Author's Comments:

I started writing this lovely thing in May. I finished it in November. It is 2,131 words long. It took me around 7 months to finish a 2k one-shot. On average, I can write around 3~4 pages in a day. That is about 1,300 words. So how in the world did it take me 7 months to finish something I could do in 2 days? It is called the Art of Procrastination.

I want to apologize to Tineri Talenti (#4162477) for the long wait. She and I roleplayed together and I was given the task of making it into a story.

If we both can get over our bouts of delayed writing, we will someday add onto this lovely series. Next one-shot will be a courtesy of Tineri. Of course, none of us actual own Hetalia. We only own the plot (and not really, if you think about it).

Below is a fanfiction that weaves the Holocaust into the story.
If the Holocaust is a sensitive topic, etc., please do not continue to read.
If you completely disregard my warning and end up offended or etc., just click the 'x' button and you will no longer have to see our story that I worked very hard on (- uh, this is a very debatable statement x-x *cough cough* i didn't work very hard *cough cough*).

And for all you grammar Nazis, I didn't capitalize the "I" in the parentheses!
Mwahahaha!

I apologize if this fanfiction is not to your liking.
I'm only a decent author who writes as a hobby.
I'm completely open to suggestions on how to improve so as long as they are presented in a respectful and constructive manner.
Many of the mistakes you'll find in my writing, I am already aware of, but it doesn't hurt to mention it again.
Anyways, it help's to have another person criticizing me, lest I do nothing about it.

This is the end of my message.


Ludwig Beilschmidt, aka, the physical embodiment of Germany – or at least the personification of West Germany (but for our convenience, we'll just say Germany) – was currently in his living room, sitting on his couch. His head was in his hands as he slouched in uncharacteristic grief. He rarely cried but here he was, on a seemingly ordinary day, tears pouring out of his eyes in what seemed a never ending waterfall of salty, bitter tears. However, today was not an ordinary day. Today was January 27th, the day which men and women around the globe remembered the victims of the Holocaust. And for Ludwig Beilschmidt it was the day all the terrible, atrocious, appalling, abhorrent memories of men and women – innocent men and women, and yes, even children – come rushing back and replay in his mind, as if it had occurred yesterday. He could still hear the cries of the women as they screamed with shrill voices, pleading for mercy. He could also hear the pleas of innocent children, begging for their lives to be spared. He even remembered listening to the old fathers as they willingly offered their life in exchange for their children's lives. But they were never answered. The Nazis did what they wanted and nothing would change their mind once they decided to kill the innocent man or woman. Not even the pleas of a child could deter them. Ludwig knew. He had been one of them.

The former personification of the State of Prussia, now East Germany (but for convenience's sake, just think of him as Gilbert), had woken up very early. Meaning, he woke up at 4:45 AM. The first thing he did was vacuum the carpets, but he did not go into his sleeping brother's room. After finishing with the vacuum cleaner, Gilbert started dusting off the mantle over the fireplace and the picture frames adorning it. Since their usually spotless house seemed to have formed a slight disarray due to the fact that the two brothers had been too tired to take care of it yesterday, Gilbert's perfectionist instincts kicked in and he rushed to fix the mess. After laboring an hour or so, organizing, Gilbert heard the door creak open. This notified Gilbert that his little brother had finally woken up. Not wanting to disturb him, knowing that he would not be in a good mood today, Gilbert quickly rushed out of the living room, where he had been sorting through their junk. Where did they even get all of that stuff!? He sprinted into the kitchen and decided to be the awesome big brother he was and cook breakfast for both of them.

A half an hour past and Gilbert decided to eat without Ludwig. What? He was hungry! Even after many hours of waiting in boredom, Ludwig never noticed the breakfast. Never noticed the spotless room, the dusted mantle and picture frames, the clean carpets. Never even noticed Gilbert himself! And honestly? Gilbert wasn't surprised. Contrary to belief, he was actually very intelligent, thank you very much! He wasn't as much of an idiot as everyone thought he was. No, he was definitely smarter than he appeared. He knew what was causing his little brother's misery. He knew what today was. Today was the day which would always bring memories that would forever haunt him. The Memorial Day of the Holocaust.

