2/5: The Ghost of Christmas Past

Germany slept fitfully. He kept dreaming of evil cuckoo clocks and France, England and America laughing manically at him as they jumped repeated through a window. Suddenly, he woke up and found a pair of large brown eyes gazing back at him.

Germany yelped and shot up in shock, banging his already pounding head on the headboard. Rome crossed his arms and broke into a wide grin.

"Heyy! Lookie who's awake!"

"You can't keep doing this to me! Didn't anyone teach you not to show up in the middle of the fucking night all the time!" Germany clutched his chest and willed himself to breathe. He wasn't going to die of a heart attack and give Rome the satisfaction of watching.

"Ehh? You mean nobody told you I was coming?" Rome pointed to the digital clock, which now flashed 1:00. "Well that's a rip-off. We paid that guy cash to warn you we were coming." He scratched his head in confusion.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. Look. Italy isn't even here. Now just get out and go haunt someone else in their sleep."

"Whaa? My cute grandson isn't here?" Rome looked momentarily surprised. Then he closed his eyes and shook his head. "And why's that, huh? Did you drive him away with your grouchy behavior?"

"Don't come into my house and lecture me!"

"Of course I'm here to lecture ya! I'm your elder, you know! And I'm the ghost of Christmas past!" Rome jabbed a thumb into his own chest with pride, and winked at him cheerfully. "I'm here to show ya what a little bundle of joy you used to be. And then I'm gonna show ya how that lil bundle burned and died and turned into you. Now hold on to something!"

Before Germany could reply, the world around them suddenly shifted and he felt himself being quite literally swept off his feet. He landed gracelessly, falling onto his hands and knees.

"Wha—what the—" Germany pulled himself up despite the dizziness in his head, and surveyed his surroundings. They weren't in his room anymore. In fact, it didn't look like they were in his country anymore. What. The. Eeeeffff.

All around them, Germany saw acres of open land, greenery and flowers. A small boy dressed in a silly black cloak and a hat bigger than his head sat against a pillar next to them, reading a book. Behind the boy lay a majestic stone mansion. They were in the courtyard.

Germany pinched himself. It hurt.

"What—"

"We're certainly not in Kansas anymore, if that's what you're about to ask." Rome sniggered at his own joke. "This is your childhood, my friend. You know, when you were still that bundle of joy I was talking about earlier?"

"This is not my childhood. And this is not happening."

"Oh this is your childhood, alright. And that's you." Rome pointed at the boy. "And this is very much happening."

"I'm going insane. Too many days cooped up in the office, not enough sun. Cabin fever. The casserole! The fucking casserole. That's it. I'm hallucinating. This is not actually happening. I'm just really, really high. Thank God." Germany breathed a sigh of relief.

"Holy Rome!" A woman's voice carried over to them, and Germany was pulled from his mini panic attack by the sight of a younger Hungary, jogging up to them and dressed in a poofy dress. "Come out to play, Holy Rome! Italy and I are playing a game. You should come too!"

"O—okay." The boy put down his book and accepted Hungary's hand as she pulled him up. Hungary smiled sweetly at him. Germany suddenly found that he missed her face, missed seeing that smile. He hadn't seen the real Hungary in months.

"See that! You actually accepted her offer to go play! What's changed now?" Rome gestured to the fake-Hungary and fake-whoever-the-hell-he-was as the two walked away. "Next up! Your mentor!"

The world shifted again; this time, Germany was prepared and he stood his ground as reality gave way. When he opened his eyes, he found himself in a large library. The boy from before sat at the end of a wooden table, looking dejected. A young Austria gazed down on him tiredly.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Austria. I guess I'm just not smart enough."

"Don't say that. It's not true. You're still very young, and these concepts are…complicated. Politics is not a game, after all." Austria moved closer and placed a hand gently on the boy's shoulder. "You should get some rest, Holy Rome. You've been studying hard. Don't be too tough on yourself. Go rest, and we'll start your lessons again later."

"Okay, Mr. Austria." The boy named Holy Rome gazed up at Austria brightly, and gave him a large smile. He hopped down from the too-tall chair and ran past Germany and Rome without seeing them.

"AND you used to take breaks. What happened to ya?"

Germany scowled. He looked at Austria. Even young, the aristocrat looked tired and weighted down beyond his years. Had Austria always looked so old and troubled? Germany couldn't remember. He couldn't even remember the last time he'd seen his old friend.

"I still don't know what you're talking about. This boy—this 'Holy Rome'—he isn't me. I don't remember any of this. My name is Germany—"

"Oh yeah? Let's see the next scene before you make up your mind, friend!" Rome waved his arm and once more the world shifted.

