay... I'll be okay..." But we both knew you were lying, no matter how straight forward you were with your words.

You touched my cheek and left a bloody hand print on my skin. Tears bloomed in the corners of your eyes like fresh cherry blossoms in the Spring, and they slid down your cheeks like dew drops in the early morning on the petal of a small, frail flower. My stomach knotted up and I tried to control my already ragged breathing. I was losing you, but you pretended to be fine and feigned ease of mind and carelessness over the condition of your own body. You acted as if such physical ailments didn't exist.

You knew though, didn't you, that you wouldn't be with me much longer.

Your eyes glistened in the fading light. They held the last sparkle of dusk, the last glimmer of your life, before they began to fade.

I never fathomed how weakly you'd grasp my uniform and whisper to me in your final moments that you loved me, nor did I imagine the immense heartache it would cause me to know that I loved you, too. I clutched you closer to my chest like a desperate mother with her child, hoping above all hopes, and praying all the prayers I could possibly think to pray that you'd be alright. I couldn't lose you. I just couldn't. I covered your hand with mine and tangled our fingers together.

Don't go...

You grinned like a ray of sunshine and gave my palm a weak squeeze.

How could you smile so brightly when darkness was closing in around you? How could someone like you, so fearful, be so strong and fearless right before the end? Is it because you knew it was over that you didn't try anymore? You were always scared of the dark though. How could you willingly immerse yourself into such a black and unknowing void? Is it because you knew you'd open your eyes again and find light and warmth on the other side?

Please don't go...

I remember these things, and question so much more, as bullets whiz passed me to somewhere far, far behind. I am lost in my own void. I feel broken, but at the same time, I feel nothing at all. My heart yearns for you to stay, but my mind is wired to know that you're gone.

There's shouting and fighting and war all around me, but I can only focus on you. All I see is your face. For a long time, I just stare at you in hopes that you'll come back to me, but any and all miracles avoid the two of us like a plague.

Your skin is pallor and cold. I can feel the chill of death curling up against my chest and wrapping its arms around me in a bittersweet embrace. It holds me and breathes and goosebumps raise on the back of my neck. Your eyes are still open. They're glazed over like two pale moons beneath a stream, milky and soft and morbid in appearance. They're cast upwards and there's a small, but ever present smile stuck to your lips. Your fingers remain tucked into my uniform, trapped between the buttons that hold my Military jacket shut, and tears swell in my eyes. Your grip was so firm, so why did you let go?

I know you've never been one to fight. You hated the idea of getting hurt, but what you hated more than anything was the idea of hurting another person.

Still, even though you chose to abandon all violence, now you've left me wounded and alone. You've still hurt someone, Feliciano. You've hurt me even though you never intended to and no tourniquet can stop the bleeding deep within my soul.

Stifled sobs rise in my throat and finally, I collapse to my knees. I'm unable to carry you any farther. The battlefield is somewhere in the distant past, far from us, and we are out of its reach. We're both safe, yet I still feel like I'm being torn apart by bullets and explosions.

My heart aches and I lay you down. Evening has come and gone. Now only night remains.

Stars spot the dark, navy blue sky like tiny, glowing freckles and I find myself resting against the trunk of the tree with you still pressed close to me. "Feliciano," I breathe.

Your name still rolls off of my tongue like water, but there's a bitterness to it that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. It's coppery and heavy and I have to force myself to swallow.

"Feliciano, why'd you leave? Verdammt noch mal! Why'd you go?! I need you, you dummkopf! We have training tomorrow and we're supposed to have a World Meeting at the end of this week! I can't go by myself!"

Tell me why...
Tell me why this hurts so bad...

My chest aches and the tears finally leak out of my eyes. If we're to believe that evil exists as an entity deep within us, as nonphysical matter that becomes a part of our own soul, then I can feel it coursing through my veins like fire. I truly believe in it now. I can feel my deflated pride begin to flare into a rage and hatred so fervent and white-hot that it's seething out of me. Every fiber comes alive with animosity and I push myself away from your corpse.

My hands find my hair and I tear at the golden locks until my scalp is sore. I can feel my heartbeat all throughout my body and it only feeds the hungry fire growing inside of me. I want to rip every Allied soldier apart! I want them to suffer. I want to tear into Yao and Ivan and Francis and Arthur and Alfred and make them pay for what they've done to you. It's because of them that you're gone!

And then, suddenly, I remember that I've played a part in all of this, too. To you, to your very face, and to your heart I made a vow to protect you, and I failed. I solemnly swore to never abandon you, my comrade, in the midst of the very battle I'd started, but I did just that. I left you defenseless. You must have died believing that I'd be able to reach you in time. Did you despise me in your final moments and pretend otherwise for my sake? Did your faith in me die before you did? I wouldn't be surprised if it had.

The same anger inside of me suddenly fizzles out and I crumple to my knees again. I can still feel your hand on my cheek. No... No, that's your blood that's dried out and crusted up against my skin, and it's a painful reminder that I'm not free from blame. It drives me into the past when you still called out my name and raced towards me with your arms outstretched.

I would give anything to feel your lively embrace again. I want to hear you laugh and see you smile and be the one to wipe the tears from your eyes when you cry. But more than anything, I want to protect you... If only another chance truly existed. If only there was a next time...

I place a hand on my forehead, before I allow it to slide down and rest on the same spot that you'd touched just before you had left me. I swallow the lump in my throat.

I failed you, Feliciano.

My fingers drag across your jawbone and then down to your clavicle. "...Why did it have to be you?" I whisper to myself. My throat hurts. My voice is hoarse. I'm in excruciating physical and mental pain and yet, I can't pull myself away from the cause of it. "What's it like? Can you hear me? Nein, of course you can't..."

I take a deep breath and lay down by your side. I'm sure I look miserable right now, but anyone in my place would. "I'm proud of you, Feliciano! Did I ever tell you that? N-Nein, I'm sure I didn't say anything and I kept it bottled up as per usual, but I'm truly proud of you! You never... You never lost who you were... You never gave up your personality or your beliefs. You held on with a..." I chuckled miserably at the irony of what I was about to say. "...death grip... You held on so tight... I'm so proud of you, even though it's too late to tell you, even though you can't hear me... I wish you could. I wish you knew just how much you changed me, too, Feliciano. You shook the very ground I stood on..."

I press my lips to your forehead and sit back up. Then, mustering what remaining strength I have, I lift you into my arms, and hold you close to me. Even if you hate me and curse my name from where you are, I will take you to the place you belong. I will take you home.

Tell me how to forget this pain.
Tell me that I can leave it somewhere in the past, so far behind me that it never stands a chance of catching up to me again.
Tell me that I'll always be able to remember you.

I still have a long journey before me, before I can carry this fallen soldier, my best friend, home. No matter the distance, I'm willing to go wherever the path may take me, so long as I can see Feliciano safe again.

I take one step and then another.

I told you if all else failed, I would carry you home.

e o e Don't mind me. Just writing a fail-fic. ;w;

I was actually trying to write a good fic where somehow, Italy dies during a war, and then... nope.
Still wanted to post it though. Maybe someone else will think it's relatively okay and won't curse my username for writing a piece of absolute poo.

I /tried/ though.