A/N: Last chapter before the epilogue. I found a beautiful MAD of Russia and Prussia on YouTube, with the vocaloid song 'Meltdown' by Rin Kagamine. Search up: 'RussiaxPrussia Meltdown', and it should be the first one that comes up.

Also, Mathias is the human name I've used for Denmark.

--LeriaCossato

9th November, 1989

It was coming down. It was. After 28 years, his people would be united once again. They would see their loved ones, hold them and let the tears fall freely.

Ludwig shed no tears of his own. He couldn't.

It had been both beautiful and heartbreaking to see the Eastern Bloc reunite with the ones they hadn't seen for so long. Elizaveta and Roderich had embraced; Feliks had run out into the open like a child.

There had been no sign of Gilbert. Of course there wouldn't be. He was dead, wasn't he? He'd heard the news so long ago from America.

So when Germany saw a pale man with silver hair and blood-red eyes, leaning against the corner of a building, he almost fell over from shock.

"...Gil-Gilbert?" was all he could manage.

The man grinned. "Who else?"

Ludwig ran over to his brother, sweeping him up in a fairytale embrace. He squeezed Gilbert's sides tightly, until his older brother gasped in pain and he quickly set him down again.

Gilbert leant over, breathing heavily.

"Brother, are you alright? I'm sorry; I shouldn't have grabbed you like that."

"I'm fine, West. I just..."

And then Gilbert fainted.

When Gilbert woke up, he was in his old bed from before the war. He looked down, and saw the familiar duvet that Ludwig had embroidered with beer mugs. He would have burst out laughing, had his chest not been so painful.

A timid face appeared around the door frame. North Italy. Upon seeing Prussia awake, he skipped into the room and hugged him gently.

"Gil-Gil~ How have you been, ve~? Ludwig says you've been with Russia for a long, long time. I don't quite understand why, but you're back now anyways! That's a good thing, isn't it? How was Ivan? Did he make you eat yucky food? Don't worry, I made pasta and we're all ready to eat when you are. Oh! And Roderich and Eliza came round too. They want to see you."

Gilbert let the little Italian prattle on. He smiled. Feliciano hadn't changed, he probably never would. Slowly, he pushed back the covers, and stood up. Italy saw some of the bruises and scars on his arms where his sleeve rolled up. His smile faded slightly.

"Ne, ne – did you fall over? Your arms are so bruised..." He reached out a hand, but it was slapped away. Feliciano gave him a sad look, before turning to the door. "Come down soon... please?"

As he threw open the kitchen door, and flashed his trademark grin, Gilbert was surprised to feel Elizaveta's arms around him. She hugged him, before punching him lightly in the shoulder. The punch was directly against one of his bruises, but Gilbert tried not to show the discomfort in his face. He pulled away, and came face to face with Roderich.

"You idiot," he said, "Don't ever do that to us again."

The dinner was like heaven, heaven away from those meagre meals he had grown accustomed to after so many years. Gilbert ate like a dog, filling his body with food out of sheer habit: during his times in the Soviet Union, he had never known when exactly his next meal would be. Ludwig noticed this behaviour and smiled sadly. He didn't know what exactly his brother had gone through in the 40 years he had been away, but he knew that it was probably painful to talk about, and he didn't want his brother to suffer any more than was necessary.

It was mid afternoon when Germany walked into his brother's room to find him fingering a particularly nasty looking scar on his upper arm. The creak of the floorboards made him jump impressively, and he quickly pulled down his sleeve, hoping Ludwig hadn't noticed.

He had, however.

"Brother, I've arranged for a doctor to come look at all your injuries. He's in the living room right now."

"I'm not seeing him."

"...Why?"

A mumbled, "don't need him."

"Yes you do."

"No I don't."

"We can argue this all day; you ARE going to see him. Stop being stubborn."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"As your brother, I am doing what's best for you. Please recognize this."

"As your OLDER brother, you can't boss me around. Ha. Beat that."

Thirty seconds later, Gilbert found himself thrown into the living room, a smug West locking the door behind him. The doctor turned around and smiled gently at him. Prussia gave him a glare.

Ludwig knew it was wrong, but he remained at the door, ear pressed onto the painted wood. He had to find out what had happened to his brother, and he knew Gilbert would never tell him willingly.

"So, Herr Beilschmidt, your brother tells me that you've been caught up in East Germany since the War. I cannot begin to imagine how horrible it must have been there."

Prussia scowled. This man was basically insulting him.

"Now, I'm going to have to check you, so please take off your shirt and lay down on the couch."

Gilbert sighed resignedly, before carefully tugging of the long sleeved shirt. He hissed as the fabric brushed against one of the newer cuts, one that hadn't healed yet.

The doctor's face was one of shock. Clearly he was new in this business. Or was he beat up more than he realised?

Carefully, he set to work, examining the cuts and scars that littered Gilbert's arms and torso. His frown deepened as he prodded and poked.

"Most of these look like bruises from a heavy, blunt object. What happened to you?"

"It's none of your fucking business."

"If you do not tell me what happened, I will have no choice but to call the police and report this."

