Woop ti doo. New chapter. I apologize beforehand for failing bro-angst in the end. First time writing Germany, and then in this situation. /gross sobbing because of failness

Thanks to my wonderful betareader, 'DancingOnRainbow' for reminding me of various things and correcting my failures~


Denmark himself had gone into a stupor-like condition. He stared at the phone in his gloved hand, not believing it couldn't work or that they had lost the only way to communicate with the other Nordics. The walkie-talkie still hung in his belt, forgotten in the sudden heap of panic that was Denmark.

He stood completely still, staring down at Prussia whose eyes stared back up at him, slightly hazy. Only one thought went through Denmark's mind at that moment – Prussia could die. Prussia was actually in a state that could kill him if he didn't get medical attention immediately. It took the Dane ten long seconds to remember that they had things in the backpacks that could help injuries. Already fumbling with the bag, it took him another long ten seconds to remember that those things wouldn't help when the condition was this critical. They needed a real hospital, with real medications.

And that was probably hundreds of miles away. They were lost God knows where in the biggest mountain in Norway, Scandinavia and Northern Europe. And with no immediate way to get out of here, gettinghelp appeared to be hopeless. Rescue seemed futile at this point and though Denmark wasn't known for giving up, it was tempting. There was no way they could get out of this dead end.

Denmark got up and slouched against the cold wall of the passage they were caught in. The pain in his shoulders had finally become numb and could no longer annoy him. If it was because the cold was starting to affect him or if he had simply endured it for this long, he didn't care. He just knew that it was gone for now and that was a blessing.

He looked upwards. The ceiling of snow and ice was very light and clear, looked thin. Thin enough for another unfortunate soul to fall right through if they weren't careful. Finding something that he was sure wouldn't break if he couldn't catch it, Denmark threw the object upwards with all his might which, despite the now gone pain, was less than usual. Like hell he was just going to sit around and wait for unconsciousness to grab him, pull him away, lure him into a false sense of security that would take away all his problems, all the hardships he ever had and ever would face. Like hell he would give in to that devilish and devious darkness from which he couldn't find back.

No way you could defeat Denmark that easily.

And no way the ceiling would be affected by the throw of a flashlight.

Denmark cursed and tried again. He managed to hit the exact same spot as the first time but there was no sign that it was working the way he wanted it to. Some snow gently fell, as if to mock him. Had one been able to see his face they would have seen determination, panic and slight fear flash in the royal-blue eyes that normally never wavered. The supercilious and superior shine in them was gone and you wouldn't find the normal glint of mischief, either.

There could be no doubts that Denmark was slowly becoming so full of panic that his body would begin shaking and his mind would go totally bonkers. There was no need for cold to get him to forget things, no need for freezing fingertips to make him unable to grip things firmly. It was all happening right away, in what felt like an instant.

A long while passed by. Denmark had no idea howmuch time passed. Not even just a guess. Ten minutes, half an hour, an hour, two hours, five, it was all the same to him as he slowly slid down the wall. He let the flashlight go over Prussia's face and was only confirmed in his worst thoughts when there was still no reaction from the bright light. He shouted the man's name and only got a slow and lazy blink in return. The red eyes followed his movements, made him feel watched, observed. Like he was some kind of animal or person used for a new medicament. He felt like being watched by a person who would note down all of his small abnormalities, everything he did, showed, said.

It was an uncomfortable feeling and Denmark shivered, though not from cold. He was starting to feel it now, however. Right now, when he sat still and wondered about what to do, he was starting to sense the cold, starting to feel a tiny, tiny bit of what Prussia must have been feeling but being too proud to admit.

He shook Prussia's shoulder but unlike usually, the head didn't roll from side to side. It was kept in the same stiff position.

"Don't go to sleep, Prussia," Denmark begged, trying to keep himself awake as well. It was getting hard. They had been walking for a long time and the fighting on their way hadn't really helped. If he could just rest for a second, just a short minute, then he would be much better, much fresher and he would be able to figure out a plan. He could do it with just five minutes of rest and sleep, he was sure of it.

But a clever voice in the back of his head told him the truth – that it wasn't true. If he fell asleep now, it wouldn't just be for one minute or five. It would be for hours and hours and if he really did wake again, Prussia might have died meanwhile. And if Denmark didn't wake up again… then there would be two dead people down here and a lot of unhappy nations up there.

At least… something inside his head made him want to believe that. Something made him want to believe that what other nations said was true. That the other Nordics actually really didn't hate him, that they actually thought he was at least okay. He wanted to believe in that.

