Somewhere near Berlin, 70 years later
Silence.
That was all there seemed to be.
It was understandable, of course. Nobody had any idea what to say.
What would you say? If somebody had just confessed one of their deepest and darkest secrets to you, how would you respond?
Eventually, somebody made a move. Italy jumped forward from where he had been seated next to Germany and pulled Russia into a tight hug, which the larger nation was only too glad to return.
"Well…" said England, "that was… interesting."
"Oui, you can say that again," said France.
"Mein Gott," Germany muttered. "I haven't thought about Natzweiler in years. I still find it hard to believe that my own people could have committed such atrocities against each other, let alone my own boss. They should have turned him out!"
"I agree," said China. "The people can survive without a leader, but a leader is nothing without his people-aru."
There was a pause as this gem of wisdom sank in.
"You stole that from Fullmetal Alchemist," Japan stated flatly not even bothering to look at China.
"Wha? No I didn't-aru!"
"Hai, I am positive you did."
"Whatever," said America. "Who cares about that? What, this doesn't mean anything to you? It turns out Russia got weapon powers from some terrified kid back in the War and you don't even care about that?"
"Of course I do!" said China. "Russia has been one of my closest allies, since he grew up at least-aru! What I would like to know is why he didn't mention the fact that Johann was in possession of weapon abilities!"
"We got out," said Russia, who was still hugging Italy like an overlarge teddy bear. "We escaped. That's all that matters, da?"
Come to think of it, he was right in a way.
"I am sorry," said Germany. "All I was told was that there had been a disturbance in a work camp and that there was an attempted escape. Had I known it was you, I would have mounted an operation and done my best to shut down the system. At the time, I did not think much to finding you passed out by the side of the road: I only assumed you had drunk too much vodka."
"We're so sorry," said Italy quietly. "You were treated so badly…"
"Do you have any idea as to what became of Johann?" asked England. "Whether he survived or was captured and experimented on some more, or ended up in a mass grave, or just another stack of bones tossed to an ossuary?"
"What?" said America. "The Nazis fed their dead prisoners to Australian birds?"
"That's a cassowary, you stupid Yank. An ossuary is a depository for bones, often used to make space in overfilled graveyards, and yes: they are very morbid and disturbing."
"Nyet, I have no idea," said Russia as Italy released him and sat down next to Germany again. "I am hoping that he was succeeding at the surviving and managed to get somewhere safe, but it is more likely he was recaptured and executed, if not shot the moment he was seen. To think: I barely knew him, yet he sacrificed himself to save me."
"Pretty pointless, since you wouldn't have died anyway," America chimed in.
"It is thought that counts-aru!" cried China. "Perhaps you would think differently if it was you who watched him jump from plane and break his back-aru! I don't know how he got to Nats… Natez… that place, but he may not have returned alive!"
"So what?" asked England. "You're saying he should be glad that Nazis captured him and ripped his chest open?"
"If they had not found him, would he be sitting here right now?" asked France bitterly.
"And YOU can shut up, frog!"
"Oh really? So Angleterre is allowed to voice his opinions whenever he likes, but the rest of us are to remain silent?"
"Not everybody, just you and your fat froggy face!"
"Fat froggy face? May I remind you, ma petite salope Anglais, that only a few short years ago, this was the one face which you could not get enough of!"
"Yes, and then I broke it off because I came to my senses and realised that it doesn't matter how good you are at kissing due to the fact that you are a stupid randy wanker who'd hump a park bench if it was good looking enough!"
"Guys, why did you have to bring that up?" America interjected.
"What do you care, America?" England demanded. "You weren't too bothered, you were in New York with that little mystery girl of yours, what was her name again? Aggie? Anne? Amy?"
"It was Amanda, you jerk! And FYI, she was a really nice woman! Had all her DVDs divided by director and genre and everything!"
"She was a prostitute, you moron!"
"Only because she didn't have any money!"
"Will the three of you just SHUT UP?! This is my house and I cannot stand to have the three of you ARGUING ALL THE TIME!"
Silence fell once again, as it usually did when Germany got up and started shouting.
