The headache started in the long, anonymous corridors of whichever one of the United Nations buildings was hosting the meeting. Prussia didn't know or care – the United Nations seemed to him as stupid and useless an idea as the League of Nations before it had been – except that Russia was irritated the meeting hadn't been held in Berlin as he'd wanted.

With his head throbbing as though something was trying to pull his brains out through his eyes, Prussia wasn't in any mood to appreciate anything about this. He squinted against light that was suddenly too bright for his eyes and trailed obediently in Russia's wake, for once comforted by the firm grip of Russia's hand around his.

Finally, Russia stopped at a closed door. Prussia could hear the sound of an argument beyond.

Well... a little more than an argument. It sounded like England was ready to kill someone.

Prussia found himself edging closer to Russia.

"Courage, little one," Russia murmured. "I will not let them harm you."

Prussia swallowed and nodded. Between the way his head hurt and what sounded like a small war in that room, the child body's responses were in charge.

The explosion of shouting when Russia opened the door made Prussia cringe. He'd forgotten just how loud America and England could be. France was no slouch either.

It took him a moment to realize that his brother wasn't taking part in the argument: Germany sat at the polished wood table with his head in his arms. He looked thinner than Prussia remembered.

The other three were on their feet, shouting at each other over... where Germany's capital should be? Really?

Prussia supposed that with Berlin divided and the western part surrounded by East German lands, Germany's capital couldn't be there, so each of the three western occupiers wanted it in their section. Controlling the capital meant having the most influence over Germany as the nation rebuilt.

Germany looked up, and his eyes opened wide as he stared at Prussia. He looked haggard, haunted. "No." Though not loud, his voice cut through the argument. "Keep him away from me." His voice shook and he pushed his chair back. "Don't let me touch him: I'll destroy him too."

Prussia couldn't help himself: he took a half-step closer even as he realized what was happening. His people, Germany's people, they wanted to be one nation, and if he touched Germany he'd be absorbed into the stronger nation. He didn't have the strength to stay apart.

That was why his head was hurting so much: it was his body trying to unite with Germany. Right now, only a touch would be needed. He'd already been unified once – even with the link weakened by his death and the dissolution, it was still there.

Germany's voice rose to a panicked shout. "Keep him away!"

Russia pulled Prussia close, wrapping him in a comforting embrace. That helped, somehow, the Russian's presence helping to block the need to unify, the pounding headache. Russia's choice of seat as far from Germany as the room permitted also helped, as did him positioning Prussia to sit on his lap with his head resting against the big nation's shoulder.

"...the fuck, dude. He's just a kid." America sounded bewildered.

If the smack was any guide, England had hit the back of America's head. "Watch your language around the boy."

At least they were speaking German – albeit with horrible accents. Prussia doubted he'd be able to pretend he couldn't understand English or French.

"The young one would be East Germany, no?" France wasn't really asking.

Prussia felt Russia's nod.

France sighed. "So, his lands are those that were Prussia's – but those lands were Germany's for ten years, America."

Prussia could almost see the elegant movements that France had made second nature when he said, "The people there, they wish to be German. They do not wish to be a separate nation."

"It would destroy him." Germany spoke in a harsh, raw voice. "I... I can't do that to anyone else."

"That never stopped you before," England snapped.

Prussia felt his brother flinch, felt the grief and self-loathing he couldn't hold back anymore.

"He... that human... controlled me..." Germany said in a ragged voice. "I wasn't... I couldn't think for myself, not once... And I took my... took Prussia, and raped him and tortured him and made him one with me..." His voice broke: he gave a shuddering sob, then said, "When I came back... it was too late. You never let me see him... I couldn't even apologize to him..."

The silence that followed was broken only by Germany's broken sobs.

Prussia pressed his head against Russia's shoulder and tried not to shiver. He couldn't help crying, too: so much grief, so much pain, and it was all his fault. Russia stroked his hair gently, soothing.

France swallowed. "Come, Germany. I do not think after this anyone will try to pursue a one-state solution."

Prussia could almost feel the Frenchman's glare.

"Whatever else has happened, the child is an innocent." There was sympathy in his voice, something Prussia hadn't expected. "And you are very young as well."

Movement, the sound of a chair pushed back. France continued speaking. "None of us can escape this when our people lose their way. For one as young as you, as strong as you, it is much harder to recover." His voice faded as he and Germany left, Prussia's headache easing with distance from his brother.

Another long quiet, then England said in a subdued voice. "The Frog's right. East Germany deserves his chance, even if it is with you." That last word was filled with venom and aimed at Russia.

"Yeah. It would be totally unheroic to destroy him." America of course. A moment later, America added, "He sure looks a lot like a little Prussia, doesn't he?"

Prussia clutched Russia a little tighter. If they realized...