A/N: ...I think I'll let this one speak for itself. Notes at the end.

Disclaimer: Not mine, too bad; not mine, so sad.

A Needle Pulling Thread

Ludwig gritted his teeth as he practically stormed out of his boss' office, back taut and trembling all over. Feliciano, who had been waiting so patiently for him in the hallway, leapt up excitedly at his appearance. "Ve~ Ludwig, let's get some lunch! I've been waiting for you a loooooong time, and I'm hungry~"

The blond shook his head tiredly. "I'm not very hungry, Italy. Why don't you wait until we get home, and you can make some pasta?"

"Okay~! Ah, something good must have happened for Ludwig to let me make pasta!"

I wish, Ludwig thought bitterly.

They were mostly silent on the way home; Feliciano was watching the passer-by curiously, and Ludwig was lost in his own morose thoughts. Finally, after a small group of teenagers scurried into the street at their approach, the Italian reached up and tugged on his partner's cuff. "Ludwig, Ludwig," he said lowly, "why do all those people have yellow stars?"

The German stirred, blinked reluctantly. "They're Jewish, Feliciano. The star is so we can identify them."

"Oh." More insistent tugging. "Ludwig, why don't we have to wear something like that?"

"Because we're soldiers, not civilians. Anyway, I am German and you are Italian, so we don't need to be identified."

"Then why - why do we need to know they're Jewish?"

"I don't know," Ludwig lied through his teeth. "Probably for census records or some such thing."

"But why does it matter - "

"I don't know!" The sharpness of his tone startled them both, and Ludwig sighed. "I don't understand it, Feliciano, any more than you do. My boss - he's restored such pride to our people, but he has all these ideas about genetics that don't make sense to me - I had hoped he'd drop the rule about the stars..." He squeezed the Italian's shoulder gently. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. I'm sorry."

Feliciano nodded, his slender hand slipping into Ludwig's gloved one. "It's not Ludwig's fault," he said quietly. Ludwig offered him half a smile, and they stayed quiet the rest of the way.

He fumbled with the keys in the lock and almost bowled over poor Elizaveta, who was dusting the entryway woodwork. "Ah, Hungary," he said cautiously, "have you seen Austria? I need to speak with him."

"Roderich," she said coldly, with quite a bit of emphasis on his name, "is in the den. Hello, Feliciano."

The Italian stayed to talk with her, bubbling too much to have remembered his earlier questions. Ludwig shook his head a little in bemusement and headed deeper into the house. The Austrian aristocrat was indeed where Hungary had predicted, though not at the piano he loved so dearly. Instead, he was seated on the sofa, jacket on his lap and needle and thread in one hand.

"Am I interrupting something?" Ludwig asked, surprised to find him so occupied.

Roderich looked up, adjusting his glasses. "Not at all," he said smoothly. "Please, come in."

Ludwig sat in a chair across from him. "I spoke with my boss today. He... retained the rule about the stars. I'm sorry."

"I figured as much," Roderich said softly, never stopping in his work. "He does not strike me as the kind of person to change his mind on a whim."

"No, I suppose not." Ludwig frowned, both at the surprisingly civil conversation and at the Austrian's actions. His right hand swooped low, poking the tip of the needle through the fabric - the work was hidden from Ludwig's view - before rising slightly to repeat the loop. It was... oddly hypnotic. "I - ah - I was able to convince him to make an exception for those who had served in the armed forces, as well as their descendents."

"That is as it should be," the Austrian nodded. He tugged one final time to secure the thread, jabbing the needle into a nearby pincushion.

Curiosity and annoyance finally won out. "What are you doing?" Ludwig asked in exasperation.

"Just a bit of mending," Roderich said lightly - too lightly, falsely bright, shadows hovering at the edges of his words. "This old coat caught on its hook the other day and popped a seam. It still has some use, though - just needed a patch job." He spread the jacket over his thighs, smoothing the deep blue fabric. "There, that's better."

Ludwig saw a six-point flash of gold against the leather and promptly forgot how to breath. "What - I - " Bright blue eyes flicked up to navy. "Have you been talking to Denmark?"

"Hmm? No, no," Austria answered with a bare breath of a laugh. "The Danish king has a noble idea, to be sure, but... I have no need to lie about such things."

"You... you're - "

"What, the 'Edelstein' wasn't enough of a clue for you?" he said, a touch of the old scorn entering his voice. "Yes, you imbecile. I'm Jewish." His eyes hardened into cobalt pieces of ice. "And I will not hide my nationality when the rest of my people cannot."

Roderich rose fluidly, sliding on his coat. "Now, if you will excuse me, I need to go get groceries for dinner tonight."

Ludwig merely blinked, stunned, as the Austrian's coat-tails fluttered past him. His mind filled unbidden with foresighted images of Roderich - proud, aloof Roderich - forced off sidewalks, turned away from shops, banned from his beloved concert halls, mocked, shunned, herded off with the rest of his people like animals to be -

The Austrian gave an utterly undignified yelp as Ludwig unceremoniously yanked him back inside and slammed the door shut.

