Dear Italy

Chapter Four

I don't own Hetalia.

"I have a plan." Alfred F. Jones announced to the room full of nations, "But, I'm going to need all of your help." Behind the American was a political map of Germany, hanging down from the ceiling. He looked tired and wearier then the last time Ludwig had seen him a few months ago, was Ivan responsible for that too, he wondered. Elsewhere in the small conference room, Arthur let out a small groan. That made Ludwig frown, the island nation was the only one in the room that still refused to see that Alfred really had matured. "What if we airlifted the supplies West Berlin needs? The air is the only way we'll be able to travel to and back over East Germany."

"But what if Russia counters attack with his own air force?" Mathew, Alfred's twin brother and neighbor to the north, pointed out. The platinum blond was not trying to be a downer, only pointing out what he saw as a logical flaw in his brother's plan. Alfred only smiled at him in return.

"That's where you all fit in. Ivan will be overwhelmed with the sheer amount of countries against him, that he'll surely back down." Alfred said giving everyone his famous 'hero smile' and a thumbs up. Ludwig had to admire the way the American knew when to be serious, and when he could add in his childish flair. Ludwig never could relax his audiences like that.

"I don't know Alfred, Ivan doesn't think like a normal human." Arthur countered, and Alfred's smile turned sour. The other nations/colonies sitting around the blond island nation shifted slightly away, fearing Alfred's wrath.

"Well what's your plan?" Alfred snapped, his arms were crossed and his body tensed as if begging for a fight. "Trying to reason with the Bastard?"

"Diplomacy should be our first priority. You have yet to learn that." The British Empire lectured as if Alfred was still one of his colonies instead of being a nation for a century and a half. Ludwig was glad his own older brother Gilbert had never treated him like that.

"At least I knew what I wanted when I dumped your tea in my harbor." Alfred snarled, Ludwig noticed that the other nations/colonies looked just as confused as he felt. When had Alfred dumping tea into harbors had anything to do with the current issue at hand or diplomacy for that matter? And when had Alfred ever dumped tea into a harbor anyway?

"Alfred and a group of men known as the Sons of Liberty dumped a bunch of British tea into the Boston Harbor before the American Revolution." Mathew whispered while the two continued to fight. "What that has to do with our present situation is a mystery though." Ludwig only shook his head; Alfred had allowed his childish side to rear its ugly face and goading Arthur into a fight because he was mad that the Britt didn't like his idea.

"Enough!" Ludwig shouted finally after a couple minutes of the continued fighting that none of the other nations were willing to stop. The whole room fell silent, since the end of World War Two, he had made it a habit to keep his mouth shut and his head down, fearing rebuking for his previous leaders' actions. "This is my capital at stake here! It will be my people who will suffer, not any of yours! Quit your useless bickering!" Arthur flushed red, while Alfred beamed at Ludwig. Wait, why was Alfred happy? What did the sly dumkopf have planned now, Ludwig wondered.

"What do you propose then, Ludwig?" Alfred asked all traces of his previous argument gone from his voice.

"We try your idea. Negotiations can take too long and I won't let my people suffer." Arthur let out a huff as Ludwig finished, mumbling something under his breath and crossing his arms. Everyone knew full well that it was just because their leaders were on semi good terms with each other now, that didn't mean Arthur had forgiven the Germanic country for London and the other industrial cities Ludwig's Luftwaffe destroyed.

"Can we count you in, Arthur?" the American asked, the Britt sighed before nodding. Despite his current feelings for the nation, Arthur could not and would not allow Ivan to continue to bully all the other nations to get what he wanted.

"I suppose I can't let the Commies win?" Arthur said flustering slightly.

"Alrighty then!" Alfred shouted, raising his fist and bringing it down in a celebratory manner. "We'll have to gather together the necessary supplies for Berlin. How long do you think it will survive before needing the supplies?"

"About a week," Ludwig said,

"Okay, so we've got airplanes already in Germany, we'll bring the supplies there tomorrow and fly them to Berlin as soon as possible." The others in the room nodded. "Meeting adjourned then."

After most of the others had filed out, Ludwig waited patiently for Mathew to finish talking to his brother about the logistics of the air lift between their two countries. He didn't mind waiting, well somewhat; his patience was often tested with the Italies, but whose wasn't?

"We'll figure it out, okay, Mattie. Just as long as you're my copilot, there's nothing we can't do." Alfred declared to his brother, the quiet Canadian smiled and watching the two of them reminded Ludwig of him and his own brother at one point in their lives.

"You know, you're pretty awesome, little dude, almost as awesome as the awsomest person on this planet. Do you know who that is?" Gilbert asked as he patted a young Ludwig's blond head. Gilbird, Gilbert's immortal little yellow chick, rested in Gilbert's own white hair letting out a few peeps while he slept.

"You," The younger Ludwig responded with a laugh and a huge smile. He was so glad that he had his older brother to guide him through how to be a country, he'd heard lots of stories of how others had to learn how to be on their own, a frightful prospect for the young German nation to think about.

"That's right, and I'll always be here to protect you, mein bruder." Gilbert said lowering himself down to his brother's level so that his red eyes looked straight into Ludwig's blue ones.

