A/N: Remember when I said that I was breaking the chapters up into 'weeks' so that you guys wouldn't have to read 10,000+ word updates? I lied XD I don't think any of the future chapters are going to be under 9,000 words and it wouldn't make sense to cut them anymore. Forgive me, I write too much ;A;

Anyway, I finished this chapter much earlier than I thought I would. Yay! I'm really pumped to right the next one so expect it in a few weeks. Thanks to all those that have reviewed! Enjoy~

Extra note: For clarification purposes in case you forgot from chapter one: Gilbert and Elizabeta speak German to each other. Only Elizabeta speaks Italian. They both speak English.

Also, the dates on Elizabeta's and Roderich's letters are the dates that they were posted. And these will fluctuate and are not the dates that the story is necessarily taking place. This might sound confusing, but I shall try to make it clearer in the future.

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia


Italy:

Day 15 - 22

May 16th,

Dear Roderich,

Well that's horrible timing and I was really looking forward to us spending some quality time together. But I suppose the three days will have to do. And I'm sorry for not writing sooner. I've been having a strange, but very fun time in Venice. It wouldn't make sense if I tried to explain it in a letter though. You'll have to be patient. I'm sure you're fervently anticipating my arrival :)

I can't wait to see you!

-Elizabeta


"Shit." The elderly woman next to Gilbert scowled when he said this and moved a seat down the bench. Elizabeta looked up from her map and raised an eyebrow. She didn't like the tone of Gilbert's voice because it meant that there was a good chance that she was about to receive some unpleasant news.

"What?" she said shortly. Italian maps were no easier to understand than German maps and the one in front of her was making her thoroughly irritated. The last thing she needed now was another problem.

Gilbert didn't answer immediately but instead, dropped his bags onto the floor and turned all the pockets of his jacket and pants inside out. The only things that fell out were an empty carton of cigarettes, wadded gum wrappers and a few coins. Gilbert ignored these and turned to his bags. Before Elizabeta could say a word, he unzipped the first one and promptly emptied the contents onto the floor of the train station.

"What the hell are you doing?" Elizabeta hissed as she watched him sift quickly through underwear, socks, and ecchi magazines.

"I think…" Gilbert finished going through the pile and haphazardly stuffed everything back into the bag before picking up the second one and emptying it as well. "I think…I lost the check," he said quietly.

"What check?"

"…the one Vash gave me."

"Does this have anything to do with the errand he sent you?" Elizabeta asked. She was beginning to feel the sinking sensation of encroaching dread. She watched Gilbert stuff his clothes back into his bag before he picked up the third bag and emptied it onto the floor. By now, the people around them were beginning to stare and whisper.

"Yes," Gilbert said, his voice still eerily quiet.

"How much money was the check worth?"

Gilbert picked up a pair of jeans and after digging through the pockets, turned them inside out and shook them viciously. When nothing fell out he tossed them aside and grabbed another pair.

"Gilbert," Elizabeta said slowly, "how much was the check worth?"

Gilbert threw aside the jeans and reached to grab another pair but was stopped as Elizabeta stepped on his hand.

"Look at me," Elizabeta said. Gilbert kept his head down. "Look at me. Now." He finally lifted his head and Elizabeta felt her stomach drop at the terrified look on his face. "How much?"

"1.2 million," Gilbert whispered. His eye grew wide as if saying it out loud made the situation more real and devastating. Elizabeta gasped and took a step back.

"Oh my…w-why?"

"Why what?"

"Did he give it to you?"

"He wanted me to help him deposit it into one of his accounts here. He could have done it electronically, but he said he felt better having it done in person," Gilbert explained quickly. "Elizabeta, what the fuck am I going to do?"

"I don't…I don't know."

"Don't say that! He's. Going. To. Kill. Me."

"No he's not!"

Gilbert nodded. "Yes he is. And not just a bullet to the head. He's going to doing it slowly. Maybe shoot off my limbs one at a time or maybe nail me to a dart board and alternate between throwing knives and shooting me or maybe—"

"Shut up!" Elizabeta snapped, garnering even more attention. She ignored the stares and crouched down on the floor across from Gilbert. His hands were beginning to shake and she took them in her own. "Don't make up stupid scenarios like that! Nothing's going to happen to you because we're going to find that check. Do you remember where you put it?"

"I thought I put it in my pocket, but then I remember taking it out on the train to look at it and then I can't remember what I did with it next! I might have put it in one of my bags but I can't find it! Fuck!"

"Stop swearing and hand me one of your bags."

"But I already looked through all of them!"

"I don't care. Actually, give me both. Just do it." Gilbert sighed and passed over the other two of his bags. Elizabeta opened them and, just as he had done before, dumped the contents onto the floor. However, unlike Gilbert, she went through each pile slowly and carefully and did not frantically throw everything back in when she was done.

"Well it's not in those," Elizabeta said when she zipped up the last bag. Gilbert scowled.

"I could have told you that," he said.

"You have no attention for detail," He opened his mouth, "because if you did, you wouldn't be in this situation in the first place." Gilbert groaned and slumped sideways onto the floor.

"How could this happen to me?" he moaned. "What have I done to deserve this? I'm too young and awesome to die!"

"I told you to stop saying that! You're not going to die! Pick up your bags and let's go ask at the front desk if anyone turned it in."

Gilbert snorted. "Are you kidding me, Liz? You want me to go and ask them if someone turned in a check worth 1.2 million? If they don't laugh at us, they'll hold us for ransom!"

"Do you have a better idea?"

Gilbert shook his head. "If only West wasn't such a dick and had given me full access to my money. I would just write a new check."

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "I had no clue €1.2 million was so easily replaceable. You're such a rich brat. Now let's go." However, it wasn't until she reached the service desk that she realized just how ridiculous her idea was. Even on the off chance that there was someone out there with a heart of pure gold who would turn the check in, the angry and tired looking man and woman at the desk seemed the type of people who would just keep it for themselves.

"How can I help you?" The woman said sharply when they reached the desk. She was so flustered that it took a few seconds for Elizabeta to remember the Italian that she had labored three years to perfect.

"Um…yes," she said and cleared her throat nervously. The woman raised an eyebrow and the man next to her snickered.

