Okay, so this chapter was written in a single day (that's surprisingly fast for me). It'll probably seemed rushed- and I apologize if it does- but I didn't want to give you guys more fillers or spend too much time on Feliciano's memory loss. This story focuses mainly on Antonio and Lovino (even though I know it's important for other characters to develop too) but I just couldn't help but get to the climax of the story. So yes, there are a few time skips in here.

I hope you enjoy anyway.

Your reviews are love! I get so exicted when I read one! They leave me all happy and jittery inside! Thank you all so much!

Happy reading!

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

Warnings: Language

Chapter Twelve

Bright amber orbs studied the room with interest and utmost curiosity. He scrutinized every picture he could get his lithe hands on, imprinting the captured memory into his mind so he could fix this broken puzzle. Maybe… just maybe… if he looked at all the pictures it'll give him some kind of hint about the life he lost. Even though it had been just three days after arriving at the house he shared with his family, he had learned so much.

"This is me and you, Mommy. Daddy took this picture," Sienna pointed to another photograph.

Feliciano read the tab underneath: "Sienna Comes Home."

He looked at himself again.

He was so happy.

That was unmistakable.

Trying to imagine this scene playing out in his head turned out to be just as tiring as lugging himself around on those blasted crutches all day. Of course, he wouldn't let anyone know that. Feliciano wanted to be productive and help out around the house but the crutches and still sensitive wounds proved to be more than just a nuisance. Ludwig, on the other hand, was doing an excellent job of taking care of him and Sienna all at once. The blonde seemed far from stressed out—but Feliciano could tell that there was originally a sparkle in those cerulean eyes. That light was gone—why?

Where did it go?

It was clearly there in the photographs from the album. He even saw a ghost of a smile in one picture.

Now, only three days since being brought back home, it never once revealed itself.

He… wanted to see it.

But how could he get the man to smile?

"Sienna, it's time to go," Ludwig already had the car keys in his hand and was heading towards the door.

"Okay," the strawberry-blonde girl placed a tender kiss on Feliciano's cheek before grabbing her princess backpack and went to her father.

Ludwig paused when Feliciano hadn't moved, "Do you need help standing?"

"Huh? Feliciano blinked and then understood what Ludwig meant, "Oh! I think I'll sit this one out."

"I'd feel more comfortable if you went with me," the German said. "The last time I left you here alone things didn't turn out so well."

"I'll be fine—besides, my leg hurts so I probably won't be doing much moving around," Feliciano offered a grin.

Ludwig wasn't fazed.

He had seen that look before—that grin.

Its purpose was to disarm him and make him believe that everything would be fine. And Ludwig was foolish enough to believe it last time… well, he wouldn't be making the same mistake twice. That was absolute.

"Feliciano, I really would feel ten times better if you came along. I've never liked leaving you here alone," Ludwig pushed back the strands of hair falling into his face.

"Ludwig," there it was again. That smile. The one that made him fall for the Italian in the first place. "Sienna will be late for school if you don't hurry. It's just ten minutes into town. What could happen in ten minutes?"

You'd be surprised, Ludwig thought morbidly.

"Take Sienna to school. I'll be right here when you get back," Feliciano attempted at convincing the man for the third time. "I promise."

"Feliciano—"

"Ludwig," the Italian interrupted him. "I'll be okay. Just take Sienna to school. I really don't feel like going anywhere at the moment."

The German sighed.

Feliciano could be just as stubborn as Lovino sometimes.

And it's not like he'd drag the man into the car. Without his memories, anything said or done that was too sudden could ruin Feliciano's muddled perspective of his life. Ludwig had to ease his lover back into this. He had to let the Italian know that there was evident trust between the two of them. By not letting Feliciano stay here alone, the man must've assumed Ludwig didn't trust him.

Heaving another sigh, Ludwig continued, "I'll lock the door behind me so you won't have to get up. Call me if anything goes wrong. Anything, Feliciano."

"Si! I promise!" the Italian nodded quickly. "I'll be right here in this very spot when you get back! Unless I have to go to the bathroom."

There.

A smile.

