Germany sat numbly in the back of the soldier wagon. Italy was crying softly from Canada's hodgepodge attempt at trying to put him back together. He felt grateful for it, even if it wasn't much. He could feel both Japan and Italy leaning against him, sharing what warmth the three of them had. He was also grateful for Canada lending him his coat. He knew that when they stopped again, he would need it back, but he relished the warmth while he had it.
He glanced outside absentmindedly, seeing snow flurrying quickly by. The sky was white, the only thing breaking that white being the black and ragged branches of dead trees, but those images lasted for mere moments. He let out a sigh and glanced downward, seeing Japan breathing softly, staring out the back. Italy was asleep, his breath shaky still.
He spotted Canada curled up on a nearby seat, staring out the window. His jaw was set, and his lips pursed as he stared, as if aware of how hard that had been for all of them.
He felt the truck turn around a corner. He stiffened, trying to stay as straight as possible to not bother Japan or Italy. They where going slower now, pulling over hills and such, before it came to a stop. Canada gently took his coat back and put it on -guiltily, almost- and sat near the door. Germany stiffened warily, and watched the door.
After a few minutes it opened. Russia stood at the door. A cold air filtered in as he entered. He glanced at Canada.
"America needs you."
"Bu-"
"Go!" He exclaimed.
Canada quickly left, casting a look of disdain into the back as he left. Germany watched, before glancing up at Russia. He glared and gritted his teeth, trying to look menacing. After a few moments, Russia strode closer, grabbing some of the hair on his head and slamming the back of his head into the cab. Germany grunted, screwing his eyes shut as he was forced to stand awkwardly.
He peeled his eyes open when he heard shuffling. He saw Japan move to sit in front of Italy, staring at Russia warily. Russia kept one hand pinning his head to the cab, before the other hit his throat. Germany coughed, trying to hunch over as he felt the urge to retch.
Suddenly he felt someone squeezing his throat. His eyes widened as Russia started to squeeze. He writhed, kicking out, but Russia's grip was much too strong. He remained pinned to the back of the cab.
He choked, continuing to try to pull away. He could feel his strength draining quickly, red flashes appearing before his eyes. He heard Japan gasp, and Italy seemed to wake. But he kept his eyes glued on Russia's face.
The other nation's expression was hardened, his teeth gritted and his eyes narrowed. Germany glared back, feeling his mouth begin to foam slightly as he attempted to breathe.
"Doitsu!" Japan cried.
"Germany!?" He heard Italy cry.
"I-Talia..." He croaked, struggling desperately to free himself. "Ja-pan..."
Out of the corner of his eye he could see Japan and Italy sitting in shock and confusion. Italy was staring with wide eyes, and it looked like he was silently crying, his mouth agape. Japan looked almost exactly the same, shocked and terrified.
Germany felt as if his lungs where beginning to pull taut, perhaps even shrinking. At this point Russia began to shake him. He could feel his head hit the back of the cab roughly, pain arcing through his skull repeatedly. He heard Italy begin to sob at the violence, Japan trying to quiet him.
As soon as Germany began to black out, the hands dissapeared, and he was thrown to the floor. He could feel his heart thumping quickly, his head aching. He opened his eyes after a moment to see Russia standing over him, facing Japan and Italy. Japan was sitting in front of the trembling nation protectively, glaring at Russia and trying to seem scary.
Russia snatched his wrists, and immediately he cowered, staring at the floor. Russia grunted in annoyance, tossing him to the side. His head hit one of the seats with a stomach twisting thud, and he fell to the floor limply, his chest heaving.
Russia took a few single steps to close the space between him and Italy's form. The weak nation was obviously terrified out of his wits, tears streaming down his face as he cowered in the corner.
"Per favore! P-per favore, Ivan!" He exclaimed as Russia grabbed his hair and pulled him to his knees. He was quite literally begging, staring up at Russia as he sat on his heels, cowering.
Germany tried to gather what energy he had as Russia gritted his teeth, looking away for only a split moment before pinning the smaller nation against the wall of the cab. He began to throttle Italy, violently shaking him back and forth. His eyes where wide, shattered wails escaping his throat as he tried to pull away. He emitted loud choking noises, his head banging against the wall. Finally Russia released him, and he was left staring at the ceiling in shock, his face red as he continued to cry, strained and shaky breaths escaping his crushed throat.
Germany fought to his knees, only to have Russia's knee collide with the side of his head. He went toppling to the ground once more, his head spinning. Germany could feel anger biting away at his core as the shock began to fade. He watched helplessly as Japan was cornered once more, and Russia threw him aside violently. He landed near Italy, who was beginning to tremble once more, curling up on himself. Russia finally left, shutting the back behind him as he left.
It took quite a while before Germany finally dared move again. He was tense, simply waiting for Russia or someone else to come and and beat them more.
But there was simply silence. And cold.
After a while, Germany sat up. As soon as he moved, both Japan and Italy scooted closer to him with what strength they had left. They all huddled together, staring at the door and waiting, hardly able to stay conscious.
A few hours later Canada entered. He sat in the corner, as if he was aware of what had happened. As if he felt it was his fault.
Soon the engine started, and they left again.
Germany struggled to swallow, his throat burning as he tried to sleep again.
He hadn't expected that to happen.