But he couldn't. Not with the things he had been through with both Norway and Sweden. Especially not Sweden. So many wars together. Yes, their relationship had gotten better during the last few decades but it would still take a long time to make them stop sending each other hateful scowls and growls when they were in the same room. This was usually material for a lot of mocking during the World Conferences when both Denmark and Sweden were invited. Occasionally, the others would call for Finland, Norway or Iceland instead of the other two. That way, Denmark and Sweden would still know what the meeting had been about but the other nations wouldn't have to deal with two arch-enemies who couldn't stand the mere sight of one another.

He had said so many things to both of them. Many of them he really did mean but sometimes, when he was really down, he would find that he regretted having said them. He would find himself wondering how everything would have turned out if he hadn't said those exact words or if he had simply kept that opinion to himself.

After all, his opinions were often not that positive in the eyes of others. Denmark didn't really enjoy respect from them. Nordics as well as the rest of Europe. Estonia, however, seemed to have a soft spot for him. And that was mutual. Denmark liked Estonia. He was a nerdy dude who knew literally everything about computers, televisions and whatever piece of technology you put in front of him. And if he didn't know it already, then he would definitely find out in a matter of hours.

It nearly ached in Denmark's heart to know that they couldn't let Estonia be a part of the "Nordic Club". However, he tried to find the positive things in the other Baltics, pointing out that they were cool guys, too, and that Estonia should just be happy to even be in a group. Then he would go on to talk about Switzerland and Liechtenstein who weren't really in any kind of group or club. They were just like… sort of there, though Denmark always made sure to mention them in a respectful tone and to never talk badly about them.

While Denmark had close to no business at all with the two, he sort of admired them. Switzerland because he was able to stand his ground like he did. If you tried to push him around, you became goat-fodder or aim for his rifles. If you tried to make him take side in an argument, he would come with equal amounts of arguments for both sides and then cross his arms over the chest or simply leave. Switzerland wouldn't take none of the other nations' shit. He really couldn't care less.

Unless you touched his sister who Denmark admired for being able to live with a grumpy guy who wouldn't let her see anyone. If you did touch her, you could kiss your sorry life goodbye while staring into the barrel of one of his beloved guns or rifles or whatever he found sufficient to finish you off. Saying this, Denmark would always make sure to mention the time that Prussia had tried to get a date with Liechtenstein. Not because he actually liked her romantically but because he believed she needed some time away from her overprotective and crazy gun-freak of a brother.

Prussia had been sent back to Germany in a box with the size of a shopping trolley for kids.

It was a story that never failed to make Denmark and Finland howl with laughter and Denmark therefore managed to sneak it into the conversation at least once when they were all together. Estonia had heard it quite a few times, too, and though he was more polite and didn't laugh as freely as the other did, he would chuckle and his eyes light up with happiness.

Sweden and Norway, on the otherhand, would glare at him, like they couldn't see the fun in the story at all. Maybe they really couldn't. Denmark didn't know and he didn't care, either. He just knew that at those times, when he felt really sad and had drunk a can of beer too much, he would think of the things he did to Norway and the things he said to Sweden. Things that he knew that Norway didn't like and things that he knew Sweden would beat him for. Wondering why he would always act like the biggest asshole on the planet, Denmark turned miserable and he would call the nations in questions and apologize. Sniveling and sobbing like a child, he would use hours apologizing to them, make them listen to what he had to say, make sure they knew exactly how much he regretted everything he had ever done and said.

He could remember once when Norway had hung up after fifteen minutes of drunken nonsense and Denmark had thought that Norway had now had it with him completely. Thought that now Norway would never have anything to do with him again. He had thought that Norway found him a tad too pathetic. But he had been taken by surprise. Few hours later, when he was halfway through a bottle of cheap but delicious Polish vodka,he heard knocking on the door. He ignored it in the beginning, deeming it an illusion because of the alcohol but when the door was kicked in, he had stood up, ready to fight the intruder. Except for the fact that he could barely see a hand in front of him; he was just that drunk.

But he would always be able to recognize Norway. No matter the state of his mind, no matter how drunk he was, he would always be able to recognize his dear Norway. And there that man stood, looking angry but yet… oddly compassionately. Norway showed emotions he normally refused to admit possessing. That, more than anything, got Denmark to break completely and he fell onto his knees in the middle of the living room, bawling his eyes out while Norway got over, knelt beside him and embraced him for hours. Until Denmark had cried out on Norway's shoulder, the smaller man simply sat there, accepting the way Denmark clung to him and begged him not to leave. He would have nightmares, Denmark always said, nightmares about Norway leaving and following Sweden and Finland. Nightmares that they would go somewhere far away where Denmark could never reach them. Nightmares that Norway would never come back to him.