"Are you not content with disrupting the annual meetings?" he asked as he sat down again. "We have more important matters to discuss than an Anglo-French romance story! From what I can gather, there are three of us present with weapon-related abilities, and that is myself, America and now Russia. There may possibly be more out there that we do not know about, but for now, let's deal with the ones we have already discovered. My weapon form is a spear and America is a bayonet. Russia, what is yours?"
Russia gulped. Even he was frightened of the angry Germany.
"I do not know," he confessed.
"Ve~ what do you mean, you don't know?" asked Italy nervously. "In all these years, you didn't try to transform?"
"Nyet," said Russia with a shake of his head. "I can't if I do not know how, da?"
"But it can't be hard," said Italy, who appeared to strangely knowledgeable at the moment. "Ve~ Liz and Patty could do it really quickly and they didn't have any trouble, and they're only teenagers! Not just that, but humans! I mean, maybe they've had lots of practise, but…"
"But what?" asked Germany. "What is bothering you?"
Italy suddenly clapped his hands over his face in a futile attempt to hide himself.
"I'm so sorry!" he cried. "I know you all expect me to know a lot about this because of how close I am to Kid and because I actually got to know him and spent some time in Death City, but I swear I hardly know anything! Sure, we trade letters every couple of weeks and all, but I never thought to ask him how weapon powers work or how soul wavelengths are supposed to work, I just- I know some stuff, but not a lot, I swear!"
By the sound and look of him, he was on the verge of tears.
"I'm sorry," he said again, "I- I need a moment, okay?"
He got up and left.
"Poor guy," America commented. "Can't blame him for wanting to get out."
"What happened to his feet-aru?" asked China.
"Hai, I am wondering why he is wearing bandages up to his ankles," said Japan.
Germany explained about the events of the morning: how he had woken up to find Italy missing, how he had walked out to see his brother with barely any clothes on and no foot protection of any kind, and how he had thankfully been found by Austria and told him, on the way back, about how Romano had made another attempt on his life.
"Fool," England muttered.
"Don't be harsh on him, Angleterre," said France. "Personally, I find it heartbreaking that after everything that's happened, after all these years and now seemingly the ultimate culmination of Romano's hatred for him, Italy is still hopelessly devoted to his elder brother."
"I disagree," said Germany. "He is torn between that which you have stated and his knowledge of Romano's resentment of him. Austria seems to have set him back on the right track, but Faust knows how long that shall last. I decided it may be best for him to stay with me not only because he may find it difficult to return home, but to keep an eye on him and make sure he does not do himself any harm."
"Then perhaps someone should retrieve him," said Japan, standing up. "As a former comrade of Italy-kun, I willingly volunteer my services for this task."
"Danke."
After he had left, a small smile made an appearance on Russia's face.
"Russia?" said China. "What is it-aru?"
"I sometimes wonder," said Russia, "if Johann ever had descendants, would any of them look like him?"
"Kesesesesesesese…"
All eyes fell upon Prussia, who up until this point had been standing, all but forgotten, in the doorway. He had heard everything.
"You guys are all total idioten," he commented. "Why would you spend so long hung up on the past? For me, it was awesome, but for you guys it all totally sucked ass! Just forget it already and stop depressing the scheiße out of me."
"Awesome, was it?" asked Germany. "Exactly how many enemies did you make for yourself?"
Prussia, to put it bluntly, deflated.
"Why is my little bruder so mean?" he asked.
"Italy-kun?"
He was in the kitchen, standing with his back to the door, when Japan finally tracked him down. He wasn't moving. Not even swaying slightly on his feet, which must have been causing him pain. Or anything.
"Italy-kun, are you alright?" the elder nation inquired.
He didn't receive a reply.
"There is no need for you to be afraid," he continued regardless. "Nobody said that they would be expecting you to be an expert on this sort of thing, especially since it is only recently that it has been brought to light. Why Germany-san felt the need to keep his secret for so long is a mystery to me, but you seem to know as much about it as the rest of us do (if perhaps a little more) so there wouldn't be any point in interrogating you. Do you understand?"
Still Italy remained silent. It was as though he didn't even know Japan was there.
"Italy-kun, is something wrong?" asked Japan.