"Uh, uh, my friends and I were just…wondering if anyone…er" Elizabeta racked her brain for the right words. Why was it now that she couldn't remember how to properly conjugate the past tense? "We were wondering if anyone…tu-turned in a check…today?"

The woman's eyebrows went higher. "A check?"

Elizabeta nodded. "My friend believes he might have lost it on the train and we thought we might ask in case anyone found it or if they hadn't perhaps we could leave our information here…" she trailed off because she realized that each word that came out of her mouth just sounded stupider and stupider.

"Just how much is this check worth?" The woman asked, smirking.

"That's not important. We just need to know if anyone has turned in a check."

"Well, unless you can confirm the monetary value of this check, I cannot confirm that one has been found," the woman sounded sincere but the growing smile on her face said otherwise. "I'm sorry but we can't just release lost checks to anyone," she finished with false sweetness.

"It's a very large amount," Elizabeta said.

"How large?"

Elizabeta bit her lip and looked over at Gilbert. He shrugged helplessly, for once, at a loss for words. It also probably had something to do with the fact that he didn't understand Italian.

Elizabeta leaned further against the counter, her hands clasped in front of her in a pleading gesture. "Please," she said softly, "We just need to know."

"How. Much?"

Elizabeta groaned. "€1.2 million," she said quickly. "Happy?"

The woman only stared back. The man next to her had stopped snickering and turned to give Elizabeta a look of sheer disbelief. He and the woman exchanged looks before they both burst out laughing. Elizabeta felt a spike of anger.

"This is serious!"

"Elizabeta, why are they laughing? My life is on the line!" Gilbert said. "What did you say?"

"I told them how much the check is worth."

Gilbert sighed and shook his head. "Great, now we're never going to make it out of here alive."

"Shut up," Elizabeta said, before turning back to the still laughing pair in front of her. "Excuse me? Excuse me? You haven't answered my original question and we would really like to get that money back." It was difficult for her not to just stop right then and run in the other direction from sheer humiliation. But she also had her pride to think about. She would only feel worse later if she gave up now. She would also have to deal with Gilbert's bitching. "This isn't a joke!"

"And neither is the beach house that someone just bought with your money, kid," the man said giggling.

"On the unlikely chance that you're not completely lying through your teeth, I have only two things to say to you," said the woman. She had stopped laughing, but was grinning widely in an almost predatory manner. "You're screwed."

Elizabeta fumed. "How can you just say that? Aren't you supposed to help customers?"

"This is customer service, not customer miracles, now get out of here."

"But…" Elizabeta began.

The grin on the woman's face was replaced by an annoyed frown. "Look here. That was a cute joke, but I'm afraid it's not very funny anymore." She pointed behind Elizabeta. "We have a long line of people who need help for real, serious problems."

"But we're not lying!"

The woman rolled her eyes. "Save it. Now get out of here before I call security."

"But—!"

"Go!"

"Damn you," Elizabeta whispered underneath her breath and she stomped away from the counter, Gilbert following nervously behind her.

"So what now?" he asked. "They can't help us?"

Elizabeta shook her head. "No. They think I'm lying and I don't blame them. I feel like an idiot."

"I told you it was dumb idea."

"Well it was the only one I had!" Elizabeta snapped. "Look, I don't know what else to do. You're going to have to call your cousin."

Gilbert turned as pale as his hair. "No way in hell!"

"There's nothing else you can do. This place is huge and anyone could have found that check. And you and I both know that whoever did is as likely to turn it is as your cousin not blowing you up."

"I thought you said he wasn't going to kill me!"

"I was trying to be optimistic."

"Well you're coming off as kind of a bitch. Thanks for nothing."

Elizabeta frowned. "It's your fault and you're going to have to deal with the consequences. It's about time you learned a thing or two about responsibility. You can call your cousin at the hostel." Her frown deepened when she saw the calculating look on Gilbert's face. "And don't even think of running away. Your cousin has ties to the government, doesn't he?" Gilbert nodded. "I don't think it will be that hard for him to find you when he finds out that he's missing €1.2 million."

Gilbert began pacing nervously. "Shit! Shit! Shit!..Shit!"

Elizabeta decided to soften up a little when she saw just how scared he was. She had never met Vash, but she could only image that he must be someone extremely intimidating to turn the self described "Most Awesome Person Ever" into a trembling mess.

"Look," she said, "if your cousin does decide to come after you, I'll protect you…kind of."

Gilbert paused his nervous tirade of profanities to look at her with wide, hopeful eyes. "Really, Liz?"

She huffed. "I might let him take a few shots at you, but I won't let you handle him alone. On the off chance I don't get a boyfriend from this trip, you're the next best thing I have and you won't be much comfort to me if you're dead. So yeah, I've got your back…kind of."

Gilbert rushed forward to hug her. "If you were a guy I would totally kiss you right now. Actually, what the hell?" He leaned down and kissed her on both cheeks.

Elizabeta pushed him away. "Oh stop it. Tomorrow, you'll be back to calling me names like 'Liz the forever celibate' or something stupid like that." She rubbed her face with the back of her hands. "I give up on the map. Let's just get out of here and start walking. I don't think it's too far away and we'll get there somehow." She reached down to grab her bags.

"Excuse me, miss?" Elizabeta turned around to see a young boy standing behind her. She recognized him immediately as the sleeping boy from the train—the one with all the pasta. Now that he was awake, she realized that was he was extremely adorable, with a face of pure innocence that was only made cuter by the wayward curl at the side of his head. It was only because she had more important things to deal with that she dismissed the idea of making him her next target.

"Yes?"

"I overheard you talking to the lady at the front desk about a check and I just remembered that I found one on the train. I don't really know what to do with it so I thought maybe you could take it in place of the one you lost."

Elizabeta was both very touched and curious. "You say you found a check? Where? How much is it worth?"

The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a rumpled check. "It was on the floor next to my bags. I'm not sure how much it's worth, but it's a really long number. Here." He handed it to Elizabeta. She gasped when she saw the value written on it: €1,200,000.

"Gilbert!" she said excitedly.