Whenever it got this far, Norway would take a firm grip of Denmark's face and give him a single kiss. Just one kiss. Soft yet firm. But it was what got Denmark to silence for the night. In that single kiss lay promises and words Norway would never be able to speak. In that single kiss lay actions and emotions that Norway had showed to no one but him. And in that kiss lay the promise that Norway would never leave him.

Not in a thousand years.

Denmark was pulled out of his thoughts and memories by a loud and insisting beeping tone. He looked around, confused and surprised by the sudden sound and it took a few seconds for him to realize that it was the walkie-talkie that created the noise.

He stared at it for close to five seconds, wondering why he hadn't thought of that when the phone had proven useless. Then he grabbed it with fumbling fingers, clumsily pushing the button to let the other person talk.

He couldn't really say that he was surprised to hear Finland's voice. Finland was the one of the Nordics who seemed to like him the best and worry about him the most when he did stupid things. And this walkie-talkie was only set up for the Nordics to use.

"Denmark!" the man said, voice flowing over with relief. "We have tried getting through to you for at least half an hour! Where are you? Any signs of a way out?"

Denmark looked around once more, especially at the ceiling. Half an hour? Had he been thinking for that long?

"We're… somewhere in a narrow passage. The ceiling looks rather thin. I have tried to break it with my flashlight but it didn't work. If someone stepped on it, it would give way, I think."

"A flashlight? Good grief… Any idea about your route?"

Denmark thought for a long moment, then the route suddenly stood very clear in his mind. He told it in detail to Finland, his mind beginning to work with the concept 'hope'. Maybe they would be saved. Maybe Prussia would get help. Maybe they would really get out of here alive. Maybe, just maybe.

He could hear Finland pass on the information to the other Nordics who mumbled in their individual languages, creating an odd mixture of Swedish, Norwegian and Icelandic that they somehow all understood. It was a strange understanding but it didn't seem to matter to them – they were all used to Norwegian, Swedish, Danish, Finnish and Icelandic. However, Finland had a hard time getting through when speaking his native tongue – that was simply too exotic. Only Sweden had bothered trying to learn it. He had nearly broken his tongue when trying to introduce himself in Finnish.

"Yell something very loudly. You're great at being loud and obnoxious, so it shouldn't be too hard for you." Denmark could practically hear how Finland smirked and how not even Norway could hold back the twitches of a smile.

"Thanks a bunch, dickhead!" Denmark yelled. He had been asked to yell and so he did. Loudly. Very loudly. Even Prussia reacted by letting his eyes slide to the side, finding Denmark standing up all of a sudden. Hope was sparked and it showed in his royal-blue eyes.

"Do you need another one?"

"Yes, please." This genuinely surprised the Dane. He had expected a sour shout from Norway but instead, the Finnish voice was suddenly full of awareness. He sounded very wary. Like he was suddenly debating something with himself. "Shout something again, Denmark."

"I'm Denmark, king of Northern Europe, so suck my dick!" he roared, even louder than before.

Then the walkie-talkie grew silent and Denmark didn't hear more ofthe other Nordics. Only after about two minutes did he hear sounds around him again. But it didn't come from the communication device and neither did it come from Prussia. Denmark looked up just in time to be covered with snow. He cursed in a low voice, rubbed the substance away and looked up once more.

Norway, Sweden, Finland and Iceland stared down at him. All of them had relieved expressions on their faces. Even Sweden.

"Absolutely not," Norway commented flatly as Finland disappeared from the hole together with Iceland. "Not even if you were the king of the world."

"Aaw," Denmark said with a fake pout that couldn't hide his immense happiness, "I'm king of your world, aren't I?"

"He's still sarcastic, we can leave him," Norway deadpanned but couldn't keep from rolling his eyes. Finland returned with some thick rope and Iceland carried something that looked like a lifebuoy, just much smaller than the ones you found on boats. The rope was tied tightly around the lifebuoy and then it was lowered down in a way so the person needing rescue could sit in it.

Denmark grabbed Prussia and carefully, yet swiftly, lifted him onto the round object and made sure the man wouldn't fall off. Immediately when the others saw the albino's condition, the other Nordics began hauling him up. It went surprisingly fast and Denmark just managed to hear Norway tell Finland to call for help before they lowered the lifebuoy once more so they could get Denmark up as well.

Only now did Denmark notice the pain in his shoulders again. And this time, it hurt like hellfire. He almost whined by the white-hot flames that seemed to roll through his broken bones when he lifted Prussia's backpack – he had freed the man of it a long time ago – and got onto the red and white object, holding the backpack tightly. As if he would lose Prussia if he dropped the bag. Panic was a state that wouldn't leave him, not even now, as he was sure everything was going to be alright, and that they would be saved.

