Another fic, this one a four-shot, that seeks deep into the relationship between Liechtenstein and Switzerland. It is made from an RP with Malentia on Deviant Art, with her as Liechtenstein and me as Switzerland.

Warnings: Can be heartbreaking, if you have deep devotion to these two characters. For once it doesn't contain physical pain or character death.

Disclaimer: I own nothing - not even the plot, which was created by two. The characters are owned by Himaruya.

And then on to the story. Here you all go!:

The low hum of a pot boiling upon a too old stove sounded in a kitchen with a too old kitchen counter, too old pans and old-fashioned, worn wall-paper. On said, old, worn counter laid a just as worn, old chopping board with an old, deadly sharp knife hovering above the less old tomatoes about to lose their lives.

That was the state of Switzerland's kitchen as he readied dinner, a worn, grey apron that might have been white some long time ago protecting the black, fine working suit he had refused to change out of. He was home from work a tiny bit early to help her, and had noted Liechtenstein had been fidgeting slightly in the beginning, but guessing she was just a bit surprised to see him actually sacrifice some important working hours he let it pass.

The girl was currently behind him, arranging the dough from the bread. Every once in a while her gaze moved to watch the back of the dearest, most important person in her world, and a mix of fear and worry was deep in her chest. She forced up a smile, though, tried to act normal. Unfortunately her conscience was bad, and it clung to her heart and made it heavy. She was deceiving Bruder, the man who had done everything for her. How could she not feel bad?

She wanted to tell him. Had wanted for a while, actually, for keeping secrets from him hurt. She knew all too well that what she was about to tell him would hurt him endlessly… that was why she had been unable to for the last many days the things between her and the man she might have fallen in love with had grown more serious. All she wanted to do was see Vash happy, smiling. It already happened too rarely – she didn't need to hurt him any more than she knew he already was.

She didn't want to burden his possible pain anymore than he had already. In truth she was slightly uncertain if her assumption with him suffering was right, for he had always been as hard and outwardly cold-looking as he was now. He had never changed. So she could not determine if he had been hurting since before they met, or if he had always been fine and she was assuming things.

No matter what, though, she wanted to see him smiling. He wouldn't smile when she told, for the person she might be in love with was one Vash would never approve of – and he already had trouble approving of her being friends with anyone. At the same time… she didn't want to hide it from him. It hurt hiding things from him. She might as well get it over with… "B-Bruder?"

"Oui?" he questioned, turning his head to look at her over his shoulder out of the corner of his hard, sharp, green eyes. It wasn't that she was scared of him – she would never be. And she knew him well enough to know it was simply how he looked at people. Yet the look in his eyes made her determination falter, like air seeping out of a balloon, and she turned away from him again. She couldn't say it… for while the look in his eyes already hurt, for it showed he wasn't happy, she didn't want to see it sad. "What is it?" he asked sharply, as direct in his behavior as always.

"I-It's just…" she tried. Then the discomfort got too much and she changed the subject. "The bread is ready to go into the oven." She heard him snort in consent and turn away from her and back to the chopping board to finish the vegetables. With a small, resigned sigh the young nation lifted the plate with the bread, moving towards the already hot oven. "What are we eating?"

"Make sure not to burn yourself," he reminded in a harsh tone, but she knew the look in his eyes was unusually soft. A look used only towards her. It wasn't even necessary to turn her eyes towards his to know it, and she made sure to open the oven carefully and put in the bread. First then did he answer her question, and she heard a relieved breath escape his mouth and first noted he had stopped chopping when the sound of the knife started again. "Boiled meat and vegetables."

An amused giggle escaped her mouth at that. "So basically a mix of leftover groceries?" she smiled, looking up at him with happiness in her voice. For a moment, when the smallest twitch moved the lips of the man beside her, she forgot all her worries. A smile. She nearly made her Bruder smile. If not for her deceiving him this would have been a successful day.

"You could call it that." Of course the smile wasn't finished, but emotions had been in his face. An emotion not associated with his dangerous temper. That made her happy.

He lifted the chopping board and let the vegetables, carrots and some mushrooms they had picked together along with the tomatoes, slide down besides the boiling meat in an old pot. He put the lid over again and found yet another pot, filled it with water from the sink and took it to the stove as well, finding some rice they could eat with the mix. Then he turned to her again.

As he moved the guilt had begun coming over her again, but she tried to keep a normal appearance towards him. She could see him frown and wonder, knew he saw something, but again he pushed it aside. Probably thinking it was nothing… or worse… thinking she would tell him when she was ready. He had listened to her problems before, given her his advice in matters of the countries, promised her he would manage her friendship with Hungary and Ukraine, answered her questions.

He didn't demand her to tell her anything. But she was sure, somehow, that he was happy whenever she showed him her trust.

