AN: Hey, just real quick, I should probably mention that this chapter is going to mention the assault back in chapter four. It's mentioning it, not really describing it or flashing back to it. Just in case, I wanted to warn you guys.

I do not own Hetalia.

"What languages do you speak?" Gilbert was sitting out in the hospital's garden while he refused to sit in the wheel chair they forced him into. Gilbert had told Feliciano that he hated it because he could walk by himself. Sure, he would start breathing irregularly, but that apparently did not bother the albino. Gilbert asked to go to the garden, claiming he needed some fresh air, but Feliciano wondered if his own hatred for hospitals affected this mood. Gilbert's hands were in that moment clawing at exposed soil while on the ground as he looked at Feliciano. Feliciano sat with his leg's cross, playing with the light snow that covered the ground before he even realized what had been asked.

"Do you speak French?"

"Of course I speak French. When I was younger, I lived in an only French-speaking area."

"You're pronunciation is… you sound Canadian in a way."

"It's Canadian French. Francis says it sounds interesting." Feliciano glanced up at the sky. Clouds were beginning to clear. The sky became bluer than it was a while. The sky had not looked this nice in a long time. It was rather peaceful for Feliciano. For some reason, the site alone seemed to help with making his mood feel rather neutral, at rest, calm.

"I lived in Canada for a while with Ludwig," Gilbert told him.

"Yeah. French speaking part and what not. I rarely ever had to use the little amount of English I knew."

"Me too! When?"

"Somewhere in the ten to twelve years ago range."

"Whoa! How strange! We could have passed each other on the street or on a bus and never known!"

"Right… right."

Feliciano let out the smile. Gilbert grinned back at him with this look that made Feliciano believe he knew something Feliciano should have known. Feliciano wanted to ask, but did not want to force something out of Gilbert while he was stuck in such a terrible place. Gilbert just sort of dropped the look and frowned.

"I heard you left this morning for the thing," Gilbert whispered.

"You mean, when we went to go see the guys who-"

"Yes. What happened? I don't need to hurt anyone, do I?"

"Gilbert, I doubt that many people would find you intimidating while you're in the hospital."

"Believe me, I know."

The bitterness in Gilbert's voice cut Feliciano like a blade. He was pretty sure Gilbert did not mean to sound that upset about it. Feliciano had been wondering for a while how Gilbert had felt about everything that had happened. Gilbert was always saying it didn't bother him one bit, but he would always change the subject quickly and start speaking of happier things. Lovino had mentioned Gilbert's habit of avoiding speaking about how he felt in the diary Feliciano had read. Feliciano could recall a lot of times he had witness this, but never noticed until it was pointed out to him.

"So um… the trip. You wanted to know what happened?"

"Yeah? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine really. Here, I'll tell you."

"It was a job," the man told them, his violet eyes neither regretful nor pleased. "We did our job, got paid, and left you alone. I don't see why any of you are here."

"You attacked our friend!" Francis hissed. "Don't act like this means nothing! Who employed you? Who assisted you? I want names!"

It really surprised Feliciano how easily they got into this home. Feliciano, Lovino, and Antonio had taken a train into this tow, meeting Francis at the front of the station, and walked to the address. The while it took to get there left Feliciano with this feeling he couldn't quite understand. He felt uncomfortable. This was to be expected, after all, who wouldn't become anxious in this situation? But the thing was, Feliciano wasn't becoming anxious for meeting them.

No, it was… something else. Something he couldn't quite explain. After all, Feliciano hadn't thought about that night in a while. He'd have nightmares here and there, and then proceed to spend the day not wanting to be touched, but all in all, he didn't think about that night a lot. He wasn't really bothered by it too much. Okay, that wasn't true, he did want to know who they were, why him, and what makes a person attack someone like that. Those are the things that bothered him the most. And even with those in mind, he could go on life almost completely normally.

