Fem!Italy's name in this fic is Alice (Alee-chay) Vargas, and Germany's the same.

I don't own Hetalia.

Italy woke to the sound of Germany's sobs.

She sat up quickly, not bothering to cover her bare chest with his warm sheet. He'd already seen everything, anyway, so why hide? He was sitting on the edge of his bed, his head buried in his hands. He hadn't covered up, either, and those shoulders that were always so broad to her seemed so small and vulnerable.

She quietly scooted over and wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her chest into his back. "What's wrong, Doistu?" she asked quietly, nestling her head in the junction of his neck and shoulder. "Come back to sleep~ We have a meeting in the morning, and you know how angry Mr. England gets when we're late."

A choked sob escaped his lips at the sound of her voice, and before she knew it he had enveloped her in his arms, holding her tight, as he sobbed into her chest. "I'm sorry...so sorry..."

After a stunned moment, Italy began to pet his hair slightly. "For what? The handcuffs? I've known about your bondage fetish since you hated me, Doitsu, so it's nothing new."

He shook his head violently. "For...World War Two..."

Her breath caught in her throat at the mention of the war. She'd tried to discuss both it and its events with him several times, but after each time was shot down, sometimes even with anger, she stopped bringing the topic up. "D-Doitsu..."

"I did...so many horrible things..." he continued, shaking violently. "So many innocent people...died...because of me!" Then, almost to quiet to hear, he whispered, "I'm a horrible person."

"If you're a horrible person for doing all of those things on your boss's order," said Italy firmly as she continued to stroke his hair, "then I'm equally horrible for not trying to stop you."

He bolted up then, eyes wide. "No, Italy, you can't blame yourself-"

"Then neither can you." She drew him back to her chest and cradled him there, like a mother to an infant. "You didn't want to do any of what you did during...during the Holocaust. Don't think I didn't see how hard it was for you to go to Mr. Weisel's home to collect his family. I'm a lot more observant than what you think." Then she grasped his head between her hands and made him look up at her as tears, quiet and sorrowful, flowed down her cheeks. "You are not a horrible person. Mr. Hitler was. But he's gone now, and you're not, and nothing like that will ever happen again."

"How can you be sure?" he snapped. "History may repeat itself!"

"I won't let it happen."

"Italy..."

I shook my head. "Call me Alice, even if it's just for tonight, Ludwig. I love you." She pressed a kiss to his temple and dragged him down to a lying position and curled up next to him. "I, Alice Vargas, love you, Ludwig Beillschmidt. Not as a country, but as a person, and nothing will ever change that."

"Alice..." he sobbed, and he clutched her closer to him, as if she was the only real thing in the real world. "You'll never leave me?"

"Never. Now sleep, my love. I'll be here when you wake up."

Tired from his sobbing, Germany did indeed fall asleep quickly. It was Italy, instead, who stayed up until the wee hours of the morning, thinking about what he'd said. Then, when he woke up just as the sun rose, like always, she said, "Ludwig, let's get married."