In panicked heartbeats and hushed whispers, Austria and Hungary scrambled for a plan. Many rooms away, Chibitalia was still practising. Austria could not believe that this example of precocious diligence was related to that odd man waiting outside.

"Maybe it's a coincidence," Hungary said, although her voice betrayed that she suspected it wasn't. Unexpectedly, she stumbled backward. Austria caught her just before she would have hit her head of the bust of Mozart.

"I hate that thing," she said faintly. Austria looked at her in concern. He had never seen her look so strained.

"Why..."

"I'm fine, Austria," she said. "Just a little dizzy." As one, they looked at the door. The anachronistic stranger was probably still waiting there. Gentle, clumsy notes continued to flow from the music room. Austria gripped Hungary tighter.

"We must act now."

"What do we do?" she asked. Austria adjusted his cravat, which suddenly seemed much more snug than it did seconds before.

"I was going to ask you the same question," he admitted. The stranger knocked at the door again. Out of habit, Hungary pulled it open.

"Hello?" said the stranger, a confused look on his face.

"Grampa!" said a small voice from down the hall. Both Austria and Hungary froze as they realized the music had stopped. Chibitalia ran along the hall, pushing between his adoptive parents. He leapt into his grandfather's arms, squealing with joy.

"Oh, thank the gods," cried Grampa Rome. He squeezed Chibitalia so tightly it looked like he would never let go again. Austria and Hungary held hands in very much the same way. On some level, they hoped if their grip was solid enough, it could deflect the sadness that was flooding in.

"Time to take you home," said Grampa Rome. "Everyone has been so worried about you." Chibitalia looked back at Austria and Hungary, who put on brave smiles.

"Goodbye, Mama. Goodbye, Cranky Austria. Thank you for everything."

Unable to speak, Austria and Hungary waved as Chibitalia toddled away. When Chibitalia jumped down from the base of the front step, he turned around and returned the wave. Then he took his grandfather's hand, and the two of them set off toward the front gates.

"Italia?" Grampa Rome asked as they walked. "Why are you dressed like a little Hungarian girl?" The two vanished into the distance. When Austria shut the door, the sound echoed forever into the empty house.

"Maybe I should..." Austria was going to offer to play the piano, but he really didn't feel like it. Hungary leaned back against the nearest wall and let herself slide to the floor.

"I don't feel right," she said.

"I know," said Austria. "I may not show it, but I am broken inside as well." He looked down at Hungary, who rested her head in her hands.

"No, I mean I really don't feel well," she said, grimacing. "Call the doctor."