Disclaimer- I don't hetalia ^^
This is the sequel fanfiction .net/story/story_?storyid=5574456
Notes- This is the sequel to Child of Germany. If you haven't read it you might be confused. Originally this was going to be a sequel to Eins which was going to be a sequel to Child of Germany, but alas, I pushed back the setting of Atrophy to almost directly after the war. This is heavy heavy in the Gerita department later on, boyxboy, yaoi, etc. so be forewarned if that is not what you're into. This story will have very graphic abuse, violence, language, sensitive issues such as post war German politics, Nazi party, Communism, American Politics, rape, racism, and child abuse/killing. It is rated M for a reason. It might sound depressing but I do try and have a lot of sweet moments in it. Considering Child of Germany left serious issues unsettled, all of those will be tied up. Thank you for all the reviews for the Child of Germany ^^. English is not my first language so help with English is good ^^. Please R&R.
Points to remember from Child of Germany-
Ludwig was removed from power prior to the camps being built
Feliciano resigned his power to his brother Romano
Gilbert was taken by Ivan
Leos was branded with the Hakenkreuz/swastika. (it will be called hakenkreuz from here on)
Leos is a representative of the people, originally included the Prussians. During the war an unification all German people are now in Leos, this does include those under the control of allies now. Its a sticky situation now, because there is ethnic Germans living elsewhere and now Germans dropping their ethnicity. This may or may not include the Jewish, gypsy, black, etc. people living in Germany, that is your own opinion to form.
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Cushioned by emerald pillows of the earth's hair and blanketed by the heat of a topaz sun, he slept contently in the small field that over looked a partially repaired home. His white hair splayed across the blades of grass, entangling with them. His face marred with purple and yellow stains from beneath his skin. His left eye was neatly wrapped and padded with cotton, while his other lay half open as he dozed. The man's clothing was absorbing the dampness of the ground and staining his white dress shirt and pale pants. From the foot of the hill a call came for him, which he did not respond to. Again a soft, high voice beckoned him, and again his brain ignored his ears. Finally the man at the bottom of the hill trotted up and looked over his friend.
The inspector was shorter and his tanned body was lithe, but showing signs of muscle, which water droplets were racing down. His hair was a rich auburn that was saturated, his hands encrusted with soil. With a gentle nudge, he stirred the man from his resting place.
"Ve, Gilbert, it is time for lunch," He spoke tenderly but still the waking man jolted up and raised his arm in defense. His red eye blinked and refocused from his dream state to reality.
"Huh… Oh… Thank you Feli …" Gilbert sighed and stood on trembling limbs. His feet struggling down the slope to the home. Feliciano was in his shadow's ready to catch him if he fell. The home's features gradually came into focus. The half timbered cottage home was being patched up slowly on one side. The roof was replaced, outshining the rest of the old structure. One window was boarded in the back and side and the walls in the midst of getting a fresh coat of paint too keep it looking unnaturally clean. Beyond the cosmetic work however, internal damage was lurking, ignored once the bare necessities had been installed. A large garden was running along the right of the home and ran down the property's edge. Vivid colors bloomed from the stalks, the scent of fresh food and flowers permeated the air. Gilbert inhaled, holding the essence of his new home captive in his lungs before exhaling through his nose, preventing any bit of un-smelt odor from going unappreciated. Feliciano's hand shot out and opened the door for Gilbert before his hand could even raise from his side.
"Thank. You?" Gilbert questioned Feliciano's delicate behavior around him. He stepped into the home. The neglected repairs that, too a visitor, were dire became nothing but a wall paper pattern for the dwellers. The exposed pipes, electricity, no insulation and skeleton of the home left what was half the living room in a state of depression. The area that was once an office, was now torn down and barren. The floors were splintered and half covered with tarps. The latter half was in decent condition, a fire place was touched up so it could be used, the front portion of the room was untouched by any damage. The men walked through and into the large room that connected the living area to the kitchen, where the front door's window shone stained sunlight on the floor. The fragrance of boiling ham hocks and pungent spices poured into their senses. Gilbert's nose twitched with delight and his limping legs quickened.
