They ran.

Elizaveta flung open the door they had entered and sprinted down the hallway, dragging Gilbert with her. The rooms flashed past and she ducked into the first one she saw that had what she was looking for. She slammed the door behind her and quickly started pushing a dresser in front of it.

Gilbert cradled his bleeding arm, panting from the sprint. "What'd you make me run away for? I can still hold a sword, and I never run away from a fight."

Elizaveta pushed another chair across the room to join the barricade. "We're not running away," she grunted, "We're regrouping. We have to come up with a plan. I thought you liked strategy."

"Tch. Alright, alright."

She opened a drawer and pulled out a shirt that she ripped into strips, then held her hands out to Gilbert expectantly. "Come on then."

He reluctantly extended his arm. She wiped away the blood and reset the splint.

"Ow!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby." She continued to re-wrap it as tightly as possible to make sure it would stay in place.

As soon as she was finished, he snatched his arm back and rubbed it tenderly.

"… Thanks."

She put her hands on her hips. "You're welcome," she said testily. "Now let's-"

Crack.

Wood splintered as the tip of a blade appeared through the door behind them.

Elizaveta looked wildly around for anything of use. She riffled through drawers, cleaned out shelves, desperately searching for anything that could possibly give them an advantage. Gilbert followed suit as the hacking at the door grew more frenzied. The hole was getting bigger.

"Think! Think!" Elizaveta demanded frantically. "We have to think of something! There is always something! We just have to-"

"Liz! Shut it! I know exactly what to do." He grinned evilly and pointed. On the bed-stand sat a bottle of vodka and a pipe.

She wanted to punch him in the face out of sheer exasperation.

"We are not drinking and smoking away our last moments, Gil!" she yelled. "You're such a-"

He clapped a hand over her mouth. She was about to bite it when he released her. "Lizzie. Shut up and listen to me for two minutes, okay?"

He grabbed the bottle of vodka and removed the cap. "Like this." He took a leftover strip of fabric from the ripped shirt and stuffed it into the neck of the bottle, then picked up the matches from behind the pipe.

"… Oh."

"Yeah. See? Give me some credit, okay?"

"Alright, alright. You're not a total idiot."

He folded his arms. "Admit it. I'm brilliant."

"Just throw it already!"

"Not until-"

A large section of the wooden door suddenly splintered as it was kicked inwards. Elizaveta ran to pry open the door on the other end of the room as Gilbert lit the fabric and hurled the bottle at the barricade.

Neither of them looked back as the flames exploded into existence, completely consuming the wooden furniture. Elizaveta had purposely chosen a hiding place with an alternate escape route. She and Gilbert bolted from the room and down another hallway running parallel to the previous.

They slowed down a reasonable distance away. Gilbert glanced back at his handiwork and grinned, looking at Elizaveta expectantly.

"Okay, okay! Don't look at me like that," she stifled a laugh. "You're brilliant. Happy?"

He gave her a playful nudge. "Yes."

She shoved him back. "Forgive me?"

"For what part?"

"… All of it."

He pursed his lips, apparently deep in thought. "… Yeah, okay. You owe me a big favour someday though."

"Deal."

He grinned. "I totally had a legitimate excuse to set one of the most important buildings in Germany on fire. That's awesome."

She snickered, watching as the flames licked the edges of the door frame and started to spread down the hall towards them.

"We should probably get out of here," Elizaveta remarked.

"Yeah, prob-" Gilbert cut himself off mid-sentence. "Oh my- Verdammt!"

"What?"

But she saw. A figure had appeared, emerging from the flames, throwing off the thick, heavy coat he had used for protection.

"Nien!" Gilbert ran at the Russian, accenting each vicious hack at him with a furiously screamed word: "Why. Won't. You. Just. Die?"

"Gil, wait!" Elizaveta tried to grab at him as he ran past. "The support beams-"

Maybe it was Gilbert's sheer determination and will. Maybe Ivan had been injured or disoriented from forcing himself through the fire. Maybe it was a combination of the two. Either way, the albino had somehow caught the Russian off guard and managed to twist his sword completely out of his grasp.

It clattered to the floor a moment before an earsplitting crack caused all three of them to completely forget what they were doing and look up. The flames had eaten through one of the massive wooden beams that spanned the hallway, holding up the roof. It fell.

