(February 2022 – a week and a half later)

"MEIN GOTT!"

Prussia stared at his cell phone, his mind not believing what his eyes were reading. It was another text message from his fellow BTT bud, Spain, and this one was, well, unbelievable and downright UN-awesome.

The United Nations building was no longer in New York City. In fact, according to Spain, the construction of the new building, in Quebec City, Quebec, Canada, had started shortly two years prior and was now completed. On top of that, his fellow BTT member was now receiving an invitation to join the G8. America had finally officially bowed out after giving both Greece and Spain one hell of a bailout. Their economies were faring better with the influx of cash and manufacturing sites.

All of this was a huge conflict of awesome and not awesome for the albino. America wasn't the biggest airhead in the world like everyone thought he was. Hell, it was America who had called it after World War I on the effectiveness of the League of Nations, and it was his President Wilson's brain child! He'd refused to join upon reading the wording because of how ineffective the first attempt to unite the nations of the world was going to be, not to mention it was against the Monroe Doctrine he had agreed upon under President James Monroe. His Congress agreed. No other nation could say that! Plus, there was the city of King of Prussia in Pennsylvania. How could Prussia not like America for that?

Oh, it wasn't to say that Gilbert was completely unhappy with some of the developments. Spain and Greece were in dire need of some kind of financial assistance, and his younger brother's government faced the brunt of each and every request for money. Ludwig prevailed, despite many hardships since the recessions hit, but, with their cousin Austria breathing down their necks about money, bailing the European nations out almost constantly left Ludwig more than cranky, irritable, and with what seemed like a terminal migraine. America handing out some much needed money was a boon, but there was the question where the younger nation was finding the resources. The last anyone knew, the exuberant nation's economy still limped along, and the political and religious drama continued to compound an expedient recovery. The albino wondered just how many Americans were complaining right now about the amount of money spent and donated to Greece, Spain, and all of Africa. Sure, many Americans didn't mind helping other countries. It was one of the great things about U.S. citizens. When their neighbors needed a hand, if there was anyone in need, the vast majority Americans rose up to the occasion, heedless of their fellow compatriots' complaints. Haiti and Japan were among such recipients.

'How can this be happening?' Prussia ran one hand through his hair and pulled. Not tugged but pulled. America, Alfred, was his bro in crime, much like how he, Francis and Antonio were the Bad Touch Trio. He, Denmark, and America made up the Awesome Trio. It just how it was, and he'd not heard from the younger nation in what felt like decades. He yearned to see Alfred, to get together with their pal Denmark, and to just paintball the crap out of the majority of the European union. His fingers curled around his cell phone tightly and dangerously.

"What is the matter this time?" Austria demanded in his usual haughty tone. He stuck his head into Prussia's room. "Hungary turn you down again? You should know better by now. She's not into you."

The albino narrowed his eyes at his, er, well, cousin. The music-lover stared down his nose. Prussia wanted to punch him.

"Nein," he growled. He shook his head, calming a little. "Nein. Amerika . . ."

"Amerika?" At this, Austria blinked. He also sobered when he noticed the phone in Prussia's hand. "I see. What is the news this time?"

"New U.N. building in Canada," Prussia answered, still growling. He sprang from his bed. "Started two years ago. Whole world is now just finding out. Totally UN-awesome! Where is Germany?"

"He is . . . speaking with his boss." Austria followed him. "There are . . . Americans still in his lands."

"They can't leave," Prussia said. "Not until we get some answers."

His rage burned in his blood as he stormed from his room and sought his younger brother out . . .

He really hadn't wanted to be involved in a squabble between America and England. He truly had not, and so had his boss. England was a powerhouse in his own right. A bit stuffy and arrogant but no one wanted to mess the island nation. He'd built himself into being the world's largest military and navy. America didn't stand a chance against him, but the youth was certainly determined to try.

Except for France, who was probably the world's biggest masochist. Anyone with two eyes could see just how much the French nation was smitten with England, despite Arthur's lousy treatment of him (and everyone else) and the island nation's greediness.

'Perhaps that's why he's backing Alfred,' Prussia mused, sinking into his cot. While his country wasn't getting involved too directly in America's revolution, his boss had decided to send some help. 'Francis will do anything to get that pipsqueak riled up and to notice him.'

He'd just closed his eyes when he caught the faint hint of footsteps approaching his tent. Weariness gone, he slowly, methodically rose up from his cot. He picked up his blade in the same movement.