"Fucking pig whore," A robust voice blurted. The blond at the counter withdrew his hand from the cutting board and cradled it. "Son of a bitch," He hissed. His other large hand squeezed his thumb. His hair was combed back and neat, his cerulean eye burned with pain and hatred. His body was guarded by a white apron which was stained with the juices of meat and broth.
"Ludwig, you okay?" Feliciano asked, Ludwig turned the on the water and ran his cut finger beneath the cold stream.
"Yea, I'm fine… Just help yourselves, just don't touch that parsley." He said. First to the pot was the albino, filling the chipped bowl to the rim and then balancing the liquid in the china's walls as he took his place at the table. Protectively, he hovered over his food, keeping his face as close as possible and sloppily rushing the meal into his mouth, gasping between bites. Feliciano watched as Gilbert as he dipped the ladle into the pot. His own bowl steamed with fresh aromas and tickled his nostrils, but his attention was on Gilbert and even after he sat, he kept an eye on his friends frantic eating. Ludwig returned, his finger bandaged, and scooped a bit out for himself.
The family sat in silence, the only conversation was the one the silverware were having with the bowls as they clanged and dinged. Gilbert broke concentration and his thin hand snatched a roll from the table to sop up the remaining broth that clung to the sides of his bowl. His teeth tore into the crusty bread wildly, his noises becoming distracting to Ludwig's meal. He pursed his lips, readying himself to scold his brother, but decided against speaking and stared back into his food. His brother leapt up for seconds, and thirds, and fourths, until his stomach distended and his face looked sick.
"That was good, thanks bro," He said, half heartedly excusing himself from the table. He placed his bowl in the sink and gave his hands a quick rinse.
"I'm taking a nap, mind if I use your bed?" He asked, Ludwig eyed his dirt stained clothing.
"Change into something clean before you lay down… Need help up the stairs?" Ludwig responded.
"No, I'm fine." Gilbert said as he lumbered away with an awkward gait. Listening to the thumps of each step, he could tell his brother was dragging his leg. Feliciano and Ludwig remained quiet until the door clamped shut.
"He was starved, wasn't he?" Feliciano spoke under his breath,
"I don't know," Ludwig answered,
"He's not getting better…"
"It takes a long time to recover from the injuries he has…. He needs plenty of food and sleep, he will get better." Ludwig said. Feliciano sighed and gathered his used dishes. It was blasphemy to speak of the older brother's episodes. Although the albino was returned rather quickly after the war, it wasn't Gilbert. That powerful air about him and confidence was replaced by a meek, feral, acting man. Why Ivan had returned the brother so quickly, was still a fact only Gilbert knew. Feliciano searched his mind for a way to put off the tense atmosphere.
"That was a good lunch Ludwig," He complimented,
"Thank you…" He said. How did our lives get so boring? Our conversations so dull? Ludwig thought.
"Ludwig… Can we visit Leos today?" Feliciano's voice was rushed, as if asking for something he knew he shouldn't have. He bit his lip, waiting for a response. He heard his friend breathe deep, it sounded like a negative. His lips dipped into a frown.
"I will have to ask the Postman if we can borrow his car again… but if so, then yes."
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The pleasant pallet of purple, yellow and green speckled the rolling hills of the country side. The miles of wire fencing held in cattle that sat lazily upon the grass, watching the occasional car go by. The sky was bright, the air radiated heat, and wonderful scent of rural land intoxicated the area. The peace was only disturbed by the old car that rumbled down the road.
The steel horse weaved a bit with every attempt on the driver's part to scold the passenger next to him. With his blond hair combed meticulously back and face clean shaven, he tried to avoid getting upset. His pristine eyes glued to the road, trained never to leave the dark gray concrete, now were fighting to break the stare and glare at his friend. Next to him, a bubbling man who's excitement was manifesting in an intense fidgeting and bouncing which shook the frame of the vehicle. His auburn hair fluttered as he jolted himself about the seat. Cheeks plump with a smile and olive skin blushed with bliss, his energy would simply not be contained.