"What?" he said, finally tearing his eyes away from the boy. The fact that he didn't understand a word of the conversation wasn't the only reason he hadn't been paying attention to what they were saying. Elizabeta shoved the check in his face.

"Look at this! What is this?" she said, quickly.

"Can you not shove paper up my nose?" Gilbert snapped.

Elizabeta groaned and held the check up to his eyes. "Does this look familiar to you?"

"Yeah, it looks like HOLY SHIT. IT'S THE CHECK!" Gilbert snatched it from her hands. "Oh my God! This is it!" He kissed it dramatically.

Elizabeta smiled, despite herself, and turned back to the boy. "Thank you so much!" Anything else she wanted to say was interrupted as Gilbert elbowed her out of the way and pulled the boy into a tight embrace.

"Thank you doesn't even start to cover it! You saved my life, kid."

"Um, I don't really know what you said but okay?," the boy said, confusedly albeit cheerfully, if a little strained due to how tightly Gilbert was squeezing him.

"My God, Gilbert, put the poor boy down and let him breathe," Elizabeta said, irritated that she had been pushed aside.

"You know, I'm so fucking happy right now and because I'm naturally awesome, I think you deserve a reward," Gilbert said. The boy turned to Elizabeta and she grudgingly repeated what Gilbert has said.

"But why?" he asked.

"You saved me and this is my way of thanking you," Gilbert said, when Elizabeta had translated the response. "We should all go out to dinner together. Sounds awesome, right Liz?"

"Gilbert, I can't even find our hostel on the map. What makes you think I'll be able to find a restaurant?"

"It shouldn't be too hard, especially if we have a natural born Italian guiding us. Hey kid, what's your name?"

Although she was beginning to get annoyed, Elizabeta translated, not for Gilbert's sake, but because she was curious as well.

"Feliciano Vargas~" Feliciano said in his cute manner. Now that the case of the missing check had been solved, Elizabeta's focus was once again on her mission and she decided that Feliciano was much too cute to let go. Unfortunately, it seemed that Gilbert was having similar thoughts and once again, Elizabeta wished she had left him in Germany. This was exactly the reason she had been reluctant to bring him along. They could be in the most heterosexual city in the world and he would still be competition, which baffled her because she didn't think him charming at all. He was an annoying attention seeker whose main goal seemed to be the utter destruction of her love life—not that she had ever had much of one—and although he was her best friend and she did love him—not that she would ever admit it—there were many times that she wished that they weren't as inseparable as everyone said they were.

"Ok, Feliciano. That's such a cute name," Gilbert said after they had made their own introductions. "Liz, tell him that I'm taking him out to dinner tonight."

"You mean we're taking him out to dinner tonight," Elizabeta said.

Gilbert feigned a look of innocence. "Of course, isn't that what I said?"

Elizabeta gave him a withering look before translating. "We would be very happy if you would join us for dinner tonight. It will be our treat and Gilbert will pay for all the expenses." Inwardly, she gave a self-righteous victory cheer. Gilbert deserved that for not speaking Italian and for trying to steal her next target.

"Really? That's sound wonderful," Feliciano said, making no effort to offer to pay. "I have to drop my bags off at my house first though. I don't live very far from here, but we can take a taxi because it's still kind of a tiring walk."

"No problem," Elizabeta said. "Maybe we'll even find our own hostel on the way there."

Gilbert poked Elizabeta in the side. "What's going on? What are you saying?"

"Don't touch me!" she snapped. "We're going to Feliciano's house—wipe that smile off your face—so he can drop off his bags and then we can go to dinner. Hopefully, we'll find our hostel on the way there."

"If not, we can always stay with Feliciano. Someone that cute and sweet wouldn't think twice about having people over." Elizabeta rolled her eyes.

"You and your wishful thinking," she said, flatly.


Feliciano was by some miracle able to successfully get them a taxi, which wasn't really a taxi at all, but a water taxi. Elizabeta stared at the boat in delight as it pulled up to the dock. She knew that Venice, as a city built on water, wouldn't have many cars, but for some reason she hadn't actually expected to have such charming transportation.

Feliciano entered first while Elizabeta and Gilbert fought to sit next to him. In the end, it was Elizabeta who emerged victorious when she found an opening and elbowed Gilbert hard in the stomach. Groaning, he doubled over and she quickly grabbed her bags and slid into the backseat of the taxi. Feliciano was staring happily out the window and did not seem to have noticed the scuffle that had gone on outside.

"Are you going to stay there are all day?" Elizabeta said to Gilbert who was trying to catch his breath. He shot her a dirty look and she only grinned in reply.

"This isn't over," he hissed when he got in next to her.

"You're not going to win this time," Elizabeta said, accepting the challenge before turning to their new friend.

"So were you coming back from holiday, Feliciano?" she asked, brightly as the taxi pulled away from the dock.

"No, I was visiting my brother. He lives in Palermo."

"You have a brother? How delightful. Was it a nice visit?" Elizabeta regretted the question immediately when she saw the smile slip off Feliciano's face. But before she could apologize, the bright smile was back in place.

"Yeah," Feliciano nodded. "He even gave me all this pasta. I love pasta." He waved around one of the boxes. "I don't get to see him a lot so it was really nice to visit." Elizabeta nodded and tried to quash her curiosity regarding Feliciano's brief look of despair. It wasn't her place to pry.

"What are you two talking about?" Gilbert said in her ear. Elizabeta pushed him away.

"Haven't you ever heard of personal space?"

"Haven't you ever heard of a breath mint?"

Elizabeta cracked her knuckles. "You really want to do this now?" Before Gilbert could answer, Feliciano announced happily, "We're here!"

Elizabeta and Gilbert craned their necks out of the window to see a beautiful collection of buildings but immediately something stuck out as odd. There was large ugly gap, like a poorly pulled tooth, between the buildings and as they drew closer, they saw the recently charred rubble and the acrid smell of smoke irritated their noses.

"Wait, what's going on?" Feliciano said. "What happened to my house? It used to be right here."

"There was a fire a few nights ago." the taxi driver piped up.

"Oh no!" Elizabeta said. "How did it happen?"

"Some idiot left a pot of pasta on the stove."