They were on a field. Holy Rome stood facing another child, a young, pretty girl with tears in her eyes. He was holding her hands. Germany's heart ached, but he didn't understand why.

"I've loved you for a very long time," The boy confessed. Then they were leaning toward each other, their lips brushing in a chaste kiss, and their small bodies swaying together in the gentle breeze.

As he watched, Germany thought he could feel a ghost of a kiss upon his own lips, as if remembering the pressure of another's mouth against his own. But that couldn't be true, he'd never been kissed before; he'd always been too busy…

Then they were pulling apart, bidding their goodbyes. It was war that was taking him away. She called after him, promising to wait for his return. Germany couldn't bear to watch anymore; he had a feeling he knew how this story ended.

"He never came back, did he?"

Rome turned to him, an inscrutable look in his eyes. "Don't be so sure. Some loves last for a second, and others last…a much longer time. They're like the stars in the sky, my friend. Infinite and beautiful, and you never know which ones are ephemeral, and which ones are…more." He smiled gently. "Holy Rome left to fight his wars, to chase his ambitions, and win power and glory. You may be right. He may never come back. But that doesn't mean there's no hope left, right?" Rome winked at him again, and without warning, everything shifted.

Holy Rome was just beginning to stir from his troubled sleep. His eyes opened and he shot up in bed, taking in his unfamiliar surroundings with fear and trepidation. A loud set of footsteps carried from the hall into the large chamber. Germany watched with amazement as his older brother marched into the room, the swinging hilt of a blade against his hip, silver armor drenched in blood and glory. Prussia hadn't looked this big and fierce and proud in decades, maybe centuries. Suddenly Germany knew why Prussia always looked so smug; he had a right to be. These were his heydays, and he'd never forgotten them.

"Hey, short stuff! You're awake. Fucking A!"

"Where…where am I?"

"Home, now. You're my minion, got it? And I'm your boss. You listen to me now."

"O—okay." Holy Rome looked dazed and confused and as scared as a child deserved to be.

Prussia came up to him, and Germany could remember this scene perfectly. He remembered his fear, cold in his veins as the crimson eyed warrior bent down to examine him for the first time. He remembered the stench of Prussia's armor, the fierceness in his eyes.

"Good. We'll make a warrior outta you yet!" Prussia laughed and clapped Germany's younger self on the back.

Germany's head spun. This was real. This had really happened; he could remember it clear as day. But what did that mean? That everything Rome had shown him before— He felt Rome's hand rest heavily on his shoulder.

"One last stop, kid. Let's go." The world spun, but Germany hardly noticed it beyond the pounding and confusion in his head.

They were inside someone's house now, and Germany recognized it immediately as Italy's. He hadn't been there for a while, but he still remembered exactly what it looked like. Italy and Japan sat quietly at the dining table, enjoying an Italian meal together. Italy looked uncharacteristically deflated, and Japan's features were clouded with worry.

"I'm sure Germany-san has his reasons. You know well how busy he always is."

"Yeah…" Italy sighed, and it was so unlike him that Germany didn't know how to react. His friend was never like this. Never. The sight of Italy with his eyes downcast and his lips drawn into a frown stabbed at Germany's heart. He never wanted to see Italy like this. He'd do anything to make it stop.

"It's the day after his last birthday party, in case you were wondering." Rome helpfully supplied. "You had a meeting with your advisors and couldn't come. Ring any bells yet?"

It did. This had been just a few months ago. Italy hadn't looked that upset at the time; he'd been disappointed, yes, but he'd just waved Germany's concern off and said that he was fine. And Germany had believed him. Such an ass, Germany thought of himself.

"I wonder…I wonder if Ludwig ever gets lonely. He's always by himself in his office. I hope…he doesn't feel…all alone in the world." Italy confessed quietly. Japan watched him with sympathetic eyes, but didn't answer.

"You…" Germany grit his teeth and clenched his fists. His guilt and self-anger needed an outlet, and he was about ready to punch someone, revered Ancient Roman Empire or not. "Why are you showing me this? What does this…have to do with anything…?"

Rome blinked blankly at him. "I really hope you're just pretending to be stupid. I mean, c'mon, even I would get the message! I haven't exactly been subtle here."

Germany growled and grabbed a fistful of Rome's cape. "This is all a fucking nightmare and I just want to go home and sleep. Let me the hell out of this place!"

But Rome didn't move. It was as if he'd become a statue, his accusing eyes boring into Germany until the younger nation couldn't take it anymore. He jerked Rome's cape as hard as he could. The fabric grew impossibly large under his grasp, and began to spread until it enveloped them all. Darkness fell. Germany yelled and fought against the cloth. He cussed and punched and struggled as if for his life.

And then he was awake, and alone once more in his bed.