Author: Cyhirae

Notes: It's probably going to become apparent in this chapter I'm skipping certain verbal tendencies of characters while keeping others. My logic behind it: I'm trying by in large to honor speech patterns that have been explained and 'verbal ticks', but skipping on certain interpretations (such as Ore-sama = use of 'awesome').

Disclaimer: Hetalia is not mine.


The addition of Lovino and Lili's people was both a blessing and a curse, Gilbert had to surmise. They had brought more supplies- Lili's had brought the much needed medical supplies in particular- but their organization skills were a bit less than stellar. The march inevitably slowed with the addition of even more children and elderly as well as hot headed young men and women who were apparently of the mind that now that they had more people, they should turn and fight.

No one had any idea how much it nearly killed Gilbert to refuse that idea. This wasn't Prussia, he didn't have an actual army and there was no clear leadership among any of these people. The three of them kept looking the lines over, hoping for that sudden manifestation of a person that wasn't just a part of the herd. Someone whose face and name was instantly known to them and had that natural ability to draw others to follow them.

So far, this personage had been pretty well impossible to locate and the results were telling. Supplies were starting to finally run low as they were crossing the border into Poland; vehicles had to be abandoned as fuel ran out, meaning what couldn't be carried by the people having to leave it behind was also left behind.

This is why I still like horses, damn it. Gilbert listened to another report of one of the lines falling even further back; they had only just barely made it out of Germany compared to the rest of them. As long as there's grass and water, they can keep moving.

Pointing that out to anyone wasn't going to miraculously make all those trucks and cars turn into horses and wagons, unfortunately. Gilbert tried to massage away a headache, though he frowned at the warning sign he knew that was. His people were starting to fall apart; Lili's and Lovino's too, probably.

"Hell, maybe they'll listen to whatever Feliks' boss has to say…" Not a happy thought, to think of putting one of his most annoying old enemies in charge of his people…but it also wouldn't be the first time. Don't go there, Gilbo; you don't want to dig that up right now….

What was another concern was that they hadn't yet been challenged by any Polish security. And the closer they got to Warsaw, the more concerned Gilbert was. There were none of the signs of a chemical bombing such as what had laid Berlin and other major areas of Germany to waste, but shouldn't they have been at least told to stop and explain why they were here?

Gilbert looked to the General, who was still waiting for an actual response to the report that didn't come from some obscure musing of his 'leader'. The albino tried to pull his thoughts properly together from the morass of pain, exhaustion and confusion his people were all but drowning him in. He had only just begun to open his mouth to reply when the sudden tinge of copper warned him what was coming next.

Lovino and Lili were instantly at his side, keeping him from simply collapsing into the dirt as he heaved and coughed red at the General's feet. The man recoiled, starting to wave toward the medics but Lovino shook his head at the gesture.

"Don't even bother! Damn it, you can't do anything for him so just back off!" They lowered Gilbert to his knees and let him cough, Lili rubbing his back in an attempt to soothe while Lovino kept a hold of one arm to keep him from simply falling to the dirt. Finally the spasm eased and Gilbert gulped air greedily into lungs that burned as they had back in Berlin.

"What happened? Why did he suddenly collapse?" The General began to reach out to try to take Gilbert's other arm, only to find the albino himself waving him off as he spit out the last traces of the blood.

"It happens; you don't have to worry about that line anymore." Lili gave a little cry of dismay even as Lovino snapped out a curse in Italian. They, at least, had already done the math to some degree. For his part, though, Gilbert couldn't bring himself to move yet.

He had felt their deaths; it wasn't anything new, but on such a scale? It was the days of the Plague all over again; not even his bloodiest war had cost him so many people in one fell swoop.

"…Get the other lines...get them moving. No one falls behind again." Gilbert tried to push himself back up to his feet, Lili and Lovino both grabbing his arms to hold him up as he finally gained them. "Too close…keep moving. Warsaw…and find…decide on a damned…"

The rest of the demand fell along with Gilbert as his legs gave out; too many. That was just too many people at once. The calls and cries of those around him are distant things as his eyes close; was it too late? Had all the lines been caught?

