Title: Life Starts Now

Fandom: Axis Powers: Hetalia

Author: Me, I should hope.

Genre: fluff, angst, romance, adventure, slice of life, AU

Pairing: PruCan, USUK, GerTalia, LietPol, Bela-Rus, Ukr/Can hinted at, FrUK hinted, PrUK bromace, FrPru bromace, SuFin

Rating: T

Warnings: Angst. Character death. Fluff. Slash. Language.

Chapter Summary: A decision is made and a step is taken.

A/N: Uh yeah, you know, the usual. Notes at the end, APU. Enjoy my lovelies!

Chapter 8: Bitter Taste

It was 24 hours before Arthur appeared; though Gilbert hadn't exactly been keeping in touch with the world outside of his bedroom, so he might have come back earlier and just hadn't thought to inform Gilbert of it, which was actually pretty likely because it wasn't like they were married. Or something. Still, when Gilbert asked where he'd been, Arthur had shrugged and mumbled something evasive about getting lost. It might have had something to do with Ludwig hovering at the door, but it might not have, Gilbert didn't much know, and cared less.

"Anyway," Arthur shrugged, kicking one of Gilbert's T-shirts out of the way with his toes, and prodding at the carpet before gingerly crossing the room to perch himself on the chair at the albino's beyond-cluttered desk. "No one's telling me jack, as per, so come on, you've got Francis practically praying the rosary because he's such an utter arse, and you've been driving Ludwig spare by the sounds of – oh, hello, Matthew, didn't see you there."

For his part, Gilbert had allowed their circle of friends to do the rounds and check on him, and then he'd stuffed his face with some of Feliciano's cooking, showered, and retreated back to bed, where he'd been since. Everyone had convinced themselves that this was a sign of illness, that there was something wrong with Gilbert that he wasn't saying, that maybe the trauma was worse than the doctor assured them it was, and the East German let them believe it, because it meant they left him alone. It meant that he got to be alone with Matthew, and that was all he cared about, because the door had opened between them now, an unspoken agreement reached, and Gilbert didn't want to lose a second with him, and part of him, as he'd threaded his fingers through cold and damp hair, lips numb even though he was unwilling to give Matthew up for anything, wondered what he would have been like in life. It had always been Gilbert apparently, so there was no way he'd have denied his advances, should he have made them the way he'd idly mused about, trapped between that point of waking and sleeping, torn apart by death and despair and roughly stitched back together because he couldn't let Ludwig see him wallowing in his own self-pity because what kind of a big brother did that make him?

The Canadian Ghost had been next to Gilbert at all appropriate times of course, and even when he was where Matthew couldn't be, he wasn't far away, so it wasn't like he wasn't with Gilbert now, as he made pleasant chitchat with Arthur. That the Brit could see him stunned him; if he could see the youngest, it meant that he could see how they lay entangled, neither sure any more where the other began.

"Do I even want to know?" Arthur asked, making a vague, indicating gesture at them with one hand, whilst he pressed the heel of the other to his temple.

The hand Gilbert had on Matthew's hip pulled the Ghost closer and Gilbert grinned; wide and too-happy. "If you want," he offered. "Didn't know you were into that kind of thing, but whatever floats your boat."

"Oh for God's–! Gil, how old are you? I swear, between you, Francis and that virus on Ludwig's emails, you're going to give me an aneurism."

"What, you can buy them?"

"Now you're just being stupid, and I've got enough of that with Alfred, so if you're going to be like that, I will treat you appropriately and not tell you the information I was given by a rather helpful Ghost." He frowned at them. "Is there any point giving my opinion on this?"

Gilbert snorted with laughter. "No, but you won't give me any of this supposed 'information' without first giving me a dressing-down, so go on." He waved a hand, just to further demonstrate his apathy.

The sigh Arthur gave him was pitying almost, morose certainly, and not without a touch of exasperation. "I'm happy for you, don't get me wrong, I am happy for you, finding this little measure of whatever-it-is, really I am, but Christ, guys, Jesus Christ, you do know this is classified as a disorder, right? You do know that it won't end happily; we practically know where Kumajirou is now, there's only one place it can be, so once we've got it, we only need to work out how Matthew died and then he can Move On. I'm not talking about the what, where and when here, I'm talking the who and why. I'm happy that you're happy and all that, but this will end badly, and Gil, you'll be left in the mud again, and I think it might kill you this time." He paused for a second. "Speaking of the who and the why, I think I have a lead on that."