"Sit down and be calm, Feliciano," The German ordered,
"But Ludwig, how can you be so sedimentary?" He exclaimed,
"I am as excited as you are but a little self control goes a long way, so once we- For the sake of all that is holy stop bouncing!" His scolds cut off by more demands Ludwig sighed and decided the best test for his acclaimed "self control" was to bare with the constant badgering of his Italian friend.
"Ludwig, we should stop in town and pick up something for the postman! I mean, he was nice enough to lend us his car, we should repay him." Ludwig smirked at the first good suggestion Feliciano had all day. "Isn't it suppose to be hard to get a German to give up his car?" Feliciano asked, his good idea was tainted by his stereotypical remark. The car itself was nice, despite its age, and looked as it did in the 1930's. It's dashboard was free from dust, the gears repainted and glossed on the stick, and the seats were the same hard unforgiving surface both men remembered. It was a car a middle class citizen might, good working but not much for looks. It was amazing the postman could protect such an item as well as afford it's upkeep.
"Yes… That is the stereotype… But I think he is thankful," Ludwig spoke through his teeth.
"Ludwig… I'm sorry I get so excited, it's just… We never visit him much." Feliciano said as he rested his chin on the dashboard. His eyes lazily sweeping from side to side, taking in the German countryside. Ludwig breathed in, letting his shoulders relax a bit.
"It's okay… I know you try to control yourself… You do really well most of the time, so I suppose I can understand." Ludwig said. From the crevasse of the hills the tanned roofs of the village peeked up. A steeple guarding the rows of homes, staring down at the visitors as they drove. Each home was lined up like troops, straight, clean and at attention. The windows shone like bright eyes and the wide doors gave the houses a delightful look. A team of draft ponies pulled along a green carriage stocked with milks and cheese. The man was dressed in the traditional Bravian way, black, whites, greens, and yellows were embroidered on his pants and hat. Ludwig slowed down and waved him over.
The horses stopped, but immediately started gnawing at each other. The man stepped down from his perch and approached the car.
"What kind of cheese do you have?"
"Wiesslacker, Butterkaese, Raeucher, Sauermilch," The elderly man's lips were thin, the sagging skin on his face jostled with every movement of his muscles.
"Butterkaese and Sauermilch please," The old man scurried to the back of his wagon, hissing at his steeds to quick bickering. With ears pinned, they obeyed, lips curling and ready to start fighting again. The man brought out two packages of cheese wrapped in wax paper and butcher string. Ludwig molested his pockets for his wallet, bring out the worn paper money and exchanged it for the meticulously wrapped food. One of the horses squealed and kicked at his companion.
"Eey!" The man scolded again and the two settled back down.
"Lively stock you have here." Ludwig joked,
"Yes, one is from the north and the other from the south," The old man chuckled,
"Such fine stock, I bet you get many miles from them." Ludwig complimented,
"Ah, yes, if only they would tolerate each other… Well good day sir,"
"Good day," Ludwig bid. He waited until the horses began to trot off before shifting the clunky transmission. With a lurch, the car chugged off on its journey, trailing a thick line of exhaust away from the carriage. Ludwig's eyes glance up at the back mirror a few times, watching the old wagon disappear down the road.
"What service they have in the south!" Italy exclaimed as he set the cheese into the back seat.
"Well, we were lucky… He just happen to be out, probably making deliveries."
"Do a lot of people around here still use horses?" Feliciano asked as he squirmed to find a comfortable position.
"Horses are useful. If he's using them to plow his fields why not use them to deliver food as well? And doctor cattle? Use them for everything you can before you buy something specifically for that use." Ludwig's explanation failed to answer his question but Feliciano didn't pester further. Instead his eyes drifted from house to house. The tiny village had never changed, every trip through it had the same appearance, the same people, the same linens hanging from the balconies. Seemingly untouched by the war, it was an incredible gem buried in the grave of the country. The smells of the town were colorful and changed with each block, first of fresh bread, then smoked meats and lastly of the ripe seasonal fruits. The scents were caught in the car, lingering even when they exited the limits, and Feliciano savored the last bit of odor. Each unique one filling his mind with colors and visions. His hands ached to paint out his mind's creations.