Darkness swept over him and drug him down without offering the answer he wanted.

Lovino took the bulk of the albino's weight from Lili, easing him fully to the ground. He was still breathing, but it was shallow and quick. Lili knelt beside him a moment, lip caught in her teeth as she placed her hand first to his forehead, then to his chest.

"Fever; a very bad one…His people must be in worse shape than even he thought…" She looked to the General then, who had turned swiftly on his heel to march back toward his men. He would tolerate orders from Gilbert if he had to; but he wasn't going to take them from these two outsiders. "Lovino, we have to keep moving."

"Well they're going to keep going to Warsaw; we'll tag along. What else is there to do?" The words came out bitter and unhappy from the Italian. He didn't particularly like or even know Gilbert; but he didn't want to see another one of them die. He hadn't seen Feliciano die; he hoped it had been quick and not some slow, painful end such as the Prussian was crawling toward. "Chigi! He didn't even say what he was wanting to do once we got there!"

"Part of it is obvious…we need to talk to Feliks." Lili waved some men over then; Gilbert didn't look to be waking up any time soon. They were simply going to have to carry him until he did. "We have even fewer people left; if they are going to survive, we need his help."

The Italian scowled down at the unconscious Prussian as the men descended to collect him. Feliciano had once told him during the wars that an organized march to Warsaw from near the German border would take several days with fully trained men and supplies to move.

How long was it going to take with so many civilians in tow? They weren't right on the border but he had no maps to hand to give him an idea how far they had to go.

"Chigi! If it can get any worse than this, I don't want to know!"

~ooOOoo~

"You like, so totally look like crap, Prusy." If the way of talking hadn't told Gilbert who it was, the 'name' certainly would have. It was his second least favorite after that Russia-sound alike the Anglos were so fond of.

"Nice…seein' you too…freak. So 'totally' lucky…I'm not hitting you." The albino forced his eyes to open; the pain at least had subsided. He could feel a new mark to remember the loss by, however; a chemical burn across his back as the sign of the lost line of refugees that had fallen too far back. Someone had at least thought to bandage it; it wouldn't make it heal any faster, but it isolated it at very least.

"Yeah, you're totally so welcome and stuff too, Prusy." Funny, was that a note of relief? Gilbert tried to focus on the green eyed blond but the most he could make out was a blob of yellow and green, though something he was fairly sure was a hand was just waved in front of his face. "…This like, totally sucks. I'm sharing a roof with you again."

"If there'd been a better choice…would've taken it, Poland." At least Feliks was wearing a proper men's uniform as his eyes finally focused enough to make out details; Gilbert wasn't sure he could have asked the General to take him very seriously if he'd been engaging in his little hobby. "Where are we..?" The room was windowless and the ceiling surprisingly low; the lights set in it were almost painfully bright on the white washed walls. Feliks was leaning back in a chair by the bed Gilbert had awoken on, arms tucked behind his head as he rocked himself back and forth with a foot on said bed. Unlike himself, Lili and Lovino; the blond was in perfect condition, it seemed.

"We're like, so totally underground, you know? These bunkers got built way~ way~ back in the Cold War and all that; you know, when it looked like America and Russia were so gonna totally blow the world into nuclear winter?" Feliks eyed the walls a moment, then gave a deep, long suffering sigh. "'Course they so totally didn't listen to me when we moved in here. Pink would've been way better than boring old white; or maybe yellow-"

"Hallelujah; there is a God. You've actually got smart bosses who don't listen to you." Gilbert still hadn't forgotten those stupid wing-banners his forces had worn into battle centuries ago; looking flashy on the battlefield was fine by him but there were a few limits. After a moment more of making sure his eyes were finally willing to cooperate, Gilbert began to sit up, only to find his back reintroduced without any great gentleness to the bed when Feliks all but shoved him back to the mattress.

"Hey, like hold your horses!" Gilbert could think of something else he'd like to do with horses than hold them as his reclaimed vision swam out of focus again and his back burned. "You're so like, so totally drugged you oughtta be tasting the colors right about now, Prusya. Getting up is so totally not a good idea!"