Prussia threw his head back and laughed. Call the police? Who would they arrest? You couldn't arrest a goddamn nation, for Christ's sake.

"Herr Beilschmidt, please! This is not a laughing matter!"

Prussia grabbed the man by his collar and lifted him easily off the ground. The strength of the Prussian army was flowing through his veins once more.

"Not one of you. Not one of you fucking realise. Do you know how much I've suffered? For forty fucking years I've lived with a madman, being beaten almost daily, not getting enough food, not being able to take one step outside that bloody house. Being told that I was a worthless piece of dirt, that I didn't deserve to exist. Not knowing if I was going to be here tomorrow or not.

Do you know what he did to me? No, of course you don't. You don't have a fucking clue, you lucky bastard."

Prussia drew the man closer to him.

"He fucking raped me. More than once. Straight up the ass. Do you know how that feels, to be degraded beyond imagining?"

The doctor shook his head mutely. Gilbert tossed him to the side. He whirled towards the door.

"I know you're there, West. Did you think I was stupid? Stupid pitiful East Germany? Well let me tell you this. I AM PRUSSIA, BITCH!"

And with those words, he kicked open the door, ran past a stunned Germany, and out into the cold street.

It was Italy Romano who finally found him, huddled in the doorway of an abandoned animal sanctuary. He was holding a tiny little chick in his hands, trying to keep it warm.

"Oi, you fucking crazy? You're not wearing a shirt, potato bastard."

Gilbert looked up at the Italian. "Why on earth were you looking for me?"

"Feliciano made me. I didn't want to."

"Oh."

"But you know; I'm kinda glad I did."

Gilbert frowned.

"But don't tell anyone that," added Romano quickly, "Or I'll chop your balls off."

Gilbert laughed. And then he laughed some more. And then he was laughing like he hadn't done for forty years, and it was a comfort to feel someone's arm around him, even if it was that grumpy Italian, who didn't quite seem so grumpy anymore.

They watched as the little bird suddenly flew off into the grey sky, and then Romano pulled Gilbert to his feet.

"Come on. Let's go back to potato bastard's house. Show them what you're made of. Even if the world says we don't exist anymore, we know we're still alive."

9th November, 2009

Everyone was sitting around the long table in the conference room. All was as it had always been. Lovino was angrily trying to hit a very oblivious Antonio, who had his arms around the smaller man. Yao was trying to sell something to Kiku, who politely refused. Francis had almost been kicked out twice by Arthur, who was complaining of 'molestation'. Mathias and Berwald were having a glaring contest across the table, while Feliks was eagerly trying to persuade Toris that painting his nails pink would be a fabulous idea. Alfred was loudly shouting into Matthew's ear, something about hamburgers.

Only two people noticed Gilbert sitting quietly, staring out of the window.

Ludwig came up to his brother and put his arm carefully around him. Gilbert flinched instinctively from the sudden contact, before realising that it was only his brother and relaxing again.

"Twenty years. Twenty years we've been together again."

He was only acknowledged with a small nod. Sighing, he turned away and went to rescue Feliciano, who seemed to have been caught up in a loud shouting match between a very annoyed Vash and an exasperated Roderich.

The second person crept up towards Gilbert. For his size, Ivan could really be a stealthy person.

Kneeling down, he breathed into Gilbert's cold ear.

"However much you try and be German, you cannot get away from the fact that Kalingrad is still Russian territory. Try and run away, little bird. You cannot escape me. Part of your soul will always be mine."

Gilbert shuddered involuntarily.

"You feel it, don't you? Amidst all the happiness and joy that being free in body brings, there is coldness in your soul, a coldness that brings you back to me. I will wait, East Germany. I will wait for the day you come running back to me."

"Never."

"Always so bold, East. You never did bow completely to me, the way my Baltics did. Oh well, I guess it doesn't matter now. I enjoyed the fights we had. The way your blood splattered against the walls, the way you screamed that night as I took you. I will never forget that, and you won't either."

The other nations suddenly noticed the way Prussia was shaking. England loudly commanded Russia to step away from Gilbert, and go back to his own place at the table.

Russia grinned, the grin that would forever be engraved into Gilbert's nightmares.

"Til then, East Germany. Farewell."

"It's PRUSSIA."

"Prussia does not exist anymore, Gilbert. And neither do you."

A/N: In my headcanon, I believe that although Gilbert is now with Ludwig and not under Russian control, part of him involuntarily still wants to be with Russia. I also believe that nowadays, he is not quite 'there' in mind and spirit because of the fact he is not a true nation anymore.

I put in the little Prussia/Romano moment because I think unwillingly; they share a lot of similarities in both their personalities and their situations.

HISTORICAL NOTES: The Berlin Wall came down on the 9th November 1989. Some of the other countries of the Eastern Bloc, such as Hungary, were freed from Soviet Control a few months earlier. The part of Gilbert's 'soul' that I talk about is Kaliningrad. Once known as Königsberg, it is the northern part of former East Prussia, and to this day it is still under Russian control. Many Germans still hope that one day, Königsberg will return to Germany.