Feliciano looked forward again, recognizing the iron fencing that was twisted into floral patterns and accented with rust. The pines that dotted the sides of the road thinned slightly. Grey stones rose from the ground in all shapes and sizes. Some carved into angels and figures, while others were crooked and barely holding themselves up. The small graveyard overlooked a steep slope down into the farmlands where goats and cattle grazed. Their bells chiming a fitting symphony for the dead. The gates were high and guarded by two stone lions that who's mournful faces gazed across the fatherland, witnessing every soul's passing.
Feliciano's excitement faded and his chest felt raw. A sadness over took him, his brows arching up and mouth frowning. Ludwig too fell still, biting his inner cheek. This was the difficult part of the journey, after all this travel, the bold reminder of mortality displayed in front of them.
The car sped past, leaving the dead in peace and continuing around the bend. A sigh of relief came from both passengers when the place was out of sight. Ludwig blinked a few times, trying to refocus on his task. The winding road concealed their destination, the monstrous mounds of earth and grass guarding a hidden sanctuary. Like a child climbing over a parent's shoulder, the roof and walls of the hospital appeared.
It was a quaint place, build originally as a large inn for the weary, it was converted into a hospital during the war. The copper gates in front were well oxidized, blending with the ivy that over took the stone walls. The courtyard offered a small parking area, while some benches and small flower gardens were available to guests to sit and enjoy the fresh mountain air. Ludwig parked the car in the back, leaving enough room between the other cars to prevent anyone's door from striking his borrowed ride.
The hospital was unlike any traditional establishment. It was lined with marble and high arches which were the perches of stone eagles. The desk was circular and several nurses in white starched dresses sat typing rhythmically. The tall ceiling were lined with massive stained windows that colored the room depending on the position of the sun and light the entire entrance with no electricity. Patient's with their own escorts wandered freely to stretch their legs and observe the art the staff decorated the halls with. The former inn's high expectation had carried over into its renovation.
As they walked to the desk Feliciano reminisced about the difficulty of getting Leos transferred to this mountain oasis. Prior to this luxurious palace he was in a state hospital in the east that was overrun with the dead and dying. The nurses did not change his diapers or bed sheets. If they remembered to feed the poor thing, it was only a meal a day. If a skeleton could get thinner, it would be Leos. The child's body was marred with massive bruises, which may or may not have been from his inherited condition. It was in the winter when Ludwig came on Christmas eve and saw the doctors and nurses laughing at his son and other patients who, even in their coma like state, shivered and laid under what should have been a mattress cover made blanket which was soaked with urine. There was little quality care for the body for a German under the care of a Russian. Ludwig heard of this little lap of paradise in the south, a private hospital run by a wealth doctor who used it as a teaching hospital. Able to train his own staff, it was kept up to his quality. Ludwig brought his starving boy and begged for admission. The doctor immediately excepted his young patient, soon after opening a child's unit for the sick village children.
The only down side to the hospital was that its distance from their central located home was as far as possible. Ludwig traded his car for food, enough to get them through that critical first year of chaos. Their visits were infrequent, the price of gasoline was high and Ludwig though lowly of asking to borrow a car and not being able to afford to fill the tank when returning it. Whenever he had the money, Ludwig would take them up to visit the body of his child.
"Excuse me, I would like to visit my son, Leos Beilschimdt." Ludwig's voice broke Feliciano's thoughts. The nurse smiled up at him,
"Certainly sir," She chirped, her nimble fingers sifted through a file of passes. She marked the laminate with the date and room number before handing them to the two men.
As they wandered the halls of the hospital, Feliciano's eyes absorbed every detail. Each patient, despite his or hers aliment, seemed content. The scent was clean but a harsh burning chemical odor that tried to conceal the stench of infection, present in most hospitals, was absent. The veins of the earth were fossilized in the marble floors that broke up the bland flat white of the wall. The children's section was closed off from the remainder by a set of new doors, which looked out of place.