When Denmark was once more standing on the ground and had stumbled away from the hole to the ice chasm and the underground tunnel that seemed to be there, he stared around at the other Nordics. He didn't know what he expected to see in their faces. Anger? Annoyance? Actual fury, hatred? Disbelief? Relief? Worry?

All of that? More? Less?

But instead of trying to figure out their emotions – only Finland's was possible, anyway, and he was currently yelling into the phone, obviously worried and panicking at the same time – he looked over at Prussia who wasn't too far from him. He rushed to the albino's side.

Prussia had gently been placed on a bed of jackets and blankets the others had brought with them. He was still not shivering, still not responsive and still very much caught in the stupor. Looking at him, Denmark felt it as if a hand was clenching his chest tightly, constricting it, forcing him to breathe in small and not at all sufficient shocks. A slowly pulsating pain appeared just over his right eye and behind his left. He took Prussia's hand that was cold even through the glove.

"Prussia," he whispered, voice thick and hoarse as he stared down at the grey face, red eyes even more hazy than they had been underground. They seemed distant, like the man couldn't focus anymore. "Gil, I'm so sorry, please, don't go, okay?"

Prussia blinked.

"Man, you can't go just yet, not like this," Denmark continued and gripped the hand tighter. He vaguely noticed how the Finnish man had grown silent all of a sudden. If it was because of Denmark talking or moving, or if it was because he had finally ended the call, Denmark had no idea. He just knew that he was now watched by all of them. All pairs of Nordic eyes were resting upon him. He felt as if they were judging him. But they would be in their good right to do so. What Denmark had exposed Prussia to was… it was horrible. And horrible wasn't even the word.

"Denmark," Iceland suddenly said though without getting the Dane's attention, "the helicopter is on its way but it can't get here. Too many trees. We have to move."

The royal-blue eyes belonging to the happiest and most carefree of the men were still only taking in Prussia's appearance. In the sudden daylight, the skin looked even worse and a scratch over his left cheek could be spotted. The blood had frozen after rolling only two centimeters, making it glisten bizarrely in the warm sun.

The carefree personality seemed to have left. There were no traces of happiness, either, as Denmark watched the red eyes close in a slow blink. Panic rose in his chest when the eyes kept hidden behind heavy lids. A cry of fear escaped his throat when not even pain could bring the albino to look at him again.


Denmark paced back and forth in the hospital's waiting room. He walked in circles and he walked diagonally. He followed the pattern on the floor as well as he walked in a straight line before the other Nordics who were all seated and pursued him with their eyes.

Doctors passed by them and sent them slightly frightened looks. Sweden's face that could as well have been made of stone didn't show a single thing near emotions and seemed inhumanely empty. Norway's expression was one of dull boredom but his eyes had a slightly worried shine while Iceland's face seemed like a mix of Sweden's and Norway's. Finland, on the other hand, was at least half as worried as Denmark. He wriggled around in his chair and often stood from it to look at the door leading out of the room, hoping to get a glimpse of a doctor that would tell them about Prussia's condition. Finland also fidgeted with his hands. That is, until Sweden took them in his own and made the Finn shriek in fear.

Denmark didn't register this. He didn't register when Norway told him to sit down and that he should try and calm down. There was no reaction when Sweden exclaimed his name. Not even the ball of paper that Iceland threw at him got Denmark to look up and at them. His hands were tightly locked with each other behind his back and he was mumbling to himself, eyes wide open and full of consternation and angst.

He was at a loss. What had he done? What should he do? What would Prussia think of him when he woke up after a successful surgery? How should he react towards Prussia from now on? What should he tell Germany? Spain and France, too? Not to mention Austria and Hungary, though they seemed to not like him. But maybe that was only a mask?

What should he do?

Instead of trying to find answers to these questions and thereby burden himself with more uneasiness he could only get rid of when Prussia was okay again, he continued wandering aimlessly around the room. Luckily, there were no other patients in here. It would have been a frightening sight for them to see a fully grown man in such a state, distress radiating so clearly from him. Frightening to see a man refuse proper care that the doctors had tried to make him undergo. He had shouted at them, raising his voice in fear and frustration hidden by anger, told them to just take care of his friend. His own damages were not even worth speaking of, he had tried way worse.

And, contrary to the majority of other hospitals in the Northern Europe, this hospital, with all its doctors and nurses and secretaries and cleaning personnel and whoever worked here, knew who and what they were.

The people working here knew that Matthias, Lukas, Emil, Tino and Berwald were in fact incarnations of Denmark, Norway, Iceland, Finland and Sweden respectively. They knew that there existed incarnations of every country in the world. And unlike many others, these people believed it. They didn't need to be told twice, nor did they feel the need to talk with the countries' bosses. They looked surprised, some even shocked, yes, and many of them had laughed lightly in anxious insecurity, but they never questioned this information.

