Wiktor: Aw! You guys really know how to make such a jaded and staunch person as I blush. I truly appreciate everything that you all have done for me through your kind words. And to Irmgard U, of course I can translate this to German. If you have a FanFiction account, I can send you my e-mail address, translate each chapter, and send it to you if that is alright, unless you have other means of contact. To LiquidFlowers5, my name is Wiktor Essen, and is pronounced Vik-tor Uss-en. And to everyone else, thank you so much once again for your continued support. I really didn't expect anything on this piece, being new to fanfiction and all, but you all have definitely surprised me. For this, I hug each of you.

**Once again, I had to edit this due to all of my English mistakes. I think I found them all, mainly wrong words. If anyone finds anymore, feel free to tell me and I;ll fix it.


Austria watched as America laughed noisily, dashing up and kicking up a cloud of snow with his shoes, stopping to enjoy the rain of tiny crystals fluttering down like a snowfall. He coughed and shook them free from his shoulders, before repeating himself, taking care not to drop Austria's things. It hadn't taken long to retrieve the shopping; all the shop owners knew Austria extensively and prepared for his weekly arrival, often meeting him outside of the storefront. The tedious part of the trip was the mid morning rush, when the remaining workers scrambled to grab a hasty breakfast before holing themselves up in their offices for the rest of the day, crowding the sidewalks like lines to the theatre as they pushed and squeezed around each other.

"Hey," America called back, a bag on each arm, "do you wanna have a snowball fight?" He reached down and scooped up a handful of snow, forming it into a misshapen ball.

How inconvenient; not even the bitter cold could silence America. He was a country and political figure head, not a child, and the never ending questions and prompts were definitely exhausting. Of course, Austria's age in human years wasn't all that mature either, at a young twenty-two, but his life experience far outweighed that of America's birth by many generations, raising his expectations for everyone else even higher. He knew that America was still considered fairly inexperienced, but he should have enough under his belt to at least put on a proper suit, instead of that dreadful vivid cherry coat of his.

"No, thank you." Austria stated firmly but smoothly, not wanting to upset his assistant.

America wasn't disappointed and, to little surprise, only became more determined to reach his goal at the reply. "Come on," he snickered, cocking his arm back to throw, "If I fire first, you have to go to war with me! That's non-negotiable!" He kidded flippantly.

Austria looked back, careful to avoid the thin sheet of ice that had coated the warn concrete of the sidewalk. "On what terms are I obligated to go to war?" He pushed, hoping the question would make America think and, with any luck, back off.

America rolled his eyes playfully. "Um, duh! NATO terms!" He pushed back, flashing an 'I-outsmarted-you' grin.

Austria fought back the urge to smile at the nonsensical retort. America had little concept of how the world and international law truly worked. He wasn't ignorant, he just didn't think before he spoke, and was as far from articulate as he could possibly be.

"You mean a NATO country," He pointed to America, "is going to attack a neutral country that has little NATO affiliation?" He said, playing along a bit. If it would eventually force America to be quiet, he might as well. "Is that not a bit cruel?"

America's smile faded when he realized the fault of his actions. "Oh, crap! That would be bad wouldn't it?" He paused in thought then gained an idea, a warm beam once again peaking on his lively expression. "Then just stop being neutral for a minute so I can hit you!"

"My neutrality is permanently enforced." Austria countered unwavering, continuing his leisure walk.

America wasn't ready to give up yet and bounded after him, nearly slipping in the trampled slush. "Oh, yeah?" he mused blithely. "By who?"

"Myself and my government."

"That's not good enough! I still wanna have a snowball fight no matter what."

"What do you mean that is not good enough? It is a perfectly legitimate reason!"

America toyed with the snow in his palm, reshaping it and rolling it between his fingers as it began to melt. "You don't have to get all flustered about it. We can walk back," He offered, stepping to the side to allow a family of four to move around him, "I won't try anything, honest."

Finally, it was about time. Austria turned and took a deep breath, coughing a bit in the cold. The city smelled different than usual; it was musty and stuffy feeling, almost congested with the hefty strain of unwanted holiday burden. Austria could feel the telltale ache of economic slippage; that dull, uncomfortable twinge in the heart of his chest that always made itself known around this time of year. It didn't hurt much, but it was more than distracting. He couldn't wait for the holidays to be over and for things to finally settle once more.

"Hey, Austria! Think fast!"

Austria didn't even have time to react to America's voice, when he felt something freezing collide hard with the back of his neck. He yelped and scrambled to shake the horrendously glacial snow from his collar but winced when he felt the cold liquid slide down his back.

