Hello, my wonderful, wonderful readers! Thank you all so much for sticking with this story for so long! Oh, and for my Spamano fans, please go check out my Spamano One-shot called "Would You Kill?" and let me know what you think. Also, if any of you like the Oni games, check out my little sister's HetaOni story. Her username is Sir Gil.

Anyway, this is going to be another chapter from Italia's point of view. Also, I'll be introducing my OC, Sicily.

He could feel the cold, cold floor beneath him, countered only by the hot blood that soaked through the fabric of his pants and the burning pain deep within him. He could see those hateful red eyes framed by snowy white hair, the scared faces of Seborga and Sicily, his beloved little sister, eyes so wide he could see a ring of white the whole way around them.

"Let's see how much you can take to protect your family."

Then the pain was renewed as Prussia assaulted his body once again, and Italy cried out in a voice full of pain and fear and even anger that little siblings were forced to bear witness to this, that this was all he could do to protect them. Then the pain took over and all he could do was scream…

"Italy! Italy! Feliciano Vargas, you wake up this instant!"

Italy's eyes snapped open, and he sat bolt upright, eyes wide, heart pounding so he could hear it in his ears, and Prussia's face faded from his mind's eye, and he realized that Germany was sitting next to him, concern flickering in his eyes and evident in the crease in the brow of his normally almost expressionless face. One of the blonde's large hands had Italy's own hands ensnared while the other worked quickly to wipe the tears away from Italy's cheeks, and it wasn't until he noticed this did Italy realize that he was crying.

"G-Germany!" Italy whimpered, pushing forward and wrapping his arms around Germany's strong body, sobbing quietly as Germany's well muscled arms wrapped around him surprisingly gently.

"You were having a bad dream again, weren't you, Italien?" Germany said, and his voice rumbled in the chest that Italy currently had his cheek pressed to. "Was it the same dream as before? The dreams about—"

Germany's words were halted when Italy placed a slim finger to Germany's lip. "Oh, please don't say it, Germany!" Italy said in a voice that was just a bit too high. "Please, just don't say it." Italy looked down, staring very determinedly at his hands as tears pricked the corners of his eyes, blurring the images of his interlocked fingers.

"Do not worry, Italy, I won't say it." Germany said, and Italy looked up to see an almost pitying expression in those beautiful blue eyes. "I just wanted to make sure that you are okay." Germany said.

Italy smiled his brightest smile at Germany. "Ve~ Grazie, Luddy!" Italy pulled back, wiping the remaining tears from his eyes, and then coughed harshly.

Okay, that hurt. Italy winced slightly as the cough pulled at his diaphragm, his ribs, his lungs, and tore at his throat on the way out, bringing with it a small gush of hot blood into his mouth, and he wrinkled his nose at the rusty taste. Barely a second later, Germany had pressed a rag into his hand, and Italy clapped the rag to his mouth, leaning forward slightly as more pain inducing coughs sent shards of pain throughout his entire nervous system. Once the agonizing coughing had run its course, Italy sank back into the pillows; his entire body felt about as weak and limp as a freshly boiled piece of spaghetti.

Germany's frown deepened and he leaned forward, pressing a surprisingly cool hand to Italy's forehead, making him blink in surprise. "Germany, what are you doing?" Italy asked in obvious confusion, even as he let out a small sigh. He hadn't realized how warm he was until then. Germany's hand felt nice.

"You got a fever in the night." Germany said, pulling his hand away. "It seems to be going down now, though." The blond nation mused, pulling his hand away. "Now don't forget that you have a meeting with your boss later. If you start to feel bad, just reschedule, okay? No pulling any of your 'I'll-pretend-I'm-fine-until-I-collapse' shit anymore."

Italy pulled back slightly in embarrassment as Germany's voice began to take on its lecturing tone. "Sorry Luddy." Italy said sheepishly, taking a moment to cough into the rag again, eyes squeezed closed against the pain wracking his body.

With a sigh, Germany stood, leaving Italy lying back against the pillows. "I have to go into work for a few hours. I should be back by the time your meeting ends, okay?"

"Okay Germany~" Italy said, kicking the covers off and scrambling out of bed. As soon as he changed elevation, black dots obscured his vision as the room seemed to spin around him, and he barely noticed as he fell to his knees, hands fisted in the covers and dragging them partially off the bed.