Whoever it was stopped just outside his tent. Prussia held his breath, waiting. Then a soft cough escaped the person, and he exhaled, recognizing the tone and quality of said person's voice.

'Alfred,' he muttered in his head. He relaxed and waited.

But the boy said nothing. Instead, he stood outside the tent for several minutes, muffling coughs and kicking his feet around. Prussia narrowed his eyes and was about to snap something at America for interrupting him. The entire time, something felt horribly wrong and off, but Prussia, for the life of him, couldn't pinpoint what it was.

'What does he want to be disturbing the awesome me?'

Finally, America slipped away, a soft hiccup escaping him. Prussia stared where the younger nation had so obviously stood for several minutes, mystified and annoyed.

"Impetuous youth," he grumbled to himself before settling back into his cot.

'What did I miss back then?' Prussia thought to himself. 'What happened to bring him there that night but not for him to say anything? Why didn't I ask anything back then? What is going on with you, Alfred?'

He marched forward with dogged determination, Austria following close behind.

xXx-Dark-Intentions-xXx

Austria kept his silence as he followed his cousin toward Germany's office. Word of the new U.N. building had reached him, too, and he wasn't sure what to make of this latest revelation. Shock was the only word to describe how he felt, and the petty part of him hoped no one had put a single scratch on his piano when they moved it from New York to Canada.

'I don't even know what to do.' The frugal nation wrung his hands. 'How I wish I could just go to my piano and play, pretend this isn't happening.'

He sighed then pinched the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses back into place, knowing retreating to his piano wouldn't solve much of anything at this point. America's actions confused him, they confused the rest of the world, and no one knew what to make of anything that was happening. A small part of Austria insisted America's actions were nothing more than elaborate prank, one that had gone on for far too long, but an overwhelming sensation of wrong and off left him sick to his stomach even contemplating everything as a prank. America was many things – childish, over bubbly and idiotic at times – but one thing Austria had always known was that the younger nation would stick to his morals and convictions no matter what. Once he decided upon a course of action, he saw it through to the very end.

And Austria, Roderich, had a grudging respect for Alfred and his citizens. After World War I . . .

'He could have joined England and France in blaming Germany for my actions,' Austria told himself. 'He could have made Ludwig's punishment all the worst by demanding reparations for himself for all the trouble Ludwig caused him, but he didn't. He didn't believe in it, not after what Britain and France said they wanted, and wanted nothing to do with it or so I was told. How was he able to forgive so easily? Or did he really forgive that easily?' A sigh escaped him. 'I'm not sure why he would have. Germany intentionally targeted his merchant ships and tried to get his neighbor and cousin to turn against him at the time. Was he truly trying to be neutral or was it all a ploy? I'm not sure even I know anymore.'

He almost lost himself in thought, in memories, but Gilbert kicking in Ludwig's door brought him up short.

"America," the albino nation began.

"Ja, he is here," Germany mumbled. Instead of sitting his back straight and his posture perfect, Ludwig rested his head on his desk, his arms folded in front of him. "His delegation is on its vay."

"But he isn't."

"Nein," Germany answered. "As vith zhe other countries he's visited, he is claiming illness and cannot come to zhe meeting."

Inside the door, Austria fidgeted. He'd never seen either of his cousins look so desperate (Prussia) or so despondent (Germany). Granted, he didn't quite have the same relationship with America that they'd had so he didn't quite understand their emotional turmoil completely. A part of him, though, whispered he did understand. America, while loud and often times annoying, had a habit of doing whatever he could to put a smile on someone's face, even if he looked like a fool in the end. The boy apparently had no shame.

"We must," Prussia began.

"Must vhat?" German asked. He only lifted his gaze up to his older brother, not his head. Austria moved forward. "Get there before he leaves? How do you propose ve do that? The delegation vishes to see all of us. Ve cannot leave to ambush him at his own embassy. By the time ve get there, he vill be gone, just as he vas in all zhe other countries. He is making it a point to not see us."

"That is not good enough," Austria snapped. He slammed his hands on Germany's desk, surprising himself with his own actions. In his own right, he couldn't help it. His heart fluttered with fear and anticipation of what was going to come. "We must do something. We can't just stand around and talk about it."

"And vhat do you suggest ve do?" Now Germany sat up straight, his blue eyes glittering. With anger or curiosity, Austria could not say. Reading Germany wasn't as easy as everyone thought it to be.