From behind him, America lost it. "Dude, your reflexes are so slow! I freakin' warned you and everything!" He laughed, running his hands through his hair and clutching at his stomach, gasping between chuckles.

Austria couldn't move. He could feel several of his citizens stop to stare from shop windows and from across the street, whispering to themselves as they glared at the tall foreign man harassing their country. He felt his face grow warm as he stared down at his shoes, running through what to say, but not finding any words. He swallowed and pulled himself together, reminding himself that this was his home and his country; America had no authority here and certainly no authority over him. Austria couldn't let this sweep his nerves into a fluster. He had to stand tall, professionally, and maintain his air of nobility for the sake of those watching.

America put a hand on Austria's shoulder and examined his coat, tugging a bit at the dark fabric with his fingers. "Damn, sorry about your coat. I didn't think it would soak through that much." He pointed out, still stuck deep in his ever growing mirth.

Austria's gaze snapped up and he scrutinized America's youthful face. He couldn't let him do this to him; not in front of his own citizens and definitely not in his own capitol. Austria had to end this childlike senselessness before it became too much to handle.

"You have no authority over me, you fool!" He repeated out loud careful to comb his tone for any sign of weakness. "That kind of behavior here is unacceptable! I do not want you doing this to me again. Do you understand?"

America forced his gaze to the ground, finally aware that he had crossed a line. He shuffled his feet awkwardly, brushing the melted snow from his hand onto his jeans before looking back up with forged innocence.

"Then you owe me a snowball fight later." He mumbled, trying to make light of the situation.

Austria exhaled and blinked, feeling a fraction of his annoyance flutter away, but masking it with a frown. He couldn't let America think he had won him over with a fake display of purity. For some reason, America's virtuousness reminded him of Europe's golden days. Austria had owned many territories during those years, as the world had long since seemed to have forgotten, much to his shame. But a few he truly did miss, no matter how difficult they had been to raise. He remembered them as tiny and self-doubting, with no clue to whom they were or what they were to be forced to accomplish no matter their opinion, but with an outlook on the world that would astonish even the holiest of saints. However, as they grew and molded their own directions and formulated their own customs, they became more and more corruptible, turning themselves into hollow shells to be ripped apart and stepped on by the force of war and treason. But, for some reason Austria couldn't determine, America had kept that level of incorruptibility they were all born with. Maybe he was just skilled in hiding his fears and scars, but, as much as Austria hated to admit, he did have a revitalizing air to him. He truly was genuinely innocent. Of course, he was exasperating, but it wasn't anything Austria hadn't dealt with before with the numerous children thrust upon him by the former royal house and political advisers to care for. Not to mention the other immature countries he had been forced to associate with. And the world wondered why he had grown to be as bitter as he was today.

"I'm gonna hold you to that, okay?" America beamed, falling in step with Austria and kicking the snow from the bottom of his shoes. "I'm totally gonna get you in the snow eventually." He re-positioned the bags on his arms to where he could rub his hands together, desperate for heat. "The only bad thing is that it's so damn cold!" He shivered a bit. "I wish I still had my gloves. Too bad I wore them out a while back."

"Do not complain to me about being cold." Austria reached back and shook out his coat, eyeing America from behind his glasses.

America shrugged lightly. "I said I was sorry. I really didn't mean to do that." He paused. "You could have hit me back with one as revenge." He bargained. "I'll even stand still to make it easy for you."

Austria shook his head. "I'd rather not." He replied straightforwardly. America needed to realize that he had an image to uphold, and he couldn't maintain it participating in children's games.

"Oh, right," America mocked teasingly, nudging Austria lightly in the shoulder, "you're 'neutral.' You're not allowed to fight me."

"There really is no hope for people like you."


America was overjoyed when the pair had finally reached the manor. Austria had taken his time trudging through the snow, but had moved far too slow for America's liking. He felt chilled to the bone when he burst through the doors, rubbing at his arms through the puffy sleeves of his coat. Austria, on the other hand, looked virtually unaffected by Jack Frost's harsh bite. America knew he had to be just as frozen, after having been smacked with a handful of snow, but he once again hid it like an expert. IT made America wonder if he was consciously hiding anything else under a shroud as well constructed as that. It definitely wouldn't surprise him.

Burkhart greeted the two at the door, helping Austria out of his coat and neglecting to aid America, merely taking his bags with a snort and moving off in a characteristic huff. Johanna, the maid from the previous night, had made her appearance known, smiling as she moved delicately forward on light toes. America smiled at her and she quickly returned it, turning to Austria and whispering a breathy something in German that America couldn't quite catch.

