Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia–Axis Powers, but I own Else, Gerhard, Kartoffel, Daniel, and any other OCs I might have stuck in here (who don't show up in this chapter, so I'm not sure why I decided to claim them in this particular disclaimer).

Warning: I kind of make fun of the name of a columnist who writes for the NYTimes. Charles M. Blow, don't read this chapter.

Us, as nations, rarely have to deal with impermanence. We don't die, and the people we spend time with, the other nations, don't die either. We are landmasses. We stay in pretty much the same spot forever, and if not forever, then at least by the time we notice we've moved, the world will have blown up or something.

I guess, now that a lot of countries no longer have monarchs, we deal with it on a more regular basis, but still…

This could shake our world. If the media gets ahold of us, who knows might happen. And I'm scared about that. But what I'm mostly afraid of is that nobody will care about Prussia. About me.

"Is everybody present?"

"Yes, Germany," chorused the other nations.

"Sehr gut. Let us begin." From the screen, Gilbert could see his brother straighten his papers on his desk. And…how cute! His reading glasses were hanging around his neck from a beaded string. Germany would be a great librarian, Gilbert thought. Though he would get impatient and snap at small children, probably.

Germany went on, "Now, we know that people know of our existence, but not of our identities. The question is how they know. Who told them? Would anyone like to say anything? I was just wondering if you think that finding out who sold us out should be a priority."

From the tiny boxes on Prussia's screen, he could see countries nodding affirmatively or shaking their heads no. Nearly everyone was shouting.

"What's done is done," Canada whispered. "I'd like to know who told, but it isn't a priority." Though, of course, no one heard him.

America's loud, annoying voice triumphed for a moment, and Prussia heard, "You guys, we have to find out who did this and keep them in a country that is not mine, because then they'll have American rights." He sighed dramatically. "Sometimes it sucks to be such a hero."

Cuba, evidently, had heard him too, and immediately started yelling about Guantanamo Bay, but America was stuffing his face with burgers, and not paying attention. (If he was aware that Cuba was talking at all, which, by the blank look on his face, wasn't likely, but you never knew with America.)

Somehow, they quieted, and Germany didn't even have to shout this time. Miraculous!

"I'd like us all to get a better feeling of what, exactly, the world thinks of us, so I've chosen an article by Charles M. Blow, an Op-Ed columnist for the New York Times.

"REPRESENT!" America shouted, knocking Texas askew.

"Yes…anyway." Germany coughed and held up a piece of paper. "Is the failure of America rooted to one person? by Charles M. Blow."

Gilbert couldn't help it. He tried to choke back the laugh that threatened, but he ended up making an undignified snorting noise and spraying spittle all over the computer screen. From the way the others were reacting, some had gotten on the camera as well.

"Ew," Poland complained. "Like, really?"

Denmark just grinned at Gilbert.

"Prussia, please wipe your saliva off the camera. No, use a napkin, not your sleeve. Ach. Alright. As long as it's gone." Germany pinched the bridge of his nose. "Now can I please continue? Is the failure of America rooted to one person? by Charles M.–"

"Hey!" America cried, nonplussed and offended, just catching on to the title.

"Really, America, you've only just noticed that your own newspaper thinks you're a dying nation?" England looked down the bridge of his nose and reached his hand up in a stroking motion for no apparent reason.

America seemed to be used to this, however, so he just pouted and mumbled something along the lines of, "What? How could anyone hate me?"

Several countries rolled their eyes.

"Care to read that aloud, Bruder?" Prussia was the only one who had noticed that Germany's eyes were dancing over the paper in his hands.

"No," answered Germany, not looking away from the article. "You aren't going to listen."

Tears swam in America's eyes. "Ger-germany? Did you choose an article about me failing on purpose? Are you just trying to rub it in?"

"This is exactly what I was talking about," Germany muttered in a monotone.

"So you do admit you're failing," England said coolly.

"Don't be mean, Britain," France said at the same time as Canada said, "I really don't think that's necessary, England."

Austria sighed, a little louder than was necessary, Prussia thought, but then again, everything Austria did was wrong. "We aren't going to get anything done. We never get anything done. I really cannot fathom why I got up from my piano for this."

"Because you love me and my sexy ass," Prussia said, winking.