What was bothering him? What really was bothering him? He didn't even know. What reason besides the obvious was there for him to be feeling so strange?

"Are you okay?" Lovino had ended up asking him for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, of course. What would make you ask?"

"You're knuckles are white," Lovino whispered. "And you've been biting your lip so hard it's bleeding."

Feliciano hadn't even realized he was biting his lip at all. Lovino had handed him a napkin so he could wipe his mouth, and then grabbed Feliciano's hand reassuringly.

"You'll be okay."

"When we get home," he whispered. "I want to… I want to talk about the book."

Maybe that was it. The book. The journal. It was still bothering him.

No. That wasn't it either. What in the world was bothering him?

The house of this man was around the same size of his own, with door just like his own, and an Italian name just like his own. Upon knocking on the door, the entire party was let inside, and led to sit on the couch. Three brothers. This home had three brothers, just like his own.

"Fabio will make you guys some water if you'd like," the man with the violet eyes told them all, not even asking their business or why they were there. He just had them sit on the couch and stare as the blond went off to get drinks. The violet-eyed man sat across from them, sitting in an arm-chair and placing his feet on the dark coffee table between them.

"I take it you all have something against me," this man said. "There's always something against me."

"You attacked him," Francis hissed out, his accent slipping into his words again, as he pointed towards Feliciano. "Why?"

This brought them back to what the man said earlier. It was a job. Feliciano had purposely selected that night. His hand was gripping Lovino's so hard, he thought it might break. The violet-eyed man with the blonde brother, his voice sounded like Feliciano; the he sat was like Feliciano. He gave off a similar air, and it bothered Feliciano so much.

"Thank you, Fabio," the Violet-eyed man told his brother as a glass of red wine was placed in front of him. Glasses were placed in front of Feliciano and Lovino as well.

"No problem, Luciano," Fabio smiled. "I'll return with some more for the Spaniard and the Frenchman."

Luciano took his glass and raised it to his lips. He then took a large gulp of it, as if every sip were his last. He then placed the glass down on the table in front of him and eyed Feliciano.

"If I knew I was attacking such a bel ragazzo, I'd have asked for your number," he said with a smirk and a wink. Was… was this man coming onto Feliciano? After what he had done… he was coming onto him like Feliciano was a joke… Feliciano wasn't really a person to this guy, was he? This man just couldn't see any reason to take Feliciano on seriously. No, he was a job. He was another payment. He was another face out of billions. He was not a person. No matter how much these two paralleled, and Feliciano was sure he could spend all day pointing out how, he knew this man was not Feliciano and Feliciano was not this man.

"Who hired you?" Lovino hissed out. "Can you muster up enough decency to tell us that?"

"Oliver," Luciano replied as quickly as a flash. "He paid a lot, and in cash. I was instructed to rape the boy, but we just ruffled his feathers a bit."

"You pulled my pants down," Feliciano told him, suddenly beginning to be eaten by rage that seemed to have come from nowhere. "You and… and those… those men…"

"I didn't say Lutz didn't try."

"Lutz?" Francis asked, his voice sounding disgusted. "Olivier? Really? Let me guess, Al was in on this too?"

"Well, I did need someone to assist. Kuro was working that night."

Lutz and Al? Feliciano had met them. He remembered them clearly. They went to a different school in a different town, but their friend had dated Francis for a long time. Was that who Oliver was? He couldn't seem to place a face to that name.

"All of you!" Francis growled. "Your business was with me and you attacked an innocent!"

"Like I give a flying fuck," Luciano replied. "Payment is payment."

"I should probably rip off those pathetic things you call balls," Lovino hissed, standing up and leaning towards the violet-eyed man. "After all, a man wouldn't do such cheap things for money."

"You'd be surprised by what a man would do for money," Luciano laughed. This bitter look came into his eye. "People do a lot of shit for money: they trade each other for money, sell themselves for money, and throw away their morality for money. Even family cannot be trusted when it comes to money, and family means everything. Money is what makes the world go round and keeps you in those nice pin-striped pants and lets you keep fucking whoever you want."

