Wherever You Are
"Vati" "Nonno" "Papà" "Far" Where are you? "Μαμά" "Mommy" "Mama" "Maman" I need you . . .
"Bruder?" The pitiful and tiny voice chirped. Gilbert turned his attention from the starlit night to his little brother behind him. He had snuck from his bed, down the hall all the way to the front door. There were tears in his big blue eyes, and he was desperately trying to wipe them away. He simply couldn't show weakness in front of his älter bruder. Gilbert would tease him mercilessly.
"Lulu. It's dark. Go crawl in bed with Roddy or Vash or Lilli if you're scared. Vati will get mad if you're up" The pale child chided softly. More tears pricked the corners of the baby nation's eyes. "B-but Vati's not here." He stammered, his voice choked with sorrow and threatening tears. Swift as a sparrow, Ludwig had wrapped his small arms around his brother's waist, stubbornly refusing to let go, burying his cherubic face in his brother's tunic. "When is he gonna come home bruder? When is Vati coming home?"
Gilbert bit his lip and looked up from the top of his brother's head to gaze out the open door into the night. "I don't know Lulu." He whispered. "What if Vati got lost?" The frantic child cried harder, 'What if he never comes home?" Gilbert scowled at that thought. "No way. Vati wouldn't get lost. Wherever his is, he'll find a way home."
"Promise?" The small Aryan child whispered, sad cerulean orbs meeting bright crimson. "Promise." Gilbert repeated, ruffling his little brother's soft hair, "Now c'mon! Vati would be so mad if he caught you up!" Nodding, fearful of his father's punishment if he was caught, Ludwig fled to his room, soon to be reclaimed by worry-free slumber. His brother remained at the door of their small home, watching.
Gilbert began only mouthing his plea to the sky, but he soon ended singing with small tears trickling down his fair cheeks.
"Come out moon
Come out wishing star
Come out
Come out
Wherever you are"
"Maman?" The small blonde boy had crawled into the tired woman's lap. Gaul had grinned weakly as her son pressed the palms of his chubby hands against her gaunt cheeks. "Maman, why are you so tired?" Francis had cocked his head to the side, curious. Gaul had staggered and clenched her teeth. She had given her son a strained smile and had lifted him off her lap. She had pushed him gently towards the door.
"Go out and play with Spain or Prussia, oui?" She had murmured. Francis had nodded obediently.
That was a week ago.
Francis sat obediently in the open doorway. His beloved Maman often left for long periods of time. Sometimes she brought his friend Prussia and his little brothers home with her, saying that their Vati asked her to baby-sit. Sometimes little Arthur swam the channel that separated them, and followed his mother home, curious and hungry. Sometimes Maman came home alone, carrying a fresh deer carcass and then they'd feast.
But something deep inside the young child told him that this time, Maman wouldn't be returning. Not with the Germans, not with little Iggy. Not at all. Maman wasn't coming home. But Francis didn't believe that tiny, obsolete voice. His Maman would come back. She would come back because he was her mon petit ange and she loved him.
In the meanwhile, he would wait in the doorway, passing his time wondering about where she was, crying himself to sleep in the absence of her warmth and embrace.
"I'm alone here in the dark
All alone and wide awake
Come and find me
I'm empty and I'm cold
And my heart is about to break
Come and find me"
Ivan stared out into the vicious swirling snow. His sisters were fast asleep, tucked safely into their beds. His cousins, the Baltics, were sprawled out on the floor. Ravis had stolen his bed. But little Ivan didn't mind. Ravis was ok, and his cousins almost never visited. The little country couldn't sleep anyways. Not a wink.
"Mama. . ." Me murmured, his tears freezing on his cheeks. Where was she? "Mama where did you go?" He asked the howling wind. "MAMA!" He screamed to the black skies and the innocently twinkling stars. Running out into the deep snow, stumbling and falling face-first into the icy slush, Ivan cried out again.
"MAMA!"
He reached the frozen birch trees, a good distance from his home for a small child to cross in snow. He clung to the cold wood and looked to the skies above, more frozen tears leaking from his amethyst eyes. He clung to the tree and cried. He cried for the loss of the comfort and warmth his mother provided, the soothing words and gentle songs that chased away his fears. He cried for the loss of his mother. And he began to shout over the howling blizzard winds, crying for his mother, bidding her to return.
"A need you to come here and find me
Cause without you I'm totally lost
I've hung a wish on every star
It hasn't done much good so far
I can only dream of you
Wherever you are"
"Far isn't coming back, Mathis." Berwald chided his bossy brother. Mathis tore his gaze away from the window of their home long enough to stick out his tongue and deny his brother. "Far's coming back! He's just late! He's probably pillaging a village with lotsa sweets to take back home for us!" The blonde chattered excitedly. Tino began crying. Mathis returned to staring out the glass window dedicatedly scanning the winter landscape for the familiar fur-clad, ax-wielding figure that was his beloved Far.
"He's not." Berwald was serious now. He was using his height to intimidate, unintentionally hastening Tino's tears. "Yes he is." Mathis answered coolly, dismissing his brother's comment with a disgruntled frown. How could he have so little faith in their father? In For? For wouldn't just leave them. He'd never leave them. Never.
"He's not coming home, bror." Berwald repeated sadly, lowering his eyes to the floor. Mathis drew a shaking breath. "How could you say that?" He shouted angrily, "For loves us! He wouldn't just leave! He loves us! He'd never leave us!"