"I wonder who did that," Feliciano said, sincere confusion in his voice. Elizabeta and Gilbert exchanged glances but said nothing. The taxi pulled up to the shore and the driver got out to secure it to the edge.

"What am I going to do now?" Feliciano asked as they disembarked.

"I'm so sorry, Feliciano. Do you have anyone else you can stay with?" Elizabeta asked as she took her bags from the driver.

Feliciano shook his head sadly. "I can get a new apartment, but it will take at least a week. Today's the 15th right? Paperwork takes time here and I can't imagine having anything processed before the 21st. I guess I'll have to get a hotel."

"No way. You're going to stay with us. After what you did for us today, it's the least we can do," Elizabeta said. She pointed across the street to a building a few blocks down that she had just noticed. "Our hostel is right there. We only booked two beds, but I'm sure Gilbert can pay for a third one. If that's alright with you?"

"Really? Wow, you're so nice, Elizabeta. The pretty girls are always the nicest," Feliciano said. Elizabeta beamed at the compliment. Gilbert asked her to translate and she ignored him.

"Don't you think that we should go the police station first, in case they recovered anything from your apartment?" Elizabeta asked as they started walking.

"No, the only things in there were clothes and pasta and those are easily replaceable. I carry all my really important stuff with me," Feliciano said. "My Grandpa always said that you have to be prepared for anything."

"That's a smart grandfather you have," Elizabeta said.

"Had. He died a few years ago," Feliciano said, sadly.

"I'm sorry." Elizabeta mentally kicked herself for bringing up another sensitive subject.

"It's okay. He had other really cool sayings too, like 'the prettier the girl, the better the sex', except I wouldn't know because I'm a virgin. But don't tell anyone, it's supposed to be a secret."

"Um, sure," Elizabeta said, wondering what kind of secret that was if you told it to people you had just met less than an hour ago.

"I swear, Liz. If you don't start translating, I'm going to toss your bags into the water," Gilbert grumbled behind them.

"There's nothing to translate," Elizabeta said over her shoulder.

"So everything you've been saying is just…?"

"Meaningless chatter that has nothing to do with you. Now keep up, you're falling behind."

"You do know that I'm carrying most of the bags? Would it kill you to take a few?"

Elizabeta smiled sweetly. "Sorry Gilbert, I assumed that because you are 'so awesome' it wouldn't be too much of a problem for you. If you don't think you're up to carrying a few little bags then I guess I could help you out." She stopped and held out a hand. Gilbert glared at it and pushed past her.

"Your help is the last thing I need," he said. Elizabeta only grinned.

"Is something wrong with Gilbert?" Feliciano asked.

"No, that's just how he always is. Don't let the appearance fool you. He's actually a big softie, just really grumpy."

"That's how my brother is too!" Feliciano said happily. Once again, Elizabeta was tempted to ask but kept her mouth shut until they reached the hostel. However, once they arrived, she had to deal with Gilbert's complaints about having to pay for another bed, to her great embarrassment.

"Why can't you pay for it?" he asked. They were standing in front of the front desk and a line was already beginning to form behind them.

"Because I didn't just inherit millions!" Elizabeta hissed.

"Yeah, but you know my funds are limited. Two beds are fine. Feliciano can just stay with me."

Elizabeta narrowed her eyes at him, finally understanding the true source of his unwillingness to pay.

"Yeah, I'm sure you would like that. But it's not happening. Pay for the bed," she pulled out her phone, "or I get your cousin on the line."

"You don't know his number."

"No, but Ludwig does and I'm sure he would love to hear about how you almost lost his check. It might make him have a few second thoughts about trusting you with it. Maybe even enough to make him come down here himself." It was a long shot, but Elizabeta saw the fear in Gilbert's eyes and knew her bluff had worked.

Swearing loudly, Gilbert reached into his pocket and pulled out his card, which Elizabeta had finally returned to him, and slammed it down on the desk, greatly unsettling the poor woman behind it.

"You better watch that precious phone of yours, Liz. Because I'm breaking it in half the first chance I get," he said. Elizabeta ignored the threat and slipped her phone back into her pocket.

"And if my account gets overdrawn, it's your fault. You know there's almost nothing left in it, especially after we bought those jackets."

"It won't be overdrawn, don't worry. Your brother made sure of that," she said. Gilbert raised an eyebrow.

"How do you know this?" he asked.

"I called him on the train when you were sleeping," Elizabeta said, blushing slightly, "to thank him for the clock and I accidently let it slip that, financially, I hadn't prepared as well as I had thought for this trip." Going to Germany had thrown her off schedule in more ways than one and if she didn't start making some serious cutbacks, she was going to run out of money before July. There were so many little costs that she hadn't considered and they were adding up and draining her account. "He wanted to send some money but of course I couldn't accept that—don't give me that look, I'm not a beggar—so instead, he said he would temporarily lift the holds on your account but monitor your activity."

Gilbert's face brightened. "So how much do I have access to?"

"I'm not really supposed to tell you, to keep you away from temptation, but I guess you would find out eventually. About a quarter of the original inheritance, not counting the business shares." She saw Gilbert do the calculations quickly in his head. This was how she knew he wasn't as stupid as he made people think he was. At least when it came to money, his mind was incredibly sharp. So even though she knew he hated the idea of ever going to work for his brother, she was sure he could make himself a fortune. He was an idiot, but a smart idiot, in as much sense as that made.

Gilbert's grin widened when he finished calculating just how much money was sitting comfortably and availably for him in his account. Elizabeta wagged a warning finger in his face.

"Don't you dare think of spending it. Didn't you hear what I said? Ludwig is monitoring your activity. Paying for an extra hotel bed is one thing, but if he starts noticing a large amount of clothing and alcohol purchases, he's going to shut you down. He hasn't given you all this money to spend it in whatever way you like," she said.

"No, he's given it to me so I can take care of precious you," Gilbert teased, meanly. Elizabeta blushed again.

"That's not true," she said quietly.

"He wouldn't have done it if you hadn't said anything. So as usual, West gives a shit about anyone that isn't me. Why am I not surprised?"

"Your brother cares about you, Gilbert, a lot. But if it makes you feel better, think of the money as insurance for both of us. So we can both have a good time."