"Si," said Italy at last, but his voice sounded distant and eerie. "There is something wrong."
The black-haired man's fingers curled around the handle of his katana…
"You're alive."
…and whipped it out of its sheath just in time to block the knife which was hurled in his direction.
"Italy," he muttered, not bothering with the honorific if not simply forgetting it out of surprise, "what do you…"
Before he knew what was going on, Italy was upon him with a second knife clasped tightly in his hand and an expression on his face as though he were possessed by a demon. His normally bright and round eyes were dark and slanted with rage, his teeth gritted in a terrifying snarl, his nostrils flaring like a bull that was about to charge. It was all Japan could do to jump out of the way and avoid the blade that was thrust repeatedly in his direction: just one half of a second later and his upper body would have been carved open. He strengthened his grip on his sword and began to block the attacks, doing everything in his power to avoid hitting his comrade.
"Italy!" he cried, his shock allowing him a little more volume than he usually used. "Italy, what has come over you? Stop this at once!"
"No!" shouted Italy. "No, I won't! Not until you're dead!"
He seized a frying pan from out of the cupboard and swung it clumsily at Japan's head, but unfortunately for him, the elder nation had reflexes that had been tempered with time and he sliced clean through the cooking utensils handle.
"You are my friend, Italy-kun!" Japan said, quickly become desperate. "I do not want to hurt you, I swear! There's something wrong with-"
Holding the knife in a backhand grip, Italy swung it towards Japan's head and found it blocked by the katana. They found themselves at a physical impasse, each participant in the fight pressing as hard as they could with their respective blades.
It came to an end when Italy reached forward with his free hand, seized Japan around the neck and started to squeeze. Almost instantly, the elder nation became more focused on trying to breathe than trying to prevent himself from getting stabbed, and his mind began to fill with panic. He dropped his katana and started to claw at Italy's fingers, but to no avail.
"Italy…" he choked. "No… please… stop…"
Usually, when Italy smiled, it was cheerful and heartwarming and undoubtedly endearing, but this time it was disturbing and full of malice, and generated an air of twisted sadism. It only became more frightening when he pierced Japan's cheek with his knife and carved his face open, carefully following the scar that was already there, all the time squeezing his neck tighter and tighter.
It wouldn't have been so dangerous if Italy was only a human, but both of them were nations. There was a very real chance that one of them was about to die, and it certainly wasn't him.
"…no…" Japan gasped. "…please…"
Right now, all he could feel was the pain in his cheek and the hot, thick fluid trickling down his jaw and onto Italy's fingers that were clamped around his throat and crushing the life out of him, and all he could see was that snarling face and a knife which was getting just a little bit too close to his eye, and was on the verge of puncturing his skin once more-
THWACK
-and suddenly, Italy fell off him and collapsed to the ground, unconscious. Japan stumbled backwards into the wall and slid to the floor, gulping in greedy lungfuls of air and almost choking on his own throat.
"Japan!"
His ears barely registered the sound of something soft yet heavy hitting the ground next to him, but he could definitely feel a warm hand patting his cheek.
"Japan," said a familiar voice. "Japan, are you alright-aru? Look at me! LOOK AT ME!"
He tried to focus on the person before him.
"How many fingers am I holding up?" they demanded. "Tell me, Japan, how many-aru?!"
"Th…Three…" Japan wheezed.
China sighed in relief.
"Thank god," he breathed, and pulled the shorter man into a hug. "I was afraid I'd lost you again!"
Normally Japan would have pushed him away, but right now he was a bit too tired from fighting for his life. It was all he could do to rub China's back, mutter reassurances, and try his best not to choke to death all by himself.
There was cold metal around Italy's wrists when he woke up, and he was lying down with his arms above his head. He tried to pull them down to rub his eyes, but found that they wouldn't move, and when he looked up he saw that his hands were cuffed to a pipe, but he almost didn't: it was dark and cold and his body was shivering.
He started to panic. Where was he? What had happened to him? The last thing he remembered was trying to kill Japan and-
Oh no.
Oh… NO.
No, no, no, no, no!