It was unnoticeable if one wasn't paying attention but Feliciano managed to catch it creeping along the blonde's face.

A simple falter in a frown that had been a constant feature on Ludwig's face was now outshone in an instant. Feliciano didn't know why the man didn't smile more often—it made him look very handsome, more so than he already was. It also brought Feliciano such joy to see it. It brought warmth and comfort—two things he had yet to fully grab hold of.

Sure, this was his family but he didn't know them as he should've. That painful fact made his heart clench horribly. His mind didn't remember but his heart certainly did.

The German finally left Feliciano to his own devices and the Italian took this chance to examine the photo album at his own pace and try to remember bit by tiny bit. He turned to the first page and the very first photograph was of a man and woman… and what seemed to be their wedding.

The olive-skinned man with dark brunette hair and emerald eyes was their father—strong, independent and ever-absent. That man was supposed to be the foundation for their family, like the glue that kept them together; someone who could be looked up to for protection. He ended up being a wrecking ball, taking a hammer to their happy memories and destroying them without a second thought.

Now their mother, dressed in white with auburn curls, honey eyes, and crème skin, was their everything. She was an angel and a warrior, defending her sons with all she had. That woman, who had a mellifluous voice to sing lullabies every night and leave butterfly kisses on their foreheads, could dispel her sons' fears of monsters and anything that went bump in the night.

But by the hands of the man that helped conceive them, her lullabies, gentle kisses and strong hugs were stolen away. That man had an accomplice—a thief no one could catch. The thief known as Death took their angel from them soaked in blood and clipped feathers. Touching the picture, Feliciano could see the knife glinting in the light… the knife that was meant for him and Lovino but had been aimed at their mother instead…

No longer able to bear it, Feliciano flipped the pages until he arrived at one of him and Lovino sitting on the floor playing a board game. Feliciano was grinning wildly. Lovino, however, didn't even attempt a smile. The purple shade surrounding his left eye and his busted lip gave him reason enough not to. Underneath the blue jeans and long-sleeved spice brown shirt, Feliciano knew there were more splotches of purple marring his brother's skin.

Feliciano, remembering the black eye and swollen lip were from their father learning that Lovino had fallen in love with Antonio at fifteen, instantly wished he had done more to help. Since his father favored him over his brother, he might've been able to assuage Lovino's beatings. But Lovino made him promise to never get involved. The older Italian had said he would rather receive the punishment than Feliciano. A noble but risky sacrifice.

The youngest Italian often tried to convince their mother to leave but she had said they had nowhere to go. As punishment for running away and getting pregnant at such a young age, their grandfather, Roma, had ultimately rejected the entire family.

Feliciano turned the page before he delved into another horrid memory. But it was no longer photographs of that dreadful childhood. This time, the atmosphere was light with a clear and bright future ahead of the duo in the picture. He finally realized the couple in the photograph was him and Ludwig.

The Italian was grinning as usual and hugging Ludwig while the blonde embraced Feliciano. There was a sliver of a smile but his oceanic eyes spoke volumes.

"First Date," Feliciano read the tab aloud.

He browsed through a few more pages; most of them random shots of either him or Ludwig or a landscape Feliciano had found beauty in. There were even some scattered pictures of Lovino and Antonio. The Italian was of course scowling but stood still for the picture to appease the Spaniard beside him.

Feliciano couldn't help but chuckle.

Turning a few more pages, he came to what he assumed was a more recent part of his life: adopting Sienna. The child with strawberry-blonde curls and electric blue eyes was definitely shy from what he could tell by the photographs. She hardly turned around to completely face the camera but peeked out from underneath her strands of hair.

She looked just like a combination of him and Ludwig…

How fitting.

But as the years went on, Sienna began to crawl further and further out of her protective shell and she even grinned at one point. Feliciano felt tears prick his eyes as he ghosted his fingers along the lost moments. Because, that's all they were: moments lost that he would probably never get back.

He wanted them…

…coveted them.

He wanted to remember it all.

In the two weeks since Feliciano's release, Marcello had been absent from Antonio and Lovino's lives. There wasn't a single call, a single text message… nothing. Being the curious creature he was, Lovino of course wanted to find out what the hell was going on. But his ego wouldn't allow him to call first—he didn't want to sound desperate (not that he was).