Hungary raised her frying pan menacingly. "I will hit you."

"But you can't," Prussia caroled.

Hungary twitched.

"Let's just get this over with," Poland said, tossing his hair over his shoulder. "I have to go feed my ponies."

Hungary twitched.

Prussia raised his eyebrows. "Someone was circumcised a little too much."

Hungary twitched.

Poland gaped at the albino. "You don't get to make Jew jokes, Nazi!"

Hungary twitched.

"I wasn't making a Jew joke. I was making a Poland joke."

Hungary twitched.

"I lost seventeen percent of my people during World War II, you know that? Seventeen percent. You Nazis targeted Poles, you know. All Poles. Jews, homosexuals, gypsies, and Poles. Why just Poles? Why no Lithuanians?"

"Hey!" said Lithuania.

Hungary twitched.

"I know. You've only told me a few thousand times," Prussia said.

As Poland was about to fly into a rage, Prussia shouted, "Call me if you talk about anything important!" and clicked out of video chat. He turned to Canada. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Nope," said Canada.

"Canada?" Gilbert said.

"Yes?"

"Never mind."

"O-okay."

"People don't like me much."

"That's not true."

"No." Gilbert laid his head on Canada's shoulder. "It is true. It's okay. I've made my peace with it. But I think…"

"Yes?"

"I think that if we do decide to let the public know who we are…I think I'd like my identity to stay private."

Don't make promises you can't keep, Preußen.

"That's okay."

"Canada?"

"Yes?"

"Wanna make me some pancakes?"

"Alright." Canada sighed. "You have to get your fat head off of me, though."

"Thanks," Gilbert said as Canada walked into the kitchen.

"I might need a reward, though," Canada answered, looking more America-like than ever as he winked over his shoulder at Gilbert.

Gil shook his head. "And I remember when you were all timid and stuttery. What happened?"

Canada's smile fell slightly. "I'm so sorry. I-I can go back to that if you're offended, I–"

Gilbert cut him off. "Don't be ridiculous, Mattie. I like you just the way you are now."

Canada sighed. He couldn't help feeling sorry for Germany and Italy. They were so close, but Germany had lost the war and Italy was no longer his prisoner. Not to mention all those reparations Germany was being forced to pay.

He was at a train station in France, having just left the signing of the Treaty of Versailles, sitting on a bench by the tracks.

"It's silly, but I wish I had someone who I would miss and who would miss me," Canada said out loud, because he knew no one would hear him.

"God, me too." Someone sat down next to him. Canada looked at him in surprise, but the man didn't look at him. All the better, Canada supposed, since he wouldn't see him anyway.

The man had a mess of white hair and crimson eyes. He was extraordinarily pale, but that didn't necessarily have anything to do with translucency. So why could Canada nearly see through him?

Also the man spoke in English, responding to Canada's remark in the language it had been made in, but he had a German accent. What the maple was a German guy doing in France right near the place of the treaty signing? He wasn't the actual nation of Germany, Canada knew, because that had been a stocky blond man.

The man continued, "You wouldn't understand, but I'm fading, and it scares me. I feel sick most of the time. My life is coming to an end, I guess, but what happens then? Ugh, I hate myself. Pouring my thoughts out to a random guy like that. Well, anyway, I can't show weakness to someone who I'd see again, yanno?"

"Um, yes?" said Canada.

Then the man did look at him, and right at him. "So what's your name?"

"What?" Canada said. He must have sounded so stupid.

"What's your name?" the man asked again, his voice still gentle, but Canada could see he was suppressing a smirk.

"Oh! Uh…Matthew Williams."

"Gilbert Beilschmidt," the man said back, turning to shove his right hand in Canada's face. Canada shook gingerly.

They were quiet for a few moments, but Canada quickly learned that Gilbert Beischmidt had some trouble being quiet.

"So what're you here for?" Gilbert asked. Without waiting for a reply, he continued, "I'm here with my brother. He has to sign some official stuff. 'Cuz of the war, yanno?"

"Oh?" Canada said, suddenly suspicious. "Older or younger brother?"

"Younger," Gilbert answered. "Acts so superior, though. Like, an eternal stick up his ass."