He truly hoped that it would never happen again.
oOoOo
Italy let out a shaky breath. His head was spinning, and pounding, and it wouldn't stop. He felt as if he was going to throw up, but he simply didn't have enough energy to do so. He held his stomach gently, his head against Germany's shoulder. Japan was laying on top of him, his head on Italy's own shoulder.
He didn't bother move. He didn't want to wake them up. He knew they where asleep because they where both very warm, and they took big breaths without much trouble. He snuggled into Germany's shoulder slightly more, causing him to let out a sigh. Japan sighed as well, shifting.
Italy allowed himself to let out his own sigh. He stared at the exit, and the snow flurrying down outside. He could feel the cold raking its relentless talons across his form, and he felt himself begin to shiver.
Canada glanced at him, but he looked away, breaking whatever eye contact they two had shared. Canada smiled softly though, seeming sad, perhaps even sympathetic.
"I'm sorry about all of this." Canada whispered softly.
Italy said nothing, continuing to stare at the floor. He took in another shaky breath, feeling the urge to cry again. He sniffed, and within moments he heard footsteps. He cringed instinctively, but he felt a soft, warm hand on his shoulder.
He glanced up.
Canada seemed at a loss for words, but the look on his face was... sad. And guilty.
"Please don't hate me." Canada said softly, glancing at the floor. "I'm so, so sorry..."
Italy leaned forward and made a weak, fruitless attempt to hug the other. Canada seemed frozen for a moment, before he hugged back. Italy began to cry again. His shoulders shook, and he bent his head and cried. He simply cried. He didn't scream or anything. Just quiet sniffs and warm tears.
Canada hugged him, and after a while Italy finally found the strength to form words.
"I'm... I'm-a so... so scared..." He whispered, gripping Canada's coat.
"I-" Canada started, but he didn't continue. He simply sat there and allowed the other to calm, however long that would take.
The car slowly came to a stop.
Canada left, slowly, glancing at the door with a hardened expression, though his eyes still spelled out a clear fear for the others.
The others woke quickly as a door was slammed shut, and Italy huddled back between them. They all stared at the door warily. Italy could feel his heart sink as the door was opened.
America stood there.
He strode in, and Italy could feel his words echoing about in his mind.
'Shut up and take it next time.' He shuddered, trying to huddle closer to the two others. He could feel them tense, and he had no doubt that they where staring at America quite darkly.
But America quite literally pushed them both aside and left Italy, sitting alone and vulnerable. They stared at each other, and Italy immediately felt terror settle over his shoulders. America snatched his wrists, dragging him to his feet.
He began to tremble, his eyes wide as he stared up at him, those words simply echoing through his head.
"It's my turn now." America stated blatantly.
He felt confused by the statement, but no less terrified. America began dragging him to the exit. He began to struggle, adrenaline filling his veins. He pulled, letting loose a scream.
"Gnah!" He pulled, trying to stand his ground, but America kept pulling him along. He mustered enough strength to kick America.
America instantly released him, sending him falling to the floor as his knees buckled. He collapsed, and instantly curled up, preparing to be beaten.
"Still gotta follow the rules then." America grunted.
He shivered as America moved on, cracking his eyes open to see America approach Japan. The other nation was on his knees, mouth agape, staring and apparently terrified of the other.
"Nien!" Germany exclaimed. "Don't touch eizher of zhem!"
In that instant, Japan was hit with one of the most forceful uppercuts Italy had ever seen. Japan's head hit the back of the cab from the force, a sickening thud resounding from it as he collapsed on the floor in shock.
Italy froze as America moved in to start kicking him.
"No!" Italy stammered.
America froze, turning around to stare at where he was fighting to his knees.
"P-per favore... don't hurt them..." He finished the sentence staring at the floor. America marched over quickly, and he looked away. America reached to grab his face, just like before.
"We have a hero here, don't we?" America grinned.
Italy shivered, trying to pull away.
"Don't touch him!" Germany growled, but his warnings where payed no heed to.
Canada was trembling, watching, apparently unsure of what to do. America lifted him to his feet again. He bit his tongue to hold back a whimper, and was quickly shoved forward. His feet missed the edge of the truck, and he fell. He hit the snow covered ground hard.
"Agh!" Italy yelped as he hit the ground, feeling tears gather in his eyes.
America leapt to the ground beside him, before stepping over the small, trembling heap that was Italy. He began to shiver as the wind bit into his thin uniform, and snow was quickly settling on his back.
As if on cue, a punch was sent sailing into his stomach. He choked, coughing. He saw a bit of red land in the snow. He felt the urge to vomit at that, his throat burning as if someone had ripped it out and sewn it back in. His stomach felt like the sun itself, contrasting greatly with the rest of his freezing body.
Another punch, and more blood found its way to the snow. He let out a cry.
"Stop zhat!" He heard Germany shout. There was no doubt they where all watching from the back of the truck now.
He hacked, a pool of blood melting the few inches of snow. He retched at that. Suddenly his head felt numb. Pain arced through his ear, and he fell to his side in the snow. He choked back the urge to wail, squeezing his eyes shut.
Another kick was aimed at his stomach, and he couldn't help but begin to speak at this point, heat overwhelming him even in the snow.
"Piacere!" America seemed to stop. "No more... no more... per favore..." Each word was spaced with large gasps. He allowed himself to begin to cry, trembling in the snow.
He was simply done.
He had given up.
"...per favore..."
