South Italy walks through the empty streets of Sicily, shattered. He is shattered along with his people, his land, his buildings. Not a single person walks beside him, through the deserted and bombed-out island, and he is scared. He will never admit it, but he is.

He collapses onto the cobbled streets, cradling his face in his hands. He is shocked to find tears there. Romano didn't cry, even when there wasn't a single person left south of Rome; even when for days he felt those damned IEDs going off, destroying him slowly. He did not cry then, but he cries now, kneeling in a once-beautiful village in Sicily, now left out to rot like an empty cicada shell.

Warm arms suddenly twine around him, keeping him together, his feverish mind thinks childishly. I will fall apart without this person holding me together. The person pulls him into a sitting position, stroking his soot-covered hair and wiping his tear-stained eyes gently, all the time whispering, "Ssh, mi tomate, it will be okay. Everything will be okay"

"T-tomato bastard?" he asks quietly. Spain nods and laughs weakly. "At least you feel well enough to insult me, Roma." Romano is silent after that, shaking against Spain's chest. Arms pull him up, but he is too tired to protest.

Spain somehow manages to drag a weakened and unusually silent Roma across the Mediterranean and into his house. For three days, the boy slept and when he woke up, he was no longer silent, but mumbling the names of (who Spain assumes were) random civilians. He then promptly fell asleep again.

Four days later, Spain was biting on his fingernails nervously when a knock sounded on his door. He rushed up, tripping over his own feet as he opened it. Romano's twin brother, North Italy, or just Italy to most, stood there, looking worried.

"Spain!" he cried, flinging his arms around a surprised Spain's neck. "I-ita-chan!" he mumbled. Italy's big brown eyes suddenly filled with tears. "Spain-nii-chan, it's terrible" he sobbed, "Roma's been missing for an entire week!" Italy gripped Spain harder, and the elder felt like his ribs were about to be snapped- when did Italy get so strong? "Italy, it's okay. I found Roma wandering around Sicily. He's in the back room, but last I checked, he was still sleeping." Italy ignored Spain's last remark and sprinted into the room Roma stayed in as a child, as well as now.

Spain shook his head- Italy could be so naïve!- before he forced himself to sit and eat a tomato. However, before long, voices filtered back to where he was sitting, tense. Well, whaddaya know. Roma must have woken up for just the second time this week. Then, Ita burst out of the bedroom, eyes wide in shock and mumbling "if he had told me, I could have helped him!" Spain decided to let the boy shuffle out of his house before he bolted up and into Romano's room.

He was pale, half-lidded eyes staring up at the ceiling blankly. Sweat covered him in a thin layer, and his usually, spiraled ahoge was crumpled into an odd shape. He almost looked- (no Spain! He corrected himself mentally- those are Russia thoughts; not yours!) "Ciao, il mio bel pomodoro bastardo" he said in an unusually reserved tone of voice. Spain was quiet for a moment, just thinking and looking, before whispering, "Roma, what happened to you?"

Romano turned so hazel eyes faced green ones and eyed Spain warily. "Do you really want to know, Spagna?" Spain nodded slowly. "Very much so, mi amor."

Romano sighed a sigh that quickly turned into a hacking cough, much to Spain's dismay. "Fine. About 2 years ago, 2011, I think, the mafia started attacking more and more. And it wasn't just politicians and their families anymore. It was normal people; people who didn't deserve the shit they had to go through.

"To make sure I wouldn't tell, they threatened more people, said they wouldn't kill them if Veneziano went to the World Meetings instead of me. I agreed, but at this point, everyone was terrified and started fleeing. Heh. Dove fuggi? The people in the Vatican were the last to go."

"That's terrible" Spain whispered, wrapping his fingers around Romano's in an attempt to reassure him or something, though he knew it was futile. The younger nation laughed bitterly, then started coughing again. "That's not even the worst of it. After they either murdered or chased off all of my people, they decided to ruin the land and livestock.

"They set up those horrible home-made bombs, the IEDs, everywhere, and set them off slowly, so I could feel every one. But I refused to cry for them, not this time.

"If they had gotten to Rome, both fratello and I would be human again, so I guess I'm glad you found me on Sicily before I did something stupid and provoked them."

Spain was quiet. Then, finally, he spoke, his words startling Romano. "Damn it, Romano! If you had told someone before… before it got this far, we could've helped you!"

Romano did his best at glaring at Spain and jerked his hand away. "I would've if I could've, cazzo stronzo! In case my explanation went right through that thick, overly-cheery skull of yours, which, knowing you, it probably did, the mafia was gonna kill my people if I told! They wouldn't have let the lucky ones escape to Veneziano's house! And why the hell are you holding my damn hand? I'm not 6 anymore, not like you give a sh-"

He was silenced by Spain determinedly grasping his hand, harder this time. He tried to wriggle free, but all the previous yelling had left him even more fatigued, so he wasn't able to escape.

"Ita-chan and I visited you pretty often during that time, right? Why didn't you tell us then? You could've been all stealth ninja and they would never know." Romano shook his head, though he was still sweating and getting paler by the second. "They were following me; if I told you guys, they would just bomb Rome along with everywhere else. And I that happened… well, Veneziano and I would be royally screwed, and the world wouldn't have either Italy. I think they could do without one of them."

Spain paled, grasping Romano's hand so tightly that the nation yelped. (He slackened his grip slightly then.) "You are not gonna die!" he whispered fiercely, "Rome is still standing, so you're still immortal. And it's going to stay that way."

Romano closed his eyes. If it were anyone else he was talking to, he would point out that the mafia was probably already heading for Rome, and if the ancient city fell while he was still in this state… well, he would be dead meat. Quite literally. But he stayed silent.

"If you want, I can send some of my soldiers to guard Rome" Spain offered, but the ill nation had already begun to drift off. He sighed and dropped a quick, chaste kiss on Roma's feverish forehead. Then he whipped out his cell and called for an emergency World Meeting.