He rattled the chain against the pipe, hoping to maybe pull it out of the wall and free himself before all the bad memories started to come back-
A light flicked on and there was the unmistakable click of a handgun being cocked. When he looked up, England was standing next to the door with his hand still on the light switch and a pistol pointed in his direction.
"No point in doing that, I'm afraid," he said in a cold, emotionless tone. "Germany and America made doubly sure that pipe was fixed to the wall properly before they put you there, and those cuffs are from the kraut's 'special' collection so I'm willing to bet that they're secure."
When he looked again, Italy realised that he was in a bathroom with his hands cuffed to a pipe which led from a sink to into the wall. It was dark outside now, and he could hear raindrops pattering lightly yet relentlessly against the window. The cold was most likely because of the ceramic tiles under his body and the fact that he still wasn't wearing anything other than his coat, boxers and bandages. True to England's word, no matter how much he rattled the cuffs around, he was unable to free himself.
"J-Japan!" he cried.
"No," said England flatly, "I'm England. God knows why I had to be the one who drew the short straw."
"N-No, not that," said Italy. "Japan, is he alright? Is he alive? Please tell me! Please!"
"He's fine, no thanks to you," England said as he sat down next to the struggling prisoner. "You really went all out, didn't you? He's incredibly shaken up. Then again, I'm willing to bet you don't even remember what I'm-"
"Si, I do!" cried Italy. "I remember everything, I-I grabbed a knife and I threw it at him and then I grabbed another knife and I tried to kill him and I- and I strangled him and cut open his face and I… no, what have I done? Oh God no, what have I DONE?!"
"Get a grip!" commanded England. "Didn't I just tell you that he was alive?"
"I know, I know, b-but I-" Italy sniffed. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm really, really sorry. I couldn't control myself, I swear! I wanted to stop, I really did, but it was like something else was controlling my body and my mind and I just couldn't stop! You know I would never EVER try to hurt Japan, let alone kill him! He's my friend! A-at least, I think he's my friend, but I can never really tell what he's thinking, but why would I hurt him? Please, I'm sorry!"
"And I believe you," said England, "but we can't be sure you won't do it again, so until further notice, you're going to stay here."
"I don't know what happened, I swear!" said Italy. "I was afraid of being judged and people would be upset because they expected me to know loads about kishins and weapons and meisters when I actually don't, I only know as much as Kid's told me and that isn't really very much – I'm not an expert on this sort of thing! And I swear I have no idea what happened!"
By now he was practically hysterical, but appeared to have run out of tears. It was awful to hear, let alone see, especially as he was still writhing in the rattling restraints that bound him to the sink.
After a few moments, he just… stopped.
"Crying isn't going to do me any good, is it?" he asked. "It's sometimes helped me in the past, but I'm a grown up now, right? It'll just look silly."
England stared.
"Are you alright?" he asked nervously. "I admit that I think it's about time you said something like that, but when you those words it in that context, it is quite, quite unnerving."
Italy just… looked at him. His face was completely blank.
"The back of my neck hurts and I'm thirsty," he said. "I haven't had anything to drink today. Could I please have some water?"
England rubbed his head.
"Can't believe I got pulled into this," he sighed. "Alright, fine. Wait here and I'll get you a cup."
All Italy did was nod.
"G-Good," said England, and left the room with a sigh of relief.
Maybe it was because he'd grown so used to him being so cheerful and happy-go-lucky, if not just downright happy all the time, but whenever Italy did not act this way, things quickly became disturbing. Especially like back there, where he had looked and sounded like every drop of emotion had been removed from his body. It was understandable if he really did remember how viciously he had attacked Japan and truly regretted his actions – and it really hadn't been very long since that dreadful night – and England was now beginning to have serious concerns for his mental stability.
He started to walk to the kitchen, mind overflowing with theories and hypotheses.
'He's been through so much in the past year,' he thought. 'There was the attack which led him to that Kid character, and who-knows-what that took place while he was in Death City, and then there was the Atlantis Incident, and now all of this. It's strange how he started changing after he met that boy: it was refreshing at first for him to have become a little more serious, but now it's becoming unsettling. I'd even go as far as to say frightening. And all of that is on top of everything before those events – I know all of us have been through something similar, so maybe it's just disturbing me that he isn't taking it in stride like we usually do, or maybe it's because he really is starting to go the same way as Russia, but none of it explains why he would just attack Japan like that!'