"Why don't you stop trying to change the subject," Antonio commanded. His voice was reaching one of those few moments where he was not only pissed, but completely scary. "So, Oliver paid you to carry out this deal? What kind of sick person are you?

"Please don't be mad at Luciano," Fabio asked as he came into the room, placing glasses in front of Francis and Antonio. "I don't blame him for taking on such mean jobs. Our Nonno died two years ago, and our little brother has been relying on us to take care of him. Luciano has taken on a lot of mean jobs to make money, and I've been trying to save some up myself through… means necessary. Plus, our little brother wants to be a big doctor, and school costs money-"

"Fabio, they don't give a shit about our life stories," Luciano told him. He diverted his attention back to Feliciano with a sickly sweet smile. "Bello, listen to me. If you have an issue with me and my men, I'd be more than happy to write down my accomplice's names and addresses. Then you and I can duke it out in the yard. I'll even give you an address as to where Oliver is hiding out."

"I don't need that."

"Then what is it that you want? Why did you come here? I'm a busy man. I have things to do."

"I just wanted answers."

"Oh? That's it? I'm not going to end up being taken in by the police?"

"Of course you will," Lovino spat.

"I don't want to press charges, no," Feliciano told him. He took a big gulp of his drink, as if every sip was his last. "I want you to answer my questions."

"Then ask, little lamb."

"Why did this happen?"

"I told you. I was paid."

"Why would someone pay you?"

"Ask the Frenchman," Luciano replied like it was the most obvious answer. To him, that answer must have been sufficient. Eyes turned to Francis who was obviously confused. He had a habit of scrunching his eyebrows and pursing his lips ever so slightly when he was confused.

"How would I know?" Francis murmured. Luciano frowned.

"You broke up with Oliver," Luciano told him. "You told him you were in love with someone else. And he lost it. He claimed he wanted to hurt the person you left him for, suggesting it was the only true way to get back at you."

Many emotions flashed over Francis' face: anger, sadness, regret. He was silent, but wanted to speak. He just couldn't seem to form the words. It wouldn't be for a year or two until Francis told Feliciano how terrible he felt in that moment. It was apparent that Francis was not feeling this entirely because Luciano's attack almost hurt Feliciano badly. He was feeling the way he was because it could have been Arthur.

"He didn't tell you," Luciano whisper, his eyes touching on an emotion Feliciano had not seen in him before. Luciano looked at the cup in front of him and stared at it for a while. Everyone remained silent for a while. Fabio brought out snacks, but didn't say a word. No body reached for them. Finally, the silence was broken when a boy walked into the room and claimed he was home. He was young, around Romeo's age, and spoke with a thick Italian accent.

"I didn't know you hade guests," he told Luciano.

"They're leaving," Luciano told him. He looked over at Feliciano. "You are leaving, aren't you, Doll face?"

"Yes," Feliciano told him, grabbing Lovino's hand and squeezing it reassuringly. "We're done here."

"I can't make myself hate him," Feliciano admitted to Gilbert. "I mean, it's not like he was evil. He just did an evil thing. I should probably hate him, but I don't."

Gilbert did not look at Feliciano for a while. He was obviously thinking about something long and hard. Feliciano wondered what it was. Gilbert was usually the one to always state his opinions and talk as much as he could. He knew what he knew and said what he knew. He never had a problem with that. It must have been what Feliciano had just said. It wasn't hard to understand that if Gilbert wanted to talk about himself, his feelings, his emotions, he had trouble. Ludwig was like that too, and Feliciano often wondered if it was something Gilbert had picked up from his parents and passed onto Ludwig over the years. Both always grew silent when they thought about their emotions, like right then.