"That's funny," Canada said. "You're not so old, so why would your younger brother have to sign a very important treaty? I doubt Germany would send someone so young to sign away so much of their land."

Gilbert tensed. "How do you know the particulars of the treaty?" he asked. "You seem a bit too young to be privy to this kind of information too."

Canada winced. "My–uh, my Papa is signing it. He's French."

Gilbert's red eyes watched him. "I see. What's his name?"

"F-Francis." Maple, he had overstepped before. This was why Canada always thought before he spoke!

"Bonnefoy?"

"Uh, yeah."

Gilbert suddenly relaxed. "So Francey-pants is your 'Papa,' hmm? You must be Canada."

"Yes," Canada said, calmer now that he knew the man knew France. "He talks about me?"

"He's very proud of you."

Canada grinned without thinking. France was proud of him! Then, buoyed by elation, asked (rather flirtatiously, which surprised him), "So you know who I am. Who are you?"

Gilbert smirked again. "I'm sure a smart guy like you would be able to figure it out. I'll give you a hint: I am awesome!"

Canada bit his lip, trying to think of countries who might be Germany's older brother. "Austria?"

It was immediately obvious he had guessed wrong. Gilbert's face twisted into a look of disgust. "Austria? How could you confuse me with that loser?"

Evidently, if Canada wanted to keep being praised by this guy, he would have to guess right this time. He thought about it. Older than Germany, hates Austria…he feels sick, says he's dying. Got it! "Prussia!" Canada cried confidently.

Gilbert grinned. "That's awesomely right!"

Canada beamed.

When Canada heard the methodical clicking of the train, he was almost disappointed. He wanted to spend more time with this Prussia guy, though, if he was being honest, he just wanted Prussia's loud, slightly obnoxious voice calling him awesome.

German maple syrup sucked (Canada wasn't even sure it was made out of maple), so Canada grudgingly settled for butter on his pancakes. Gilbert laughed at the face he made.

The pancakes seemed to stick to the roof of Canada's mouth and choke him (probably due to the lack of maple syrup), so Canada put his fork down and smiled at Gilbert.

"I love you, you know."

"Who doesn't?" said Gilbert.

"You're really awesome."

Gilbert stopped eating too. "What's up, Canada? I know I'm awesome, but nobody ever really tells me so."

"I was sad," Canada said. "I'm happy now."

"I'm glad," Gilbert said. "So what do you think about all this? You think you'll have to expose yourselves?"

"My citizens want me to," Canada said. "I can feel it. So I guess I must."

"What's going to happen to us?"

"What do you mean?"

"If you tell the world who you are and I don't. I guess we won't be able to see each other for a while, then."

Canada frowned. He hadn't thought of that. "We'll be okay. I mean, we survived World War Two and the Cold War. I'm sure we can survive this."

Vaguely Historical Stuff: What Poland said was true, I believe. Although not all of the casualties were caused by Germany, you can bet that a lot of them were.

Poor Germany was not allowed a part in the negotiations about what would happen to him and the other Central Powers, which were like the Axis of WWI, during the Treaty of Versailles. Remember when Germany was making cuckoo clocks? Yeah, that was the result of that treaty. The main players in the negotiations were France, England, Italy, and America. I'm actually not sure if Canada was present, and Prussia was barely a thing then, but for the sake of my OTP, let's say they were there.

Author's Note: Yay! I've finished three of my exams! Only two more next week, and then no more school! This will actually be my last week of school in the US, as I'm going to be an exchange student in France next year, and I don't know how much time I'll have, so over the summer I'm going to try to update more quickly. Notice the word try. I've kind of been slacking off about writing this story, so I'm nearing the end of my queue. If I run out, I'll try to write chapters to be posted twice a week, but as my summer schedule is still iffy, I'm not sure whether or not I'll have the time.

Also, I have a poll up on my profile. It's for which Prussia pairing there should be in my upcoming (far upcoming) USUK fic, so hop on over there and vote! If I don't get any, I'm going to go with PruCan because it's easiest for me. While you're there, check out my new one-shot. It's about Prussia, because almost everything I write has Prussia, I think. Seriously. READ IT.

And this immense Author's Note comes to an end, so…so long, farewell, au revoir, auf wiedersehen! I'd like you to stay and re-ee-view!