"But how can I have a good time if I can't buy beer?" Gilbert whined.

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "You can buy beer; just don't start buying mass crates of wine. It's all about moderation. Look it up."

"Wait a minute! You knew I had access to all this money when I was looking for the check! Why didn't you say anything?"

"Because first off, I knew you would have tried to forge a new one and secondly, your brother would definitely have noticed if you withdrew that much money. Besides, you don't even have enough to cover the check."

"True...I still can't believe you were holding on out me though."

"I'm sorry sir," the woman behind the desk spoke up, "but we're completely book except for our private room.

Elizabeta quickly translated. "How many beds are in there?" Gilbert asked.

"Seven."

"What the fuck are we going to do with seven beds?" Gilbert asked when Elizabeta told him. She shrugged. "Fuck it, we'll take it. Maybe we can push them all together and make a super bed." He paid and Elizabeta went to get Feliciano, who had been standing by the front door the whole time they were talking, playing with a pair of stray cats.

"Hey Elizabeta, since we have all those beds do you think we can bring them into the room with us?" he asked when she told him what had happened.

"Unfortunately, I don't think they allow pets," she said as she pet the stripped tabby in his hands. It purred happily at the attention. Its brother or sister was curled next to Feliciano's leg.

"Cats are so cute," Gilbert said when he joined them. He reached out to pet the one of the floor and recoiled quickly when it hissed angrily at him.

"See Gilbert? Not everyone loves you," Elizabeta said, failing to keep the smile out of her voice.

"Shut it."


They ended up at a small, but cozy restaurant that was tucked away between two large buildings so that it was almost hidden in the shadows cast by the evening street lights. When they walked in, a young, pretty girl chattering much too fast for Elizabeta to keep up, greeted them and led them to a table in the back before going to the back to call a large man who, smiling widely, marched over to their table and pulled Feliciano into a tight hug. From him, Elizabeta was able to catch only a few small phrases, including: "been too long", "looking like your grandfather" and "order anything you like". It wasn't until the man put him down that Feliciano was able to introduce her and Gilbert to the man, whose name was Lorenzo; he was the owner of the restaurant. He kissed Elizabeta's hand and proclaimed her to be the loveliest woman he had ever seen. She beamed and Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"Did you know I am a descendant of Lorenzo the Magnificent himself? From his daughter Maria Maddalena Romola de' Medici," he said proudly.

"I thought it was Contessina Antonia Romola de' Medici," the girl behind him said, grinning. Lorenzo turned around and angrily flapped his hands at her.

"Don't you have customers to attend to? I didn't hire you to stand around talking. Don't think I can't fire you at any time," he said. The girl laughed good-naturedly.

"He says this every time," she said to Elizabeta.

"Go!" With a wink, the girl turned on her heel. "Do not listen to Giulietta," Lorenzo said when she was gone. "That girl would rather spend her time flirting with boys than leaning about her family history." His smile returned. "Please sit and enjoy yourselves. Any friend of Feliciano is a friend of mine. Tonight, everything is on the house."

"We couldn't let you do that!" Elizabeta protested.

Lorenzo shook his head, "I insist. I owe it to Feliciano's grandfather and I could never make such a beautiful woman pay. Your friend on the other hand," he said, eyeing Gilbert suspiciously, "will have to pay for himself if he does not stop staring the way he is."

"Why's everyone looking at me?" Gilbert said, for once unnerved by the attention he was receiving. "What did I do?"

Elizabeta giggled and wondered if she should tell Lorenzo that it wasn't his daughter that Gilbert was so fixated on.

"I'll make sure he keeps his hands to himself," she said.

"Lovely and smart," Lorenzo said. "You remind me of my wife, God bless her soul. Now, where is that useless daughter of mine? Giulietta! Bring these people their menus." He gave Gilbert one last look before heading back to the kitchens.

"What did I do?" Gilbert asked again. "What were you guys saying? Why does everyone speak Italian here?"

Elizabeta sighed as she sat down next to him. "Because you're in Italy, moron." Giulietta brought them the menus and when she handed Gilbert's his, Lorenzo suddenly poked his head out from the back, causing Gilbert to almost jump a foot in the air.

"What aren't you telling me?" he hissed at Elizabeta, who couldn't stop laughing.

"Nothing, nothing," she said. She noticed that Feliciano was sitting empty-handed next to her. "What about your menu, Feliciano?"

"I don't need one. They know what I like~" he said.

"Just how long have you been coming here?" Elizabeta asked.

"Almost my whole life. Grandpa used to bring me and my brother here every Sunday after mass but since my brother moved away I haven't been here very much."

Elizabeta couldn't help herself anymore. "Why did your brother move away?" she asked.

"Because he inherited Grandpa's job," Feliciano said sadly.

"What did your grandfather do?"

Feliciano looked down at his hands. "I'm not really supposed to talk about it."

Elizabeta bit her lip, embarrassed by her own nosiness. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to pry."

"Hey, Elizabeta," Gilbert said, "I can't read anything on this menu. Does that say linguine?"

"That's fettuccine," Elizabeta said, irritated that Gilbert had ruined the moment.

"Really? That looks like an 'L' to me. Fuck this, I don't know what to get. What are you getting?"

Elizabeta glanced at her menu for the first time. The words swam in front of her eyes and suddenly, she lacked the effort to try and translate. "What do you recommend, Feliciano?" He had still been staring forlornly at the table but brightened immediately.

"You should try the bigoli! I love all types of pasta but Lorenzo makes his really good!"

Elizabeta closed her menu. "It's settled then. We'll take that."

"What did you pick?" Gilbert asked.

"We're having the bigoli," she said.

"The hell is that?"

"No clue."

"Aren't you supposed to be the expert on Italian culture? Doesn't that include cuisine?"

"Maybe if we were in Rome. I don't know much about Venice."

"Then why didn't we go to Rome?"

"Because everyone goes to Rome," Elizabeta huffed. "You're so mainstream Gilbert." Before Gilbert could snap back, Giulietta came to take their orders. As if on cue, Lorenzo made an appearance once more, glaring at Gilbert until Feliciano finished ordering for them.

"Holy shit, he thinks I'm into his daughter, doesn't he?" Gilbert said when it finally dawned on him.

