Germany stared at Italy, who had crumpled to the floor in the kitchen beneath the calender, still clutching the battered phone in his hand. The German didn't know what to do, what to say, anything. He was always good at handling desperate situations and thinking on his toes, as any good soldier would have to be, but fixing this situation seemed to be far beyond his abilities. He tried to think on what his first priority should be, but his thoughts just kept getting tangled together in all the chaos. He had no idea what to do, so he did the first thing that felt natural. He walked over to Italy and crouched down beside him, putting a hand on his shoulder. Italy just broke down sobbing, clutching the phone to his chest with both hands.

"G-Germany, I don't know what happened to him, h-he's in Naples, w-what if he's d-dead?"

Germany sighed and tried to answer logically, his tone still comforting, though, "Just because he didn't answer your calls, doesn't mean he's dead. A volcano just went off, I don't think he's able to talk at the moment."

"Y-you're right, b-but I'm still worried! And l-look at the TV! The world is ending, w-what are we gonna do?"

Germany was silent for a while, "...I don't know."

Italy looked at him through puffy eyes, red from crying, "Well you're supposed to know! You're Germany, you always know what to d-do!"

Germany sighed deeply and looked in from the kitchen at the TV. He cringed a little and spoke, "Italy, I'm terrified. I have no idea what to do anymore."

That seemed to scare Italy into not talking, which only scared Germany more. The two sat quietly on the floor looking into the living room, watching as horrendous images flashed across the television screen. Every so often they'd show body bags, or something to a similar effect and he could feel Italy tense up.

"It's okay, just don't look." Germany said to him. Italy's lip quivered a little bit as he tried not to start crying all over again.

"No, it's okay. I can handle it." He didn't sound as confident as he had meant to.

"Italy, don't look at the TV. Please. You're just upsetting yourself."

"No, if my brother has to live through it the least I can do is watch on TV." He sounded a lot more sure that time.

Germany looked at the Italian, who just stared at the news coverage with a horrified expression, but determined to not to look away. He wasn't going to chicken out this time. It was almost like he was taking a dare from himself to keep his eyes glued to the television. It worried Germany. He wondered how long it would be before he'd get to see the happy, pasta loving, ve-ing, Italian he knew sixty-nine years ago.

The way things are turning out, it would be a miracle if I ever saw that side of him, again.

That thought tore Germany's heart apart. The idea of never seeing Italy be his regular, positive self killed him inside. He knew he couldn't let the Italian keep watching the news footage. He knew it would only hurt him more. Germany covered Italy's eyes before he could see anything else.

"What are you doing? Let go! I need to see! Let go!" He said, squirming, "This is important to me! PLEASE!"

"Just don't look, please, Italy. That's important to me. You don't have to see all this to know what's happening. I'll just tell you, okay? I promise, but please don't look at the TV."

"Don't you understand that Romano is going through this right now! He has to live through it! He doesn't have the luxury of looking away! I need to watch what's happening, so that maybe at least I can imagine his pain and sympathize with him!" He tried to wrench his head out from under the hand Germany used to cover his eyes. It didn't work.

"You don't have to watch!" Germany exclaimed, "Please! I'd rather have you ignorant and happy than informed and depressed!"

"I think I'm going to get depressed no matter what, considering what's happening!"

"Just listen to me. Please!"

"NO!" Italy jerked his head again.

"ITALY! FOR THE LOVE OF GOTT! LISTEN TO ME FOR ONCE! THIS IS FOR YOUR OWN GOOD!"

"I DON'T CARE ABOUT MY OWN GOOD!" He said, finally swatting Germany's hand off his face, standing up, and running to the living room to get a closer look and to evade the German.

Before Germany could react he heard the front door burst open and someone loudly exclaim, "WE HAVE TO GET THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!" The voice was Prussia's for sure, but it wasn't in his usual, obnoxious tone. It was a tone he hadn't heard in a while, it was the tone he used when he meant business.

Germany stood and went to the living room to see his brother standing in the doorway looking rather determined, "Okay West, listen to me right now. We have to get the hell out of the city before things get ugly. Grab your boyfriend and pack your shit, we're leaving."

