AN: Oh god, why do I do this to myself? IDEAS, Y U NO COME AT A RESONABLE HOUR? D

Anyway, have some GerIta. :3

The two brothers were silent as they watched the speech through the open window. They could hear the cheers as Hitler rallied the crowd – mostly soldiers, but some civilians – and renewed their faltering hope for the cause.

"Heil Hitler!"

Germany watched as his people hailed the monster that was tearing them apart. His brother turned from the window, unwilling to watch as they dug themselves deeper. Prussia took a step away – to go where, he didn't know – but was stopped by his brother's voice.

"Bruder, how far are you willing to go to help me?"

Prussia turned to his brother, confused. "What do you mean 'how far'? You know I'd give everything to help you. That's never changed."

Germany kept his gaze fixed on the rally as he said, "I mean, if I told you to run, would you listen and not look back?"

Prussia took a step toward him, eyes narrowing as he putting two and two together. "What are you planning?"

Germany's eyes flickered briefly to his brother before turning back out the window. "Answer me, Gilbert. If I told you to run away as fast as you could and never look back, would you do it?"

Gilbert hesitated, almost afraid to answer, but after a moment he said, "Yes. I would."

"Gut."

Germany finally turned away from the window, facing his brother. "I can't do this any longer, Gilbert. I'm standing by, watching my people as they tear themselves apart out of misplaced hate. I'm even forced to help sometimes, pushing my people into lines for the firing squad or the railroad cars taking them to hell on Earth. And I can't take it anymore."

He took a deep breath, fist clenching and relaxing as as he continued. "I can feel them. I can feel their fear, and their pain, and their nearly non-existent hope. I can feel their suffering, their deaths, and their strength as they hold on dearly to life. I'm finally going to do something about it."

"Okay, you're depressing me, Ludwig. Where's Italy? Maybe some of his pasta will cheer you up..." Gilbert said, worried about the turn his brother's thoughts had apparently taken.

Germany turned away, focusing on the wooden wall paneling. "Italy's gone. I forced him from my home a few nights ago, yelling at him to leave and never come back. I threw him into the rain and slammed the door in his face."

Prussia stared at him. "I thought he was your friend! Why would you do that?"

Germany's pained smile answered the question before his voice did. "Because it means he'll be safe. He won't suffer for what I'm about to do."

"And that would be?"

"I'm going to attempt to kill Hitler."

He turned and walked down the hall. Gilbert stood frozen for a minute, unable to process what his brother had just said. Once it all fell into place he jumped into motion, running to catch up to Ludwig. He grabbed his arm and forced him to stop, turning him so that they were face to face.

"You are going to do what?"

Ludwig shook off Gilbert's hands, but didn't try to go anywhere. "I said, I'm going to try to kill Hitler." He raised a hand to stop Gilbert's protests. "No. Listen to me first."

Gilbert pouted and crossed his arms, but remained silent. For the moment, anyway.

"I know I am not likely to succeed. I know that if I don't, I'll be sent to the camps. But I also know that the camps are where I belong, and that it is better to go there in service to the German people than it is to go there because I supposedly made a mistake."

Gilbert looked at him, confused. "What do you mean 'supposedly made a mistake?' And what's this about belonging in the camps?"

"I shouldn't be here, Gilbert! I shouldn't be enjoying the privileges of rank and Aryan coloring while my citizens are suffering in such magnitude. I should be there with them, sharing their suffering, easing their load! Not living in comfort on the goodwill of a man who hates me!"

"Gott, West! What the hell are you talking about?"

Germany reached into his chest pocket and pulled out a folded photograph. He unfolded it, but kept the image hidden as he said, "I'm homosexual, Gilbert. I would've thought you would have picked up on it by now, but either you didn't or you didn't realize what it means. Our boss hates people he deems different or inferior. That means Jews, political opponents... and people like me."

He passed the photo to Gilbert and said, "He was suspicious from the beginning, I could tell. He must have seen something that gave me away. But then he saw that, and I knew it was only a matter of time."

Gilbert looked at the photo in his hand, and his breath caught. It was of Ludwig and Feliciano, both of them smiling. Ludwig's was more subdued, but still obviously there. They were both shirtless, with Ludwig's arm thrown over Feli's shoulder as the smaller man hugged his waist with both arms.