"Don't," the German ground out, "don't. I'll get the groceries, or send Hungary to do it. Just... stay here. Inside. Please."

Roderich shot him a look, and for one awful moment Ludwig thought the whole thing was a sick ploy to get out of doing work. But no - the surprise in those dark eyes was genuine, though carefully hidden by the time he shrugged out of Ludwig's grip. "Do not coddle me, Ludwig."

"You don't know," Ludwig growled. "You haven't seen what happens to - to your people. If you step out there wearing that star, that's all people will see. To them you'll be less than human."

"In case you haven't noticed," Roderich snapped, agitated enough to actually raise his voice, "we're not exactly human in the first place."

"Why are you doing this?" Ludwig exploded. "Don't you understand what I'm trying to tell you? You won't be seen as Roderich Edelstein, aristocrat of Austria. You'll be seen as Jewish. It's the first and only thing people will see."

"Haven't you been listening?" Roderich said patiently, as though Ludwig were a small child. "Appeasement and pacifism do nothing against this kind of blind hatred. Action is the only option left. My children - and yours, and those of other Nations - are going to be slaughtered. I cannot simply sit by and allow that to happen."

His fingertips brushed the edge of the gold fabric. "As long as the hearts of my countrymen are allied with the government, I cannot go against their will. I cannot run away to join the Allies, or flee to a neutral country, which would be cowardice anyway; I still represent them, and cannot change that fact." He lifted his chin, fixing Ludwig with an iron-clad cobalt gaze. "But I will do what I can to make people understand that this is not right."

"Österreich..." The blond man sighed helplessly. "Don't you understand? You're just one person. If it were all of Austria, perhaps, but - what can you hope to do on your own?"

"One person?" Roderich arched one elegant eyebrow. "Perhaps. But I am still a person. I can still cause some change, however small it may be."

Damned idealist. "Not if you stay indoors," Ludwig said firmly.

A low chuckle. "Why do you think that will stop change from occurring? It has already started, right here."

"What do you mean?"

"You say that all your people will see is this star. What about you, Ludwig? What do you see?"

That cool tone rocked Ludwig back on his heels. "Wha-?"

"It's a simple question," Roderich replied. "When you look at me now, do you see me as a servant? As Jewish? As Austrian? How do you identify me?"

"That's not a fair question," Ludwig hedged. "If you hadn't said anything, I never would have suspected."

"But I have," Roderich returned. "You can't change that. So answer me, Ludwig - when you look at me now, is this star the only thing you will see? Will you hand me over with the rest of my people, as is your duty?"

Ludwig could not find his voice to reply. He dropped his gaze away from piercing indigo, feeling ashamed of failing to uphold his nationalism - and then hating himself for it. "You... you are Roderich," he shrugged. "That's what I see."

The Austrian smiled a little, the mole on his cheek disappearing into a dimple, and Ludwig forced himself to regain his composure. "You're still not doing the shopping anymore," he murmured. "I can't stomach that cheap food you keep bringing home, and it's a hassle to come looking for you when you get lost."

Roderich's lips twitched a little as he relinquished the bag. "Isn't it funny," he said, "how such a small patch of yellow fabric can completely alter how we view a person?"

"No," Ludwig said softly. "No, it isn't funny at all."

"No, it's not," Roderich agreed quietly. He shrugged out of his coat and hung it on one of the hooks in the wall, gliding elegantly down the hallway without a backward glance.

Ludwig waited until the sound of a Beethoven sonata drifted out of the den before reaching forward and carefully turning the sleeve to hide the star.

~Fin~

NOTES

~Yes, there really was an exception made for German Jews who had served in the army. It was eventually revoked, but still.

~Have you been talking to Denmark? - Ludwig is referring to the rescue of the Danish Jews, which is pretty freaking amazing. According to urban legend, the Danish king ordered that all citizens wear a yellow star so the Jews would be indistinguishable from the rest of the populace. There's really no evidence for this, but it makes a nice story, and the statistics are just mind-boggling.

~I have a head-canon that Austria is Jewish. His last name is what decided it for me. *shrugs*

~I find it interesting to play with the concept and limitations of Nation-tans, such as the extent of their free will. From what canon has shown, it seems that they can't fully go against the will of their bosses or people. I was trying to explore where the line between nation and individual falls, and I like the balance I found here. Perhaps I'll develop it further in future fics.

~My youngest brother has Down's syndrome, and so many people forget that he is a person, not a disability. I guess that's what really triggered this fic for me, and the message I was trying to get across. That, and if something's wrong and you have the ability to change it, you have the responsibility to change it. (National Treasure FTW.)

~Huge hugs to my beta CJBlackwing for putting up with my tl;dr maunderings on this thing.

~Comments and concrit are love. Thanks for reading!