"Hey Iggy, aren't you supposed to be guarding the psycho?"
He paused and glared at America.
"Italy is not a quote-unquote psycho," he said. "You know that as well as I do."
"Then how do you explain what the hell happened earlier, huh?" America demanded. "Dude, in case you forgot, he tried to kill Japan. Hell, he almost did! How is that not psycho?"
"I know as much about this as everybody else," England pointed out, "that is to say, not a lot. While I do admit to the possibility of recent events taking a toll on Italy's mental health, I find it doubtful that he would attack anybody, let alone Japan (who, I might add, is a friend of his) without no kind of prior motivation or influence whatsoever."
"Influence?" said America. "You think someone might have made him do it or something? I guess it makes sense, but- ah jeez, this whole thing is a total mess."
"How is Japan, by the way?"
"Still kinda shaky. France is trying to sew up his face and China's trying to comfort him, but that's kinda hard 'coz he keeps trying to move away 'coz of his whole anti-touch thing. Apart from that, he's fine. What about the psycho?"
"Italy woke up not too long ago," said England, making sure to put extra emphasis on the name. "He told me that he was thirsty, so I'm going to get a cup for him."
"The hell's wrong with you?" asked America. "What if he's trying to mess with your mind so you'll release him and then he'll go psycho again and kill everyone in the house?"
"My friend," England said, "this is Italy we're talking about."
America froze.
"Good point," he said.
"Now," said England, "if you'll excuse me, one of our own is in need of a drink and I don't care whether he's a murderer or not because of a little thing called common decency."
"Suit yourself," said America as he ducked back through the doorway. "If it was me, I'd have let him die of thirst."
England decided not to reply to this and simply on his way continued to the kitchen.
'And then there's that one,' he thought as he took a mug out of a cupboard, hoping Germany and Prussia wouldn't mind too much. 'What is it with him, what's in his head? Ever since we arrived in this country a couple of weeks ago, it's as though he's turned his clinginess up to eleven, trying to strike up a conversation every single time he sees me. And then there's the fact that the other day, he didn't even put a shirt on until I told him to. It's almost like he doesn't want anything except for me to notice him.'
He started walking back to the bathroom.
'And why would I respond to that?' he wondered. 'It's not as if I like him or anything.'
When he reached the door, he paused.
'Do I?' he pondered.
"No, not a chance," he said out loud.
He pushed open the door.
"Alright," he said, "now Italy, I want you to co-opera-"
Now it was his turn to freeze, which would have been anybody's reaction when they opened the door and saw blood. It caused the mug to fall from his fingers and smash loudly on the ground.
"What the hell are you DOING?!" he shouted.
"LET ME GO!" screamed Italy, not ceasing in his scratching. "LET ME GO, PLEASE! PLEASE, ROMANO, LET ME GO!"
"Oh god," England muttered.
He snatched the key from where it had been deposited next to the sink, almost letting it slip from his fingers that were quivering in shock, and tried to wrench Italy's fingers away from his wrists, which was difficult due to the chain's length, or lack thereof.
"STOP IT!" he commanded.
"What is it?" asked America as he zoomed into the doorway. "England, are you holy shit what the fuck is going on?!"
"America, get me some bandages!" said England as he searched for the keyholes.
"But you-"
"Just do it!"
The urgency in his voice was all the persuasion the younger man needed to run away in search of medical materials.
"Either you keep still," he continued, "or I'm never going to be able to get these off. By which I mean stop trying to scratch your bloody hands off and STOP SQUIRMING!"
He had to kneel on Italy's legs in order to keep him still.
"Stop…" Italy sobbed, "I don't want this, please…"
"I AM NOT TRYING TO HURT YOU!"
He fell silent, as if realising for the first time that it was England who was on top of him and not his elder brother.
"I'm trying to help you," England said, softly this time. "So keep still or you'll only end up even worse off than you already are."