Gilbert stepped into the living area with his brother's breakfast in hand. It contained baked potatoes and liverwurst. It was well into the afternoon and the former ex-nation resolved to put an end to his little's brother's misery. No, he wasn't going to murder Ludwig – that would be absolutely pointless. Nations couldn't die unless the country they personified disappeared– and even then... He planned to see if he could talk some sense into his little brother. Prussia was thinking it was high time Ludwig stopped moping over something that happened a century ago… That and he didn't want all of his hard work he put into Ludwig's breakfast (think none) go to waste.

He marched right in front of his brother, set the food on the nearby coffee table, grabbed Ludwig by the shoulders, and started shaking him.

"Hey! Ludwig! Pay attention!" he growled.

He was interrupted by Ludwig's mobile phone, which was resting on the coffee table along with the food. Gilbert frowned and snatched it from where he was kneeling. He answered the phone in a dull and tired voice, already knowing who was calling without even looking at the caller.

"Prussia! Prussia! Is Germany still not awake? Oh dear! Is he sick? He never sleeps in this late! Does he have a fever? … Oh, what if, what if he's ignoring me? What did I do? What did I do?" Italy's high pitched and worried voice rang into Gilbert's ears loudly. He twitched as he felt a headache growing.

"Don't worry Italy. I will take care of him. You don't worry!" he assured the worried Italian.

"Prussia Are you alright? You sound tired! I think I should come over. Oh but Germany might be mad at me still!"

"The awesome me will be fine! And don't worry about Germany. He isn't mad at you, he's just a bit busy right now, okay?"

"… Well, I guess okay… But-"

"Well then, good-bye and have a good day!"

Gilbert pressed the 'end call' button and set the phone down with an exasperated sigh. He had managed to convince Italy to stay away. Mission accomplished. Honestly, he didn't think it would be a good idea for the hyper, pasta loving nation to come over with Ludwig's given mood. Italy would probably only get in his way as he tried to cheer up his little brother. The kid was such a crybaby.

He momentarily looked at his brother with sad, red eyes.

"Ludwig… You need to get up… Don't you know how worried Italy is? He's been calling you for the last few hours or so. I think he's actually called you over 100 times by now. Are you trying to make him miserable?" he questioned.

His brother rose his head gloomily. Dull, glossy, opaque blue eyes met determined, bright, ruby red eyes before they fell dejectedly downward.

"Don't mean to..." he mumbled.

Ludwig felt terrible because his stomach was empty. He hadn't eaten at all since the day before. However, eating would have been a senseless task. In the end, he probably would've ended up regurgitating it. He also felt guilty for making his older brother and his friend, Italy, worry. Even though he wasn't purposely trying to make them suffer because of him, he could not bring himself to act normally. Every country has done many terrible things in their life but it wasn't what he had done, it was what he hadn't done. Every year, the Holocaust Remembrance Day occurred. It was a memorial for all those who had died because of the Holocaust. But for Ludwig, it served him as a reminder that he hadn't been able to stop the Holocaust from occurring. Or could have he? He certainly hadn't tried to stop his boss from mass murdering a whole nation of people. How stupid he had been! Why hadn't he even tried to do something?

He glanced at his brother with dull and faded eyes again. Attempting to draw the attention away from himself, he wondered about Italy out loud. His brother was obviously very unimpressed, for he shot Ludwig a knowing stare. Judging by the way Gilbert was staring at him, he couldn't expect an answer out of him. Instead, the former nation completely ignored Ludwig's question and shot one of his own at the depressed blond.

"What?" Ludwig asked in confusion.

Gilbert repeated his question.

"What is this day all about?" he demanded.