"Where do you want to eat?" he asked her softly, making her look into his eyes again. The rays of the setting sun glittered in his hair, reflected in his eyes, making them shine like emeralds. Bruder always looked gruff, hard. It was so deep in his appearance and behavior you sometimes forgot the beauty of the country he presented. Only when you gave yourself time to look you could call him beautiful.

With these thoughts a sad smile moved upon her face. The only person in the world who would take that time was her. Bruder was so alone. But she liked the sun in his hair and reflecting in his eyes, so she was in no doubt about the answer to his question. It was their shared passion. "Outside."

As though the word lifted a heavy burden from his shoulder Vash straightened up. Then gave a nod to her, turning to the move boiling water. She just made him happy again. "Would you mind setting the table, then?" he asked as he filled the pot with rice.

"Of course!" To even have to ask that… Stupid Bruder. She found the things in the drawers as he added salt and put on the lid, then proceeded in removing his apron, hanging in on the wall where he used to keep it.

He touched his working clothes, stiff and uncomfortable for his taste, and he took off the jacket of the suit and laid it over the back of one of the chairs of their usual dining table. Under the incredible formal clothes something as unfancy as a t-shirt hid. "I will take a bath. Please don't touch anything – I don't want you to burn yourself."

She gave him a smile and a nod. But when he turned her smile fell and she went back to her task.

She really had to tell him…

The table was set, the two pots, a basket with the newly baked bread, butter and home-made goat cheese. On either side of the table they sat, only just filling their plates. They were silent, but it wasn't uncommon – there was a lot of silence in the company of Vash. He was most comfortable when he didn't need to speak, and Lily had been with him long enough to enjoy silence as well.

One difference from normal was present, though. The heavy heart of the young girl, and she could see in Vash' gaze that he knew something was wrong. Hard, sharp, just like usual… but he worried as well. She hated to make him worry, and hated to be a burden, but she had never felt she really was anything but. Vash did all the work, and though he seemed to like it that way, she wanted to…

… wanted to give him something back. And now she was about to hurt him instead.

"Br-Bruder…" she tried again, her heart beating in her chest. It wasn't normal to fear him… she couldn't really. But she was so afraid of how he would react.

"Hm?" He looked up from the plate, looked at her. She could see he was waiting for her to speak. He waited for her to confide in him, as she had done so often before.

But this wasn't like before. This was different. "You… You would never hate me, would you?"

The shock and confusion was evident on his face and for a moment he stared at her, disbelief filling every one of his features. Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, her heart beating fiercely. The hat upon his head was shining white as the winter snow when he stood, and with a flash of green clothes he was by her side, taking her shoulder and making her stand from her seat. And then he had her in an embrace, holding her dearly and tightly, as though she would slip away if he didn't.

"I could never hate you," he muttered, bowing over her shoulder and holding her body. The bow in her hair pressed again his cheek. "No matter what you did I would never be able to hate you."

The tears in her eyes fell while they stood there, her heart still pounding. The embrace had surprised her, and while it made her so happy she was still afraid and sad about what she was about to tell him. She had to, though. She was treating him badly by not revealing everything to him. "I-I… I'm seeing someone." It was only a croak as she spoke into his shoulder. But he was too close not to hear.

And then, slowly, he let her go, his fingers untangling from her hair. Looking at her, there was once more confusion in his face. No shock… just confusion. He blinked, as though his mind needed time to process this new information, and finally frowned. "Seeing… someone?" All she could manage was a nod and she tried to hug him again. It was just that… she couldn't. Where he before had hold on to her dearly he was now keeping her at a distance. "Who?"

A long moment of silence.

"… Mr. Prussia."

"Prussia?"

Now the shock was there, the confusion was deeper, and her heart broke into pieces. "J-ja… H-he… he just came over one day. While at work. A-and I…"

"You let him in?!"

"He didn't seem dangerous! I often spoke to him when I was with Hungary and-"

"I knew I shouldn't let you see them!" He turned away, turned his back to her, and the panic rose in her chest, clenched her heart and caused even more pain than the guilt had done. Begging, scared, she reached for his hand, tears in her eyes, and held it.

"V-Vash…?"

He turned… and then she wished he never had. There it was… the pain. The hurt she knew it would cause him if she let him know. But seeing her tears the temper was calmed just a little bit and he stood for a moment, completely still. Like a statue, made by a cruel man that was able to convey the most horrible emotions into his sculptures. Then the question was spoken.

"For how long have this been going on?"

The voice speaking it was nearly empty. No emotions. The hurt written in his face had drained away in seconds, leaving him an expression even colder and harder than any she had seen him make before. There was emptiness in there as well. There were no other emotions, not a single sign of care, not the flush of anger, nothing. The only difference was that he was paler than before.