And after having taken care of Denmark and Sweden's injuries when they had been fighting, the doctors had no reason to be in doubt. No ordinary human would survive what Denmark and Sweden did to each other.

So all in all, two doctors at this hospital had only pressured Denmark for a few more minutes before they left to join their colleagues to take care of Prussia. They also knew that Prussia was an ex-nation, the former so majestic and proud Kingdom of Prussia. This, they had a harder time believing, because how could a nation or a kingdom die without the incarnation disappearing?

They stayed the entire night. And the morning. Denmark was the only one who didn't sleep. The others had been offered an empty room for the night and they had agreed, though Norway had sent the Dane a quizzical look, leaving as the last. Denmark simply shook his head, not for a moment stopping his seemingly never-ending walking. The other nations left him, each of them saying good night in their own language but none of them had the honour of Denmark paying them any attention. He could hear doctors whisper about him just before the door closed. He could hear his Nordic kin talk softly, also about him, just before the soft click of the door closing sounded and he was left alone with his uneasiness, his thoughts, his fiercely beating heart and his worry that soon turned into definite fear.

Until the door was suddenly slammed open again. It was done with such a power that Denmark knew it couldn't possibly be a doctor or a nurse or another person who worked at this place. It could only be one other person when Prussia was not… not really able to walk and Sweden had gone to sleep.

"I demand that you give me a full explanation right now, Matthias Køhler, incarnation of the Kingdom of Denmark," Germany nearly shouted, every feature in his pale face lined with insane rage. "Warum zum ficken Teufel ist mein Bruder im Krankenhaus?"

The German had been called as soon as they knew where Prussia would be transferred to but it was a long trip from Germany to Norway, especially when they were so far up in the country, hence why he only showed up now.

Denmark hadn't expected anything less than this. In fact, he had expected Germany to smash his head against a wall and shout at him until he had gone deaf and unconscious. But the German was surprisingly composed and calm, though there was a slight shaking in his loud voice. Denmark, however, couldn't help but cower away a bit. He might be brave and he might not be exactly scared of the man but when Germany shouted in his native tongue, he would easily come off as frightening.

The German was given an explanation as requested. It took a long time and many pauses but he got it. As more and more of the night passed and the moon settled on the sky, starting its long and slow journey across the black carpet above them, the thoughts and words grew darker and Denmark's fear got mixed with a feeling of anger, of regret. Gone was the pain in his head, and gone was the thought of his shoulders being broken. He hardly even felt them anymore. Germany stared at him from the other end of the room the entire night, not letting himself doze off to sleep a single time.

Left in Denmark's head was only one rail of thoughts – this was his fault. He was at fault for Prussia being in such a state, a state that was potentially lethal.

"Potentially?" he mumbled to himself and spared himself half a second to stare at the moon that seemed to brush the top of the trees outside. "Potentially? He could have been dead. Anyone else would have been dead. But he's a former kingdom, he can't die like a pathetic human being." He dared not look at the German to see his reaction to these words.

He started walking again, unknowing of the things happening outside. The doctors who whispered about him, whispered about an albino with frostbite, in a stupor and with little to no chance of survival. Cleaning personnel who were told not to enter this very room. Secretaries that exchanged information about him and his reputation over cup after cup of steaming hot coffee.

Other nations who kept guard at the door.

He was unaware of the troll that constantly kept an eye on him. A troll that would pass on information to its 'owner'. Unaware that he was being watched by the others. The possibility hadn't even occurred to him.

The arms on his wristwatch had just deemed the clock 08:23 when the door was opened. Denmark had stopped his pacing back and forth just an hour earlier, his body seemingly out of energy. But by the sound of the door being opened, adrenaline instantly surged through his veins and he snapped his head to the side, looking at the doctor, his heart picking up an unhealthy pace.

Germany shot up from his chair the instant he heard the door swing on its hinges.

Stainless, white lab coat, with matching gloves and a mask that had been pulled down from her mouth. She stood still, seemingly taking in the men's appearances before she talked.

Her voice was kind and gentle, soft, perhaps too soft for a woman looking like forty years old but it was the words that Denmark really noticed. Her face was but a mere blur of colours and features any human could have. He took no notice of her eye colour or her hair colour, no notice of the shape of her face, if she had a hawk nose, a pig's snout or whatever. She could as well have had none and he would probably not have noticed.

"Mister Køhler and mister Beilschmidt," she began, "we have done what we can for Gilbert right now. His situation is very critical and though it is possible for him to continue living, I have to inform you-"

"Do it," Denmark instantly interrupted, only vaguely noticing the voices and the presence of the other Nordics. "Keep him alive, I can't let him die."

