A/N: This is NOT meant to be historically accurate.

warning: The rating goes up a bit in this chapter due to the serious issues Germany must deal with.

Chapter 10: Scared

Germany-

There was something terrible about all of it, but Germany couldn't pinpoint what, exactly, was wrong. It wasn't the first time he'd done a construction project, of course, but it was the first time that one had made him want to be sick. Every brick he laid into place, every line of barbed wire he set up around the perimeter of the encampment, every latrine trench dug – it made the unease he'd felt when he'd spoken with his BOSS turn into sickness. His stomach rolled until he truly thought he'd be ill. The human men who worked with him were no happier than he, but didn't look as if they would be sick. There was no friendly chatter or yelling or anything else that Germany had seen all of the other times that he'd worked alongside his people. Instead, men all worked with melancholy expressions.

"Sir?" One young man - certainly he couldn't have been older than nineteen – hesitated when he moved to stand near Germany. He was tanned and tall with a thin build that was only just shy of being skinny. His eyes were bright, an earthy brown. "You don't look well, sir. Everything alright?"

"Yes. I have been working too long, perhaps. And you? You are well?"

"Yes, sir." The young man stood a little straighter and wiped sweat from his brow with the back of one hand. "I may not look it, but I'm strong and willing. It was hard finding any work at all. I'm grateful for this." He blushed a little and smiled. "My wife… she's having our first baby. The money I earn from this job is very important."

Germany gave the young man a smile and turned back to his work."Congratulations. You must be very happy." When he didn't get a response right away, Germany looked up to see that the young man was frowning at him and looked puzzled.

"Did you say something? I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're saying unless you look at me, sir. I'm deaf."

"Oh. Sorry. I said you must be happy."

They worked quietly after that, everyone just eager to be done with the construction. As with all things that Germany did, the prison was built quickly and efficiently. The human workers celebrated with beer and cheering when their work was done and they were given their pay. It had taken them a great long time, but it was all for the good of their country and they were proud to sweat for that.

Germany stepped away from the humans and looked from them to the prison. He couldn't find it in himself to smile and that didn't seem right. It was well-built. His people were satisfied. Not a thing had gone wrong. Still… the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach just wouldn't go away.

While Germany stood there watching and pondering and wishing that he could put his finger on the something that was very clearly wrong, a soldier stepped crisply up to him and saluted. "Sir, I was told to thank you for your hard work. Everything's taken care of now. Prisoners will start arriving, shortly, and the guards will take care of things from then on. You should leave, now."

Germany blinked, shocked. "Is that an order? Are YOU giving ME an order?"

"Of course not, sir!" The soldier protested and looked horrified at the very idea. "I wouldn't presume. I'm just passing on a message. Honestly!"

Of course. There was truth in the man's face, Germany could see that. Still, it seemed an odd message to pass on. The order would have come from his BOSS as he was the only one who could give Germany orders. So he did as he was told, almost thankful for the order. He was exhausted and confused and wanted nothing more than to go home.

He turned to leave, but at just that moment unbelievable pain struck at his arm. Such agony! So unexpectedly did it come that Germany cried out and clutched his wrist, holding it protectively to his chest. His vision clouded to the point of near blindness, stars danced in his eyes. In that awful haze, he saw.

There was a train, somewhere, roaring through the countryside with people packed inside like animals. In another burst of pain and stars, he saw a young woman running through dark alleys. There were two small children, trembling and crying, hiding in a closet.

With a sharp inhalation, Germany's eyes sprang open. The prison was complete and the workers had all gone. Now, there were soldiers everywhere. The front gate of the prison opened to allow a large, covered truck to drive through. The soldiers unloaded prisoners from that truck, but they were not the uniformed prisoners that Germany was accustomed to seeing. They didn't even seem quite like normal hooligans. There were men, but also women and children. Some of them had babies in their arms. Everyone kept huddled together with miserable fear surrounding them like a fog. The soldiers moved in, separating people into different groups, pulling parents away from their children. There was yelling and crying, screams and swears.

It was what his BOSS wanted.

It was a secret.

Breathing hard, almost dizzy from sudden confusion and pain, Germany looked down at his throbbing arm and saw that the marks that had been gradually appearing there had darkened and were fully comprehensible. It was a series of numbers. He scowled, hating the numbers for no clear reason. He wanted to growl and scream and hit something. The hatred boiled inside of him, making his head throb painfully and blood surge in his ears.