"Took you long enough to catch on," Elizabeta said, snickering.

"Liz, you bitch, why didn't you tell him I'm not into girls?"

Elizabeta feigned innocence. "Sorry, it just slipped my mind. Oops."

"Fuck you! See if I translate anything for you when we get to France!"

"Not that anyone will understand you. Your French is terrible."

"My French is awesome!"

"It lacks a certain je ne sais quoi."

"…huh?"

Elizabeta sighed. "You're hopeless."

"German is such a weird language," Feliciano said. "It sounds kind of funny."

"It's definitely not as beautiful as French or Italian," Elizabeta admitted.

"Your Italian is very good. Have you been to Italy before?"

Elizabeta smiled at the compliment. "No, this is my first time."

"Are you here on holiday?" Feliciano asked.

"You could say that. I'm actually here on a mission."

"A secret mission? Like spies?"

"Uh, no. It's a mission of the heart." Elizabeta drew a dramatic breath. "I'm here to find true love."

"Really? Then Italy is the perfect place for you! Anyone can find true love in Italy," Feliciano said, proudly.

"You think so?" Elizabeta asked, leaning a little forward. Feliciano nodded.

"I can even help you out," he said.

Elizabeta's heart leapt. In her mind she saw him reaching over to take her hands to ask her if she would like to accompany him on a romantic midnight gondola ride around the city. Gilbert could find his way back to the hostel himself. Instead, he said:

"Yeah, this lady across the street from me has book club meetings every week with a bunch of other women and Grandpa used to say it was because they were all looking for true love. I could introduce you to her!"

Elizabeta visibly deflated, her forehead almost sinking to the table. Yes, Feliciano was adorable. Adorably dim. He was Gilbert without the sass and snarky attitude. Actually, that was uncharitable. Comparing anyone to Gilbert was an insult.

"I actually think she's having a meeting tomorrow," Feliciano said, not having noticed Elizabeta's despair.

"T-that's okay!" she said quickly, sitting back up. "I can probably manage on my own." Luckily for her, Lorenzo chose that moment to bring them their food.

"Made with a recipe passed down from my great-great-aunt—a contessa—gorgonzola bigoli!" he announced. He slid Elizabeta and Feliciano their plates and Elizabeta stared hungrily at the plate of steaming noodles, realizing at that moment just how hungry she had been. Lorenzo set down Gilbert's plate on the table and slowly pushed it towards him, narrowed eyes never leaving his face.

"Elizabeta!" Gilbert snapped. "Tell him now!"

"Okay, okay," Elizabeta said. "Lorenzo, I can assure you that Gilbert isn't interested in your daughter."

"Well obviously," Lorenzo said. "I knew that from the moment I saw him."

Elizabeta's brow furrowed in confusion. "But…I thought…the suspicious looks you were giving him...you said that he should stop staring."

"Yes, he should stop staring at Feliciano." Lorenzo laid a protective hand on the boy's shoulder. Feliciano barely noticed. He was already half way done with his pasta. "I promised his grandfather I would look after him, in all aspects."

Elizabeta couldn't help it and started laughing. "Oh wow, and all this time I thought you were worried that he was trying to hit on Giulietta!"

"No, no, no. As if any sane man would try to pursue her."

"I heard that!" came the indignant reply from the front of the restaurant.

"Good! Now get back to work!" Lorenzo shouted back. He turned to Elizabeta. "Feliciano is very dear to me and I would first spit on the grave of my grandmother—a cousin of the pope—before I let some stranger try and steal his heart."

Elizabeta smiled weakly because, until a few minutes ago, that had been her intentions exactly. Luckily, she was less obvious about her affections than Gilbert. But she saw now that Feliciano, despite his cute looks, was not what she was looking for. However, she was enjoying his company and still desperately wanted to learn more about his brother and why the topic made him so sad.

"Oh, no," she said. "Gilbert wouldn't dare try something like that." She elbowed Gilbert in the ribs, causing to almost choke on the noodles in his mouth. "Would you?"

Gilbert coughed. "Would I what?" he snapped.

"Would you stop staring at Feliciano like some lovesick puppy?" Elizabeta hissed. "Or Lorenzo is going to beat the shit out of you."

"But I'm not interested in his daughter!" Gilbert protested.

"He knows that. Anyone with a half-working gaydar would know that."

Gilbert grinned. "Wow, am I that obvious?"

"Yes, now stop gawking."

"You're just jealous because Feliciano likes me better."

"You can't even have a conversation with him without me translating!"

"So? Don't be bitter because you're so una-ahhhhhh!" Elizabeta pinched him. "Unattainable! I was going to say unattainable!"

"As if that's any better," Elizabeta snapped before turning back to Lorenzo. "Gilbert understands perfectly. You don't have to worry about him laying a finger on Feliciano," she assured him.

"Excellent. I will leave you all to enjoy the rest of your meal." Lorenzo disappeared back into the kitchen but not before shooting Gilbert one last glare.

"I've never had bigoli," Elizabeta said as she lifted a forkful of noodles to her mouth.

"That's so sad!" Feliciano said. "How does it taste?"

Elizabeta swallowed. "Delicious! It's amazing! This might be my new favorite food!"

"What other Italian food have you had?" Feliciano asked.

"To be honest, this is my first authentic Italian meal," Elizabeta said.

"Really?" he sounded so shocked that Elizabeta almost blushed. It was her first time in Italy after all. "That's terrible!" He reached over to take her hands. "I can't let you live like this! We're going to go our own mission!"

"We, we are?" Elizabeta asked, completely frazzled now that her fantasy had come true, but in the strangest way possible.

Feliciano nodded. "Yes, we are going to find you your true food!"

"What's he saying?" Gilbert asked with his mouth half full.

"We're going to find me my…true food," Elizabeta repeated, still in shock.

"Sounds better than true love. I approve."

.

.

.

The next day was pizza. All pizza. By lunch, Gilbert had given himself a stomachache and was forced to return to the hostel, leaving Feliciano and Elizabeta to dine alone for dinner. The day before, Elizabeta might have gloated loudly about this in Gilbert's face, but more and more, she was seeing Feliciano like the little brother she had never had and had never really known she had wanted. She guessed he was around her age, maybe a few years younger, but he had such childish mannerisms that would have been irritating in anyone else but were absolutely adorable in him. Many times she was struck with the urge to pet his head, or at least pull that curl of his.