Thanks to the new lack of movement, he was able to unlock the cuff on Italy's left hand and pull it forward to examine the damage. Because he hadn't been gone for very long, the prisoner hadn't had much time to cause anything deadly, but he had broken the skin on his wrist and there was plenty of blood. His nails weren't too sharp, so that probably helped.
"I can't make much out," said England. "Hang on."
He pulled the injured wrist up and over the sink Italy was sitting under, then turned on the tap and washed away the excess blood. Italy whimpered in pain, but didn't try to fight him off.
"It's not as bad as it looks," England informed him. "You haven't damaged any of your major nerves and arteries – it's not quite skin-deep, but close. A little over, I would say."
"I'm so sorry," muttered Italy.
"Just shut up," said England.
Italy bowed his head and held up his other blood-covered wrist as though he were an obedient child, and England removed the second cuff and rinsed his arm free of the drying red fluid.
"I got bandages," said America as he returned.
"Good," said England, "now do me a favour."
"Yeah?"
"Hold Italy still for me."
"Sure thing."
"What?!" cried Italy as he was pulled into the middle of the floor. "No, please don't hurt me, please I-!"
"I'm going to dress your wounds," said England. "I can't do that if you can't keep still. For Pete's sake, try to calm down."
'You're freaking me out like no tomorrow,' he thought. 'All I want is to get these bandages on and stop you complaining and you're acting as though I'm about to… to do to you what Romano did. Bollocks, that's why he was so upset! Good God, no wonder he's so terrified. Who knows what kind of memories have just been dredged up?!'
"Please…" Italy's voice had fallen to a whisper. "Whatever I did… I'm sorry… Romano… I'm sorry…"
"Romano's not here," said America, who had missed the point and was therefore rather confused. "You're in Germany's house, you're safe, so what the hell are you talking about?"
"America," said England as he started to bandage Italy's wrists, "I think we made a mistake by restraining him the way we did. From what I can tell, it would seem that it's the same way, or a similar way to which, that… well, there's no safe way of saying it while he's here, because it'll only hurt him more. I'll just say it had something to do with his brother."
"You mean he… oh crap," said America, realising their mistake. "Oh crap. Italy, I'm so… crap."
"Will you stop saying that?" England snapped, and fastened the bandage in the palm of Italy's hand. "How the hell were we supposed to know that it would trigger something like this?"
"I'm sorry," Italy murmured weakly. "I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm sorry… I'm… I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… I'm so… I'm sorry…"
"The hell am I supposed to do?" America whispered at England. "I know I'm supposed to be mad at him for trying to kill Japan, but right now he's just so… so… what's a good word to describe him right now?"
"Pitiful?"
"Yeah, that. I should hate his guts, but instead I just feel sorry for him."
"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… so sorry… I'm sorry… I'm so…"
"Done," said England, and finished on the second hand. "See? I never wanted to hurt you, I promise the thought never crossed my mind. Now calm down. Take a deep breath."
Italy sniffed hard.
'This is just like when I was taking care of my colonies,' England thought. 'Only a little more depressing and much more unsettling.'
"Feel better?" he asked.
Before he could react, Italy threw himself upon him. America was about to pull him away and England would have pushed him off, but then they realised it was only a hug. Italy was now sobbing into England's shoulder, and England couldn't think of anything to do other than return the embrace.
"Now come on," he said as they broke apart, "let's get you into some proper clothing."
Holy SHIT, what the hell am I doing? I think by the time this story is over, Italy is going to have more mental scars than a zebra has stripes! What is it with me and my love for putting my favourite characters through the absolute worst kinds of hell? I know my usual argument is that it's for plot purposes, but… -.-
Is this pushing the T rating a bit too far, do you think? I was hoping that this entire series could get by with a T rating, but after the latest happenings (and considering what's still to come) I'm not really so sure anymore. But I don't want to push it up to an M because I want everyone to be able to read and enjoy it because writing and making people happy are two of the few things I'm good at!
Italy's gonna turn into the new River Tam at this rate. Or maybe Crona would be a more accurate comparison.
Caring England is best England. He's so cute when he's all responsible.
Reviews are very much appreciated, as usual. I always enjoy receiving feedback.