"Sir?" The young soldier was back, again, and looking at Germany with concern. "What happened? Are you alright?" He made as if to look at Germany's arm, but Germany stepped back a pace.

"Keep your eyes on your work, soldier!" Germany snapped.

The young soldier stiffened and flushed. "Sir! Forgive me, sir! I was only… only…"

"Don't stand about babbling! If I wanted anything from you, you'd know it. Now, get out of my sight and do your duty!"

"Sir! Yes, sir!" The poor boy fairly ran away from Germany.

His chest heaving and trembling all over, Germany watched the young man go. He knew that others nearby who'd seen the incident were staring. He put his hand over the abhorrent numbers on his arm and turned his back on the prison. What had he done? The soldier had done nothing to deserve being shouted at. Germany tugged the sleeve of his uniform down over the numbers that marked him then hurried away, desperate to get away from the festering anger, from the families of prisoners, from the prison that made him sick… desperate to get away from himself.

He wandered for a time amongst his people. The streets seemed quieter and the people were subdued. Somehow, it all seemed quite normal. Part of Germany told him that this was how it ought to be; this was exactly what his BOSS wanted… but Germany didn't like it one bit. He wandered aimlessly about his land, always conscious of something wrong, but never able to quite see it.

Austria-

In the tidy kitchen of Germany's house, Austria sat at the table with Hungary, Elizaveta, while the Italy brothers and Japan sat together on the floor admiring Aster's new puppies. South Italy lay on his stomach, propped up on his forearms, and stared intently at Aster and the puppies. Strangely, Aster had no issues with either of the Italy brothers getting close to her newborns. The other dogs had returned and settled themselves comfortably near Aster, but not so close as to make the new mother aggressive. South Italy just stared, clearly fascinated. Austria had never seen him so quiet. Perhaps that shouldn't be so surprising, he reflected. He'd rarely ever seen South Italy outside of official gatherings. Spain was notoriously jealous when it came to what he perceived as 'his' and had always kept South Italy close at hand.

Feliciano and Japan had arrived only shortly after Austria and, after hearing that Germany hadn't returned, began preparations for lunch. After a good deal of arguing and bargaining, tears and threats, a compromise was suggested by Japan. They would have pasta with diced tomatoes and sausage for lunch with tea and cake for desert. Strangely, even after lunch had been agreed upon and made, Feliciano hadn't been happy. He'd wanted to wait for Germany to return and had tried so hard to wait that it took several attempts to convince him that Germany would want them to eat rather than waiting for him. Feliciano had reluctantly agreed, but still put a plate of food aside for Germany when he did return.

After the meal, everyone settled in to their current positions. Feliciano sat on the floor with his big brother, but kept up his usual chatter while alternating between speaking with everyone in the room and admiring the puppies. He sat with his knees pulled up to his chest and rocked gently as he spoke. Elizaveta sipped coffee as she and Japan spoke leisurely of art and swords. All in all it was a comfortable, domestic time when everyone was content and happy.

There was absolutely no reason at all for the nagging anxiety that twisted inside of Austria. He felt like he was getting an ulcer. Quietly, Austria stood and walked to the kitchen's window. He couldn't put his finger on it. All seemed as normal as it could be in war time. It took him a moment to notice Elizaveta's reflection in the window beside his own.

"He's taking too long."

"He's reliable. He'll be back soon," Austria replied. Germany had always been responsible, almost to a fault. "His meeting is just taking longer than he expected."

Elizaveta's mouth curled into an unpleasant sneer. "Since when does Germany's BOSS ever spend more time with him than necessary? He snaps an order and then sends Germany away." She stood with stiff shoulders as she wallowed in the offense done to her dear little Germany.

"We've all had unpleasant BOSS'; ones who've feared or simply didn't understand us. I'm sure his next one will behave more warmly towards him." They were only empty words and by the way Elizeveta looked at him, she knew it as well as he did. "Whatever is keeping him, he will return as soon as he's able to."

"I hope so. Feliciano is starting to worry."

"You're sure of that?" Just by looking at the giggling man, it would have been hard to tell.

"Watch him a minute."

