"What do we do with them this time?"
"We can't do the same things we did in the Great War."
"Yeah, look at how well that worked out."
"We could divide the country. That might work."
"It's the best idea. It divides their strength."
"So we are dividing the nation? Fine, but you all owe me. I was the one that helped with the Eastern front. I will take the east. All of it."
"…Fine. The capital should be divided. Since you want the east, take Leona."
"N-No!"
"I don't care what you do with him. Just keep him away from me."
"I'm long distance, plus I've got the Pacific to worry about."
"Then I guess he'll stay with me."
"The nation needs to grow strong again. We need to release our claims on the city and the land."
"I agree; nothing good ever comes from being divided."
"You try to make Germany powerful again, and I will take drastic action."
"London? Is that you?
"M-Moscow?
"W-where are we going?
Alaric huddled in the corner of the room. It may have been late June, but he shivered in the heat. Not eating for three days may have contributed to that.
"I… I guess I deserve this," he grimaced. He didn't bother smoothing back his hair; it would only get tousled again.
It was useless trying to get out, he knew. There was only one door, and it was locked. He'd spent all of his second day in the cell pulling at the iron handle. The only thing he could do was listen to his stomach growl and try to sleep.
He wasn't expecting to hear anything, much less the sound of someone calling for him.
"Psst!" a voice called. "Alaric? You in there?"
The obnoxious voice was unmistakable. "Lee?" he whispered, swinging his head around. "What- how? Why?"
The American's young face peeked in through the small, barred window. He looked tense, and glanced over his shoulder every so often, as if he were being watched. Washington DC tossed something in through the bars. It landed near Alaric with a thud.
Warily, West Berlin unwrapped it, and found a hamburger inside. Not his first choice of a meal, but anything looked appetizing on an empty stomach. He cast his gaze to the window again. "Why are you helping me?" he called softly. "After everything I've done?"
DC glanced over his shoulder again before answering. "To tell you the truth? I forgive you."
"Y-you do?"
"Yeah. You seemed genuinely sorry for everything you did, and that's good enough for me. Plus, I've got a bit of sympathy for anyone taken by Moscow." He swallowed and glanced at his watch. "I'll be back in a few hours to give you dinner. Can't have you too well-fed," he joked. "London might stop by too."
"London?" Alaric blinked in disbelief. "Why would he want to help me? I mean, you, I understand. But…"
The younger boy shrugged. "He said he wanted to help you. I guess he acknowledges you're really sorry and all. I think he might have forgiven you for the crap you did, but I don't think he trusts you. Besides, he doesn't like to see anyone in trouble."
"But… I…" I bombed parts of the city until there was only rubble. I was ruthless. I took his girlfriend away and mentally, and physically, messed her up. "How can he forgive me? I can barely forgive myself."
DC bit his lip. "It's a funny thing, forgiveness. It's easier to forgive when you live with someone, I think." He was referring to the fact that West Berlin had lived with London for the past few months; Paris and DC each had a claim on West Berlin, but Paris didn't want anything to do with him, and DC was still in a war. "And when they make you face what you've done, and see how you react… It lets people see how you really feel."
"You have to take responsibility for the hell you've caused," London had said.
Those camps… He'd never really understood the horror until the British city had shown him up close.
"Weißt du, wo mein Sohn ist? Mein Mann? Ich habe sie nicht in so lange nicht gesehen!" a woman had cried. She was little more than skin and bone, and yet her pleading hold on his arm had paralyzed Alaric. The fear in her eyes, that she would never see her husband and son again. The piles and piles of bodies, ashes... It was all his fault. And why? He couldn't answer. He hadn't flinched when London had decked him across the face, glaring the whole time. He'd deserved it.
Why?
Why had he done this?
"Alaric?" DC cocked his head. "Are you okay? You look like you're going to puke, and you haven't even touched your burger."
"Lee," Alaric swallowed, wrapping his arms around his knees. "I… I really didn't know how far it was taken. Honest." He had never been to any of the camps in Poland, not before London had taken him there.
Lee sighed. "I know. But you knew about some of it. Look, chin up. We'll talk about this when Moscow stops being a dick and lets you go. Eat, quick, and toss your wrapper out the window or something."
Alaric shook his head. "I'm actually not really hungry."
DC nodded sagely. "That's what someone who hasn't eaten in a while always says. You've gotten used to the hunger pangs, I take it. You have to eat when you can; what use are you to anyone if you starve to death?"
West Berlin chuckled dryly. "It's probably better for everyone if I'm dead."
DC clenched his teeth. "If you don't take at least one bite of that burger, I will come in there and force it down your throat."
West Berlin threw his hands up in surrender. "Fine, you win!" He bit into the hamburger, and DC smiled.
"Awesome. Finish quick, but not too quick," he added. "Wouldn't want your stomach to explode."
West raised an eyebrow. "Don't ask," DC shook his head.
Alaric finished, and handed DC the wrapper. "Thank you," he lowered his gaze.
DC stretched his arm through the bars in the window, and put his hand on the older boy's shoulder. "Don't worry about it, buddy. Be back later. Don't want that jackass Commie catching me." The last West Berlin saw of DC was a tuft of spiky brown hair, and he was gone.
Alone again, he sighed and slid down the wall of the cell. Why did he have so much time to think? It made him even more upset. He buried his face in his knees, and wasn't sure when sleep overtook him, but soon everything was dark.