"So what do you think?" Feliciano asked.

Elizabeta chewed thoughtfully on the pizza. It was heaven on earth. This wasn't cardboard takeout, but authentic pizza with cheese that seemed to melt as soon as it touched your tongue. At home, she was usually pickier about toppings but everything tasted so fresh that to remove even a single mushroom would have been a sin.

"It's wonderful," she said. That was actually an understatement.

"Is it your true food?"

She was tempted to say yes. The pizza definitely beat the bigoli—although both were delicious—but at the same time she thought it was too soon to make a decision. There were still so many things to try.

"I don't think so. I'm pretty sure it's Gilbert's though."

"Tomorrow, we can try seafood. Venice has the best seafood in the world! But that should be obvious."

"I look forward to it," Elizabeta lied. She had never been a huge fan of seafood—it usually made her ill—but she decided to be optimistic. All the Italian food she had eaten so far had been delicious. How could the seafood not be?

.

.

.

"You didn't like it?" Feliciano asked when Elizabeta came out of the bathroom. She held a finger up, trying to steady herself. She opened her mouth, but before she could speak, she was overcome by a wave of nausea and ran back into the bathroom.

"Definitely not your true food," Feliciano said, shaking his head.

.

.

.

By Wednesday, Gilbert had recovered from his pizza-induced food coma and had resumed his near constant flirting with an oblivious Feliciano while pestering Elizabeta for translations to everything.

"What does that say?" he asked, pointing to a random sign.

"Luigi's Mushroom Market."

"How about that one?"

"Boat Rentals."

"And that one? What does it say?"

"It says 'Gilbert should shut the hell up'."

Gilbert pretended to be hurt. "You don't have to be so rude." He pushed past her to catch up with Feliciano, who was leading the way to the next restaurant and they began to converse in what Gilbert had dubbed "Awesome Speak" and Elizabeta had dubbed "Idiot Speak"—idiot applying solely to Gilbert who had come up with it in the first place. Annoyed at Elizabeta's refusal to translate every single word for him, he had devised his own method of communicating with Feliciano. To Elizabeta, it seemed to be nothing except a stream of garbled nonsense and a lot of frantic hand waving. But it must have made some sense because Feliciano replied back in similar manner. They were extremely embarrassing to be around when they starting "speaking" and Elizabeta put some distance between herself and them, taking the quiet time to ponder her current situation.

She had thought little about her original plan to find true love since she had began her new quest to find true…food. It was not that she still didn't intend to go manhunting in Italy, but she and her stomach were enjoying themselves immensely and she couldn't imagine stopping yet. She planned on continuing the search for her true food until Friday. After that, she would still have a week left in Italy and she would definitely be spending it searching for true love. She blamed part of her willingness to delay her search on Ludwig. She looked at the clock he had given her every night before she went to bed and tried to push away the urge to pack her things and go back to Germany. What sort of adventure would that be if she stopped right now? And although she liked Ludwig very much, she somehow knew that he wasn't 'the one' and that they would probably only ever be friends. Her true love was still out there somewhere…somewhere.

"Liz! Can you not walk like an 80-year-old woman?" Gilbert called, startling her out of her daze. "The ravioli isn't going to wait forever!"

"And just where is it going it go?" She yelled back.

"Into the stomach of some unworthy loser. Now catch up!"

Grumbling, Elizabeta picked up her pace. Despite what Gilbert had said, the ravioli was still there waiting for them at every restaurant they stopped at. By the end of the day, she had concluded that it was better than bigoli, but still not up to par with the pizza. Gilbert had no comment except a pained groan. He had once again eaten too much.

.

.

.

"You know, fettuccine is my brother's favorite type of pasta after orecchiette," Feliciano said at their first restaurant on Thursday. "We used to come here a lot too."

Elizabeta sighed, sadly and set down her glass of wine—something she had started taking with her meals as of two days earlier. "Feliciano," she said, "is your brother in some kind of trouble?"

Feliciano's eyes widened, causing Elizabeta to notice for the first time what a pretty brown they were—almost amber. He looked terrified and ashamed, as if he had given away some terrible secret.

"How do you know?" he asked softly.

"When Gilbert was rearranging the beds last night after you fell asleep, he accidently knocked over one of your bags and a piece of paper that said "MUST SAVE LOVINO" fell out. Lovino's your brother, right?" Feliciano nodded. "I know it's not my business, but you look so sad whenever you talk about him and seeing you sad makes me feel sad and I don't think I can bare to keep quiet about it anymore. Please, Feliciano, tell me what's going on with your brother. Please."

"I…I went to Palermo to try and get him to come home but he yelled at me and told me that that was impossible and I should just leave him alone. When he went down there four years ago he told me that it would only be for a little bit and that he was only going because of a promise he made to Grandpa. But…but then he didn't come back and then he stopped answering my calls. This is the second time I've been to Palermo and he said that I should stop because if I came back I wouldn't see him again." Feliciano sniffed. Elizabeta reached into her purse and handed him a tissue. He blew his nose, loudly.

"You said your brother inherited your grandfather's job. What exactly did your grandfather do?" Feliciano shifted nervously in his chair. "You can tell me. I promise not to say a word to anyone else. Not even Gilbert."

"Promise?"

"Pinky swear." They shook pinkies and then Feliciano told her a story that she couldn't quite believe but did anyway because it was so crazy that it had to be true.

After he finished, it took her a few seconds to find the right words. "So…you're saying that your grandfather was not just a criminal, but the leader of one the world's most notorious organized criminal groups?" Feliciano nodded. "And now Lovino's a part of it too?" Feliciano nodded again. "And you think he's in danger and have thus spent the past three years trying to get him to come home?" Feliciano nodded for the third time. Elizabeta leaned back in her seat. "Shit," she said. "I never would have guessed that in a million years."

"My brother's a good person, Elizabeta. He doesn't belong there. I have to get him out, but I don't know how." Feliciano's face crumpled and Elizabeta made her decision right then and there.