She looked over at the German. His face was unreadable. All sorts of thoughts could go through his brilliant mind without either of them having the smallest chance to guess correctly.

"Continue explaining," he commanded of her with a hard voice and she looked back at Denmark, clearing her throat.

"I understand that you say that, mister Køhler, but I have to inform you of the complications connected with letting Gilbert live."

Complications? Denmark swallowed heavily, feeling his heart thump harder against his rib cage. He didn't notice how Norway was pulled back, hindered in entering the room. Germany was silent. He knew this wouldn't be complication-free. How could it possibly be?

Complications? Denmark stared at the woman. Dark circles underlined his tired eyes but they were suddenly wary and aware. Germany wondered how bad these complications would be.

What complications? It seemed like an eternity before the doctor continued but the clock on the wall stated it only took five seconds.

"His brain has undergone severe damage because of the cold. Both of the cerebral hemispheres have been attacked so violently that Gilbert most likely won't walk or talk again if he's kept alive. The thinking progress would slow drastically and because of particularly grave damage to the cerebral cortex in the right cerebral hemisphere, it is very possible that he will be petrified in the left side of his body."

Denmark blinked once. Then again, and many other times before he finally seemed to understand what she was saying. But…

"What?"

The doctor didn't seem surprised by this. It was probably very normal that relatives to patients didn't understand the 'language' the doctors used. However, she wasn't the one to explain it. "The left side of the brain controls the right side of the body, and vice versa. Hence, if Ost has been damaged in the right part of the brain, it will show in the left side of his body," Germany said and this time, Denmark really did understand. The doctor nodded but looked worried. The blond was acting far too calm, he should be shivering and shaking.

But Germany knew about damages, he knew what those things did to you. He had been – and to some degree still was – a soldier in the highest rank and his medical knowledge was incredibly big. He had healed and treated many soldiers on the field, obviously he would have to have some form of idea about what which things did to you.

It was just that he had a bit more than 'some form of idea'. However, if you looked deeply into his eyes, you would see something unsettling. In his eyes, in those icy blue and hard spheres, you could see the vaguest hint of fear. Actual fear. Germany showed emotions and out of the entire spectrum, he showed fear.

He knew what this meant.

And the words gave even deeper meaning, made even more sense to the Dane. It scared him. That meant that he would never get Prussia back as the bragging, partying and surprisingly well-writing man he had been before. Denmark swallowed heavily again.

"Chances are that the part of the brain that takes care of memory, emotion and the like, the temporal lobe in both hemispheres, will have been so impaired that he won't recognize anyone. Not even his best friend," she added with a sad expression when she could see Denmark was about to interrupt again.

Denmark closed his mouth and looked over at Germany, gaze quickly falling to the floor. Germany's jaws tightened.

"It would be the same about his family. The chances that he would actually identify someone, even though he has been living with them his entire life, are less than fifteen percent. Chances of remembering their names are five to six point eight percent."

Germany's lips pressed together to a thin, thin line and his hands curled into fists he hid in his pockets.

It took a moment for Denmark to comprehend this, to really understand it. Then he started trembling. First his legs which forced him to sit down in the nearest chair and stare at the doctor. Seconds later, his arms followed suit and he firmly grabbed his knees to try and stop it. But it was useless. Soon, his entire body trembled with devastating grief and the throbbing pain behind his eyes returned. The doctor sat down next to him, saying more complicated stuff about the parietal lobe and its ability to comprise somatosensory cortex and the dorsal stream of the visual system. She said something about another lobe called the occipital lobe which had something to do with the visual processing or something. The frontal lobe wasn't much better; his attention span and decision-making skills, among other things, would decrease drastically.

Denmark didn't really listen. He stared at the floor, his mind completely numb. If he felt anything, if those frontal – or was it temporal? - lobes did something to make him feel something, then they were failing dramatically. He couldn't feel any emotion whatsoever. Or maybe it was that he was really feeling too many? So many feelings and emotions that he couldn't keep track of them and it therefore felt like he was empty, numb, cold, feeling nothing? That would make sense, wouldn't it?

Yes. It would.

The doctor stopped talking when Denmark let go of his knees and instead let the hands find his hair that hung around his head. Few groups of strands here and there still defied gravity by standing directly into the air. Other strands had tangled themselves together and yet others made weak attempts of following the first mentioned group.

Prussia wouldn't be able to recognize him. Or Germany. Oh God, he wouldn't be able to recognize his brother. His own brother, who he had taken in when the German was nothing but a baby. The thought was horrendous.