The pose was one he'd seen them in often, and he almost passed the photo back. But he took a closer look, and realized what had damned his brother. Held in both pairs of eyes was love.

He sighed as he handed the photograph back. "Did you tell Italy?"

Germany shook his head as he refolded the picture and put it back in his pocket. "No, I didn't. I couldn't, knowing that I would eventually be forced to break my promise to keep him safe."

Gilbert sighed and ran a hand over his face. He didn't want to, but he knew that he would never forgive himself if he got in his brother's way. "How will I know when to run?"

It was almost worth it when he saw the look of relief on his brother's face.

"I'll throw my gun out of the window. If that happens, I failed. If I fail, run, and forget about coming back for me. Please, Gilbert. Don't come back."

Prussia closed his eyes and nodded, feeling a hole in his chest open up. Ludwig embraced his brother tightly. "Danke, bruder."

They heard the roar of the crowd as Hitler walked off the podium. Germany released his brother. "That's my signal. I love you, bruder. Make sure to tie Feli's shoelaces while I'm gone. God knows the trouble he'll get into with them untied."

He turned and walked away with sure steps. Gilbert's eyes followed Ludwig until he turned at the fork and couldn't be seen any longer. A single tear rolled down his cheek.

Ludwig waited in the shadowed corner, well hidden from the view from the doorway. He heard footsteps out in the hallway, and shrank back against the wall.

The door opened, and Hitler walked in along with two officers. He couldn't pick up what they were saying from his hiding place, and shifted slightly so he could at least get a better view of where they were. After a few moments of hushed conversation, the two officers left. Ludwig knew that they were probably just outside the door, but this was the only chance he'd get. He hadn't told his brother that he'd seen the order condemning him to the camps, and today was his last as a free man. He'd make it big.

He stepped out from his hiding place, not bothering to hide from the mirror on the mantlepiece. Hitler saw his reflection and startled slightly, turning quickly to face him.

"Ah, Ludwig. To what do I owe the... pleasure of your company," he sneered.

Ludwig smiled slightly as he said, "To nothing but my own need for atonement."

He quickly pulled out his gun, aiming it right at the man he hated. Hitler dodged, but not quickly enough. Ludwig pulled the trigger, but his shot hit Hitler's shoulder instead of his heart. He quickly pulled out his own gun and shot at Ludwig, but the shot went wide, hitting his arm.

The door burst open, and several officers rushed into the room. They grabbed hold of Germany before he could react, quickly halting any attempts to escape. He soon stopped struggling.

Hitler planted his foot in Germany's stomach, causing him to double over in pain. He quickly kicked him again, forcing him to the floor.

"Did you want to go in early, Ludwig?"

Ludwig glared up at him. "Go to hell, arschloch," he said, spitting on his face.

Hitler growled and reared back, wiping his face. Ludwig jumped up as quickly as he could, hurling his gun out of the window with all his strength. The sound of glass shards hitting the ground was the last thing he heard before pain exploded in his head and he knew no more.

Gilbert looked up at the sound of glass shattering. He took a step forward, but stopped when he heard something else hit the ground. He looked around, and saw Ludwig's gun lying a few yards from where he was standing.

He looked back up at the shattered window before picking up the gun and running away as fast as he could.

"Verdammt, Italien! Why are you always so stupid?"

Feliciano backed away, frightened by the enraged German. He hadn't done anything wrong! The kitchen was spotless, dinner was the same as always, and he was fully dressed! Why was Germany yelling at him?

"I'm so tired of you! You and your inability to take care of yourself, to stay and fight, and your annoying habits!" He picked up the crying Italian and manhandled him out the door, throwing him into the rainy night.

"Don't you ever show your face around here again!" he said, slamming the door in his face.

Italy stood there, shocked and crying. Did Ludwig really hate him so much? He felt the tears fall faster as he got up and turned to leave. But suddenly he heard someone crying over the sound of the rainfall, and he stopped.

It was coming from Germany's house.

Stealthily he made his way to a window, making sure he was covered from view by the sill. He looked inside, and felt his heart break.

Germany was up against the wall, head in his hands and shoulders shaking as he cried. In front of him was a framed photograph, and Italy could immediately tell which picture was in it by the frame.