The three scrambled desperately out of the way as the flaming ceiling came crashing down around them. Elizaveta dived to the side to avoid a particularly large piece of roof, but was pinned painfully by her leg by the accompanying debris. She grunted, trying to pull herself free once heavy objects had stopped falling from the sky. Luckily, it had started to rain and the fire in the now-exposed hallway was starting to die down.

"Liz? Liz!" The call seemed muffled and far off. Her eyes watered as she tried to spot any movement through the increasing smoke and dust.

"Here! I'm here!" she croaked as loudly as she could. Her leg wouldn't obey her no matter how forcefully she tugged on it. She thought her ankle was most likely sprained.

She him approaching, finally, and breathed a sigh of relief. Until of course she looked up and realised it wasn't Gilbert.

"That's convenient." She redoubled her efforts to free herself as he peered down at her curiously. The Russian was bleeding from a wound on his side, as well as one just above his left eye. The large coat he always wore was gone and Elizaveta could better see his physique: thick and muscular, but condensed, like a bear. He was weaponless now, but she could only watch as he strode over and ripped a section of pipe from one of the ruined walls.

Elizaveta pushed herself up as much as she could with one hand, the other gripping the sword that she had been so desperate to keep a hold of even as the building collapsed around braced herself and awkwardly managed to deflect the pipe en route to her skull.

"GILBERT!" she yelled angrily. "Little help here?"

"I'm coming, woman!" came the equally angry reply. She saw him shove a of wall aside and unsheathe his sword as he ran at Ivan. He blocked the pipe and aimed a fast kick to the other man's bleeding side. As his foe crumpled, Gilbert wedged his shoulders under the debris trapping Elizaveta and forced himself to stand. The pressure on her ankle slowly released and she scrambled to her feet, careful to not put too much weight on her injured leg.

She braced herself and blocked another blow from the heavy metal pipe. Gilbert struck at him as she defended, and this time Ivan was not quick enough to avoid it because of his injuries. The Russian's left shoulder was slashed open.

Ivan retaliated instinctively as he stumbled backwards, clutching at his wound. The pipe came around again and connected with Gilbert's ribs. He dropped his sword and fell.

Elizaveta took the opportunity of Ivan being injured, unstable, and distracted. She leapt off her one leg and tackled him to the ground. She stomped a foot on his wrist to make him release the pipe, then forced his arm painfully behind his back to immobilise him.

"One more move and I break your arm," she growled. "Gil, help me tie him up."

Gilbert got shakily to his feet, coughing, and made his way over to her. He unfastened his belt and used it to bind Ivan's upper arms to his body. Elizaveta did the same with his lower arms.

"We should kill him," Gilbert said quietly, with barely contained fury.

Ivan glared at her as she gagged him, then pulled him to his feet. "I know," she said angrily. "But he's a high-ranking General. We can use him to call off the other attacks on Germany."

Gilbert clenched his fists. "… Fine," he said shortly. Keeping a hand firmly around one of the belts on Ivan's back, he shoved him roughly forward to make him walk. He grabbed Elizaveta's arm with his other hand and looped it around his shoulders, supporting her as she stumbled along beside him.

They made their way out of the building like that. Ivan was handed over to Ludwig, and Gilbert and Elizaveta joined Francis and Antonio to have their injuries attended to. They were each presented with medals of honour by the Kaiser himself before collapsing, exhausted, into their hospital beds.

"This is yours, by the way."

Gilbert reached over from his cot to pass her something, then turned over so that his back was to her and settled down to sleep.

Elizaveta recognized it as the paper he had taken from Ludwig's tent so long ago. It was an old photograph. She remembered her mother taking it when she was about seven years old. It featured her and Gilbert, both dressed as boys, and a three-year-old Ludwig. They each had a wooden sword and almost identical wide grins on their dirt-stained faces. Elizaveta smiled to herself and slipped the photo under her pillow before falling asleep.


((THE END jk there's an epilogue I'll upload in a few minutes but oh my goodness I'm finally finished my first ever fanfiction I'm so happyyy Thanks SOOOOO MUCH for everyone who reviewed and favourited this. It gave me the confidence to continue. This is the first thing I've written that I've actually finished too. Thanks again for taking the time to read it, and I hope you got at least a bit of enjoyment out of it! :D))