Austria nodded unhurriedly. "Ah. Please," He began, "follow us. We will begin your lessons shortly."

It was about time! However, America had been hoping to grab a bite to eat before beginning. His hunger had been growing for the past few hours, but this was fine too. He didn't expect this to last for very long, as Austria probably had piles of paperwork to continue later, and America could probably pester Burkhart to allow him into the kitchen in the allotted time afterwards; he seemed like the kind of person who would give up with enough persistence.

America followed in silence, watching Johanna's skirt flutter a bit behind her as she walked, the contents of her apron pockets catching his eye. What she was carrying wasn't atypical, but the surprising amount of various pill bottles and medications with her was bewildering. As a maid, he expected her to be in better health than that but, hey, who was he to judge? He peered around her to her other side pocket. She had stuffed it full with an unopened water bottle and several tissues, most likely used for cleaning. Johanna cleared her throat and snapped, regaining America's attention as she stopped, reached out, and pushed the door to the music room open with a palm. America allowed Austria to enter first out of respect before following. It was strange to see the room so empty; every time America had observed it, it had been packed with various formal attendees. Now, it was dormant and spacious but unexpectedly inviting. America heard the door behind him close and he turned slightly, surprised to see that Johanna was still following closely behind the two.

"Is she going to be with us every day or something?" America asked Austria.

Austria exchanged a fleeting glance with Johanna, who's expression had gone cold. "Yes. I hope that isn't a problem?" He brushed the bench to his piano clean with his fingers before sitting and motioning America over.

America hesitated and swallowed, positioning himself next to his teacher. He was uncomfortably close. "No, I don't mind. I just didn't think she would be following us around like this." He admitted. Having Johanna's gaze on him at all times was unnerving. Sure, she didn't know English, but she could most definitely read his body language with impeccable skill, leading America to believe that she was constantly criticizing him in her head. "So, how does this work?" He asked, changing the subject and leaning over the piano when Austria lifted the cover.

Austria frowned at the question. "Do you not know how a piano works?"

"No, I do, I just meant what am I learning first?" America reached forward to press a key, when Austria stopped him.

"There will be no playing yet." He instructed, much to America's irritation. "You must build music literacy first."

America cocked his head, completely lost. What the hell did that mean? Seeing his expression, Austria reached forward and took hold of a thin manila folder, pulling it open and sifting through an array of sheets that America couldn't read. He what sheet music looked like, but it was like a different language, all of those dots on lines. And they all looked different to make matters worse, accented with various symbols and dashes. Finally, Austria pulled a suitable piece, handing it over to America.

"This is the exercise that I will use to teach you rhythm and note structure." Austria adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose and leaned over, pointing to the first set of lines. "Each one of these symbols here," he explained, gesturing to each of the notes, "make a different sound."

America blinked and scrunched up his face. That didn't make any sense. They were all black dots with tails; how were they distinguished from one another? He paused, embarrassed that he didn't understand, before asking his question.

"All of them look the same, though." He mumbled.

Austria gave a small smile of amusement. "These five lines tell you what sound it will be, not the note."

America glanced up, still not grasping the concept, but was able to breathe a bit easier when Austria held up a hand.

"Do not worry. If children can understand, you will too. It takes time."


For the next couple of hours, America had never been more bored out of his mind. In learning how to read sheet music, he had expected it to be far easier than this unexpected garble of musical jargon. He was almost sure that he was never going to be able to retain any of this. Still, Austria reiterated himself often and spoke clearly, working slowly through the process. He was astoundingly patient, stopping periodically to listen to America's troubles and resolving them quickly as they went along, allowing America to relax.

When America thought he had somewhat understood the process of time in relation to beats per minute, he stretched, impressed with his progress, no matter how little he had actually achieved. "You know, this is worse than I thought," he chuckled, "but I guess I can't back out now."

Austria shrugged at the comment. "It isn't that bad if you listen and practice." He restated, alluding to the possibility of America being assigned homework. "Now, tell me-"

America looked up when Austria coughed softly into the back of his hand, cutting him off in mid sentence. He blinked several times and sniffed, taking a deep shaky breath. America leaned forward and narrowed his eyes, watching Austria's movements closely; something was off. Austria appeared to be fighting himself, trying to remain upright as his eyelids fluttered a bit.

"Austria?" He reached up to move his hand for his face, taking him by the wrist. "You ok?"

Austria shied back, coughing again, and batted America's hand away when the color drained from his face, leaving him a deathly shade of white. He hastily pulled off his glasses, tossing them aside on the ivory keys of the piano and pressed his fingers firmly to his nose before taking a sharp, painful breath. From behind them, Johanna gasped and rushed forward, stooping in front of her master and placing her hands tenderly on his knees.