True to Elizaveta's words, every few minutes, Feliciano would turn just a bit and look out the window, obviously looking to see if Germany was coming. When he saw no sign of Germany, Feliciano would turn back to talking to his brother.

Austria smiled. "You are amazing, Eli. I hadn't even noticed."

"I'm always watching our boys – you know that." She gave a thoughtful glance to South Italy. "And now we have one more."

As they watched, Japan leaned slightly towards South Italy and began speaking so softly that neither could hear him. South Italy, clearly, had no such trouble. While staring at Japan with wide eyes, he burst out, "You didn't!"

Japan nodded. "I did. We will discuss it further once Germany has returned."

"But… but I belong with him. You can't just make that kind of decision. You can't take me away from him! I belong to Spain, I've belonged to him for almost as long as I can remember." South Italy pushed himself up into a sitting position and then leapt to his feet. He started to pace. "He's gonna be so angry. He'll think I said something to you or that I asked you to do it and that's not true – it's not! You can't just make decisions like that and then go swinging a sword around!" South Italy reached his hands up and started pulling at his hair in big handfuls. "Ohhh! He's gonna be so angry at me!"

Japan's serene gaze didn't flinch from South Italy. "Let him be."

The quiet question brought South Italy up short. "W-what?"

"What does it matter if he is cross with you? You are not under his rule any longer. Any associating you do with one another will be done on your terms – not his."

"But - " South Italy's hands fell away from his hair.

"No 'buts'. I made this decision for the sake of your well-being. Because of what we have learned recently of Spain's behavior, I believe that my decision is correct. If he is angry, he will be angry with me. If he is angry with you for an action that was not of your doing, then I think you will do well to look to another to give your loyalty to."

"It's not that easy!"

Feliciano got up on his knees and tugged on his brother's shirt. "But it is. Now you don't HAVE to go back, but you can if you want."

South Italy stared down at his little brother as if the words made no sense at all. "If I… want?"

It was Japan who answered. "Yes. Spain knows that he may write to you and that either Germany or myself will pass the letter to you. If you decide you would like to meet him, we will set up a supervised meeting. You will be safe and in control."

Apparently, the idea of being in control of any situation was a bit much for South Italy; he sat down so abruptly, that it seemed as if his legs had collapsed beneath him. He even allowed Feliciano to cuddle next to him without any protest.

"What do you suppose he meant about Spain's behavior?" Elizaveta murmured. Her eyes narrowed. "Did he do something to South Italy? Did he do something after we trusted him to take care of little Lovino?" Her voice slid into something close to a growl. "We should have kept him!"

Ah, Austria thought. So now it's 'Lovino' rather than 'South Italy'. Austria turned away from the scene. "What is done, is done. Wallowing in guilt will accomplish nothing."

"I don't wallow!"

"Of course not."

"I just want to know what Spain thought he could get away with. Why is Lovino so afraid of him?"

"I really couldn't guess and I would advise you not to pry. South Italy would have told you if he'd wanted you to know. Japan has apparently dealt with the situation and he is quite sensible." Then, he felt it. Someone was in his house.

"Roderick?" Elizaveta lightly touched his arm. "What's wrong?"

He could feel that 'something wrong' growing stronger. "Please, excuse me." Without waiting for an answer or the questions he knew she'd start firing at him, Austria gathered up his coat and left Germany's house. He didn't stop until he reached his own house where the feeling of 'something wrong' was so powerful that it was nearly overwhelming. His house looked the same as ever, but it just didn't feel right.

At the front door, he froze for a moment and wondered why he hadn't brought Elizaveta along. He was no warrior and everyone knew it. He'd taken enough badgering over the years from Prussia and Switzerland to know that just about anyone was a better warrior than he was. There could be anyone in his house. Someone like Russia or America could be waiting for him. But it could also be just a thief stealing his new sheet music and he was almost certain he could deal with a common thief on his own. If he were to call for Elizaveta for nothing more than a thief, then he would never hear the end of it from Prussia. But perhaps it wasn't anything dangerous at all.

Austria scowled at his shoes.