"Feliciano, I'm going to help you bring your brother home," she said.

Feliciano hiccupped. "W-what?"

"I'm going to go to Palermo to rescue him for you."

"But you can't! It's too dangerous!"

Elizabeta grinned. "Danger? Ha! I laugh in the face of danger!" The distraught look on Feliciano's face remained unchanged. "You've done so much for me this past week. If I hadn't met you, I would have spent all my time in Venice looking for some guy and I wouldn't have gone to all the places you've taken me or eaten all the delicious food you've introduced to me. You've shown me the real Venice and I am sincerely grateful to you for that. The past few days have been amazing and I can't thank you enough. So please let me do this. It's the only proper way I can repay you."

"But you don't understand! These people are really scary and they won't think twice about hurting you or Gilbert. If anything happened to either of you I would never forgive myself!"

"Gilbert would probably jump for joy if he heard you say that. I appreciate the concern, but you don't have to worry about us. We'll be fine." She saw that he still didn't believe her. "And we're going, whether you like it or not."

"Please rethink this Elizabeta," Feliciano begged.

"Too late," she said. "I've already made up my mind. Gilbert always says I'm too stubborn for my own good." She smirked. "For once he's right."


"This…is my true food," Elizabeta announced.

"What is it?" Gilbert asked.

"Risotto," Feliciano said.

"It's…it's…so beautiful."

"You mean delicious, right?"

"What are the chances you would find it here?" They were seated at a small restaurant a few minutes away from the train station. Elizabeta and Gilbert were set to leave in less than an hour and Elizabeta had wanted to try one last time if she could find her Venetian true food. And she had found it.

"I could eat this forever."

"Oh God Liz, don't start crying."

"Let's order another plate. Waiter!"

Although he hadn't approved of them leaving, Feliciano had eventually become resigned to the fact that he wouldn't be able to stop them from going. So he had given them Lovino's address and made them swear a million times that they would stay safe. Gilbert, who thought that they were merely going to see Feliciano's brother, was sad to be saying goodbye and communicated in "Idiot Speak" that he would come and visit Feliciano again as soon as possible.

"I'm so happy!" Elizabeta said as she polished off the second plate of risotto. "This is the perfect end to the day. Are you sure you don't want some Gilbert?"

"No thanks. Two days in bed from food coma have taught me a valuable lesson. I'll just get pizza on the train."

Feliciano opened his mouth to say something but was cut off by a pair of tourists.

"Excuse me," the man said in English, "we're trying to get to the Rialto Bridge. Can you help us?"

"Yeah, of course," Feliciano said in perfect English. Gilbert's jaw dropped and Elizabeta nearly choked on her true food.

"….and then it's on your left," Feliciano finished. The tourists thanked him profusely before scurrying off. "Americans are always so nice," he said, turning back to Elizabeta and Gilbert, who had been staring at him the whole time.

Gilbert found his voice first. "You speak English?" he yelled, causing half the occupants of the restaurant to turn their heads.

"Mhmm. My Grandpa taught me and my brother and, before he died, we went to America on holiday at least twice a year. Oh wow, you speak English too Gilbert? That's so cool! Do you speak it Elizabeta?" She nodded. "Wow, what are the chances of that?"

"Why didn't you say anything earlier?"

"You never asked~!"

Gilbert groaned. "This whole time, I've been flapping my arms like an idiot…"

"But I like 'Awesome Speak'!" Feliciano said. "It was so much fun. You're so cool to have come up with that all by yourself." Gilbert grinned widely.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it's so clever."

"Here that Liz? He called me clever. Didja hear? Huh?"

"I heard," Elizabeta muttered.

"Yeah, I'm so awesome," Gilbert said. "But next time I come here, it's all English, okay? It will take time for me to perfect 'Awesome Speak'. Maybe I should write a book or something…"

Elizabeta rolled her eyes. "Don't start. Feliciano, what time is it?"

"Almost 6."

"We should head back to the train station." Elizabeta looked sadly down at her empty plate. "I'll miss you."

"Now this is just getting depressing," Gilbert said. "Hey! Can we get a carry out box or something over here?"

.

.

.

"So your new apartment will be ready by Monday? That's great. You can stay at the hostel until then. Everything's all paid for, although it might be a little lonely with all those beds." Elizabeta said. She and Gilbert were about to board the train and were saying their last goodbyes. "Maybe you should try and sneak in those cats after all."

"Yeah, like stuff them in a rucksack or something," Gilbert added. The last boarding call echoed down the platform. "Aw shit, time to go already?" Gilbert held out his arms. "C'mere you. I'll miss you." Under Elizabeta's watchful eye, he gave Feliciano a longer than necessary hug. He leaned in for a last kiss on the cheek, but Elizabeta grabbed him by the back of his shirt and threw him onto the train.

"Are you really going to do this? It's so dangerous." Feliciano said.

"You'll be hearing from us by Monday that we've got Lovino and everything is alright," Elizabeta said, confidently. She hugged Feliciano and stepped onto the train. "Take care of yourself. And thanks again." The train pulled away and she waved to him until she couldn't see him anymore and then went to her compartment. Gilbert was staring forlornly out the window and he scowled at her as she sat down.

"Cockblock."

"Moron."

"She-devil."

"Asshole."

"He called me clever. I totally won. And I'll win over his brother too."

Elizabeta raised an eyebrow. "You think so? Fine. Challenge accepted."


May 20th

Dear Elizabeta,

I too am upset by the poor timing of your visit but we shall have to make the most of the limited time we have together. I believe that there will be a showing of "Swan Lake" at a theatre in the area the day after you arrive. Perhaps you would be interested in attending?

And I do find Venice to have a particular charm, although I'm not fond of boats or their seafood.

Write when you can,

Roderich


A/N: I just wanted to warn you guys ahead of time that the next chapter will be deviating a lot in terms of mood and emotion in comparison to these first chapters. So far I've been keeping everything light-hearted and funny, but do not expect this from the next chapter. I'm just warning you so that any mood whiplash you experience won't be such a surprise.

I hope you enjoyed the chapter. I had fun writing it~~

-with love

dancer