A/N: I swore I wasn't going to write any Hetalia fanfic, but….I couldn't resist.
Use of both human and country names.
I have no idea where this is going to go quite yet, so the rating might change. Do enjoy.
oOoOoOo
"It's the truth that you live by and die for,
It's the one thing you cannot deny;
Even though you don't know what the price is,
It is justified…"
oOoOoOo
It was a stupid idea.
Not that anyone expected brilliance from him-after all, Italy had never been known for his brains. A wry smile lit his face, his brown eyes sad. No, this was a different kind of idiocy-the selfless, crazy kind that no one had ever thought possible, especially from him. But the time for his old frivolity was over, and he had changed.
Everything had changed.
It had started with an innocent fight between France and England. But oh, that was only the beginning. Too soon, other countries had chosen sides, and it had grown into a conflict even larger than the first two world wars combined. The constant threat of a nuclear winter kept the missiles from flying, but Feliciano knew all too well that someone would crack. Everyone assumed it would be Russia or America, though he didn't think that the latter would find blowing up rather heroic. He just hoped his trust in the once vivacious America wasn't misplaced. Not like it had been with-
No, stop that. He chastised himself, glancing around instinctively. He sighed in relief. No one was around, even though he'd made it at least fifteen miles past the border. But he was still wary, and his amber eyes flicked around. Be on alert, Italy, he heard the voice in his head say, never let your guard down. His old friend had constantly chastised him for his lack of caution, glaring at him with frosty blue eyes. How ironic, now. Now that Italy had thrown himself in this war, had been changed so much, had become one of the strongest nations in the war. Wouldn't take much, he thought, glancing at the land around him. The air was thick with smoke, and the sounds of far off gunfire never ceased. It was happening back at home, too-he could feel the constant fighting, the occasional bursts of bombing that sometimes floored him. Early on in the war, there had always been that constant presence at his side, to help him through it. But that was gone, and the blame was his…
Yes, he had accepted it, he knew it in the depths of his heart. The only reason he was here was because of his own stupid, horrible mistake, and that made his heart ache with sadness. He didn't want to be here-not under the current circumstances, anyway. But he didn't have much of a choice-he had felt the sharp pain of the invasion on his country just that morning, and Romano was near death from attacks by Russia and England, and now Germany. That was what had finally galvanized Feliciano into action-seeing his fratello's eyes glazed over as he tried to whisper something, but it only came out a garbled, horribly faint noise. He had left the second his brother's eyes had shut again, swearing to put an end to this.
Even if I have to do this…
Even if it kills me to…
I swear…
He heard a gun go off from very nearby, and he ducked. There was still that part of him that wanted to retreat, to surrender, to wave a white flag and the world and run away like he'd always done. But that was no longer an option, and he gripped the gun in his hands determinedly. He had never killed before this war-never really even shot a gun except during the training sessions with Germany…
Ludwig…
He jumped up, surprising the soldier in front of him and let off several bullets into the man's chest. Despite the amount of times he'd done so since the awful war had started, the sight of the blood made him cringe and whisper under his breath.
"Mi dispiace…"
He hated this. Hated the war, hated England and France for starting it, hated himself for joining it, hated what it had done to him, to his friends…
He let his gun-wielding hand fall to his hip, sighing deeply. Everyone had changed-not just him, but Japan, France, Spain…even America had lost his spunk, his bright eyes now normally dull and sad. They all knew that even when this all ended, the world would be forever changed. Some nations had already been killed, and the thought brought tears to Feliciano's eyes as he continued forward. South Korea was the first to go, and then Latvia, Norway, Cuba…eight in total. Maybe soon to be nine, he added to himself, thinking about his brother's pale skin, the bandages that covered his body, the red that seeped through them…
A noise startled him from his thoughts, and he looked up, alarmed to feel the presence of another nation. He raised his gun, pointing it at the dark shape that was emerging from the trees. The other nation looked up at him, and though his heart skipped a beat, Italy didn't lower his gun. The blonde nation gasped, rasping quietly.
"Feli…"
"Don't call me that." Italy snapped, though he knew the other nation could tell he didn't really mean it. "You know why I'm here."
"Please, Fe-Italy, don't do this…" Blue eyes gazed up at him, pleading, as the other man fell to his knees. Ignoring the pang in his heart, Italy just shook his head sadly.
"I have to…you're killing fratello…."
"I don't have anything to do with that…Italy, I would never-"
"They're German troops." He cried, cursing the catch in his voice. "I'm not stupid, Germany."
"I never said you were…but Italy…Feliciano, I would never do that to you…"
"If it would help you win the war, you would." Italy accused him, though his voice was shaking, as was the rifle in his hands. Germany gazed up at him, blood running down the side of his face from an old wound. He was covered in them, as was Italy, and it was because of the constant fighting in their countries. Italy levelled the gun so it was pointing right between is old friend's eyes, ignoring the tears that dripped from his own.
"No, Feli...I would never hurt you….didn't I promise that? I didn't order that attack."
"How can I trust you?" Italy sobbed. "After everything…"
"Because I l-"
"Don't lie to me!" Italy's voice broke as he placed his finger over the trigger. Germany's eyes widened in horror, and his whispering voice was tinged with fear.
"Feli-"
"I told you not to call me that!" Italy cried, attempting to blink the tears from his eyes. "You lost your right to l-"
He suddenly stopped, hand flying to his chest as a pain gripped his heart. Not now, he gritted his teeth, forcing himself to look back down at the blonde man before him.
"See what you're doing to me?"
"It's not me!" Germany yelled, though it sounded more like he was begging. "I don't like seeing you hurt like this…Italy, please…don't kill me…"
"If I kill you, it will all be over." Italy's voice had gotten quieter, sounding sad yet angry at the same time. "If I kill you, England will back down, a-and so will Russia, a-a-and I can save fratello, and this whole stupid war will b-be over…"
"Italy-!"
"No! I won't listen to your excuses anymore!" Italy pointed the gun back between is former friend's eyes. "I-I'm sorry, Germany…I never wanted it t-to b-b-be like this…" the tears ran down his cheeks, "I d-d-don't want to…b-but…"
"It's alright." Germany bowed his head, a wry smile on his lips as he told the other nation. "Kill me. End this war before it destroys the world."
Destroys you…
He hadn't said it aloud, but it was almost as if he had. Italy's resolve faltered, but then he took a deep breath, whispering.
"Mi dispiace…Ludwig…"
Germany lifted his head and their gazes met for a moment before Italy's finger pulled back…
BANG!