"Greece and Japan, they call for a world conference, yes?" Austria pulled back, folded his arms across his chest, and tapped his foot. "But no one will do it, hrm? You can, though."

"Me?" At that, Germany blinked.

"America calls for a world conference, you maintain the order. Isn't that what you two agreed upon so long ago? He knows . . ." The realization slammed into Austria's chest, and he had to pause a moment to catch his breath. "He knows no one will take him seriously if he tries so he lets you do all the shouting and getting everyone in line. Is that what that has been all along? You two worked so very well together, once upon a time. A man on the moon? Who would have thought it then? I wouldn't have, and then the way you two work so well together at the conferences while seemingly not? You two have been better friends than what anyone ever realized."

"Perhaps." Germany grinned, if only slightly. He turned his head away, his cheeks a little pink at Austria's proclamation.

"Well then," Austria sniffed. "If that's the case, you should be able to call a world conference, too, and have the same results as America."

"Maybe . . . I shall at least try."

"Call his embassy, too," Prussia insisted. "Get him on the phone. Don't let him leave without us seeing him first. At least invite him over for a meal or something."

"I shall try to do that, too."

Germany picked up his official phone and started to dial. Austria backed away and tugged on Prussia to do the same. They had at least convinced Ludwig to try. And if there was anyone else in the world that had the same dogged determination as America, it was Germany.

"I'll go prepare some food," he said, stepping towards the door. Germany nodded and shooed him out with his free hand.

"Food? At a time like this?" Prussia demanded.

"Yah." Austria sniffed. "America likes my cooking. Always has. Told me once it was better than England's."

"Everyone's cooking is better than England's," Prussia retorted, but he cracked a smile.

Austria returned it without much feeling. Somehow, their inevitable failure loomed over them like a stifling, oppressive blanket. But, if there was anything Austria ever learned from observing America and his interactions with the rest of the world, it was how to be just as determined as the other guy.

xXx-Dark-Intentions-xXx

Germany tapped the end of his pen against his desk, waiting for someone at the American embassy to pick up the phone. By intuition alone, he sensed his boss, a few of their own ambassadors, and the American delegates coming towards his house. America, while in his lands, was most decidedly not with them and giving off some strange, dark vibes. Those vibes skewed Germany's senses, his head pounding from whatever effort America was putting into his actions along with his usual stresses from the day.

Vibes. They were the only way for Ludwig to describe the wrongness and off about what America was doing. The younger nation had somehow become imbalanced, but which way his actions would swing remained the mystery. If he changed his mind about suicide and decided to declare war against China . . .

'I will side with him,' Germany decided. 'He stood by me when no one else wanted to. It is the least I can do to repay him. But I must first know what he is up to. And vhy vould he vant to declare var on China, of all nations? North Korea or even Russia, I can understand, but China? It makes no sense.'

By the fourth ring, an answering machine picked up. Germany resisted the urge to curse under his breath.

'Diplomacy,' he reminded himself. 'Diplomacy. America is not Italy.'

"Er, hello, Amerika," he began. Oh, how he hated talking on the phone sometimes! "I vas hoping you and I could talk. I . . ." He shook his head. "I vant to say I'm sorry for vhat I said the last time I saw you. I vas not feeling too good myself that day. Ish no excuse, I know. I vish to know vhat is going on. Vhatever it ish, know that I . . . am grateful for all you have done for me. It ishn't alvays easy to remember the good you have done . . . and know I vill never forget all that you have done for me. It vas . . . fun vorking on your space program together. Maybe ve could try and revive it again, ja? I am certain I vill see you vhen your delegation arrives, but if not, I hope you hear this. Ve need to hold a vorld conference, and ve need you present. I . . . vill let you know vhen it ish happening. Ja? Ja." He nodded, embarrassment burning his face. "I hope to hear from you soon. Auf Wiedersehen."

Germany hung up the phone, nausea rolling around in his gut.

If it hadn't been for America after World War I, England and France would have destroyed Germany. The blond nation knew this, understood this, and admired/adored America for it. America had funneled funds to him to keep him afloat. Inflation in his lands had been unbearable, but when America's own economy crashed, well, Germany had been as every bit desperate as his leaders. He didn't hate his Jewish denizens, but they had been so easy to blame at the time.

'I do not blame him for what happened. I blame myself. For being so weak and so . . . unlike-able.'