Perhaps Liechtenstein had decided to pay a visit as she did from time to time. And if he called in help and it turned out that sweet Liechtenstein just wanted to borrow a cup of sugar? What if that feeling of 'wrongness' was that Liechtenstein had somehow gotten hurt while in his house and needed help? If he waited around like a coward outside, waiting for someone to help him, with Liechtenstein was alone and in pain and scared... no. He couldn't wait.

So he steeled himself and pushed open the front door. The house was utterly silent and empty, no sign at all of any intruders. He went through the house as quietly as possible, peering around corners and easing doors open so he could peek through them before entering a room. It wasn't until he reached the kitchen and heard a sharp, rapid clattering sort of noise that he stopped short.

Germany, in full uniform, stood at the kitchen table with a mixing bowl braced in the crux of one arm while he stirred with a wooden spoon. It was the spoon rapping against the side of the bowl that had made the sharp noise he'd heard. With a look of extreme concentration on his face that set his mouth in a thin line and made his forehead wrinkle, Germany stirred with a vicious, almost desperate, action. On the table were the canisters for flour and sugar and Austria knew at once what Germany was working on.

"There's chocolate in the pantry, if you want to make it a chocolate cake."

Germany turned his back on Austria and kept stirring. If anything, his efforts only grew in intensity. His large arm moved so rapidly that Austria feared his bowl would break. All at once, as if the bowl had done something to offend him, Germany slammed the bowl down onto the table hard enough that some of the batter splattered out of the bowl and onto the tabletop.

Shockingly, Germany didn't even glance at the mess he'd made.

He paced. Several times down the length of the kitchen and then around the table, he paced. He swung his arms at his sides and clenched and unclenched his fists. All the while, he looked at the floor, his head lowered.

There was, Austria knew, music in all things, everywhere. He heard music without any instrument ever being struck or strummed or blown. There was music in the wind and in the rushing water of a river. He could see music in the soft moonlight and in the sway of Elizaveta's hair when she walked. He could feel it when a thunderstorm raged. But, watching Germany's agitation, Austria realized with sudden terror, that there was no music. He heard nothing but Germany's hard-soled boots stomping on the floor. He couldn't feel anything but the oppressive anger radiating from Germany. It was as if there was something dead in the air around Germany.

Could it be that Germany was killing the music? It wasn't possible. All people and everything had its own unique music – it couldn't be just turned off. Yet, around Germany, it had been. Perhaps not killed or turned off, Austria mused. Perhaps Germany's music had, instead, been changed so radically that it was simply unrecognizable as music. Austria closed his eyes and concentrated. The notion was so incredible that Austria had never considered such a thing. Surely, the music of nations could change as a nation's culture and identity changed, but only over the course of years, sometimes centuries – not in the days since he'd last seen Germany.

But… there. He heard it. It was quiet, almost nonexistent, but Austria heard it. The music was… angry. It was frightened and it was painful.

Austria shook his head to separate himself from the music. "You surprised me." He pushed the door completely opened and stepped into the room. "You usually call before you visit."

Germany didn't even look up when Austria approached him. "Sorry. Sorry." Germany walked to the stove, stared at it for a moment, then back to the table set in the middle of the kitchen. "I just wanted to be… here. I had to come here." His hands clenched and unclenched at his sides. "It's quiet and I needed some quiet."

"You're always welcomed if you need to rest, but why didn't you go home?"

"I think Feliciano is there. I don't want to see him, now."

"You don't want to see him? Or would it be more honest to say that you don't want him to see you in this condition."

The look that Germany threw at him was venomous. So full of something appallingly vile that Austria's voice was taken for a moment. The tension in Germany's posture was unlike anything Austria had ever seen in the young nation – he was almost shaking. His lips were pressed together in a hard line, almost as if he were afraid to open his mouth.

"Is something wrong?"

"Why do you think something's wrong? Has someone said something? What have you heard?"

Taken aback by the fierce tone, Austria was quiet for a moment. "I really do think that you need some rest."

"I'm not tired."

Austria raised an eyebrow, looking at the dark circles under Germany's eyes and how pale his skin was. "That is a lie and you know I don't approve of such nonsense."

Such fury on Germany's face! Even when he'd been a small lad and had reason enough for a childish tantrum, he'd never gotten so angry. He'd always been a mild-tempered, controlled child. The rage was uncharacteristic, almost as if he were an entirely different person. The lie, too, was unlike Germany. He'd never been one to tolerate falsehoods, from others or himself. "How dare you accuse me - "

"Did you want that chocolate for your cake?"