Feliciano quietly moved away from the window, breaking into a run as soon as he was far enough. What Ludwig had done hurt him, but Feliciano understood, and had already forgiven him.

Because he would have done the same thing to protect Ludwig, no matter the cost.

Italy woke with a start. He sat up in bed, wondering what had woken him as he dried the tears caused by the memory. Suddenly he heard a light knocking, and nearly fell out of bed in surprise.

"Ve, someone's at the door!"

He went to the other Allies, shaking them awake. Once they were all awake he told them about someone knocking on the door.

Right on cue they knocked again, but this time a slightly muffled voice joined the insistent rapping. "Oi, open up! I don't want to be out here all night!"

"Prussia?" Italy said, surprised.

The Allies tensed. "Prussia? What the hell is he doing here?" Arthur asked.

France rolled his eyes at the Brit. "A better question, mon ami, is what do we do about him being here?"

"Let him in."

The Allies turned to Italy in surprise. "Huh?" Alfred asked skeptically.

Italy turned fierce eyes on them. "I said let him in. If he's here, it's for a good reason. Let him in."

The others still looked skeptical, but Alfred still went and opened the door. Prussia darted in, quickly collapsing against a nearby wall as Alfred shut the door. Italy immediately moved forward, crushing him in a surprisingly strong hug.

"Please tell me good news, Gilbert."

Gilbert broke down and sobbed into Italy's shoulder, shocking everyone present. "Shh, Gilbert. It'll all be fine, ve? I'll make some pasta and we can sit down and put good food in our bellies. That makes everyone feel better," Italy said, gently stroking Gilbert's hair.

Gilbert pulled away and wiped his face. "No, I'll be fine. You can make me pasta tomorrow, but right now I have to refuse."

Feliciano steered him into a chair, the other Allies crowding around him. "I need your help," Gilbert said, looking directly at the other nations.

"Why would we help you? You are our enemy. Your own soldiers are what forced you to come here cloaked like a thief," Francis said bluntly.

Gilbert flinched, and Italy glared at Francis. He knelt in front of him, gently taking Gilbert's hand in two of his own. "It's Ludwig, isn't it?"

Gilbert nodded. He took a deep breath and said, "I need your help to get my brother back."

Arthur snorted. "You're just digging yourself deeper. Your brother's the cause of this bloody mess."

Gilbert's eyes flashed as he spat, "No he is not! Blame this mess on Hitler! Not on my brother. Never on my brother."

Alfred's eyes narrowed. Putting the clues together he said, "You said you need our help to get your brother back. Why? What did he do that you can't help him on your own?"

"He tried to kill Hitler."

The silence was heavy as the nations took that in. After a moment the Allies burst into speech, each trying to override the others as they questioned Prussia, who tried his best to answer them all. When all their questions had been answered, the others couldn't help but feel a grudging respect for Germany. Feliciano managed to keep the tears at bay, but only just. There were more important things to attend to.

The others crowded around a table, discussing strategy. Italy soon joined in, surprising the others. "Feliciano, you shouldn't be a part of this. Ludwig sent you away to try to protect Italy," Gilbert pointed out.

Feliciano looked him in the eyes and said, "I'm not doing this as Italy; I'm doing this as Feliciano. My brother can take care of the country for a little while."

Gilbert met his gaze, examining his resolve. He met nothing but hardened steel, and smiled. "Ludwig would be proud."

The rest of the night was spent planning the next move of the war.

Mile after mile, camp after camp they liberated. Each time they were met with the horrors the Nazi's had inflicted on the people. Huge ovens, giant crematoriums filled with the ashes of the unnamed dead. Row after row in the barracks, with bodies packed so close you could not tell one from the other. Skeletons pulled from the grave. It horrified them.

It wasn't something you grew numb to seeing.

Alfred walked up to the others while they were taking a break for lunch. "The men have found another camp. Twenty miles north-northwest. They say it's called Auschwitz."

Gilbert froze, fork halfway to his mouth. "What did you say it's called?"

"Auschwitz."

He immediately jumped up, food forgotten. "Ludwig's in there."

The others stared at him. "What? How do you know?"

"I remember that name. Plus, I can feel it."