The moment Ludwig pushed through the doors, a new world was revealed. Children of all ages and injuries plagued the open layout of the room. Each patient separated by curtains. Nurses and what looked like volunteers were doing from each bed and writing down vitals. Some of the older children were up and playing. Two girls sat on a bed playing cards to the left. A tiny boy, perhaps no older than four, used his cast arm to steady his toy plane as he pretended to fight off the enemy pillow. The noise level was higher, both in joy and agony cries. A toddler wailed as she was injected by a nurse who pleaded for her to relax. Another reached for his bottle as an elderly woman prepared it. In the back, under the constant cloak of blue curtains, was the "room" stamped on their passes that clung to their shirts.
Ludwig's thick fingers parted the clothe. The sunlight showered in streams down unto a small child. The dust sparkling like gold powder around an angelic face. His body was concealed with a thick quilt, only his face was exposed and one arm. That arm had an IV of clear fluids entering his hand. His face was round, a slight blush on his cheeks. His hair had darkened from the lack of sun, now only a few shades lighter than his father's. His lips were plump and pink. Brow smooth and free of stress.
The most notable difference however was his weight. Although still underweight, he was much plumper, even more so than when he was in his father's care. By doctor's estimate, he was only one to two kilograms under ideal. A child with a thin, but at the very least present, layer of fat was resting peacefully before them. Ludwig sat and placed his warm palm against his son's face. His thumb rubbed soothing circles into his muscles, the child's jaw shifting beneath the pressure of the man's movements.
"It's me Leos, Papa," Ludwig whispered, "Feli and I have come to visit again. Your Uncle Gilbert is still too injured to travel far, but he sends his love… It is such a beautiful day my son. You should open your eyes and see it… Spring has finally come, all the cattle in the fields are fat with calves, the flowers are blooming, and the sun is so warm. Feli has been working hard on the garden, getting food ready for us. The house finally has a new roof, but it looks odd, too clean next to the older tiles. You'll laugh when you come home to see it but at least it is covering your room. Oh, your room is now fixed and I'll build you a new bed before you come home. The rest of the house needs more work but perhaps that is something you and I can do, a father son project? Would you like that?... The postman was nice enough to lend us his car again. Remember him? He was the man that drove you to the hospital with Feli. He seems to like you, but who couldn't with such a handsome face as yours. You take after your Papa," Ludwig chuckled. This kind of conversation would happen with each visit, Ludwig would go first then Feliciano. Both of them encouraging him to rose from his resting place.
"Let's check your wounds, ok?" Ludwig said. He pulled back the blanket to reveal his son's body.
It was a meager vessel of flesh, but it was better than Ludwig remembered. His left side was marked with bruises and wounds that look as if his skin split open. Ludwig's skillful hands examined each one and knew they were spawned from his curse. His right side was still heavily bandaged and coated with a protective salve. Beneath the cotton shield and paper tape was horrid mark of hatred, that even when covered from view, Ludwig could clearly see. His chest throbbed when his eyes fell upon the wrapping and he turned away. Feliciano now took his place at the boy's side. His browned skin pulled the covers back over his pseudo nephew.
"Ve, I am very happy to see you Leos, I have been thinking about you a lot. I am saving up and am going to buy some sugar. When you wake up, I sure even Ludwig would permit you to have a doughnut." A light laugh was heard from the corner of the enclosure were Ludwig stood. Feliciano's lips stretched into a smile. "Yes, I'm sure your regimented father would have no problem giving in one time, huh? With a cute little face like yours I'm surprised he hasn't completely spoiled you rotten! I would have, I guess that why I am not a Papa, eh?... You'd love the view from your window, it is the best in the hospital I bet. You know what else I think? I think you miss your swing, huh? I made a new one for you, we had to sell the tire so I made you a wooden seat. It came from a nice wide log, big enough to sit your father." A snort interjected but Feliciano continued. "Oh, that also reminds me. I re-stuffed your lamb, you can have him when you're ready to wake up. He's so fat now, not like before when it looked like a stick. No, you little lamb has been pigging out on Ludwig's cooking I'm afraid…" Feliciano took hold of the child's small hands. Playing with each of his perfectly formed digits.
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We will see more about what shape Germany is really in later on, but it would be very weighted for me to start out that intense. If you do not know any post-ww2 German history I will still have the actual text book notes posted like I before at the end. The next chapter deals with more realistic setting.