"Herr Edelstein?" She asked urgently. When Austria didn't answer, she jumped up from the floor and turned rapidly, calling out to the other room for Burkhart, who swiftly answered, throwing the door open and moving stridently to meet her. America tried to say something, but was pushed back when Burkhart's firm hand connected with his chest, driving him to the side. America stumbled backwards but remained out of the way, unsure what exactly was happening, but knowing in the back of his mind that it wasn't good. He swallowed when he noticed Johanna fumbling through her pockets, rattling through her many medication bottles and talking rapidly with Burkhart who pulled Austria's hands tenderly from his face. America froze, feeling his stomach drop at the realization of what was going on. Austria's face and hands were stained bright crimson with the tint of fresh blood. America squeezed his eyes shut and turned, not able to handle the sight. How could he have not known that Austria was ill?

He looked back as Burkhart handed Austria his medication and uncapped the bottle of water, watching him closely to ensure that he took it before gradually standing him up to leave.

America took a step forward. "Oh my God, do you need help?" He asked frantically.

Burkhart shook his head and jabbed a finger at him, careful to support his master's side. "Stay here! I will come for you in a moment." He motioned for Johanna, who took Austria by the other arm, talking him down as they left.

America stood in silence, dumbfounded by the sudden escalation of unexpected misfortune. Austria had seemed just fine a moment ago! He hadn't seen a country in such a state for years, but immediately recognized the signs. He swallowed and moved to sit, glancing down at Austria's glasses before taking them gingerly in his fingers. There were only a few things that could cause this in a country; poor eating habits, stress, and the treat of political treason and national crime. However, he wasn't sure which one had Austria in such a sorry position. It couldn't be his eating habits, as he was a food fanatic. Stress could most definitely be the culprit, what with all the seas of paperwork America had observed on Austria's desk. Suddenly, a pang of insight shot through America's stomach. How could he neglect such a detail? The previous night, before he had left, Austria had slumped over his paperwork to sort out financial trouble, it looked like. America shook his head. Could Austria be participating in…financial fraud? It wouldn't be the first time a country had resorted to such means. He knew times were hard for everyone, but were they really so bad that Austria would have to resort to an atrocity as this? If so, what sort of scandal had he unearthed? It couldn't be white collar, could it? It was hard to believe, but America couldn't shake the thought; it was all too plausible. He took a shaky breath, terrified of what he may have stumbled upon, but feeling an eerie excitement flood over him at the thought of pursuing such a mystery. He very well couldn't just turn a blind eye, not when this was tearing Austria apart. America nodded to himself and gently stuffed Austria's glasses in the pocket of his shirt, trying not to pinpoint the problem without information. This was no longer just about piano lessons; he was determined to find out just what sort of secret Austria was keeping.

A few minutes passed before Burkhart rapped on the door, slipping silently through alone. America stood at his presence, desperate to know if Austria was alright.
Burkhart cleared his throat and brought his hands together in a tiny clap. "Master wishes to inform you that he is deeply sorry for the inconvenience. Your lessons will resume tomorrow, but now I have put him on bed rest."

America blinked. "Is he ok?" He wasn't sure where this sense of fear had come from, but it was turning his thoughts in circles.

"Yes, this happens more often than you would think." Burkhart mumbled, disheartened. "All of us who work in the household pressure him to see a regular physician, but Master always refuses. None of us are truly sure why he is ill, but he has been this way for years now." He informed sadly.

"Oh…" America breathed, his suspicions piling up. Not seeing a physician was a telltale sign of collapse. He knew, because he had been through such a terrible pressure during the Watergate scandal. It had made him severely anemic and forced him to bed for weeks before he made a unsteady recovery. "Thank you for telling me."

Burkhart swallowed thickly and looked down. "Yes, well," he searched for words. "I shall fix you a hearty brunch." He said quickly, masking his troubled thoughts.

America refused to respond waiting until Burkhart had left. He was going to find out what dark secret Austria was holding back, for the sake of not only his public, but of his own mental health. And by the looks of it, it wasn't going to be an easy task. Burkhart was obviously just as confused and taken aback as America, so gaining information would be no small feat. No! That wouldn't hold America back. He was looked upon as a savior! And, by the look of it, Austria was in desperate need of a hero, no matter who it may be, and America was now determined to be just that.


Wiktor: Sorry I took so long to update. I had finals at University, but I still found time to write this. I hope you enjoy, and happy holidays!