The Italian-American hadn't even stuck around to see if Feliciano made it out okay.

Jerk…

Antonio had definitely taken notice of the absent parent figure he had in his life but refused to question about it. He was just fine with it being him and his father doing things together. The boy still hadn't forgiven Marcello for taking his daddy away on some nights and leaving him.

Watching his son play, Lovino couldn't help the queasiness beginning to take over him.

Why did he have such a feeling?

Perhaps it was some bad food.

"So I've missed all of this?" Feliciano was seated beside Ludwig on the couch and he was once again searching through the pictures to find some sort of clue.

"Yes," Ludwig nodded.

"I hate this… I hate… not remembering… it hurts," Feliciano mumbled as he stared at a picture of Sienna in a pink dress with flower imprints.

"Don't worry, Feliciano. You'll remember. Sienna loves you no less with or without you remembering," Ludwig tried to console the fretful Italian.

"Do… do you still love me?" Feliciano couldn't stop himself from asking the question. It was as if some part of him wanted to—no, needed to know.

If the answer was no…

Feliciano just might die.

"Yes," Ludwig said and was taken aback by how suddenly Feliciano had hugged him since there had been little to no physical contact between the two of them in the last fourteen days.

Feliciano inhaled deeply, taking in the German's scent. It was foreign but he loved it almost automatically. He didn't know why he was hugging the man—they hardly knew each other. But it felt so right, so natural.

Then, as he released the blonde, Feliciano asked, "Where's fratello? I've hardly seen him."

"Oh he's probably with Marcello."

"Marcello?" Feliciano tilted his head. "Who's that?"

"Lovino's new boyfriend. He's from America but was born here in Italy. I've never liked him much. He's too… perfect if you ask me," Ludwig explained and caught a different light in Feliciano's eyes.

The light of recognition.

The light of realization.

…the light of fear.

"No…" Feliciano choked, the memories slamming into him like a sledgehammer.

The break in, the beating… Marcello's affiliation with the enemy, whoever the enemy may be. He had to warn Lovino! This may be their only chance!

"Feliciano, what's wrong?" the German wondered, not liking his lover's expression one bit.

"We have to go to my brother's!" Feliciano tried standing without his crutches and nearly toppled over. Ludwig, luckily, had caught the young Italian.

"Why? Feliciano, what's going on?"

"He and Antonio are in danger! We have to go! Marcello is working with the men that broke in a while back!" Feliciano said in one single breath, tugging the German along while hobbling on one good leg.

A rage Feliciano had never seen flashed in Ludwig's ocean eyes.

Antonio's head perked to attention at the sound, "Papa, can I answer the door?"

Mulling over it, Lovino nodded, "Sure, go ahead."

The boy, feeling like a big kid who could do things by himself, ran to the door and opened it, his eyebrows rising in surprise at who it was. "Mister Marcello!"

"Hey there, champ!" the Italian-American lifted the boy into his arms and spun themselves around in a small circle.

"Where did you go, Marcello? You were gone for a long time," Antonio's eyes were glistening with curiosity.

"I had some work to take care of but I finally managed to make it back," Marcello set the boy to the floor. "I'm sorry for being gone for so long. Where's your dad, squirt?"

"I think he's making dinner," Antonio replied, leading the man into the kitchen where Lovino was indeed stirring the noodles inside a large pot.

The Italian, however, paid no attention to who had arrived.

"Lovino?" Marcello called and received the cold shoulder. He sighed and offered an apologetic smile. "Oh come on, Lovino, don't be like that. I had work to catch up with. I couldn't call you at all."

"Antonio, how much tomato sauce do you want?" Lovino overlooked Marcello completely.

"A lot!" Antonio grinned. "But I won't get it everywhere this time—promise!"

"Yeah, yeah, you said that last time," Lovino smiled and returned to his task of cooking.

Antonio giggled and rushed back into the living room with his toys.

"Lovino," Marcello said.

"What do you want?"

"Why won't you talk to me?"