"Today?" Ludwig struggled to speak, "It's about… honoring the… the victims… of… of the Holocaust."

"Yeah, honoring those people. Not mourning over past actions. Ludwig, you can't keep on going like this. Every single year you are like this. Stop hanging over something that happened a century ago. There will be people who point at you and cry "murderer", but you know what? Those people don't matter. I know that wasn't you, Ludwig. You had no power to disobey your boss. So you've got to stop blaming yourself for what happened. It's time to put the past in the past," he encouragingly pointed out.

Ludwig winced, as if his brother's words had physically hurt him.

"But… I could have. I could have disobeyed my boss. I could have gone against him. It's not like he could have done anything to me otherwise. I could have… I could have saved so many," Ludwig mumbled, his voice breaking with every word.

"Could you have? Ludwig, please tell me you're not that stupid. They may not be able to kill us, but… they can still torture us. Death… It would be a thousand times better than torture," Gilbert hissed, speaking from experience, "Heh, I'm getting off track. I use to think the same, you know. I use to be utterly convinced that if I could have just done something, I could have prevented all that needless bloodshed. If… if I could have taken action… But I realized something. I could regret and wish all I wanted, but what would that change? Nothing. The Holocaust did in fact happen and it killed tons of people. So what's the point of grieving over something that already happened? How is it going to change anything? Ludwig, you need to move on. We can't do anything about the Holocaust, but that just means we've got to focus on the future. Don't linger in the past. For every minute we regret something that happened a century ago, the same thing could start to happen again without us ever noticing until it's too late."

Ludwig rose his head. His eyes were still dull but they seemed to have gained a spark that had not been present before.

"I… suppose you're right… but... I just… I can feel the sadness of my people… it's all my fault," Ludwig choked out, his body shaking from his quiet sobbing.

"You represent the nation of Germany as a whole, right?" Gilbert asked after a moment of silence.

"Well, technically..."

"My part of the country doesn't matter. Well, actually… So that means you also represent the people of Germany – all of it back then, right?"

"I'm sorry."

"Yes or no. Do you represent the people of Germany or not?"

"I… do."

"There were lots of German citizens opposed to what Hitler (one of Austria's by the way) was doing, right? I know there were many assassination attempts to overthrow Hitler by the German people. So if you represent the people of Germany, that means you technically did try to stop what was going on."

Ludwig sighed and nodded. Despite the flimsiness of Gilbert's reasoning, it comforted Ludwig all the same. He stood up and hugged his older brother tightly, burrowing his face in Gilbert' neck.

A smile – not one of Gilbert's usual, arrogant smiles, but a real one, a tender one – graced his face when he realized his brother was finally letting the past go. That had been his last card. He was quite relieved it did the trick. Sure, Ludwig wasn't completely fine, but Gilbert wasn't expecting immediate results. It would take time before Ludwig would be completely healed but at least the process had begun. And he, like the wonderful brother he was, would be there to help Ludwig. All his life he had walked it alone, without any support. But Ludwig… he had vowed Ludwig would never be alone. He'd always have someone to support him. That, Gilbert would make sure of.

Suddenly, as if a switch had been turned on, a big, goofy grin crossed Gilbert's face and he pulled away from his brother's embrace. He put his hands on his hips and a smirk on his face.

"So, how about you eat this wonderful breakfast I slaved over for you six or seven hours ago. It's probably cold but that's what you get for leaving it out so long and not touching it all! And you need to call Italy and tell him you're fine. Poor kid had been worrying over you. Something tells me Romano won't be too happy with you for making his brother worry so much… Oh yeah, the was also a World Meeting today. I think it's over by now so there's probably no point in going. Kesesese, I bet they're all wondering where you were today!" Gilbert informed Ludwig in a far too cheerful voice.

Ludwig watched him, surprised by the sudden 180° in his brother's attitude. He smiled gently, somewhat amused.

"I'll do that."