The Dane dared to turn his head to the side, finding Germany's eyes. They were hard and cold as ice, yet burned with the intensity of a thousand flames. Of course he knew this as well. Germany also knew that his own brother would not ever recognize him again. His face was nearly transparent.

And if Prussia really should be able to remember them, if they were so lucky that he would recognize their faces, it would be close to impossible for him to recall their names. Prussia would be petrified in the left side of his body. Prussia was left-handed. He would be unable to write, to draw, to properly hold anything. He would need help for the smallest things until he had learned to control the right hand. And Prussia was not famous for his patience.

With all this information swirling around in his head and with the thoughts already there, Denmark felt a harsh and violent headache approach. He knew what the right choice would be. Prussia wouldn't be worthy of such a life. An awesome person such as he deserved a better life, better circumstances. He deserved better than that.

But while the decision was easy to make, the hope was hard to let go of. The hope, the fierce belief that Prussia would be lucky, that Prussia would be awesome enough to recognize them, to remember their names and to talk and walk nearly normally – it was still there. It roared at Denmark just as loudly as the facts one could not deny. Even though Prussia had been a nation, he no longer had the ability to regenerate like they did. Denmark had once taken a severe blow to the head that had him hospitalized for close to a week but he had been up and partying three days later without feeling anything about it.

This was different. Prussia couldn't do that anymore. Though he still aged like a nation and his organs had the same ability to keep up with his many, many years, they were now as fragile and weak as those of a human.

Prussia had the memories and skills of a nation, but the body of a human.

Hoping for survival, hoping for a successful and rich life for the Prussian would be childish.

Denmark had always been childish.

Now it was time to grow up.

Now it was time to realize how tough the world could be. For nations as well as ex-nations.

He felt a hand stroke over his shoulders. Familiar fingers carefully brushed over the broken bones, finding his neck. He didn't need to turn his head to know who those gentle touches belonged to. Sweden had touched him like that, believe it or not, and so had Finland and Iceland and Norway. But only Norway could make the skin erupt in goose bumps. Only Norway could make a warmth spread in the innermost chamber of Denmark's heart, even now.

Norway leaned closer before he slid down before the Dane and gently took his face between his own hands. It was with mild force that he got Denmark to look at him. The royal-blue eyes were filled with tears, the dark circles seeming to cast long shadows over the cheeks. It had been a long time since Norway had seen that stare. The stare that witnessed of pain and sorrow so deep no person should ever feel it. That degree of pain was something no one should ever be as unlucky to face.

Accompanying that hurt was hopelessness. As evident as the black dog playing around in the purest and whitest snow it presented itself, flickering in the beautiful eyes that had only known happiness and relatively little hardship. Eyes created to radiate hope and vigour now glistened with the opposite – despair and enervation.

Denmark didn't really see Norway's eyes. Both because of the tears blurring his vision and because of the energy it took to keep just somewhat track of his thoughts. He didn't register that the doctor exited or that the other Nordics entered.

He only registered the hands on his face and two thoughts.

One was that he should let go of Prussia.

The other was that it was his fault.

"I know you know the right choice," Norway whispered to him. It was rare to witness Norway talk to Denmark in that soft and caring way. Even rarer was it to see him comfort the man. But nothing could top the rarity of seeing Norway show genuine emotions towards that very same man.

Yet he did that now. The tone in his voice was full of very real compassion and sadness. His eyes shone, actually showed life. They scintillated with the same emotions his voice gave sound.

"I know you know what would be the best decision." It was spoken in a hushed murmur, his thumbs brushing over Denmark's wet and pale cheeks.

He felt another hand on his other shoulder. It quickly moved, however, to rest on his back. This was more careful, as if shy to make contact with him. Finland, without a doubt. He was always so timid around other people, even if he quickly opened up to them and became comfortable with them. As long as that person wasn't Sweden.

Finland didn't say anything. He just sat there, with a hand on Denmark's back.

Sweden stood close by. Too close by considering his relationship, which was one of deep hatred, with the Dane he actually felt some sort of compassion for. Iceland sat in the chair Norway had formerly occupied. He seemed very alert.

Germany still stood in the other end of the room but when he spoke, his voice was so clear and loud that he could as well have been standing right next to the Dane. The trembling was very pronounced, however.

"You have had a good time together. We should let him go while you can both still be proud of having lived."

"He's your brother… how can you say such a-?"

"That's exactly why, idiotische Dummkopf!" the German suddenly shouted and stepped forward, staring at Denmark. Sweden stepped to the side, almost protectively, and a warning expression washed over his face. Germany's eyes were moist and shining with a dangerous gleam. "He's my brother! Do you think I would let him live a life like that? Impaired and clueless about his own past and about you and his other friends? About me?" His voice rose to a nearly shrill tone, one hand slamming against his own chest repeatedly.

