What little color remained in Gilbert's face drained.
"Di-dissolved?"
"We haven't officially agreed upon it yet," England spat, glaring at France. "Until we do, you'll be staying with Russia."
Gilbert felt the ground beneath him falling away. Black dots obscured his periphery as his throat constricted.
"W-why?" he heard himself choke out.
"You're just a glorified military, wreaking havoc wherever you go," America said. "You need to be controlled, and we feel your brother would be a poor choice of baby-sitter. So we're splitting you up. We – that is to say England, France, and myself – will be keeping an eye on him. I mean, let's face it, you're a bad influence on Ludwig."
The world, along with a desperate desire to stab something, suddenly came rushing back to Gilbert. Grabbing England's pen, he rammed it down into the polished mahogany.
"This is fucking bullshit!"
The pen nib sheered off, spraying black ink everywhere. The escort guards hooked him under his arms and dragged him away from the table.
"Bullshit!" Gilbert elbowed one guard in the gut and managed to wrench himself free from the other's grasp.
"I wanna see West! He wouldn't stand for this!"
"I'm afraid that wouldn't be pru – " England said.
"I don't care what you think! Let me see him."
A cry, like that of a wounded animal, ripped from Gilbert's throat as he fought off more attempts to restrain him.
"Please," he said, approaching the table. "Please." Tears welled in swollen red eyes. The intensity of his gaze, and the desperation behind it, held England transfixed. The green-eyed nation remembered having that same look on his own face all those years ago when that bratty upstart he called "little brother" wanted independence.
"You send me away with this nut job and I'll never see West again. You know this. Let me at least see him one more time."
England turned his head away, as if such a look might be indecent. "Bring him."
"I'm afraid I can't allow this, England," came a falsely cheery voice. "I've got a tight schedule to keep."
Gilbert glared at Russia.
"Give them five minutes," England said.
"Very well. Five minutes. They shall say their goodbyes and then we really must be going."
Each word sounded like a threat. It took all of what little self-restraint Gilbert possessed from throttling that damn Russian. He started pacing instead, lighting another cigarette.
The guard returned a few moments later with Ludwig. Even in defeat, the German could not be cowed. His back rigid and straight, head level, and eyes betraying nothing as he entered the room.
Gilbert's face cracked into its usual cocky grin when he saw Ludwig. The world around them melted away. No desks. No papers. No eyes watching their every move. Just him and West. Like it used to be. But something felt different. Their roles reversed and Gilbert felt like the younger brother asking for help now. And he couldn't help but notice and wonder why Ludwig's hands weren't bound like his. Gilbert forced these thoughts out of his mind as he ran over to Ludwig.
"West! Do you know what these fu- "
"Yes, Gilbert, I know."
"Isn't there anything we can do?"
Ludwig considered his brother for a moment. He knew what Gilbert wanted him to say – knew what Gilbert would have done – but he also knew what must be done. Swallowing the tightness in his throat, Ludwig shook his head.
"The price…is steep this time…and it must be paid for what we did."
What we did? We? We! It was never We. It was you, you, you…you and your stupid boss. Gilbert shut his eyes, trying to clear his thoughts…but the image of him in that building, yelling at his brother just before an explosion took out the north wall, floated back into his mind.
"It will be temporary," said a distant voice, bringing Gilbert back to the present. He opened his eyes to see his brother placing a tentative hand on his shoulder. Gilbert stared back into his brother's icy blue eyes and tried to smile, but Ludwig's gaze was too staid. Then, with a sudden stiff motion, Ludwig pulled his brother into a bone-crushing hug.
"You will come back to me. I'll make sure of it," Ludwig whispered.
Gilbert nestled his face in the crook of his brother's shoulder. "I know, West." But why does it seem like I get the short end of the deal?
In the background, someone cleared his throat.
"Time's up," America said with a voice more strained than it had been earlier.
The brothers parted and the world rushed back in. The escort guard came up beside Ludwig and led him from the room. Gilbert watched his brother's face turn for one more look before the door snapped shut and for once, the blonde nation's eyes betrayed his sorrow.
Gilbert turned away from the door to find Russia standing next to him. Violet eyes glinted greedily.
"All right, Gilbert, let's go."
"My name is Prussia!"
"Whatever you say, Gilbert. Now let's go. Lithuania's waiting at the train station with my luggage."
"What about my stuff?"
"Gilbert, my house is a big one. Don't think I don't provide for those that live there. I'll take care of you."
The last part sent shudders down Gilbert's spine as he reached for another cigarette.
"When do I get these damn handcuffs off?"
When we get to my house. They're merely...ah…a precaution."
Lithuania was sitting just inside the terminal, looking more harassed than usual. He immediately jumped up at Russia's arrival and launched into his stream of forced pleasantries, but the massive nation waved him off.
"When will our train arrive?"
"I-in about fifteen minutes, Mr. Russia."
"Good."
"W-would you li – " Lithuania trailed off, noticing Gilbert for the first time. "What's he doing here?"
Russia's mouth broke into his wide grin. "My war prize. Gilbert's our new family member."
Gilbert ground his teeth at this remark. "For the last time, it's Prussia!"
Russia smirked and clapped a hand hard across Gilbert's back. "Of course. Now, I would like a coffee…or perhaps something stronger – "
"Certainly, Mr. Russia. I'll be ba – "
"No, no, Lithuania. I am quite capable. I want you to wait here with our new kin."
Even though he smiled as he said it, Lithuania did not miss the malevolent flash in Russia's eyes.
"You know, I don't remember you being this much of a sniveling idiot," Gilbert said as he and Lithuania watched Russia walk away.
The Baltic nation's face reddened. "You're still as presumptuous as ever."
"No. I'm just awesome. So when did you become Russia's bitch? I mean, don't get me wrong, you're a smart guy. Hell, I'll never forget Tannenberg. So what happened?"
A shadow passed over Lithuania's face as his eyes followed the path Russia took. "He…has his ways."
A/N: OK. So I'm still a total fanfic virgin. I noticed on my first chapter, I forgot to post the obligatory disclaimer. So here it is: I don't own it. I wish I did, but I don't. End of story. Also, I didn't think it was necessary to make a footnote for the Tannenberg reference…if you don't know, read the comic or google it. Love me or hate me, feel free to review. Thanks guys!