Dro: Was expecting a little more turnout for Chapter 1, but since someone was eager for the next chapter (you know who you are), I decided to be nice and post this earlier than I'd originally planned. Anyway, I hate having to ask this, but please review, guys. My goal is to learn what you think about my stories. Reviewing is what tells me what I'm doing right and what I'm doing wrong. So throw me a line, okay? Even a "I like/hate this part!" is fine. Just tell me, okay? I want to give you the best fic possible, but I need your help for that!
Chapter Summary: Gilbert, Romano, and Feliciano begin the road to recovery, and we finally find out what happened to France.
Warnings: Major Angst Moment, Swearing
Disclaimer: Same as before. Dro, the fanfic writer, does not own Hetalia.
Lovino swung his feet back and forth and stared out the window. Rome was still smoking. The dull ache in his chest refused to fade, and he wondered how many of his people had died. When he'd woken up to his national leaders panicking, he hadn't been able to remember the incident at the cathedral.
All he'd been told was that thirty airships had appeared hovering over major world cities and bombed the hell out of everyone. Capitals were decimated. Millions had died, and the airships seemed impenetrable. Thousands of their planes had been shot out of the sky without so much as a dent being put on the ships. Some kind of field surrounded it. Some kind of magic.
Already hurting from the attacks, Lovino had been faced with the harsh reality of what had occurred at the cathedral. His fratello was…permanently scarred. And Germany…He clenched his fists. Germany had died trying to protect him.
He glanced at the sleeping Feliciano, his wound carefully stitched and covered. They'd been forced to put him under after Gilbert had dragged the brothers to a hospital. He'd been hysterical, or so Lovino had heard. He hadn't woken up for a full two days after…after what? After he absorbed some of that bastard's magic powers? He looked at his hands, wondering if the lingering energy had faded. Gilbert had told him what he'd done to the windows, though he still wasn't sure he fully believed it.
On cue, Gilbert knocked gently on the door and entered. He stared at Feliciano, but he spoke to Lovino. "How're you feeling?"
From his position, Lovino couldn't see the gauze that covered the right side of the man's face. But he knew it was there. And he knew what was under it. "A little better. Most of the fires have been put out now. My chest still hurts a little though. Any news about the airships? Have they made contact with us yet? Demands? Are they still attacking anywhere?"
Gilbert sighed and made his way to the chair beside Feliciano's bed. "They're still silent. We have no clue what they want or why they attacked us. We don't know anything at this point. All the countries are trying to get into contact with each other, but communications have been damaged. Which was probably the point of the preemptive strike in the first place. These bastards mean business."
"Who the hell are they though?" Lovino tapped his fingers on the sill. "How could these massive airship things just appear out of nowhere? I mean, they had to come from somewhere, but where on Earth could they have been hiding?"
"Maybe Earth isn't where they're from at all. You probably still don't remember, but that Drovich guy said he wasn't a country from our world. Maybe…maybe there's some of alternate universe or something out there. And they crossed into ours to try to conquer our planet."
Lovino stared. "Are you serious? An 'alternate universe'? That's the craziest shit I've ever heard! They're more likely to be aliens from Mars!" He huffed.
Gilbert snorted. "Think what you want. But since we don't have any sort of concrete answer, all we can do is speculate."
"True…" Lovino took a second to look Gilbert over. The man had a dark circle under his remaining eye, and his cheeks seemed to be on the verge of becoming sunken and hollow. His red eye seemed dull, and his hunched back made him look exhausted. "Hey, Gilbert. How are you doing?" Lovino had been focusing all his attention on Feliciano. He'd completely neglected the fact that Gilbert had lost his brother.
Gilbert didn't speak for several moments. He raised a hand and ran it through Feliciano's hair. "As good as I can be, I guess."
"Have you…have you said your goodbyes to him?" He bit his lip, wondering if Gilbert had had it in him to see his brother's dead body.
"No. I haven't." Gilbert drew his fingers lightly down the dressing of Feliciano's wound. That was where he'd been for the last two hours, standing in front of the morgue door trying to force himself to enter, trying to bring himself to finally say farewell to West. He hadn't been able to. Gott, West. I want to see you one last time, but I'm afraid it might make me want to follow you…and I can't do that yet. Not with…not with these two to take of.
Lovino wanted to say something, but he couldn't find the right words. Were there even words to comfort someone over the death of a brother? A groan snapped them both out their stupor. Feliciano's eyes cracked open, his lips drawing into a grimace as his facial muscles stretched his stitched-up gash.
Lovino rushed to his bedside. "Feli? Fratello? Can you hear me?"
"Lovino?" Feliciano languidly slid his eyes toward the two of them, recognition and realization slowly returning to him. He sprang up with a gasp. "Ludwig!"
Gilbert grabbed him and forced him back down. "Feliciano, calm down!"