She looked away, not able to look at his face. She had never seen him like this. Never seen his face like this. And knowing she was the cause… she clenched his hand, as though it was the very last connection between them. "A-a while…"

"Do you like him?"

"I… Yes, I-I think so…"

The hand disappeared. Like she had never touched it, it was gone from her palms and Vash was disappearing from her sight. She ran after him, afraid, but the door was closed in front of her. For a moment she was frozen. Then she reached out for the door to the house she had lived within for more than seventy years, feeling like a stranger.

Further down the hall she could hear him. It took her a moment to realize that the sounds came from within her own room. It took him a moment to slam open the door again, come out with an only partly closed suitcase lifted in one arm, walk past her and then fling the suitcase out the door with all his strength. Which wasn't small, and it flew far, nearly all the way over to the table with their food. The force made it open completely, causing dresses and clothes to spew everywhere.

There wasn't even a look of remorse on his face when he saw the destruction. He simply followed the suitcase outside, stood beside it, and pointed. "Germany's house is that way. Eat your food, take your clothes, and leave." The anger was in his face now, making it look nearly human again, but it was only little the emptiness was still too clear. He was in a mode of self-defense, and no one was better at self-defense than Vash.

Again Lily was left to stare for a brief moment, not understanding. She felt devastated, but she had to move. It was necessary, she couldn't freeze, she had to continue. So she moved her hand up and untied the bow. Walked forward, trying to ignore her shattered heart, and stood in front of him, looking into his eyes that stared right back at her – hard, cold and empty.

Then she reached her hand forward, took his, and shook it slowly. "Thank you, Vash. Thank you for everything." And when she pulled back she no longer held the band of the bow.

As she turned away to gather her clothes she heard him move. The door closed. The lock clicked.

"Y-you promised not to hate me."

And finally the tears were impossible to stop.

Not for a moment did he look back. Not for a moment did he let himself linger. He had to continue.

So he did. He was no longer hungry, so he didn't go for the kitchen. There was a TV in the living room, ages old and just barely not a black and white, but he had bought it for her and rarely used it… and it felt wrong using it now.

The emptiness was still the main thing he felt, the main thing filling him. Now that she wasn't there even the anger was gone. His eyes moved aimlessly, searching for something to do, something to use his time on… something that could make him stop thinking. When he had felt like this before, and it had happened, he had done physical work.

Behind the house the goats had their pen, but he had already fed them and the milking was done in the morning. But not too far from the shack he had made his dear animals to hide from the rain was the place he chopped wood. He could go there, but… she would still be too close for him to do it… so he had to get rid of his thoughts without swinging an axe.

Work. He had gone home from work early to make food for her and spend time with her. There had to be something… e-mails or something… There were always things to do.

Yes. Work was the best choice. He pushed away from the door, not realizing he had been leaning on it before now, and moved for his office. In there he had his computer, one of the newest things in the house and yet it had a white box screen and had to be aged seven or eight years. He didn't care – internet worked on it, so he could see his e-mails from work. The only other programs he used, Word and Excel, complained once in a while, but it was manageable compared to buying a new.

With a small sigh he crouched in front of the computer, moving to push the button and start it, trying to keep his mind straight and on task. He shouldn't let this destroy anything. He should keep his life going. He had tried this before, so he knew he could do it.

But as the hand touched the button he realized there was something in it. That there was something soft and smooth resting against his skin. A frown filled his face and he stood and looked down upon his hand, seeing a purple band he hadn't noticed until now. He had been too out of his mind to notice, to see or feel anything was put in his hand.

Seeing it now made his knees feel weak and his breathing caught in his throat for a moment. The tears got closer than they had been before, but it was forbidden to cry. So instead of crying he pushed it away, took a shaking breath, and turned again, leaving the room and the computer untouched to instead find his own bedroom.

In it was an ancient chest of drawers far over in the corner. In the top drawer, to bore off anyone who might try looking over his things, were old papers from work with nothing but numbers from between thirty and fifty years ago. The two drawers beneath that were filled with clothes, worn and in need of change even though he still used them. In the bottom were two smaller drawers.

Both looked empty.

He crouched down to the bottom drawer to the left, opening it, still holding Lily's bow in his right hand. Then he found his Swiss Army knife and folded out a flat nail file and propped it down into the tiny gap between the bottom of the drawer and the side. After a moment of fiddling the bottom popped up, revealing a hidden room beneath. He had made this mechanism for both of the bottom drawers, to make them look identical for an outsider, but the other hidden room was empty.

This one wasn't. A trinket laid in the small room under the false bottom. It was a necklace, ancient, with a chain of real, strong links. The pendent was worn by age, the silver metal a little discolored, slightly disfigured, but… the bird was still there, in the middle of the bent and bulge disc. An eagle, once painted black, with broken chains hanging from its ankles.