A moment later, the spots cleared, the room stopped whirling around him, and Italy leaned his head back on the bed for a moment, letting his breath steady before standing. Luckily, this time the room stayed where it was supposed to, and he made his way downstairs without incident. He didn't tell Germany.

.~*~.

Months passed, and the aches and pains that had occasionally panged Italy's body were becoming more and more frequent. Also, the most unimaginable thing was happening.

Italy was losing his appetite.

Germany and Italy sat at a table in a fairly nice Italian restaurant, opposite each other, and Italy was merely pushing the pasta around his plate, occasionally nibbling off a bite. He could feel already that his clothes were becoming baggier. He knew that he honestly hadn't lost that much weight yet, but on a body like his, a little went a long way in terms of appearance.

"Italy." Germany's voice startled Italy, and he looked up quickly to see Germany was watching him with concerned blue eyes. "Italien, you aren't eating. You haven't eaten a substantial amount in days."

"Ve~ I'm sorry, Luddy, I just haven't really been that hungry lately." Italy said, giving an apologetic smile.

"No excuses, Italien. You need to eat if you want to keep up your strength." Germany almost barked the words, and Italy stuffed a bite of pasta in his mouth as response.

"Okay, Germany." Italy said around the pasta in his mouth, and Germany actually cracked a smile as he leaned across the table and wiped the sauce from Italy's cheeks.

Italy swallowed the pasta and felt it settle like a rock in his stomach.

.~*~.

"Hush, hush…" Germany said later that night, patting Italy's back as he heaved repeatedly into toilet, throwing up his meal and effectively putting to waste the money that Germany had spent on their meal.

"I-I'm sorry, Germany…" Italy whimpered as he tried to catch his breath, sighing in relief as his nausea finally ebbed, leaving him feeling hollow and weak. He leaned back against Germany's reassuring warm weight, panting through his mouth and trying to ignore the pain radiating down his throat.

"Nein, don't apologize. Here, rinse your mouth out." Germany said, handing Italy a glass of water. "I shouldn't have pushed you to eat at dinner earlier when you said that you weren't hungry."

Italy accepted the glass of water and rinsed his mouth out, the water not quite erasing the taste of vomit from his mouth, and spit the water into the toilet. He took another small sip to moisten his throat, the cool liquid soothing the sensitive tissue.

"Luddy, I'm tired…" Italy whispered, feeling far too weak to stand. He smiled gratefully as Germany lifted him up and carried him to bed.

.~*~.

Italy sat on the staircase, three stairs up, weeping, and his hands over his face holding the hot salty tears against his skin. He barely heard the sound of the front door opening and closing over his quiet sobs.

"Italy? What are you doing? Are you alright?" Germany asked, and Italy looked up, startled, noticing for the first time the blood mixed with the tears on his hands, and likely on his face, too.

"G-Germany!" Italy burst into renewed tears, and Germany sat on the step below Italy, concern lighting up his eyes.

"Italy, for God's sake, please just stop crying and tell me what's wrong!" Germany said, the concern in his voice sharpened by a slight edge of irritation.

"T-This is it, Germany!" Italy whimpered tearfully, gesturing to the step he was currently sitting on. This is all the farther I can go… I can't climb the stairs anymore!"

Germany's mouth gaped soundlessly in shock, and Italy buried his face in his hands again to cry some more. He was not sure if he had ever hated himself more then he had in that moment.

He was too weak, and this disease, whatever it was, had taken over his body and his life, claiming control over almost everything in his life. His joints and body hurt constantly, like every muscle was strained and pulled and every joint was at least lightly sprained. His throat and lungs bled, making him cough blood all the time, and too much exertion could make his node bleed for hours. Not to mention the dizzy spells, fainting, and fevers that struck him whenever they pleased. Now he was completely at the mercy of his disease, and he hated it. He knew that no matter what Germany said, he was a burden, always needing to be helped and taken care of.

"Don't worry, Italien." Germany said soothingly, pulling Italy's hands away from his face and using a handkerchief to wipe the blood and tears away. "We'll find a way to make this work, alright? We'll do it together."

Italy sniffled quietly, nodding. "Together."

Together.