"I…am so going to kill you…Poland…" Gilbert focused on breathing for a moment before he felt something cool being placed on his forehead. He blinked and tried, in a moment of pure mental loss, to see what it was, but any attempt to raise up his hand or sit up just met with another push from Feliks.

"Yeah, yeah- you've been saying that for years. You're so totally all talk!"

"..Can you say…anything and not use…'like' or 'totally'…just in a sentence just once?" He could not be lying here like this. There was too much going on. "Got…to get ready. Those bastards are-"

"Already bombing my land." That was a surprisingly matter of fact tone from Feliks, enough to be the slap in the face Gilbert needed to focus on the other nation again. "You've been so out of it for a couple days, Prusya. Not too surprising; Lili'n Lovino's people were in pretty bad shape but yours? Dead on their feet, practically! Nearly made my doctors look bad, you know that?" The tone was oh so very offended, as if Gilbert had drug a near nation's worth of dying people into Poland entirely to let them die on his doorstep. "Anyway! They should be keeping them about as drugged up as you. My boss got everyone into the shelters so now they're just waiting them out."

"Did…they warn you?" Gilbert tried to pin down his own thoughts then through the haze; no wonder he was so damned out of it if they'd practically sedated every sick or wounded person from that march…granted it wasn't nearly as many people as he would have liked to save with one whole line lost….

"That these bombers are looking for us? I'm so totally on it, don't worry!" Gilbert closed his eyes, musing for a moment over that and feeling less reassured than ever before. "They're never going to find us in here."

"You said this is a bunker…" Gilbert gave up trying to sit up then; Feliks was surprisingly strong when he wanted to be. He should have remembered that from way back then. This was the nation that just wouldn't die and always got back on his feet. "..the hell…makes you think they won't…look in a bunker?"

"Yeah, well….about that. There's a pretty good reason they so totally won't find us in any of my bunkers. We're so not at my house." The blond suddenly looked considerably less sunny and cheered as he glanced to the door. "You like…have really good luck or really bad luck, Prusya. Seriously, you do!"

Gilbert closed his eyes and tried to put the pieces together through the drug haze; 'luck' had seen him landed in a bunker that wasn't in Poland with Feliks (that constitutes 'bad luck', he's sure). He was very sure he had been in Poland and not even yet to Warsaw when he collapsed. Feliks also wasn't looking very pleased about the situation. The math was pointing at a sum Gilbert's mind kept trying to look the other way from.

Dealing with him was supposed to be the last, emergency option! He didn't care what people said about Russia being a federal government with all sorts of social reforms having been underway for decades; Ivan was the product of several centuries of revolutions, purges and other insane attempts to kill any of their own that didn't agree with whomever was calling the shots at the time.

They could be the Federation of Freakin' Utopia and Ivan wouldn't be any less of a broken minded psychopath. A century of shaky peace and working toward prosperity wasn't going to fix that damage. Gilbert tried very hard to think of another possibility; any of them really. But plainly this wasn't Lithuania; he couldn't see Feliks upset to be 'visiting' Toris.

The blonde sat back in his seat, kicking his legs back and forth idly as he watched the expressions running over the albino's face; realization, denial, desperation- it was a little sobering in its own right. Gilbert hadn't ever been easily put off by much of anything. He'd have never believed the other nation capable of worrying at all if he hadn't just watched a steady progress of its stages.

"You're like, so totally out of practice being an arrogant bastard, Prusya." Then there came the sound he had been dreading since Gilbert had been dropped off; the clicking of locks on the door as someone prepared to come far as he knew, only one person had the keys to the sections the nations were sheltering in. That suspicion was confirmed as the door swung open to show the huskily built, smiling man waiting on the other side.

