You know that I care what happens to you,
and I know that you care for me too,
so I don't feel alone,
or the weight of the stone.

Ivan greeted her with a loving warmth in his voice and smile that he seemed to save only for her. "Ah, Katyusha, I was worried you would not be showing up again today."

"I feel better now," she replied vaguely, trying to return the smile as genuinely as she could.

"You look well," Natalya commented without looking at her. She was busy glaring threateningly at someone else across the room.

The Ukrainian woman glanced around at her fellow nations, eventually finding Ludwig. He was scolding Feliciano. She quickly looked away. She had told herself she might talk to him today, but she now realized with a sinking feeling that that wasn't going to happen. The meeting went by as usual, but Yekaterina hardly heard any words from the grumbles and shouts of the arguments that went on. Soon it was over— with nothing resolved, of course. She stayed behind again in the almost-deserted room, even though there wasn't much to pick up. Her pulse quickened when she heard his voice again.

"You really should be careful! You know how protective Herr Switzerland is of his sister!"

"But, Germany, Lili is—"

"That's enough! I'm tired of hearing from you for one day! Mein Gott, you make me want to pull out my hair sometimes." Ukraine's lips tried to pull up in a grin, but she managed to keep a straight face, with some effort.

The Italian man suddenly sounded cheerful. "Hey, Germany, it's— ah!" When Yekaterina looked up, the German's hand was clenched into a fist, in it a good thirty percent of the other man's auburn hair. The little curl that she had often wondered about poked through his fingers.

"Italy, go home." Ludwig's face was red with either embarrassment or rage. Probably both, she thought.

"Y-Yes sir," the other mumbled before the hand released him and he scampered away. Yekaterina, trying to seem casual, carefully looked back down at the book her sister had left behind—Marriage, Property, And Law In Late Imperial Russia. She could feel his attention shift to her, and she instantly asked herself why she had to stay behind for so long.

He cleared his throat. "I'm, uh, sorry about that."

She glanced up, her gaze instantly meeting his. She felt an odd terror. "H-Hm?"

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "He's like a dog sometimes, ja? And these meetings seem to get to me in the worst ways."

She tried to look friendly, managing a very weak smile. "I know what you mean."

After a pause, he began again, "You don't look like you've been sleeping well, again." He took a step closer.

"D-Do I?" she managed, painfully aware that she was blushing.

"Ja. Why is that, Frau Ukraine?"

"It's nothing, just a lot of work in the fields—"

"It is not the planting season or the harvesting season, Frau Ukraine." He frowned slightly.

She just stared at him, having been caught in a lie and not having anything to say. This didn't seem to bother him—he had seen a lot of wide-eyed fear in his life—and he stared back, waiting for her to make a second excuse.

"Frau Ukraine?"

"T-Ta?"

"You look frightened." He took another step. This time she didn't respond. She could have turned to run, but the sadness she saw in his face kept that urge at bay in the back of her mind. When Ivan had been a child, he would often run to her crying when he was sad, but this seemed less like sadness and more like...

Deprivation, she concluded, before becoming confused at the very thought.

"Mr. Germany, you don't look well, either," she returned, bravely (at least for her) returning his concerned gaze.

"I know. And I know why." A third step—now they were less than an arm's length away from each other. When she didn't speak, he went on: "Frau Ukraine, the war is over." He suddenly seemed hesitant, unsure of what to say next. He paused, taking a deep breath. "Our… our people have made peace."

"Y-Yes, you are right," she replied softly, wanting him to continue.

"They have made peace," he repeated, pausing again for a few seconds. "Why haven't we?"

"H-Haven't we?—"

"Nein. This past week, it's been 'How afraid will Ukraine be of me, today?'. I can't stand it anymore." His face was red now, and he was avoiding her eyes. That's usually me, she noticed. "It's my fault, I know. I realize what I did. I know how vile my intentions were in the past—"

"Mr. Germany…" He stopped, looking now at her face. When Ivan had come to her crying, as a child, the first thing she would do was envelope him in a hug. So, now, it only came as instinct to her as she took the last step forward and wrapped her arms around Ludwig's torso. That tingling, electric feeling from before came again, only it seemed like this time it was increased by one thousand. He made a startled noise and seemed to freeze for a second, but soon she felt his hands on her back, awkwardly pulling her closer to him. He could feel her heart beating faster than it should be and he realized that his was as well. It was nice, though, so very nice… He sighed with contentment, putting his face against the crook of her neck. He could smell the faintest hint of perfume and fresh country air—

"Sestra! Come!" Natalya's voice was like a bullet piercing through the closed door. Yekaterina heard Ludwig groan, and pulled away from him.

"I'm sorry," she said, stepping away.

"Wait, Frau Ukraine." he said, moving closer again and touching her shoulder, "A-Are we… friends, now?"

She smiled, curing the look of anxiety in his expression, "Unless you don't want to be, Mr. Germany, ta."

He nodded and, red faced, opened his mouth to speak again. Natalya's voice, now furious with impatience and worry, called again.

"Katyusha! Get out of the meeting room! We're having tea at your house today, remember!"

Yekaterina sighed. "Bud zdorov, Mr. Germany," she said softly, making her way towards the door.

"Auf Wiedersehen," he replied, watching her go, wonder touching his voice. How could two people raised by this woman turn out like Russia and Belarus had? He shrugged off the thought and quickly gathered his things, smiling as he did so. He was so happy… Happy. When was the last time he had felt so good? He didn't try to remember. Ludwig walked out the door as quickly as he could, hoping to see her one more time before going home.