Arthur snorted. "Oh well that's bloody convincing! So you can feel it –"

Feliciano cut Arthur off. "I can feel him too. There's a nation in there. Focus and you can feel him."

The others focused for a moment, and when they brought themselves back they all nodded. They could all feel the signature of a nation in the direction of the camp. But it was very weak.

"Let's move out."

Auschwitz was just as bad as the others – probably even worse. The soldiers organized into groups, combing the camp for prisoners and soldiers alike. They carefully gathered up the prisoners, moving them as quickly as possible to a medical center. The nations focused on the officers while their soldiers took care of the prisoners.

Gilbert, tired of the circles they were running in with the officers, lost his temper. He picked one of them up and slammed him into a nearby pole. "I'm tired of your games, arschloch. I'm looking for a certain someone. He has blond hair, blue eyes, and is a little taller than me. And he... he likely has a pink triangle on him."

The officer sneered. "Well, why didn't you just say so? People with those go in the barracks over there," he said, gesturing to a block the other soldiers hadn't gotten to yet.

"Danke," Gilbert said before he knocked the man out with a swift hit to the head. "Bastard."

He looked turned and looked at the others. He did a double take and scanned the area. "Where's Feli?"

The others shared a look before turning and running for the barracks.

"Ludwig? Ludwig, where are you?"

Feliciano ran up and down the rows, searching for his friend. He'd almost reached the end of the barracks when he saw him.

Ludwig was curled up on his wooden bed, looking frightfully thin and small with his bones clearly visible through his ragged clothes. His hair was only a light fuzz, highlighting the terribly prominent cheekbones and sunken eyes.

But even with all of the harsh changes, he was still Ludwig. And he was alive.

He walked over to him as the soldiers he'd brought with him moved the others in the barrack. There weren't as many in here as in the others, so it wasn't difficult.

Kneeling in front of his friend, he said, "Ludwig? Ludwig, it's time to open your eyes." He touched his shoulder, and blue eyes fluttered open. God, he'd missed the sight of them.

Ludwig blinked and examined him. Eyes widened for a moment before he snorted and rolled over, putting his back to Feliciano. Shocked, Feliciano stuttered, "L-Ludwig? Why are you ignoring me?"

"You aren't real, you never are. Why should I pay attention to you?"

Feliciano felt his heart shatter. "What if I was real?"

Ludwig laughed bitterly. "But you're not. You haven't been real since the night I left you out in the rain. Every time I see you, it's just my mind playing tricks on me, showing me something I really want to see."

He suddenly flipped back over, blue eyes boring holes into him. "But I must admit, the smell of pasta is a new trick. I haven't smelled pasta since you last cooked for me," he said, inhaling deeply. However, he inhaled a little too deeply, and started coughing.

Feliciano heard footsteps come close to him, but he paid them no mind as he grabbed Ludwig, tying to help him into a position to ease his coughs. The fit stopped soon, and Ludwig stared at Feliciano's hands like they were mutated tentacles. He put one of his own hands over Feliciano's, and jumped slightly when they came in contact with warm flesh.

Suddenly he grabbed Feliciano, pulling him up slightly and putting his ear to his chest. Feliciano stood stiffly, wondering what on Earth Ludwig was doing.

Ludwig pulled back after a moment, staring at Feliciano's face. "Y-You have a heartbeat."

Feliciano smiled hugely, realizing what his friend had been doing. "Ve, I'm glad I do."

He suddenly found himself with an armful of much-too-skinny German. He stumbled a bit before he balanced himself. He turned toward the door, and ended up face to face with the other nations.

"Ah, you saw all of that, didn't you?"

They smiled sadly as Alfred said, "Yeah we did."

The other nations looked them over, and he noticed them all go pale. He clutched Ludwig a little tighter as he said, "Ve, why are all of you so pale? What's wrong?"

"Feliciano, there's blood on the back of his pants."

He felt his heart shatter into even smaller pieces.

Ludwig spent months at the hospital. Hooked up to IVs that gave him much needed nutrients and antibiotics to prevent infection due to his weakened immune system. Physical therapy to help him gain the lost muscle and bone mass. A few scares when he got sick or something wasn't working right.

Feliciano was there through it all, never leaving his side unless it was absolutely necessary.