"I don't want chocolate and I don't want a cake!" He appeared to completely ignore the fact that he'd just been mixing up batter. "I just came here because… because…" His voice trailed away, uncertainly. "I came here because it's quiet and I needed to think about something. If I'd known you were going to start in on me the moment I arrived, I would have found somewhere quieter; I think the middle of a battlefield would have been an excellent place! And what do you think you're doing questioning me like this? I ought to send you to… to…" Germany half-turned away from Austria and gave his head a little shake, as if to stir away the cobwebs in there that were befuddling him.

When it became evident that Germany couldn't finish his thought, Austria scowled. A sharp barb was on the tip of his tongue, but considering Germany's unusual state, he bit back his words and, instead, went to his cabinet where he pulled out a large bar of fine chocolate. "If you don't want a cake, then just take a few bites. I find that chocolate always helps me to relax and it seems as if you need some relaxing. Sit." When Germany did nothing but glare ferociously at him, Austria pulled out a chair at the table and pointed sharply at the seat. "I said, sit."

Germany stomped to the chair and sat heavily.

"Your brother used to throw tantrums like this." He broke a chunk of chocolate off the large bar and held it out to Germany. "I was hoping that you hadn't picked up that bad habit. Eat, then. Switzerland charges a handsome fee for his chocolate, I won't have it wasted. Go on. It will do you good."

"I'm not hungry."

"I didn't ask if you were. Eat."

Germany leapt to his feet, grabbed the chocolate out of Austria's hands, and threw it across the room. He towered over Austria with a glower so awful, it seemed that he might be trying to set Austria on fire from the heat of it. "Stop telling me what to do!"

Austria raised an eyebrow. "Don't you raise your voice to me, young man. Your head is still bandaged – don't shake your head at me! I can see it under your hat! – and you're paler than a ghost." He used one finger to push his spectacles further up on his nose. "Some food and rest will be the best thing for you."

"No!" Germany slammed both fists down on the kitchen table which, to no great surprise, collapsed into a pile of kindling. Then he rounded furiously on Austria. "You don't… I… I just…" He stood there panting, as though speaking had been an immense effort and as Austria watched, that fury faded into something he rarely saw on Germany's face when the situation did not somehow involve Feliciano – fear. Germany put his arms around himself and whispered, "My head won't stop hurting and everyone's mad and I yelled at one of my people today and I shouldn't have yelled. He didn't do anything wrong." Germany looked down at his feet. "I'm angry. I don't know why, but I'm angry and it won't stop."

Austria swallowed hard and absently straightened his white gloves. "You're going to have to rest."

"There's no time – the war. Oh, Uncle Roddy," Germany looked down at Austria with wide, bright blue eyes. "I'm scared. Something's happening and I don't understand. I think I've made an awful mess and I don't know how to clean it up. I'm sick. I can't stop fighting. It's always the same, always fighting and my BOSS isn't listening to me. He never listens and he never tells me anything. I'm scared."

Austria was suddenly reminded of a long-ago night when Prussia had needed him to baby sit. At some point during the night, when Austria got the scare of his life when he found that Germany's bed was empty and searched the house for him, Austria had found Germany curled up in a closet. When asked what he was doing, Germany had said he was hoping that the darkness in the closet would hide him from his nightmares. So what nightmares did he have now that would make big, strong Germany look so like the frightened child he'd once been?

"My head isn't healing and my arm… look at my arm!" He thrust out his arm towards Austria and pulled up his sleeve to reveal a series of numbers. "I don't know what it is. No one's telling me anything." Then he confessed, in a hushed voice, "I keep hearing things."

"What kind of things?"

"Voices. Muttering. Screaming. Uncle Roddy… I think I'm losing my mind." His hands went up to his head, as if he could stop the voices if only he pressed hard enough. "A hissing… an awful hissing. Fire and the smell. I can smell it."

"Smell what?"

"Garbage. Filth. Something's burning. There's…" Germany closed his eyes, seeing something that only he could see. "People are crowded all around. I can see them! Squashed together. It's so hot and the smell is terrible." His eyes sprung open and he lurched away from Austria. "My people are being taken somewhere. So many of my people… but there are some that aren't my people. Strangers from another's house. I don't - " He stopped abruptly, gave his head another little shake, and let his arms drop to his sides as he straightened his back and stood as straight and tall as a flagpole. His pained eyes cleared. "I need to go."