Tears once more sought into his eyes, but he couldn't cry. Either that or he refused. He hadn't cried since before he met Austria, even though he had been close to at… certain points. No way that the streak should be broken now. So instead he just stood and watched the old pendent, wondering how he hadn't thrown it out in a fit of anger long ago. Then he looked at the thin, fine fabric in his hand, wondering just why he ever let her be close.

Finally he shook his head, letting the bow slip down beside the old necklace. Then the extra bottom was put back down, hiding the two evidences of the only two relationships he had ever had with another country… another person. The drawer was closed, the click as it did feeling like the final goodbye. Like it had when he placed the pendent within after he bought the furniture.

The driest, emptiest snort of amusement escaped him then as he stood and looked at the sacred bottom drawer, sending it a last look. "I thought I was clever enough to learn by the first mistake." The outside had grown pitch-black in the time it had taken him to put her away. Another dry snort, feeling slightly choked. Then he turned and moved to finally do some work.

Sleep… he couldn't sleep…

The rain was heavy and the night was dark, thick clouds choking all the light from the stars and moon. Everything in the world was black. Still Switzerland moved outside, in a pajama that wasn't the one she had given him. He couldn't sleep. It wouldn't come. Instead he went for the table to make sure the rest of the food got inside, for some of it had to be fine… some of it.

He expected her to have eaten… she should have eaten. He told her to. He couldn't let her walk around the country without giving her a meal.

But as he got out it was so clear… the food was untouched. For a moment he just stared through the thick rain and black darkness, his expression unreadable. Then he blinked. She… she hadn't eaten. His jaws tensed when something in his throat and chest made it hard for him to breathe. She hadn't eaten. An emotion was trying to get through the emptiness, and it was an emotion he… he couldn't allow.

That emotion brought tears, and he shouldn't cry.

As it was suppressed, him holding his breath to keep it gone, another emotion took over. His teeth suddenly grit together, his mind pooled over with cold fury, and he grabbed the corner of the table and tumbled it over. Food was splattered everywhere, decent food that had just gotten a little water… bread, butter, goat cheese. A mix of different things boiled together, protected from the rain by a lid.

But for once Switzerland's mind wasn't on money. It wasn't on what he had just destroyed or how much it would cost him to replace.

The slight hunger he had felt was gone again and he stood there, in his night clothes, panting and getting soaked to the bone. His hair hung on his face limply, dead weight of water darkening his uneven, golden locks. The face under the hair, though, was unreadable, the mouth slightly opened as he breathed heavily.

There the other emotion was again, the one that would make him cry. He had to rid himself of it. He could not go around crying, not even if there were no one to see. He couldn't know for sure if someone was watching, he had to keep strong. Weakness was dangerous for a nation… he had to keep strong.

And so he grabbed the fury from before, the one that had made him destroy both food and table, and embraced it. He knew anger, and he could control it. His head turned, moving over towards the corner of the house to get around it. To the place he chopped wood. He didn't care for his bare feet or the rain or the cold or his wet clothes when he grabbed the axe standing on the side of the big log beside the goat pen.

He found a piece of wood in the pile a few meters from the log, his breathing still fast and superficial, lifted it to the block. The other emotion, that cursed emotion, it was still there. Changing the grip on the axe, holding it tightly, he lifted it, unable to control his breathing, nurturing the fury within his emptiness, and let the axe fall down, splitting the wood with a crack. In the darkness he could barely see the wood he aimed the axe for, but that didn't matter. If the axe missed the worst thing that could happen was for it to hit his knees, and that mattered nothing.

The wood, already now in two small, fine pieces, was thrown harshly into the house in which he hid his fire wood, and then he found another.

Lifted the axe.

Was he angry? He didn't know.

The axe fell. He threw away the smallest of the new pieces, getting ready to smash the bigger one more time.

Was he angry with her?

The axe lifted again, fell, the rain clouding his eyes when drops fell down from his bangs and past his brows. It weren't tears.

And he didn't know.

The two new pieces were thrown away with all his might, slamming against the wall of the old, little shack he had made for fire wood and bursting back, nearly falling out of the door once more and into the rain. A new log needing to get smashed was found.

Did he hate her?

Axe lifted.

No.

Axe fell.

He could never hate her.

Axe lifted again.

No matter what…

Axe fell.

No matter what she did…

Three new pieces of wood were slammed into the house.

He couldn't…

New wood, axe lifted.

He couldn't hate her. No matter what she did, he would never hate her.

Axe fell. The wood split with a loud clack. Drops of water fell from his nose, big, soaking drops of rain. More fell, over his cheeks, his chin.

But they weren't tears. Not a single one of them were tears.

And that was the first chapter of the four-shot based on my RP with Malentia. Be nice and keep from hating Vash - he has his reasons. And please follow the story, for this is not the end. Luckily, this is not the end.

Enjoy in joy ^^