Thanks for the support so far! Here's chapter number two! I apologize if anyone is out of character.

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"Gomenasai, Germany-san, but...what was it that you said you were doing?"

Germany sighed and held his face in his hand to hide his chagrin. Japan stood next to him, his hands folded politely, but he couldn't hide the confusion and concern on his face and in his voice. It wasn't entirely undeserved...Germany's was unconventionally sitting on the floor in his bedroom with his back resting against the wall, completely surrounded by piles of books, essays, files and documents concerning-

"Dreams?" Japan asked, reading the cover of one of the books. He looked up at Germany. "This isn't a typical topic of interest for you."

"Yes, dreams," Germany said. "I'm gathering information on dreams and the different effects they can have on people. This is the research I've compiled so far, and-"

"This isn't because of Italy, is it?" Japan interrupted.

Germany was silent. Across the room Italy lay asleep in his bed, wrapped up and comfortable and completely unresponsive to any attempts to wake him.

"Germany-san, it's understandable how you feel. We're all concerned about Italy-kun. Goodness knows how he fell so ill so quickly- or how a country even falls into a coma, particularly when his economical, political, and societal health are so vibrant." Japan hesitated before continuing, "But, it's difficult to understand how all this research into dreams is related to his situation."

Germany scowled with frustration- not at Japan, or perhaps just a little with Japan, but moreover with his own actions. His practical side agreed entirely with Japan. His practical side told him to be devoting all efforts towards medical help for Italy. But he couldn't forget the nightmare he had the night before Italy had slipped into his...well, coma, for lack of better term, but Germany remained unconvinced. There was something else to this, something more complex and sinister, something that could not be explained nor solved with purely medical efforts.

It had something to do with that dream, and- perhaps it was his own ego speaking- it had something to do with himself. Or, perhaps he felt responsible. After all, he was there. He had invited- no, insisted- that Italy come to his house to sleep, although for the best intentions.

Perhaps it was simply that horrible, sinking feeling in his chest every time he came into his bedroom to keep vigil (as they had begun to watch over him in shifts,) and seeing Italy wrapped up in the white blankets, with Austria sitting on a chair nearby with a blank face or Prussia standing with his hands on the windowsil staring off into the day or Japan checking Italy's pulse as though he were holding his hand for the last time.

Perhaps it was the eerie feeling every time he sat alone and watched Italy simply breathe and wondering if there was more than met the eye.

Perhaps it was sitting alone and watching him do nothing but sleep, wrapped up angelic and peaceful in the sheets, and thinking that perhaps that's really all it was...

...or it was the question of whether that was it from then on, and that now not-so-unfamiliar feeling of heartbreak the more he questioned it.

The thought of Italy lying there, unmoving, unchanging, forever...

"Any angle we can approach this problem from is an angle worth trying at this point," Germany responded decisively. He stared intently down at a paper he had been making notes on, blinking impetuously.

Japan gave a small, resigned sigh. "All right, Germany-san," he conceided, "but allow me to brew you some more tea then." He gathered the small collection of used cups that had accumulated by Germany's side and headed downstairs to the kitchen, wondering if this sudden change in metiulous cleanliness was a sign of Germany's failing health as well.

Once alone again, Germany rubbed the heels of his palms across his weary eyes and brushed the paper dry before picking up his pen and resuming his work.

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"Germany..."

I looked up from a paper I had forgotten I'd been reading, and I was certain my heart was going to pound out of my chest. I barely managed to breath out, "Italy?!"

Italy was indeed awake, sitting up in bed like he had simply woken up from a siesta. He was smiling the sweetest smile, and I swear he was glowing or perhaps the sun had lit him in a certain way that he had a golden aura around him. He threw his arms wide open, physically beseeching me to come and embrace him.

After worrying for so long, I was pleased to comply. I stood up, numb from sitting, and went over to the side of the bed where Italy sat. He threw his arms around my neck and nuzzled into my shoulder, and I held him in my own.

We sat there for a long moment, me taking in Italy's healthy form and Italy whispering happy nothings into my ear. I couldn't quite make them out, so I leaned in to catch his lips closer to my ear. I could see them, pink and curled into a grin, as he whispered, "Germany, help me."

Wait, what?

I pulled away to look at him, and my stomach froze.

Italy wasn't glowing and happy anymore.

He was pale, with wide, brown bloodshot eyes rolled up into his head and... a gaping, red glistening mouth, and a giant fucking hatchet right in the middle of his forehead and- oh Gott, there was black blood pouring out from the gash and ragged skin from underneath the rusted metal of the blade down the bridge of his nose and pooling in his eyes and mouth and dripping off the side of his jaw and draining into his long arduous howl of a mouth, and- I ripped myself away from him, and he flopped onto the pillows and he was covered in blood and gashes and burns and blisters and maggots and "Germany, help me please help me," how the hell could he even speak, he wasn't just lying there now, he was dead fucking dead and rotting before my eyes and yet even now I could see him speaking with a still mouth Germany help me come find me and I swear something is right behind me now and I can't turn around, I'm completely frozen and all I can do is stare at this horror monstrosity calaclysm that is Italy's poor desecrated mangled bloody corpse-

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"Germany-san, wake up!"

Germany threw his head up and looked around wildly. Ficken, fuck, FUCK! Italy's dead and the world is shaking and something was hitting him from behind and someone was screaming-

"WEST!" Someone slapped him across the face. It took Germany a moment to realize that person was Prussia, who had been shaking his shoulders. The thing that was hitting him from behind was the wall he had been lying against, and the person screaming was himself. He quickly forced himself to stop, but could not quell his hyperventilation.

ITALY! Germany tried to throw himself up from the floor, but was stopped by Prussia holding him down and genuine tingling numbness in his legs. "Italy- we have to get treatment for him, Italy's been mortally wounded, we have to get him to a hospital immediately, the hatchet- the hatchet in his gottverdamnt forehead-!"

"West, calm down," Prussia practically yelled over Germany's rambling, "It was just a dream! Ita-chan is okay, he's still asleep but he's not hurt at all! Look!"

Germany did look, and it was true- Italy was lying in the same position as he always had been, all wrapped up in that damn white blanket and breathing with that deceptive sense of tranquility. Germany looked up at the others- Prussia kneeling next to him with an uncharacteristic sense of concern at his outburst, and Japan standing next to him with his hands clutching his shoulders.

A sense of shame washed over him for causing his bruder and ally concern for him over nothing. That sense of shame was followed by tsunami of exhaustion to wash away the adrenaline from the nightmare.

"West, I'll take over watching Ita-chan," Prussia said, "so for Gott's sake go get some sleep. Some real sleep in a bed that's not in this room."

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Thanks again! Next chapter will have some juicy stuff. :)