If it wasn't for the fact the Prussia was being absolutely serious, Germany would have been more upset about the boyfriend comment.

"Feli, I need to get my stuff too," Prussia continued, making his way to the basement door, "I need you to go into the kitchen and pack up everything in the pantry, okay? There should be plastic bags in that dumb ass little holder thing that West keeps on the wall in there. Just fill those up. And hurry, because people are starting to go fucking nuts out there."

Italy nodded and ran to the kitchen, Germany went up the stairs to his room to pack some of his things like Prussia had advised him. He figured it best not to question his brother while he was in this state, and he had more of a game plan than Germany did, anyway.

First he ran to his closet and grabbed clothes. He wasn't totally sure on what he'd need, but he figured warm clothes would be his best bet. He pulled some out and threw them onto his bed. He then realized that if Italy would be going with them to wherever it was that they were going, he'd need clothes, too. No way they'd drive all the way down to Italy for that, though. He dug around, looking for clothes he had that were too small on him in hopes that maybe they'd fit the Italian. He couldn't find much, since he usually threw out things once they'd shrunk in the wash, but there was nothing he could do about that. Maybe Prussia would have some things.

He tore open his drawers and threw random pairs of pants, socks, and underwear onto the pile. He made sure to grab lots of underwear and socks, since those were rather important and got dirty a lot faster than shirts and pants. He got to the bottom of his drawer and came across the red pair of underwear Italy had given him for Christmas so long ago. After cursing himself for being so pathetic as to keep them and hide them in the bottom of his underwear drawer, he chucked them onto the ever growing pile of clothes on his bed. The fact that they weren't folded after being tossed like that drove the German absolutely insane, but he would refold everything when he placed them in the suitcase.

He scoured his room for other things he might need, starting with his nightstand. He found an old first aid kit, (some thing he'd gotten into the habit of keeping with him when Italy was still around,) a bottle of aspirin (another thing he'd gotten into the habit of keeping with him thanks to Italy,) and chap stick. There were other things in there, as well, but nothing that would be all that important to bring with.

He then went to his desk, opening each individual drawer and digging through it for things of use. He grabbed a lot of pens and pencils, figuring someone would need them at some point. He also grabbed a few notebooks. He figured if he didn't use them, Italy could at least doodle in them. He grabbed a map, since god knows how long GPS would last for. He'd finally gotten down to the last drawer on his desk. He pulled it open and his heart nearly stopped. He'd forgotten about those.

What lie in the bottom of the otherwise empty drawer were two iron cross necklaces. Germany's and Italy's. After Italy surrendered in WWII Germany had taken it from the Italian, and it had become too painful to wear his own. He had thrown them in the old desk to gather dust for the next nearly-seven decades. Now that they were rediscovered and that he had made up with Italy, he decided it was time to give it back. He picked up the two necklaces, who's chains had become slightly tangled together. Even though they were being pressed for time, Germany spent the next ten minutes untangling the chains and fixing the clasp he'd broken on Italy's when the German had yanked it from around his neck. After toiling with the pliers he was satisfied with his work. He put his own around his neck and tucked it under his shirt, and carefully placed Italy's in his pocket to give to the auburn-haired man later.

He placed all the things he had decided to take with him in a suitcase. Not everything fit, so he had to resort to throwing a few things into a cardboard box. They would definitely need more stuff, but that was all he really needed from his bedroom. He managed to carry the box with one arm, hugging to his chest while he dragged the suitcase down stairs. The noises on the ground floor were a mixture of dogs barking, as apparently Prussia had let them in; a bird chirping, Didn't I tell him to keep that thing outside? And Prussia swearing all over the place as he looked for car keys.

Germany walked into the even more destroyed living room and set his things on the coffee table. Prussia didn't seem to notice as he was busy flipping the sofa over so to find the missing keys.

"Damn it, I know I had them with me when I left the bar! Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck! Where'd I put them?" He left the sofa flipped over as he ran out the door without any explanation. Germany was not happy seeing his living room in this state. His house in this state. The world in this state (as the television was still on and broadcasting even more morbid images, as apparently earthquakes had begun to take place as well.)