"But…but Ludwig! He's hurt! The ceiling! The man! Gilbert…" It dawned on him. "Gilbert…tell me he's not…" a hysterical tear slipped down his cheek. "Tell me he's fine. Tell me he's in another room sleeping. Please…"
Gilbert's heart ached. "I can't do that, kid. I can't lie to you about that…"
"He's…He can't be…He can't be dead! He can't be!" Feliciano struggled to break from Gilbert's grasp, but even weakened, the former country was stronger than him.
Lovino staggered back, trying to hold himself together. I can't see him like this. I can't stand it. He headed for the door, ignoring Gilbert's yell for help, and ran down the hallway. He didn't stop until he reached the lobby of the hospital. Spotting a café, he sauntered over to it, only to run into two of his leaders.
"Romano! There you are!" One of them said. "We were just coming to look for you. We've been contacted by several other world leaders. We're holding a secret conference in Spain on Monday. We'll be leaving on Friday in a convoy, so make sure you have what you need. We'll be deciding where to create our base of operations, so you may want to gather all your important belongings, as we'll probably ending up living in a secure facility somewhere. We don't want to make too many trips around Europe. Those bastards, whoever they are, might snuff us all out if we moved about too openly."
Lovino nodded along.
"And make sure Veneziano is ready to go too. We're shipping all his things here immediately. You can sort through them if you need to throw some stuff out. That is, unless he's well enough to do it himself. I haven't been to see him. How bad are his injuries?"
"Um, well…I think the psychological damage may been a little worse than the physical."
The man frowned, placing a hand on Lovino's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Romano. I know you care about your brother, and I realize this is a lot to handle in a short amount of time. But if we want to win against these people, we have to prepare ourselves. If Veneziano needs a psychiatrist, a counselor, medicine…whatever he needs to get better. I'll make sure he gets it no matter what."
"Thank you, sir."
The two men walked off chatting with each other. I can't escape this, can I? No matter where I go, I'll just be facing a different aspect of this damned invasion!
Gilbert aimlessly walked the hallways. The nurses had rushed in and sedated the struggling Feliciano, and at that point, Gilbert could no longer stand the sight of him. That poor kid… He rubbed his temples, trying to keep himself together. What the hell am I supposed to do now?
Eventually, he found himself back at the morgue. The dank atmosphere made him shiver, and the doors beckoned him to drown himself in sorrow. He placed his palm on the door but hesitated to push it open. He'd asked them hours ago to leave West in a position where he could see him on last time, but…Gott, just do it, Gilbert! He forced himself through the doorway, freezing as it swung shut behind him.
West's body lay exposed one of the autopsy tables. They'd had the decency to cover him up to his shoulders, hiding the grotesque damage that the crushing tons of debris had done to him. Gilbert shook as he neared his brother's body. Trembling fingers rose to caress West's messy blond hair, speckled with dirt. Gilbert's eye stung as tears broke free from his lids.
"West. Mein Gott, West." The floodgates broke. "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I should've been able to save you, damn it! I'm your brother! I should've been able to…I should've…I should've…"
He kicked a table violently, sending containers of medical instruments crashing to the floor. "Fuck! Fuck it all!" He beat his fists against the wall, not caring as the rough stone sheared his skin off. "Fuck! Fuck…Gott, West! No…" He slid to the floor, propping himself against the wall. "I'm so sorry…Please forgive me."
From the doorway, Lovino watched Gilbert's tirade. Everybody's breaking down. Will I be next? Reduced to a mass of hysterical sobbing? Damn it. Damn it all. He turned from the morgue and started back toward the elevator.
The pain and the shaking struck him together. The entire hospital quaked on its foundations, bombs raining down in the surrounding neighborhoods. Sirens went off, signaling an another air raid had started. Lovino's heart started beating erratically, and he struggled to breathe. The pain in his chest escalated, the pounding in his chest growing to astronomical heights.
He fell to his knees, crying out and clutching his shirt. Make it stop! Make it stop! He knew he wouldn't die from the attacks. Every speck of Italy would have to obliterated for that to happen, and even then he might still live like Gilbert. But the pain. He gasped, desperately trying to pull air into his seizing lungs. He started to sway sideways, the ground rushing to meet his head. Please, just let this be the end of me.
A pair of arms caught him, bloodied hands pulling him back up. "Stay with me, Lovino. You can get through this."
"G...Gilbert?"
"Shush. Just concentrate on staying awake, okay? Your country needs you in the best condition possible. It's just as bad for a nation to die as it is for a nation to lose his country. Without you alive, Italy would fall apart much faster. You need to be strong, kid."
"What? You mean this can kill me? This invasion?"
"Remember, Lovino. The invasion is what killed West." Gilbert pulled him into his chest, rubbing his thumbs into Lovino's arms for comfort.
The sounds of the bombing eventually faded, and the pain started the abate in Lovino's chest. He relaxed against Gilbert's chest, exhausted. "Don't think I can walk." His face burned. Why am I so weak? Plenty of others have faced much worst disasters and still stood strong.
Gilbert said nothing as he pulled Lovino into his arms and lifted from the ground. They ran into a nurse as they entered the elevator, and she quickly took them to the second floor and ushered Lovino into a bed. Gilbert looked him over. Fatigued, but alive. When he come around the corner and seen Lovino on the ground, he'd thought…No, he's fine.