"Feliciano," Gilbert said flatly. "I've seen evil. I've lived with evil. I've been evil." His eyes seemed distance, like he was not even there. He was somewhere else, some other time, with someone else. "And I've lived with someone who was not evil, but let evil happened. He was not evil, but he did evil things."

Gilbert plucked a dead blade of grass from the garden, one sticking up from the light snow, and handed it to Feliciano. His lips twitched into a smile for only a brief moment. It was in that instance that Feliciano realized just how hard speaking like this was for Gilbert. He felt very fortunate that Gilbert was willing to try for this.

"It's fine, Gil," Feliciano told him. "You don't have to force yourself."

"No," Gilbert said quickly. "I want to do this."

Gilbert took a deep breath, and Feliciano was ready to listen.

"When I was younger, I thought everything that was not good was evil," he explained. "And that costs me a lot of great people. I found myself alone before I found myself with the good. And at the end of it all, I was unhappy. I could not bring myself to understand that other people do what's wrong for what they believe good."

Gilbert seemed very uncomfortable, and looked like he felt bad for speaking. Feliciano wondered if he regretted speaking this openly.

"My father, back when he was alive," Gilbert began. "He used to beat Ludwig and I. Not even for doing anything wrong either. He did it just because he could. We were so young too. Ludwig barely remembers it because of how young we were. There was no dispute that he was evil. My mother, on the other hand, I cannot look back on it and call her evil. I did back then because she wouldn't help us. I understand now, she didn't want to be hurt. If it wasn't us it was going to be her. It's not an excuse for her evil actions, but it makes me think she wasn't evil. She was always taking care of us when he was around.

"My grandfather was the same. He knew about what our father did, but refused to stop it because of how it would hurt the family image. So when our parents died and we were told we were going to live with our grandfather, I took Ludwig and ran away. I thought he was evil, because only evil people could know something like that and let it happen. But in the end, I was the evil one. I… I took Ludwig away from a safe home where food and clothes could be provided if he just said the word, just because I hated the care taker. I was a terrible big brother. For years I thought I hadn't done anything wrong. In reality, during our time in Canada, I was in the early stages of my illness and killing myself slowly. And Ludwig, he was getting hurt and sick.

"But, Feli, my mother was not evil. And my grandfather, though it wasn't until about a year ago that I realized it, was not evil. And that man that attacked you, though I'd love to kick his ass and ring his neck, is not evil. You're so compassionate, Feli. I don't think it's possible for you to ever hate anyone. Or at least, not the way I did. You're a better person than I am Feli. So don't worry about not hating him. I can do that for you."

"But, Gil, if you know that he's not evil, then why would you hate him?"

Gilbert just smiled. "Because people never truly change, Feli. And I'm stuck as a despicable, hateful asshole."

"You're not an asshole," Feliciano told him, feeling a bit strange for having say it. "You're a great person Gil. You're kind, loyal, and always make people feel better. You've got a lot of friends, and you know a lot of things. Sure, you can be a bit self-absorbed and mean, but you're a good person at heart."

Gilbert didn't respond, just sat there with a shocked expression on his face. Feliciano wondered if Gilbert's self-worth had anything to do with how he treated people he cared about. Feliciano thought about this a lot on his way home.

Gilbert had asked the nurse to cover the mirror in the bathroom. He hated it. He despised it. He wished it would break into an infinite number of pieces. He wished it broke into so many pieces that there was no longer a mirror but the thinnest of powders. He hated mirrors. He had made it clear. It's not even like they needed it. The person he shared a room with couldn't get out of bed. He was the only one using that bathroom and he wanted the mirror covered.

"Why don't you just draw on it in lipstick?" his roommate asked. "I got this orange color that so doesn't go with my skin tone. I should have gotten a pink one."

"But what in the world would I put on it?"

"I don't know. You're a smart guy. Figure it out," Feliks replied.