He looked away and went down his mental checklist of other things they'd need. Radio, flashlight, batteries... He knew he had one radio somewhere, it was Prussia's before he'd gotten an iPod. Damn...it's in his room. He tried to avoid the basement at all costs, the whole thing being Prussia's room. He liked to pretend it didn't exist, and there was absolutely no horrendous mess beneath his home. Now he had to go down there and get a radio, and while he was at it, to see if he could find anything that would fit Italy better than his own clothes.

Speaking of the Italian, Germany wondered how he was holding up. He took a few steps forward so that he could see into the kitchen. There were a few plastic bags on the table filled with food stuffs, but no Italy in sight. After scanning the room a few more times he finally caught a glimpse of a little curl poking out from behind the pantry door. The German breathed a sigh of relief, but something was still wrong. Why wasn't Italy moving around, getting things together like he was supposed to?

He just found out that the world is ending, his brother may or may not be dead, and if he is alive the odds of them even seeing other again is slim. He's probably in the middle of a mental breakdown.

Germany carefully approached the pantry, a little surprised that he didn't hear any crying like he expected. He pulled back the thin wooden door to find that Italy was laying on the ground, face down. The German's initial reaction was alarm, but then he noticed that he appeared to be breathing, and normally at that.

Is he...sleeping? How could he sleep at a time like this? Germany laughed a little bitterly, "And I though you would have changed after all these years..." He muttered to himself. Though I'm glad you didn't, anyway.

He gently nudged the Italian awake. The smaller man rolled over on the floor so that he was face up and blinked his wide, honey colored eyes open, staring at Germany, a little confused, as if he'd momentarily forgotten where he was. His face quickly changed to sadness, as he remembered the events of the past hour or so.

"Ve...scusa." He muttered as he slowly peeled himself up off the floor, "I think I tripped, and then I was so tired I...I..." He looked about to doze of mid-sentence, "I must have fallen...asleep. Scusa, again."

"Italy, are you okay? Why are you so tired?"

"Didn't sleep last night." He answered as he turned his back and marched back into the pantry, "And then I skipped my siesta to come here. And after I cry I always get sleepier...so I..." He wobbled unsteadily as he reached for a large package of bottled waters of a high shelf. Germany rushed in to help him pull it down as he finished his sentence, "I just slept. It was nice. I forgot about everything bad that happened."

Germany nodded, taking the package of water from Italy and carried them to the table. Italy kept speaking as he filled a plastic bag with canned potatoes, "Actually...I had a really nice dream. I almost wish I could just go back to sleep forever and just live in it."

"What was it?" Germany asked, trying to keep Italy talking so that he wouldn't pass out on the floor again. He returned to the pantry to help fill bags.

"Ve, it was you and me..." He smiled, "And we were on a picnic! And Romano was there, too, but he was really happy instead of being grumpy all the time. And Spain was there with him. Prussia was there, too, I think. We all played football, and ate pasta-"

"We ate pasta on a picnic?"

"Si, it was a dream, so it was nice and warm, still." Italy smiled at the thought of warm pasta, "And then it started to get dark and all the sudden we were in the pretty meadow next to my house, but this time it was just me and you. I picked a bunch of daisies, and then we layed down in the grass and looked at the stars when they came out." His smile got wider, "I love daisies and looking at the stars, next to pasta those are my favorite things."

He was quiet for a second as he struggled to get down a can of peas from the top shelf. Germany helped him out by grabbing it and handing it down to him.

"Ve, grazie!" Italy said as he took the can and placed it in his bag. "You know, that wasn't my favorite part of the dream, though."

Germany looked down at him and asked another question to keep him from dozing off, "What was your favorite part, then?"

The Italian smiled warmly, "You said..." His voice trailed off as his face changed to either disappointment or sadness, Germany couldn't tell. Italy furrowed his eyebrows, quickly shaking his head, "Never mind, I lied. The part about the pasta was my favorite part. Si, pasta...nothing else."

Germany quirked an eyebrow, signaling to Italy that he wasn't buying the lie and that he wanted to know what his favorite part of the dream was.

What did I say?