"Always?" the young nation asked uncertainly.

"Always." Gilbert promised and gave him a huge grin.

How he missed Gilbert since Ivan had taken him away after World War Two, his warm, cheerful attitude had brought in a lot of light into Ludwig's life that Ludwig had to admit he'd taken for granted before. Now he just wished for an hour to talk to his brother and just laugh and drink a beer together like they use to in a not so distant past.

Mathew left the room and Ludwig moved to talk with Alfred. "What was that?" He asked, "You were acting all serious and the you picked a fight with Arthur. Do you want respect or do you want to be seen as an idiot?" Most other countries would never have dared to speak to Alfred like this to his face, but Ludwig had fought against the blond in two bloody wars. They had seen each other at each other's worst and there was a mutual respect between the two of them now.

"I want respect, but more importantly I want others to realize their potential. You are a strong leader; you're good at making sure there's order. But recently you've been a follower; you can never regain your honor by being a follower. I picked a fight with Iggy for the reaction I got from you. You quickly took the meeting over, something you should have been in charge of in the first place seeing as it's your people who are suffering." Ludwig frowned; the dumkopf had outwitted him, and managed to help him gain respect internationally.

"Arthur didn't even realize it, did he? You're smarter then he gives you credit."

"Iggy is blind to things he doesn't want to see. Eventually he'll have to come to terms, but not yet. I don't really care." Alfred shrugged as he spoke about his former caretaker and older brother. Then he was quiet for a moment, and then he opened his mouth to speak again. Anger had entered his blue eyes. "It's not fair." The nonchalance had left his voice, being replaced by coldness. A coldness that was not something Ludwig would have categorized as a characteristic of the American. It was like ice, and a chill had entered the room, running down Ludwig's spine. "Ivan has not right to be doing this to you, or anyone else" Was this bitter iciness a result of the feud Alfred now had with his former ally? And if this was the beginning of it, what would the middle bring, or the end?

"It's not a matter of right or wrong, it's now a matter of fixing the issue." Ludwig then said as an after note "Vor können viele Leute sterben."

"Huh?"

"How many German speakers came to your country?"

"Lost count," Alfred said with a shrug. "Too many people all at once. It was overwhelming at times." His dark expression had left for the time being and normal, cheerful Alfred had returned.

"I should go." Ludwig said, "My people need me."

"Will you be at the air fields tomorrow?"

"Ich weiss nicht." Then Ludwig left the meeting room.

Lieber Italien,

I suppose you've heard about what is going on in West Berlin and the Soviet blockade. We think we've come up with a solution as to how to get around it. But I can't tell you any more than that, sorry. How is your economy coming? I miss your company a lot. Sorry the letter is so short, but I have to get to the airfields.

Ludwig

The airfield was crowded with human aviators from the newly formed American Air Force, preparing for the first flights to get around the Russian blockade in a desperate, it seemed, attempt to save his people. "Ludwig, I knew you'd be here." Alfred said, his presence didn't surprise the German one bit. Wherever his soldiers went, Alfred went too. "Your plane is in the hanger." He jerked his thumb to the metal gray building behind him. Ludwig wasted no time making his way over to it.

The plane inside was his baby, his Messerschmitt Bf 110, that had been confiscated from him after his surrender in May of 1945. It was a propeller plane originally, used by his people in the early years of the war, that Ludwig had modified himself so that it ran off a jet engine instead of the propeller. He noticed that the black and red swastika was missing from where it had been painted on near the tail of the plane. Ludwig couldn't say he would mourn the loss of the symbol either, he would really just like to forget about that chapter of his life. But what did surprise him was the black eagle crest of the Prussian flag painted on it; he technically still did not have a national flag as he was still controlled by the Allies. Though Alfred had hinted at one of their last meetings that he was putting pressure on Francis and Arthur to just let West Germany be its own country.

"Like it?" Alfred asked, Ludwig stiffened slightly, he had not heard the normally noisy American come up behind him. "I didn't think the other symbol was appropriate for you." Ludwig nodded in agreement.

"Ja, danke."

"I thought you'd like it, I actually did the painting myself. Think of it as a gesture of good will." Ludwig not sure how to respond looked around for the blond Britt who always seemed to be following Alfred, or was it the other way around?

"Where's Arthur?"

"Hamburg. That's where the RAF is taking off from." Alfred gave the plane a light hit. "Gear up, we'll be leaving in an hour." Ludwig sighed, well at least the American had given him that much warning.

Author Note (the part of the story where the author come out and write a silly note): Well, it's not three weeks this time. And to be honest I had most of this written a while ago, it was more just trying to find the time to type it up. I had an enormous paper in English, there, that's my excuse. Ha, ha, anyway, I did have to do more research for this chapter then the other three cause I couldn't mess up the Berlin Airlift. A Messerschmitt Bf110 was really used by Germany in World War two by the way, it's a pretty cool plane. Any way onto the translations.

Translations:

Dumkopf: idiot, stupid, dumb head

Vor können viele Leute sterben.: Before many people can die.

Ich weiss nicht.: I don't know