Gilbert had taken the lipstick anyway and waited until it was three in the morning to do anything to that cursed mirror. The florescent light reminded him of too many bad horror films, yet still managed to make him feel like something was going to get him. He looked into the mirror, uncapping the orange lipstick in his hands and starred at his reflection.

That ridiculous reflection. His eyes looked tired and with bags underneath them. His lips, thin, pale, and long were chapped to the point scabs laid across them. With how pale his skin was, he could see the blood coursing in the veins just below his skin. His eyes were crimson. He wondered how anything could look that crimson. He looked so different from Ludwig and Opa. Yet he looked just the same. Somehow it was different. Ludwig was as handsome as can be. It can only make sense so many people fell for him. And even though Gilbert looked like him, he did not look like him at all. He was not handsome. He was kind of ugly if he starred long enough. He could slick back his hair and have Ludwig's face, but never the same: Not the same flush in the cheeks, not the same innocence in his eyes, not the same eyes. No. No matter how many people told him he looked like Aldrich and Ludwig, he could not say the same. Gilbert looked a lot like his father in many a way. He hated it.

"Focus, Gil," he murmured. "Cover that reflection."

But Gilbert did not know what to put on there. He started off simple. He drew a box, and from the box he drew a grid, and from that grid he realized he made a calendar. A calendar of the month of January. He wrote in thirty-one days with each day of the week corresponding correctly. He circled the eighteenth like it mattered, because he mattered. He wanted to matter. He had to matter. He wrote January above the whole thing. He wrote it in his best cursive with his left hand.

Then he went to bed.

In the afternoon, Ludwig came to visit him and commented on the mirror in the bathroom. He asked about the calendar on the mirror. Between a mix of not wanting to burden Ludwig and being to tired mentally to speak, Gilbert told him he thought it would be nice to count down the days.

"Until the eighteenth?" Ludwig asked. "Why? We don't celebrate or anything."

"It'll be an achievement," Gilbert replied. "Seeing that I can last that long."

"You'll be fine, Bruder." Ludwig was so in denial. "Though with how much you deliberately disobey the doctors, I wouldn't be surprised if you died before then."

"You have so little faith!" Gilbert smirked. "Let's bet on it."

"What are you twelve?"

"If I'm twelve then you're six. I'm ten times as mature as you Ludwig!"

"In what world?"

"I bet that I can make it to the eighteenth!"

"Do you seriously want me to bet over your life? Over something that's sure for me to lose?"

"Come on, West! It's just for shits and giggles. I'll make it worth your while."

"How so?"

"If I lose, I'll write down that fairy tale I told you all the time when we lived in Canada. Do you remember that?"

"It's one of the few things I do remember," Ludwig replied with a slight smile. "You'd recite it in German, and then French so I could learn to speak well. And then the Prince swore by the kingdom to trust the solider. You mean you didn't take that story from somewhere?"

"Nope. I made it up for you. I never wrote it down, but I still remember it by heart. If you win, I'll write it down and give it to you."

"How will you do that if you die?"

"I won't die Ludwig. I'll always be alive."

"Okay, whatever. But if that's true, what do you want? What do you get from this bet?"

"Hm… I want a date with Feliciano."

"BRUDER!"

"Okay! Okay! I was teasing. Stop blushing! I want… I want you to wear your hair down for a week. Like when you were a child."

"Fine."

"So it's a deal?"

"It's a deal!"

Gilbert knew that that conversation alone ensured his place in hell.

AN: It's kind of weird to look at this chapter and think to myself I'm going to be done real soon. Like, this story is going to be finished soon. I've got spring break to write for the next week, so I can probably finish it off. Two chapters I'm thinking. I cannot bear to have this end on an odd number of chapters. And once this is complete I can start working on other stories I have planned.

I do hope you've enjoyed this chapter. It took me a while to post because I kept second guessing myself how to write it.

I'd like to thank fanofmusic9292 for reviewing as always. She's such a sweetheart I swear.

Bye guys. Take care of yourselves. Have a nice day.