Italy ignored the implicated question and continued grabbing things. He held a can of spaghetti-O's suspiciously to his face, "People put pasta...in cans?" He face was a little disgusted, as if the thing he held in his hands was pasta blasphemy.

"Ja, there should be some Chef Boyardee in there, too." Germany said, dropping the dream subject, accepting that he wouldn't get an answer. Today, at least.

"Chef Boy-are-DEE...?" Italy sounded it out to himself "Ve, Germany, you're still really bad at pronouncing Italian names."

"No, that's what it says on the can." The blond nation grabbed the nearest can of ravioli and handed it to the Italian, pointing to the name on the label. Italy squinted at it, curiously.

"Ve, that's not how you spell it..." He said, "It's supposed to be spelled like B-o-i-a-r-d-i! And you pronounce it like 'boy-ARE-dee' Not 'boy-are-DEE'." He set the can back on the shelf and made a grossed out face, "Plus it's canned pasta, so it's no good."

"I never thought I'd see you turn down pasta in my life." Germany said, grabbing the can and putting it in his bag, anyway. He knew the Italian would want it sooner or later, once he'd gone a few days without his favorite dish.

"I never thought I'd see canned pasta in my life." Italy muttered to himself, "This Chef Boiardi guy is must be crazy if he thinks putting pasta in a can is a good idea! You need to make it fresh with love and..."

Germany half listened to the canned pasta rant, glad to see that at least Italy was distracted from what had just happened. After a a few more minutes, (and the return of Prussia, who had found the keys in the ignition of Germany's car, which he had driven to the bar earlier,) Germany and Italy had finished packing all the non-perishable food items in the house.

"I'm going to get some more things." Germany said, grabbing some of the few remaining plastic bags.

"Like what? I want to help, too." Italy asked.

That's a good idea, maybe it'll keep his mind off of things. "Okay, then. I need you to find batteries. Anywhere you can, open up remotes, alarm clocks, anything that might have batteries in them. Look in that top left drawer in the kitchen, too. That's usually where I put them. Also, pack everything in the medicine cabinet, as well. And grab any lighters, matches, or candles you see."

Italy nodded, grabbed a bag, and went off to complete his mission, starting with the kitchen drawer Germany had pointed out to him. As the Italian sifted through the contents of the drawer searching for batteries, the German tossed a bag at Prussia, who had been staring at the television far longer than necessary.

"Huh? Oh West." He picked up the crumpled bag, and looked at his brother with a weary expression Germany could only recall seeing twice in his life. "What other shit do we need."

"Clothes for Italy and a radio. I know you have a radio down in your basement, and I figured maybe you'd find some clothes that are too small for you to wear. I already looked through my things, but I couldn't find much. And even then they won't fit him."

"So we're bringing him with?" Prussia asked, turning his gaze back to the television screen, which was now broadcasting the remains of a village in god-knows-where, destroyed after some sort of tsunami.

"Of course we're bringing him with!" Germany answered, a little surprised that Prussia was implying that they wouldn't.

"West...we don't have a lot of food and water with us."

"Are you actually saying we should leave him behind?" Germany's tone was one of disbelief.

"No, God no. What kind of cruel, sick bastard do you think I am? I was thinking we send him back to Italy." Germany looked like he was about to interrupt, but Prussia spoke over him, "I was at the bar with Antonio and Francis when we heard about what happened, Toni freaked out and said he was going back to Naples to find Romano. I told him to wait up, that we were going to send Feli back with him, too."

"No." Germany answered. "You're insane if you think I'm going to let him go to Naples of all places."

"I'm sorry, West, but you and I both know that we don't have enough supplies to bring him with us, and Antonio isn't a complete dumb ass, he'll figure something out. I'm sorry it has to go like this, especially since you two just made up and all...but we have to be realistic about things."

"No."

"We can't take him."

Germany looked like he was about to either punch Prussia in the face, cry, or both. "He has to come with us. I don't think I'd be able to live with myself not knowing if he's okay or not."

Prussia lowered his voice, "Sh, don't be so loud, he's right in the kitchen. Do you really want him to hear?"