He snapped his head up. The American delegates and his boss had arrived at his home. They weren't at the door, but he sensed them all the same.

'Time to see what is going to happen.'

Germany smoothed back his hair and glanced at his clock. As much as he hated about what was to happen next, he still had no choice with the meeting.

'Time to get this party started, as America would say.'

He stood up and went to the door. Bright evening sunlight poured in, causing his boss and their American guests to look more like silhouettes than actual people. He tried to plaster on a smile but was certain he'd just managed to make his scary Germany face, as Italy would put it.

"Dude, what's up with your face?"

Germany blinked, his smile slipping away. America stood less than a meter away from him, a puzzled and concerned expression on his face. He crossed his arms and scowled.

"Vhat do you mean vhat ish vrong vith my face?" he demanded.

"You look like you took a huge bite of a lemon," the American answered. "Like you're not having any fun at all." He glanced over at their bosses, who appeared as nothing more than silhouettes against the windows, then leaned with what Germany presumed to be a conspiratorial wink and whispered, "It's okay. I'm not having any fun, either. This is boring."

"Boring but necessary," Germany growled. Though the two had long since worked out their initial issues after World War II and had made some rather spectacular leaps and bounds in engineering - America's curiosity knew no bounds, it seemed - there were still times when he found the boisterous nation to be . . . too much, more so than Italy. "It ish vhat being a nation ish about."

"Yeah, I know," America said with a dismissive wave a hand. "Still, it's weird when you try to force a smile onto your face. Doesn't look right."

"Oh . . ." He looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"You know you don't have to fake a smile around me, right?" America asked.

"You realize I am required to smile every now and then, ja?" Germany snapped back.

"Oh really?" America raised an eyebrow at him, a smile playing about his lips. Envy gnawed at him. The young nation made it look so simple, so easy.

"Just . . . shut up." He massaged his temples.

"I will if you tell me one thing."

"And that ish?"

"Is it true? That people from East Germany can relocate permanently here once more?"

Germany paused. He, too, had heard that the announcement had been made.

"I honestly don't know."

"Oh . . . Want to check it out?"

He opened his mouth to say 'no'. The last thing he wanted to do was get his hopes up over nothing. His country had been divided since the end of World War II, his brother taking an opposing view on politics, and their parting words had been less than kind. America's eyes, bright and curious, drew forth something he never expected.

"Sure." He nodded. "Why not?"

It's been a long, long three and a half years since I lost the original chapter six to this story as well as the interlude, Chapter seven, and the beginnings of Chapter 14. I know what the next interlude is going to be and that Chapter Seven focuses on Italy and Romano. Beyond that, I don't know when I'll get to update again as I've got my chapter list in a different location from where I currently reside.

What has happened? Flash drive crashed, to never be revived again, and I've moved. A lot. Like from Washington state to Pennsylvania to Oklahoma back to Michigan back to Oklahoma and finally landing in Louisiana. Oh, and I've published three original stories to Kindle, Smashwords, and NOOK (NOOK sales are currently suspended while I try an experiment with Kindle).

So end of chapter references, mainly for Prussia and Germany.

During the American Revolution, the founding fathers sought aid from both Prussia and France in order to gain independence. Prussia, due to its current relations with England, opted out BUT they sent one of their best generals over to train revolutionaries. The training was rough, rigorous, and, at one point, the Americans trained by the Prussian general were given no ammo and had to use their bayonets alone. If not for that, the colonies may not have survived as many battles as they did.

For Germany, I have it on good authority from a German exchange student that, after World War I, the U.S. bankrolled Germany. We were paying the struggling Germany's debts to England and France. It didn't necessarily help German citizens at the time, but it was still something. When our economy tanked, so did theirs, which aided in giving rise to one Adolph Hitler.

ETA: I did take this chapter down to fix it up, expand upon it. I wasn't totally happy with it, and I do want those who are following to take a gander at the additions. Oh, and I'm back in Oklahoma. Still publishing and really languishing on this particular project.

What has been added? Doubts about America's forgiveness of Germany after World War One. It's quite debatable so adding to Austria's confusion seemed necessary.

And Ludwig's remembrance of what would be the fall of the Berlin Wall as well as mentioning working with America on space projects. After World War II and American soldiers being stationed in Germany and fraternizing with the people, a lot of misconceptions started to disappear. We might be on shaky ground with our German allies, but I have a feeling it will always hold strong.

Thanks for reading!