"You need to rest."

"There's been too much resting. I was just on vacation. There is too much work to do and I shouldn't be here. What am I doing here? I'm in the middle of a war. I need to go!" At the doorway, Germany staggered and that broke Austria's composure. He hurried forward and took Germany's arm.

"It's time to go home," Austria told him, sternly.

"But- "

"Just lean on my shoulder a bit to steady yourself. That's it. Slowly, now."

"I'm sorry," Germany muttered after a few steps. "Sometimes I forget."

"Forget what?"

"You. I caught myself thinking of my brother not long ago – of how he'd been my only role model." Germany's voice began to slur as he spoke. "But… you were always there, too. You and Hungary. Always there."

The slip into sentimentality was almost as alarming as Germany's quickly drooping eyelids and how heavily he leaned on Austria's shoulder. "Enough of that. Let's get you home. As I said, a rest is just what you need. Everything will look clearer in the morning. Maybe then we can figure out why your head is taking so long to heal."

Germany shook his head slowly, as if it were a great effort. "I already know." He put a hand to the wound on his head. "I understand, now. It took me a long time to figure it out, but I know why this won't heal. Spain's blow was nothing – it should have been nothing. But… I've become weak without realizing it. I was so busy with the war that I didn't see what they – what HE – was doing." Germany began to cough, then. He coughed so harshly that they had to stop walking until Germany could get his breath back and when he did, he was pale and almost sagging against Austria. "I want to go home."

Germany said nothing else as they went and Austria, fearing for his little boy, didn't dare press him for more.

Feliciano-

Feliciano sat by the window, but no matter how long he waited there was no sign of either Germany or Austria. He felt twitchy. He wanted to run out of the house to find them, but Hungary had been confident that they would come home, soon. Japan had patted his arm and reminded him that Germany was always careful and would certainly return in good health.

So, trusting in opinions of those older than him, Feliciano stayed put, waiting and watching. The house was peaceful and that, in itself, was a bit strange because Feliciano could hardly remember a time when his big brother had been quiet. He wouldn't go so far as to say that Lovino was happy, but looking at him as he sat on the floor next to Aster with one hand lightly stroking the back of a tiny pup, Feliciano smiled. If Lovino wasn't happy, then he was at least content and at peace for the moment. He was so caught up in his own thoughts that he was only vaguely aware as Hungary and Japan left the room. He'd sunk so deeply into his thoughts, in fact, that it had taken two calls of his name and a shoe to the head before he realized that Lovino was trying to get his attention.

"Come on and sit with me," Lovino said. "And gimme back my shoe. There's something we gotta talk about and I don't think we're gonna get much time alone to talk."

"'Kay!" Feliciano smiled brightly as he slid down to the floor to sit with Lovino next to the dogs.

Lovino gently picked up one of Aster's new puppies. It was small and weak and mewling hungrily. Its ears were comically long and its' tail was a little too long for such a tiny puppy. Lovino looked sternly at Feliciano. "Now you just listen carefully, right? I've been puzzling this over and I decided - you really need to understand something, but you're a bit dense. Let's try it this way. This," he held up the puppy. "Is you. Right?"

"I'm so cute!"

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Stay focused. This one is you. This one," he picked up a decidedly homely puppy with a great black spot over one eye and paws that were far, far too big. "This is Germany." He set it on the floor next to the 'Feliciano' puppy and nudged them gently until they were laying side-by-side and cuddled into one another. "Germany loves Feliciano. Get it?"

Feliciano clasped his hands together and giggled. "So cute! We should play with puppies more often, don't you think? I'll bet Aster will let one of her babies live with us when they're big enough."

Lovino slapped himself on the forehead. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself. "You dummy, we're not taking about pets. Look, I know Germany's thick, but one of you has got to get a clue about this or you're going to go nowhere fast. Now, pay attention." He gestured towards the two puppies, again. "These two belong together, just like you and your Germany. You mean a lot to him; anyone can see that. He takes care of you and looks after you. He tries to teach you things. No matter what kind of mess you get yourself into, he's always charging to the rescue, even when you can't remember whether to push or pull to open your own front door."