"I'll hear you laugh
I'll see you smile
I'll be with you just for a while
But when the morning comes
And the sun begins to rise
I'll lose you"
A small little boy woke from his nightmare, breathing heavy. Tears stung his eyes as the cry left his lips. The habitual cry, every time he had a nightmare.
"Μαμά!"
Turkey burst through his door, looking rather messy with his bed-head and skewed mask and rumpled clothes. Under any other circumstances Heracles would have burst out into peals of uncontrollable, side-splitting laughter. But not this case. This time he just wanted the person he had called.
His mother. Mama Greece.
But Turkey had told him, laughing, proudly, that Mama Greece was dead. Mama Greece had left Little Greece all alone.
But she was just there! In his dreams! She was smiling and laughing . . . but it was just a dream. Only a dream and nothing more.
Heracles felt Turkey's strong arms encompass his smaller form and he couldn't help but cry into the provided shoulder and cling to the provided warmth, all the while whishing for his mothe
"Because it's just a dream
When I open up my eyes
I'll lose you"
Lonan murmured as he petted his younger brother's soft blonde hair. "Mommy!" The small child bolted upright, surprising the Hell out of his older brothers. "Mommy! Mommy!" Little Arthur cried, chubby hands reaching, clawing the air for the familiar folds of his mother's dress. He was met with Lonan instead. Ireland.
England screamed louder. He did not want his brothers, he wanted his mother! "She's not here." Wales murmured gently, sitting on the edge of England's bed, reaching out to console the thrashing toddler in the Irish child's arms. "Mommy! Mommy!" England screamed, not caring what lies his brothers told. His mother was somewhere and he needed her. He needed here there, not somewhere else. So why was she not there?
"MOMMY!" England screamed again, calming down, his energy spent and what was left was diverted into making tears. Lonan cradled his little brother, just as he had watched his mother do when she was still around, and he could only hope it would be close enough to calm his baby brother.
"I use to believe in forever
But forever is too good to be true
I've hung a wish on every star
It hasn't done much good so far"
"P- Papá? ¿Papá? ¿D-Dondé estás?" Night had fallen over the farmland that little Antonio loved so much. The precious vines and coveted crops, sinister in the dark, loomed over the tiny child. He had crossed his father's seemingly endless fields, all in an effort to find him, but he had vanished. Little Antonio has scoured every inch of dirt, left no leaf unturned. His father was nowhere.
Biting his lip, the small brunette child curled up under one of the grape vines, drawing his knees to his chest. "¿D-Dondé estás?" He shouted out into the night. The stars said nothing. The moon said even less. "I wish you would come home!" He cried into his knees, his nails drawing blood from the tiny welts he had dug into his legs. He was dirty, cold, hungry, alone . . .
"Tengo miedo, Papá . . ." He choked out between his sobs, "Tengo miedo, muy muy miedo . . . ¿Por qué no estás aquí?" Why aren't you here? Sorrow filled the tiny child's heart. He'd have to find Carlos. Yes, Carlos! Maybe his little brother found his Papá! Antonio smiled at the bright thought, but his grin faltered. He'd told Carlos to stay in the house, not to leave it until he got back. Carlos wouldn't find Papá.
Where was he? He never left them alone before . . . never. Antonio was so excited at being left alone, just like a big boy- a growed-up country! But now . . . now he didn't want to be a big boy. He wanted to be a little boy again, a little boy who had his Papá. A little boy held safe and sound and warm in his Papá's arms. He'd even be nice to little Carlos and stop putting worms in his paella! If that meant getting his Papá back, he'd never do it again!
"Papá! I promise I'll never make Portugal cry again!" The young nation sobbed, "Just come back!"
"I'm scared!"
I don't know what else to do
Except to try to dream of you
And wonder if you are dreaming too . . ."
"Nonno?" The curious voice posed the soft question as its owner's head peaked around the corner. The marble was cold to the touch, but little Italy didn't mind. He was playing hide'n-go-seek with his Nonno. His Nonno was really good at the game though.
"Nonno I found you!" The little boy chirped excitedly as he spotted an abnormal gap in the curtains. He dashed through the velvety fabric, giggling as he burst into the next room. "Found you Nonno!" He beamed to the empty room. Crestfallen, Feliciano's golden eyes fell to the floor, welling with tears. His Nonno wasn't there. He plopped onto the floor in soft crying.
He'd been looking for ages- so where was Nonno?
Determination restored, the little Italian jumped back to his feet, smiling brightly again. "I'm gunna find you Nonno!" He chirped, running from the empty room. He choose the next room and ran to it, only to be floored by something solid (yet very soft!). "Ve? Mr. Germania?" The blonde barbarian didn't even respond. His armor was bloodied, and he looked shaken- like a part of his soul had been torn away and burned. He carried Nonno's sword in his shaking hands.
"Mr. Germania?" The tiny child whispered, looking up fearfully at the warrior. "Rom is dead." He choked out, his voice hoarse. "He- he used me . . . to kill himself . . ." Little Italy watched as Germania vanished, taking the blood-stained blade with him. Tears fell from his golden eyes as he peaked through the curtains of the room Germania had just left.
"Nonno?"
"Wherever you are"
With his somber song finished, his lament complete, Gilbert wiped away the tears that had escaped his eyes, and scowled at the sky.
"Wherever you are. . ."
Can you believe that this song if from Winnie the Pooh? Because it is. Did I make you cry? I swear, this made me cry while I was writing it . . .
(And ja, Gilbert is singing the song)
Tell me what you think, ja?
(I bet you can tell I favoured Antonio and Gilbert, but hey, I'm a Spanish and German.)