Denmark flinched and looked up at the German past Sweden's arm.

"How would you feel about it?" the other continued. "We will never get him back. Not him. It would be a replica of him, not the real him. Seeing him live every day would be a painful reminder for what you have done and what you will forever miss," his hand clenched the front of his shirt tightly, "and it would not be fair. Imagine the looks he will get. From Austria and Hungary, not to mention France and Spain. Stop being so verdammte selfish. If you won't let him leave this place with dignity, then I will."


Prussia's eyes were closed. His skin had gotten the normal white colour and his lips weren't blue anymore. His fingers and hands were wrapped in some sort of special bandage that should have a soothing and healing effect on the blisters and the damage that had been done to the tissue.

Denmark wondered what it could all be of use. Prussia wouldn't wake to see whether his hands were still frostbitten or not. He wouldn't wake to see the place he was taken to. He wasn't connected to any machines. No bags with special and vital liquid hung from metal stands. No machine kept watch over his heartbeat.

The other Nordics stood outside the room. Denmark didn't want them here. This was too personal. He knew he would show emotions he would be ashamed of. Crying. What bullshit was that even? A man as strong as he shouldn't cry. He was too proud for that. He should show more self-control, more self-discipline than to let the emotions take over like that.

Only Germany was in here with him. He had refused to let Denmark be alone with Prussia, for reasons he denied to tell.

"Hey, pal," he whispered and tried to not get his hopes up. Prussia would not respond. He should stop hoping. It was childish and Denmark needed to be anything but childish right now. He had to be a grownup.

"Listen, I know you… can't really hear me or anything but… I just want you to know that… that I'm sorry. You can't possibly know how sad I am. How sorry I am. The time is," he checked his watch, then looked back at the albino who seemed so peaceful, "half past twelve in the noon. The others say I should get something to eat. Heh. How ridiculous. How can I think of food when… when…"

Here his voice broke and the first signs of crying started to appear. The tightening of his throat, the suddenly familiar pressure behind his eyes, the way they stung and how his chest seemed to constrict, as if trying to hinder the action. It was useless, however.

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, voice thick and shaking, and he gripped the Prussian's hand tighter. It was no longer cold as ice but had a comfortable, normal temperature. "I never meant for this to happen. I didn't… I didn't think it could go that wrong. It was just… I was… Because of my selfishness, I lost my best, most awesome friend. I'm sorry, Gil. I'm sorry that I made you look for me, even without asking. I'm sorry you felt you had to save me."

He leaned his head against the chill metal of the bed, sighing and breathing deeply as sobs slowly overtook his body and made him lose control.

The room was eerie silent except for his voice. Not even Germany's breathing could be heard.

"I'm sorry I couldn't help you more than I did. I'm sorry I was so useless when you needed me the most. Sorry for making you trust me, trust that I could heal any damage and that I wouldn't let you fall into some serious condition."

The tears finally fell. More water had leaked this day than he could remember having allowed for the last century. Sliding over his cheeks, the drops followed the trail already formed, only making the red lines even clearer and more distinct. No one would be in doubt that he had cried today. How embarrassing.

"I hope you know that… that I will miss you. A lot. More than anything I have ever loved and then lost. You were like my other half, you completed me in some way. I could be me around you, Gil. I hope you know that. Even now, I hope that you won't hate me, though I deserve nothing less."

And with a last squeeze of the hand and a careful, very soft kiss to Prussia's forehead, the last visit had ended. The last breath was drawn from Prussia's lips and his lungs had made the last expansion and last contraction.

Germany sat on the other side of the bed. His eyes were red and puffy and despite several attempts, Denmark's offers of a talk or just an apology had been rejected. After having sent the Dane the deadliest, coldest look to ever be sent – even Sweden would have a hard time competing – Germany had looked back down at his brother. His hands were folded in his lap, folded so tight the knuckles were white.

Just as Denmark turned his back to his friend, still with water running from his eyes, something almost miraculous happened. It was nothing that could have sent signals of him being alive or getting a decent life, the doctors told him afterwards when they had checked Prussia to make sure he really was dead.

But when Denmark had no longer been looking at Prussia and only Germany was with him, a single tear had escaped Prussia's right, closed eye. Only one small droplet of water.

"It is very possibly the last thing he ever did," a doctor softly told Denmark when she exited the room.

Norway consoled Denmark on the way back to his home.

Germany stayed at Prussia's side for another day.


Translation time! I apologize for possible fail German.

Warum zum ficken Teufel ist mein Bruder im Krankenhaus? = Why the fucking hell is my brother at the hospital?

Ost = East

Idiotische Dummkopf = idiotic fool

Verdammte = damned