Lovino stared at the ceiling, lost in his thoughts. His fingers clenched the pristine white sheets. From his periphery, he could see the thick smoke of new fires in Rome. He grunted. "Gilbert…the window…"
Gilbert turned, realizing what was upsetting him. He pulled the curtains to, blocking off the room's view of the carnage in the once beautiful city. They sat in silence for half an hour after that, Gilbert contemplating his next plan of action. Germany is probably falling apart now without West. They need a representative. An idea had sprouted in his mind, but his reservations were stifling its growth. I could be…I could try to…but that would be an affront to bruder. How could I possibly take his place?
A soft knock on the door roused him from his thoughts. He glanced at Lovino, noticing he'd fallen asleep. He slipped from the chair and opened the door to reveal a nurse. Behind her were Italy's leaders, and behind them…
"Gilbert Beilschmidt, we need to have a word with you."
His stomach throbbed as he shifted, his eyelids feeling like dead weight. He managed to open his eyes, but he snapped them shut as blinding light seeped in. His ears picked up arguing voices.
"What if he doesn't wake up? What if he dies?"
"He's not going to die? He needs to tell us who took Arthur!"
"Oh, is that the only reason you want him alive?"
"C-can you p-please stop arguing?"
"Look, we're in a world war now. We need all the information we can get and all the strongest countries in the world to help fight back. And one of them is England!"
"I understand that, Alfred, but wherever Arthur is, he's long gone by now. If those bastards with the sky fortresses really took him, then we have pretty much zero chance of getting him back."
"L-look, just s-stop arguing, okay? We need to work together."
"Don't say that! He's alive, and we're going to save him!"
"Alfred, be realistic!"
"Can you imbeciles please stop arguing? I'm trying to sleep here." He mumbled.
The trio paused.
"Francis?" Antonio's voice rose as the man leaned over him. "Can you hear me?"
"Well, obviously."
"Sorry, it's just…we weren't sure when you were going to wake up. It's been three days now."
"Three days since…" He sat up, cringing as his abdomen flared with pain.
"Whoa!" Antonio's hands rested on his shoulders. "Careful. Don't rip your wound open again, please. You were in surgery for seven hours the first time. We don't need a repeat."
Francis nodded, propping the pillow up and leaning back in a sitting position. He took a good look around the room, spotting Canada and his bear staring worriedly and America brooding in the corner. "Arthur…I'm guessing you weren't able to find him?" He met Alfred's eyes.
Alfred shook his head. "I looked everywhere after I took you took you the hospital, but I couldn't find a trace of him. Coupled with the bombings, I had no choice but to cut off my search. There were too many innocent people to protect."
Francis put his hands over his face. "Oh, Angleterre. What have you done?"
Antonio looked confused. "What do you mean?"
"This…these people that are attacking us. I think Arthur summoned them by accident."
"What?" Alfred marched up to him. "What the hell are you talking about?"
Francis bit his tongue before explaining Arthur's spell. He still wasn't sure what it had been for, but he had at least a vague idea what it had done. He detailed the man that had attacked them and what he had said. The entire room was silent after he finished, Canada having gone pale and Antonio and Alfred staring at him, shocked.
Antonio coughed. "What could he have possibly wanted Arthur for?"
"I…I don't know, but I think it may have been related to the spell somehow. Maybe if Arthur had the power to bring them…um, to this dimension, I guess…then perhaps he would have also had the power to send them back. Maybe he took him to make sure that didn't happen."
"Another dimension. A parallel universe…God, this sounds a shitty sci-fi novel!" Alfred gripped the bed railing. "Jesus, Arthur, what the hell were you thinking?"
"No idea." Francis answered. "But I'm pretty sure it wasn't this."
"I…I'll go get some lunch. You're probably hungry, right Papa?"
"Oui, Mathieu. That would be nice."
Canada slinked out of the room. Alfred watched his brother go, wondering if the pressure was getting to him. Canada hadn't been too viciously attacked at this point, but Alfred knew he was concerned that the airships would move northward until they reached him and decimate his people. Alfred's land had suffered some stiff blows, especially in the major cities, but for the most part his country had managed to keep it together. Not all countries had been so lucky.
Antonio was visibly suffering. He'd lost his three biggest cities, and it had zapped his strength. France has lost Paris, but the countryside was still intact, and Francis' people had fled there and into hiding. It was only a matter a time though before the air raids destroyed everything in their path. If they couldn't find a way to stop these people, whoever the hell they were, then the entire world could end up…
Francis met Alfred's intense gaze. "So, what's your plan, Monsieur Hero?"
Dro: Well, perhaps recover was pushing it as a descriptor for the trio. Anyway, that's all for now. Now make Dro proud and tell her how you really feel, even if you hate her!
Next Chapter: Gilbert gets a special order, Feli has another breakdown before turning awesome, and the trio finally head for Spain, meeting up with a few old friends along the way.