Finally – finally – Ludwig was cleared for checkout. Feliciano met him just outside the hospital doors, twirling the keys to his car. "Need a ride?" he asked, smiling.

Ludwig laughed – really laughed – for the first time in months.

When they finally got to Ludwig's house, everyone was waiting for him. They laughed and cheered and patted him on the back, congratulating him on surviving the perils of hospitalization.

Everyone was happy, but Ludwig knew something was off. He took a good look around, and asked, "Where's Gilbert?"

A wall. That commie bastard had built a wall.

And his brother had willing gone to save him the pain of being torn in two.

Feliciano didn't go back to Italy, instead practically moving into Ludwig's home and leaving Lovino mostly in charge. He would join him every night as he walked the wall, his silent presence and pasta every night making the situation bearable. His perpetual smile greeting him every morning, and he quickly grew used to having a warm body in his bed again.

One day he didn't think about it. He just kissed him, like it was something he had done every day before that.

He did it every day after.

It was odd how nothing really changed between them. They still acted the same, had the same habits. Ludwig still tied Feliciano's shoe laces and Feli still walked the dogs while Ludwig was at work. Feliciano still had the pasta ready when Ludwig came home from a bad day at work, always somehow knowing when Ludwig needed the comfort of a fresh meal greeting him. Ludwig still wiped away his tears when he was scared, and still gave him more flag material when he ran out, even though he grumbled about it.

They still sat together in the study, Ludwig reading while Feli napped in his lap. Ludwig still slept on the left and Feli on the right, even if they somehow ended up on one side or the other in the morning. They still had the same routine in the bathroom: Ludwig waking up and going in first, Feli going in as soon as he was done.

Nothing had changed, and yet everything had.

Ludwig woke in a cold sweat, the ghost of unwanted hands still tainting his skin. Feliciano held him comfortingly as he gently stroked his hair. "Do you want to talk about it?"

He did. Feli listened to every word, patiently waiting and comforting him when he needed to gather his thoughts.

"Ludwig, I won't pressure you. I can wait. It's something you have to be sure about. I would never try to pressure you after what happened in the camps."

Ludwig leaned forward and kissed Feliciano gently. "Danke, Liebe."

When they finally gave themselves to each other, no bad memories were there to taint it.

Dust was getting in his eyes, scratching his throat, dirtying his clothes.

He didn't give a damn.

It was falling, finally falling, and he could see those that had been trapped on the other side. So close, they were so close. He swung his sledge hammer again and again at the wall, Feliciano doing the same beside him. The piece of wall crumbled, and the people cheered as more dust flew into the air. They moved on to a new section, going at the wall again until this one fell too.

They were tired, and their muscles ached, but they were so close...

And a piece fell again, but this time he was met with white hair and crimson eyes. The brothers stared at each other, unable to respond for a moment, before Gilbert leaped over the crumbled wall and crushed his brother in a hug. Tears streamed down both their faces as they clutched at each other and swore to themselves that they would never be separated again.

"I missed you, brother."

"I missed you too, West."

"Ve, now everyone's back together again!" Feliciano smiled brightly, and at Ludwig's gesture he leaped forward and hugged them both, his enthusiasm sending them all to the ground.

None of them cared.

The other nations had rushed over as soon as they had heard about the wall, clapping and cheering as they greeted the German brothers. America and Hungary had quickly fashioned a party out of the materials they found in Germany's house, and soon everyone was celebrating and having a good time.

France was off perving somewhere, and Switzerland was keeping a close eye on him while staying close to Liechtenstein. Spain, Gilbert, Alfred, and Arthur were having a watergun fight, which Romano was refereeing. Russia was creeping everyone out. The Asians were huddled together, playfully arguing about something or another, while Greece hovered near Japan and Turkey near Greece. The Baltics were talking to a floating polar bear while the Nordics were lolling about somewhere. Austria and Hungary were talking to Belgium and the Netherlands.

He wrapped his arms around Feliciano as they watched their family have fun.

"Marry me?"

"Si."

And that was all they needed, because everyone was finally were they belonged. In the bright sun of a cloudless day, they were all home at last.

AN: Hope you enjoyed this oneshot. Reviews are love! :3