Feliciano looked in through the window, glee visible all over his face.
France and Germany lay fast asleep on the two gurneys near the door, whilst Rome, Romano and Spain slept closer to the window.
The Italian knew that the other nations were looking for him, some with and without their capitals. For so many years, he had been searching. Looking. Missing.
Then when he had finally been united with his love, they hated what he had done. They couldn't see how much pain he was in, how much he had endured to find them. What he had done to protect them. He was the one who had shot Elora, hoping that she would die there on the stage. In truth, the former city should never have woken up from her slumber. He knew he was sitting on the borderline of Sanity and insanity.
He just wanted to be whole again. To quell the pain in his heart.
The Italian nation fiddled with the window before plucking it from the sill and dripping it in the nearby bushes, watching it fall and become snagged on the bushes. He slipped inside the room, eyes watching the outside bushes.
He failed to see the glint of a snipers rifle from the trees. A bullet rang out catching him in the back of the shoulder. He stifled a yell. Another bullet rang out, catching his other shoulder. He gave a loud whimper, causing Antonio to stir. Green eyes flew open as the Italian was struck by another bullet, this time through his Right side of his body. Feliciano stumbled, coughing as his lung filled with blood.
Blood poured down his chin as the Spaniard gave a surprised and concerned shout. Ludwig shot awake as France quickly joined Antonio, pulling the Italian onto a nearby bed. Feliciano had passed out from pain as he was laid gently on the bed. Ludwig tore the Italian's shirt open as France arrived with an emergency kit. Pulling out the tweezers, Ludwig positioned them around the bullet lodged in the Italians Left shoulder. The bullet snagged itself on the flesh as the German tugged it out of the wound. Feliciano squirmed in discomfort. The bullet dropped to the ground harmlessly, covered in the Italians blood as the German moved to remove the other shoulder, tugging it out and dropping it to the floor.
When Germany moved to the one in his chest he froze. Thick blood still leaked from the other nation's mouth as he turned him over. Feliciano's head flopped to the side. There was no bullet lodged in this wound. Just a gaping hole filling with blood. With the nations attributed healing skills, web like stings would begin to form within the wound. However this did not seem to occur to Feliciano. There were no signs of healing. Was it because the actual Nations soul was missing?
Just as the German was finishing with the bandaging, America and England flew through the door. Germany was shoved aside, the Italian ripped from the bed and thrown over the American's shoulder, carelessly. England held the door open, departing after the American, Leaving the other nations stunned in the room. Germany was the first to move, flying down the hallway after the two allied nations.
He arrived just in time to see Alfred throw the unconscious wounded nation into the same padded cell as Venice. A startled and worried gasp sounded just as the door closed. America spun around only to come face to face with a furious German nation. The American had to drag the furious nation back to the conference room. With a grunt, Germany was thrust into a chair.
"Cut it German-dude! We don't know what he would have done when he woke up! He's like unstable or something!" He was forced back by the German nation who walked to where Berlin sat, staring at the screen as he had been for the past day.
Venice had moved to her nation's side and had managed to move him to the corner of the room, out of the beam of light. The young Italian girl moved him to a seated position and finished the bandaging on his chest with of her hair clips. She tore a sleeve off her shirt and wiped her nations face, only managing to spread it more. She settled on the floor next to him, curled up like a cat, watching the door. Protecting her nation from those who had hurt him.
-2 days later-
Neither Germany nor Berlin had moved from their position in front of the screen. Both had watched the ones they loved as they laid in the corner of the room. Occasionally A nation, usually France or England would attempt to get to Italy to change the bandages, but were thrown from the room by Venice, usually covered in Scratches or by a sudden pain in their lower regions. Italy had woken up a few times, only to cough blood. The usual white floor around him was covered in dark brown dried blood.
It was around 3 in the afternoon when the alarm sounded. The other nations gaze flew to Vienna's cell camera only to find an empty room with a door thrown against the back wall. He appeared at Venice and Italy's Cell. The door was hurled off its hinges and thrown over the cities shoulder. Venice was already on her feet, standing in a defensive position in front of Feliciano. The Austrian threw himself at the Italian girl, who jumped at the same time, slamming into Vienna.
As the two cities fought, Alfred slipped into the room, skirted around the fight and to Italy's side. He pulled up one of the other country's eyes to see an unresponsive eye begin to tilt upwards. The wounds under the day old bandages had not healed. Alfred scooped up the Italian and bolted from the room, leaving Venice and Vienna fighting on the floor. Germany turned just as the American sprinted into the room.
Ludwig was at his side as he laid the Italian on the table, pushing the chairs away from the table. The Italians shirt was ripped from his body, leaving him naked from the waist upwards, save for the old bandages on his chest. The bandages were quickly discarded, leaving the nations to stare at the wounds on the Italian. There appeared to be no improvement of the wounds. Three bullet holes lay on his body, staring at them like angry infected ulcers.
The fight between the Austrian and Italian had appeared to be over, when Venice appeared at Italy's side. France appeared next to her, thrusting peroxide and clean bandages into the Germans hands. Working quickly, Ludwig wiped each wound with the Peroxide, causing the Italian to stir and flinch slightly. Once the wounds were clear of pus and blood, the German peered into them, inspecting the healing process. There were no signs of any. There was a large hole through the Italians right lung and two more holes in his shoulders. Carefully Feliciano was lifted slightly to allow bandages to be wrapped around his body once again. The Italians head flopped uselessly backwards as he was lifted.
Suddenly Romano was at his side, being supported by Spain. Pushing himself off the Spaniard, He staggered over to the other half of his nation and pushed a dulled orb into the Italians chest, meeting little resistance. Something changed in the air. The gloomy air begun to feel better. Happier almost. Feliciano's body gave a shudder and a gasp of air escaped his lips. Colour began to flow into his face. His eyes flew open, seeming to shine with light before going out.
The room went silent. Nobody moved.
Venice took Italy's hand squeezing it. A flinch shook his body as he slowly turned his gaze to the Capital. Germany took the Italians other hand. The Italian tilted his head towards the German. His eyes narrowed. He pulled himself up keeping his hand in Venice's but tearing his hand from the Germans. He stood up, keeping his hand linked with his Capitals.
Northern Italian glared at Germany. Romano limped to his side, taking his other hand, adding his glare towards the German. Under their combined gaze the german nation backed up against the far wall.
"Who said you could touch me tedesco?" The Italian sneered.
The Room went still.
Authors Note: Thank you to all who Read and Reviewed the last chapter~! I do appologise for the wait. Hopefully I will be able to update all of my fan fics this week~!
Tedesco= German (google translated)
Please Read and Review~!