The German spoke quieter, "We're taking him with and that's final. I'm not losing him for a second time, dammit."

"Life can be a bitch, sometimes, West. Especially life for countries."

"No. No no no no no. He's coming with us, and I don't care what you have to say on the matter."

"West..." Prussia looked like he was being torn apart, "Do you honestly think I want to do this to you two? Do you honestly think this wasn't a hard decision for me to make? I really want to take him with, too. You have to use your head, though. You always get caught up in the moment of things and forget to think it through."

"And you don't?"

"When it comes to situations like this, we both know I'm a lot better at thinking on my feet. It comes with experience."

"Two world wars and I'm not experienced?"

"You don't change much at all, do you?"

Germany looked confused at the question, Prussia elaborated, "Even as a little tiny West you were always thinking you knew what to do, that you had everything covered, that you could do everything on your own. You couldn't. And even now you still think you know everything, and that you can make all your own decisions, and while that may be true about some things, I'm telling you right now that when it comes to this you can't.I know you try and pretend like your emotions never get in the way, but you and I both know that a lot of times they do."

Germany opened his mouth to try and say something, but nothing came to mind.

He's right...but he's still wrong. We have to take Italy with.

"You know, he probably wants to see his brother, anyway." Prussia said, "This way is better for everyone."

Germany lowered his voice so much, it was hardly audible. He really didn't want to chance Italy hearing this, "We don't even know if his brother is alive."

Prussia looked down and sighed, "Even in that case I think he'd still want to be there. To know for himself and to see him one last time."

Germany shut his eyes and a pained expression crossed his face, "I know I'm being incredible selfish, but I still can't let him go. He has to come with us. I don't know what I'll do if I just let him go off and never know what happened to him."

Prussia was silent for a long while, it looked as if he were thinking on something, "Yeah. You're selfish." He gave a small, bitter laugh. Germany couldn't distinguish the reason. "But you're still mein little bruder."

Without much explanation Prussia pulled a cellphone from his pocket and dialed a number. After a few moments of silence how spoke into the phone.

"Hey, it's Gilbert. Just go ahead without Feli, West's being one stubborn son of a bitch...I know, but it's okay because I guess he's more like his awesome big bruder than we thought...yeah, he is selfish, isn't he?"

Germany didn't know why his brother had suddenly changed his mind like that, he didn't want to question it because he was getting what he wanted, but it was so strange. Prussia had just given in. Not to mention he was acting sort of strange when he'd let Germany have it his way.

Prussia hung up the phone, and shook out the plastic bag so to un-wad it.

"Well, I'll go get those clothes and shit." He said, walking to the basement.

Author's note: Whew, long chapter, wasn't it? This was a very important chapter on a few levels, though. And less sad, too. Yay!

If you're wondering what the hell is up with Prussia, and his sort of cryptic-ness at the end, there, there's a reason. You'll find out eventually, (since I haven't really decided when, yet,) but you will find out the whole meaning behind him giving in to easily. (Feel free to guess, if you want. I'm kind of curious as to what people are thinking.)

So, starting with the next chapter we get to go on a fun German road trip! Yup, so fun. This chapter ended up being loads easier to write than the last one because now I have a pretty clear idea on where this is going, give or take a few twists I come up with on the spot. I was going to end this chapter on a psycho cliffhanger, and leave you guys not knowing whether Italy got to come along or not, but I decided that would be really mean of me.

I really can't wait because either next chapter, or the chapter after it we're going to get to some fluff! You really have no idea how many sweet, fluffy, adorable scenes I've been planning out in my head for months, now. My favorite one is going to be really soon here, and it's going to reference back to the prequel in a way. So look forward to that! And if you haven't read the prequel you won't be lost, I promise. You don't need one to understand the other.

I'm also currently writing a high school AU for fun right now, it's also GerIta, because it's my OTP, and the only thing I can seem to do some justice when I write. I'll post that whenever I decide that I like it enough, because it's more of something I'm doing for fun, and it doesn't even have a real plot line at the moment (but it does have a lot of interesting back stories that give it plenty of plot line potential.)

Anyway, ciao for now! (That rhymed! :D) and see you all next chapter!