"Aww… that only happened once."

"I'm not done talking! You be quiet and just listen. I'm sick to death of seeing you and him mope around and - "

"Hey! Look!" Feliciano picked up another puppy – the runt of the litter. "This one is you and – ow!" Feliciano wailed until the puppy stopped biting his finger. He held the puppy carefully, though he looked at Lovino with a hurt, teary expression. "Your puppy bit me."

"Will you stop with that?"

"But your puppy has to be nice so Germany puppy will like him." Feliciano tried to put the squirmy puppy on the floor next to the other two puppies, but it began to whine and make such distressing sounds that Feliciano didn't have the heart to put it down. It bit him, again.

"He's only doing that because he's scared. Just put him back with his mama and start paying attention." Lovino was going red in the face and he started to tap a finger on his knee. "I'm trying to illustrate a point and Lord knows it's hard enough when you aren't distracted. I see how Germany looks at you. He's always there, always around you. He gets jealous when you go about flirting and that time – you remember that time when I said I saw him at our house and I gave him some fruit?"

"Sure. He was really happy about that, but I still don't know why you don't want him to know it was you who gave it to him."

"Hey! He didn't recognize me and I wanna keep it like that. If he starts thinking I'm giving him free stuff then he might think I can actually tolerate him. Anyway, I heard him say when he was walking away that he loved everything about Italy."

"But he was talking about you, I think. He was talking to you just a minute before and…"

"He didn't know me! Aren't you listening? He thought I was just some peddler on the street. No, you were the only Italy he knew and he said he LOVED everything about you."

Feliciano went quiet and pulled his knees up to his chest. "I want you to be happy, big brother. You seem so unhappy. Germany's wonderful, you know. He's strong and pretty and smart. He could make anyone happy."

Lovino smacked Feliciano on the back of the head.

Feliciano squawked and blinked at Lovino. "Germany won't like it if you hit me!"

"And if you hit anyone, he'll probably buy you an ice cream. What makes you think I need him to make me happy? I'm perfectly happy. There's nothing at all wrong with me. You need to worry about you. You and Germany – you're both dummies. You know, he thinks you're in love with Japan."

Feliciano's eyes grew comically wide and his mouth fell open. "Me? Japan?" He squeaked before shaking his head, rapidly. "No! No! Kiku's just a friend. We're really good friends and he doesn't mind it when I talk too much and we can talk about art all the time and he has great museums and he really clever, but… in love? No!"

Lovino snorted. "Don't get all frazzled with me; I know who you're in love with. It's Germany who's confused. You're confused, too, but that's nothing new. So, if you don't want Germany buying wedding presents for a wedding that's not going to happen, maybe you should have a talk with him, 'cause he doesn't seem to think that I know my own brother."

Feliciano's stunned reflection on Germany's mistaken belief was interrupted when Hungary and Japan walked back into the room with the mail. Hungary was looking over Japan's shoulder at a letter he held. "Why is it addressed to both you and Germany?"

"A delicate political matter," Japan explained with a soft smile and a strange look of satisfaction. "It is something I was expecting." He tore open the envelope and, without a hint of surprise, pulled from it a second, smaller envelope. That second envelope he handed to Lovino. "For you."

Lovino reached for the envelope, but froze when he saw his name written on it. He looked slowly up at Japan. "It's from Spain. I know his handwriting."

"You don't have to read it if you don't want to."

But Lovino did take the letter. Without a word, he turned his back to them as he tore open the envelope and pulled out a small piece of paper. He muttered, "I'm sorry."

"What?" Feliciano was at his side, leaning against him to look at the paper.

"That's what it says: I'm sorry. Nothing else. He didn't even sign it." Lovino stared at the paper for a minute before shoving it into his trousers pocket with suddenly trembling hands. "I wonder if he really means it."

Feliciano leaned his head on Lovino's shoulder. "Don't you worry. If he doesn't, I'll fight him for you."

Lovino let out a shaky laugh meant more to cover up his suddenly shaken nerves than out of real humor. "You? Fight? Pull the other leg." He kept his hand in his pocket where it rested against the letter that he was almost afraid was sincere. If it was sincere, if Spain truly meant his apology… then what?

To be continued…