"So he is; it's so nice to see he hasn't forgotten the lessons he learned, da?" Gilbert's eyes flew open as he all but threw himself into sitting up, ignoring Feliks' squawked out reminder that he shouldn't be trying to move. The room swam, the floor leapt away from his feet- then he was caught and pressed firmly back onto the bed, a much larger hand than Feliks' pinning him down. "But still very impulsive…hmm…what do they call you now? I think I still prefer 'German Democratic Republic' for you, but that is out of date, da? Hm…so is 'Prussia' and 'Germany' is gone too…You do not have good luck with names, da?"

Gilbert struggled to breathe as the Russian spoke; then the hand on his chest eased up as Feliks leaned over to give it a rather sharp poke, followed by a grab of the wrist. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that the airy blonde was either fearless or entirely too dense to know when he should be afraid. Gilbert had never been entirely sure which it was when it came to his interactions with Ivan.

"Even he so totally can't talk if you're smothering him, Russia." The two nations glared at each other for a moment, then Ivan removed his hand fully, acknowledging the logic for the time being. "He's also not even with it yet; so like, come back later. Way later."

"Hm…he seemed most aware a moment ago, da? I could hear you speak over the intercom here." Ivan smiled pleasantly at the outraged look on Feliks' face, then tapped a finger against Gilbert's forehead as the albino nation struggled to get his breath back. "But it does seem like he is only capable of speaking where coherency is not needed, da? I will be back in an hour; I do hope he will be ready to talk by then."

Gilbert listened as the door shut, a series of locks snapping closed to indicate it wasn't going to open again until Ivan returned. Feliks blew out a heavy sigh of annoyance, one hand resting on his hip as he glowered at the door.

" 'I like, so hope he'll be ready to talk by then', pfffff! You're like, listening to all this Ivan? If so-" Gilbert's grasp of Polish was rusty and out of date, but even so he was able to follow enough of what followed to smirk. He really hoped Ivan translated that; Feliks could be creative- and vulgar- when so inspired.

The fired up blonde dropped back in his chair with a huff, arms crossed as he looked down at Gilbert. The albino didn't look to be all that improved from when he'd been asleep. Naturally pale skin was positively translucent and the breathing uneven- though that last could have been a result of Ivan's visit. Feliks sighed, then reached over to pick up a bowl from the table beside the bed and waved the spoon from it about like a sword.

"So like, say 'aah'- we're Russia's 'guests' right down to the totally crummy food." Gilbert leveled a glare at the blonde nation as he leaned down to get the bowl and spoon both nearer to feed the other, though he blinked in some surprise when Feliks spoke on in a much lower, surprisingly serious tone once he was close enough. "He picked you up along with the rest of us from Warsaw just before the bombings started. He says he's so totally saving us and going to help and that he knows some of what's going on; so we like, agreed to play along for now. We'll get to talk to the rest if you don't screw up and like, get locked up for causing trouble. Okay?"

"…Yeah, I get it." That was barely audible before Feliks began shoveling the contents of the bowl into his mouth; as expected, it tasted horrible and was probably laced with enough medicine and vitamins to either kill a horse or make it a champion racer, but it was something to quiet his stomach. And it gave him time to think with no talking needed.

He'd play along for now; if working with Ivan meant a chance to get at the bastards who killed his family and friends, it was what he had to do. He'd simply have to deal with the consequences when they were done; beating these guys would only be half the war. After all, until they cleaned up the bombed areas, there were a lot of people with no place to live.

Hell. Finally getting closer to a war I could actually enjoy and I'm saddled down with civilians and a half assed government that keeps arguing with itself. There wasn't much to do but endure it though, along with every bite of that horrid meal. Ivan would be back eventually; he needed his head on straight if he was going to avoid getting locked in here for good. I'll nail him to a wall and beat him to oblivion after all this. Yeah, that sounds good. Heheh.

"Like, less smirking and more eating, Prusya~" The spoon whapped him on the nose before settling into the bowl for another load. Feliks took advantage of Gilbert opening his mouth to curse at him to pop the spoon in, grinning the whole time. "You're like, not so bad when you're quiet!"

And then I'll paint Feliks' house white with a crowned black eagle on the side. That sounds pretty good too. Until then, there wasn't much to do but eat and wait for Ivan's return.

~To be continued eventually