"It was Ivan," Gilbert replied automatically, even as Matthew stiffened next to him, and Arthur's eyes narrowed infinitesimally, "I keep telling you that."

"No," Arthur disagreed just as automatically. "I don't believe he had anything to do with it."

"Then what was it?" Matthew asked, shrinking into Gilbert's side as though fearful of the answer, and who wouldn't be, Gilbert mused, tightening his grip and ignoring the way it was weird for his arms to actually sink into the boy's skin.

"When I woke up," Arthur began, blowing a sigh into his messy hair, "I was locked in the Church of the Martyred Alexandrus, and I had no idea how I got there. This Ghost appears after a while, and I've tried to get out, but I can't, and he tells me that he brought me there, because it was safe. It was hallowed ground. He goes on to tell me that the Asylum is like a gateway; something about its positioning or something, I don't know, it's open, whatever it is, and it's letting Otherworld creatures through."

It sounded a little like he was lying, but Gilbert didn't press. "Creatures," he said instead. "What creatures?"

"He told me that there are multiple plains of existence, and the gateway is open to all of them, and from what he told me, I've come to understand that one of the things that came through was a demon. That's what's in the Asylum, what tried to possess me."

"Demons don't exist, Artie," Gilbert sing-songed.

"This one does," Arthur snapped back. "And it's not a demon in the horns and red latex sense, either. It's a Ghost that's – I can't believe I'm saying this – gone to the 'dark side'. The anger and hate and pain I felt when it tried to possess me is only a fraction of what it feels. Love might be the strongest of all emotions, but damn if that thing's not more powerful than that. It's had years to let itself grow in power and hate, and the Ghost told me that it has to be stopped."

"Well, okay," Matthew mumbled, picking at Gilbert's nails. "But how does this fit in with me?"

"I'm not sure," Arthur admitted, pressing his lips together in a sad little smile, shaking his head softly, and there was something he wasn't saying, Gilbert could see it, but there was no way he could get Arthur to tell him, not until the Englishman was ready to speak. The Briton's tenacity was rivalled only by his own. "But I told the Ghost why we were in the Asylum in the first place, that we were trying to find Matt's missing piece, and he said that whatever the link is, it's broken. He thinks that the demon's focusing on us because we've got the closest link to Matt, that Matt owes it something he hasn't given." He took a breath. "I think you might have made some kind of deal, Matthew."

"What?" Matthew squeaked, bolting upright and elbowing Gilbert in the ribs. As the older man lay there groaning, he said, hands shaking, "No, no I didn't! I'd remember, I didn't do anything like that, I promise! What would I make a deal for? How could I benefit?"

Arthur gave a pointed look first to him, and then to Gilbert. "The Ghost told me that between our circle of friends, we could work out the truth. Loathe though I am to do it, I think I might have to have a talk with Francis and then with Alfred."

Matthew's eyes were wet, but hard. "Arthur, I haven't done anything."

But it was clear Arthur's mind was made up, that he had steeled himself against Matthew's pleading long before he'd started speaking. "I'm sorry, Matt, I am, but I just don't believe it. Whatever you've done, you've endangered everybody, and we've got to stop the demon before it kills again."

And with that he stood and left the room, not meeting either of the other's eyes, slamming the door and yelling for the Frenchman as he did.

Darkness. Stillness. Is it night time or death? Who's real?

Footsteps on carpet, creaking floorboards, down, down, down, and out.

There was nothing to fear, nothing at all. They were okay, they were better than okay, they were perfect, both of them. The end had come and it was going to wrap them up tight, warm and soft, and the darkness was a blanket on their senses, hiding them from the world until all that remained was them, just their consciousness mingled together, one and all and none, not even their physical bodies surviving the transition into the darkness, and that was okay, because it was safe here, and it was peaceful.

There was no one to stop them, nowhere they couldn't go. Freedom came at a price, but oh! It was a beautiful price they paid to be so enraptured.

++End Chapter++

NOTES::

Vis-à-vis Ludwig's emails; IT'S GOT DOGS IN IT.

OH MATTIE WHY.

So short chapter is short, but I couldn't do what I'd originally planned to in this chapter without ruining the mood, so I'm sticking to the original plan. And as a couple of my faithfuls might remember; chapters 9 and 10 are the big ones, so uh, head's up! Hope you enjoyed my lovelies! ++Vince++