"This is coming from the guy who didn't speak to us for over two weeks," Lovino glanced from the corner of his eye.

"I told you I had to work. I couldn't call you."

"But what about the other times you had to go? You called then," Lovino said tersely.

"My schedule was busy," Marcello ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'm sorry."

"You don't apologize to me. You apologize to my son who's in the next room. He's been asking for you, believe it or not. He missed you—I don't want someone who's going to be walking in and out of my kid's life. You're either here or you're not and when you're not, you call."

"All right, Lovino. I really am sorry…" Marcello now looked like a kicked puppy. "Ti amo."

Lovino raised an eyebrow but caved anyway, "Ti amo."

Marcello returned back into the living room after kissing Lovino on the cheek and had played with Antonio until Lovino had called them to eat.

"So Lovino…" Marcello pushed his plate forward, not even halfway done.

"Yes?"

"I've been curious about your family. We've been dating for six months and I haven't even met your parents. Isn't it only polite that I have the honor of meeting them?" Marcello folded his hands on the table.

"You can't. They're gone," Lovino replied, unable to say the word 'dead.'

"Oh… I see. I'm sorry. I know how you feel," Marcello offered a smile. "But no other parental figures? Grandparents? Aunts? Uncles?"

"No, no one. Just a grandfather who didn't even want us. Why are you so curious all of a sudden?" Lovino's eyes narrowed.

"Just for curiosity's sake," Marcello raised his hands in a placating gesture. "So about your grandfather… I assume he's dead, too?"

"Yeah. He passed away when I was seventeen and Feliciano was sixteen. He left us some inheritance money but I have no clue where that is," Lovino rambled out the last part without really meaning to.

There was a dark look in Marcello's bright eyes, "I see."

Some tomato sauce flew through the air and landed on Lovino's cheek and Antonio was no doubt the culprit by how madly he was giggling.

"And you said you wouldn't get it everywhere," Lovino took his napkin and wiped at Antonio's face that was covered in red sauce and also at the single spot on his own face that had been stained.

Antonio gave an impish grin as his father cleaned his face but then he, like his dad, had a confused expression when Marcello suddenly stood and headed for the door.

"You're leaving?" Lovino guessed.

"No, someone's just here to see me," the reply was curt.

"Do you know who it is, Papa?" Antonio asked.

"No I don't. But I'll give him a few minutes," Lovino removed some sauce that had ended up behind Antonio's ears. "How in the heck did you get it all the way back here?"

"I dunno," Antonio shrugged.

Those few minutes quickly escalated into five… then ten… then at nearly fifteen, Lovino stood from his chair, telling Antonio to stay put.

"Marcello, who is at the door?" Lovino asked but stopped short as he saw the long and narrow weapon aimed at him. Its sleek black form shone in the light and glinted dangerously.

The man's finger brushed the trigger, his blue eyes unforgiving, "I'm sorry, mi amore."

BANG!

The green-eyed Italian toppled to the floor, the sound of the gunshot ringing in his ears. The searing flame in his chest intensified where the bullet had hit and the coppery taste of blood was already gurgling its way up his throat. Gasping for air, Lovino struggled to sit up but all strength had been drained from his limbs.

Marcello, gun in hand, merely stared at the Italian writhing on the floor.

"Papa!" Antonio sprinted to his injured parent.

"Antonio… run…" Lovino managed to rasp.

The boy was crying hysterically, his tears mixing with the pool of blood on the carpet, "Papa! Papa! Get up, Papa! Get up! Please!"

Marcello grabbed the back of the boy's shirt, allowing him to flail uselessly in the air and smirked menacingly. The old, cheerful Marcello no longer existed—he had never existed.

"You know, Lovino, this could've gone much smoother if you had just told me where your grandfather's inheritance is," Marcello sighed in feigned sympathy over Antonio's wails.

Lovino reached out weakly for his son, "G-Give him back, you bastard! H-He's just a boy!"

"Then where would your motivation come from?" Marcello laughed. "Besides, it's much more fun like this."

Lovino spit some blood at Marcello's feet and growled.

"Look, it's simple. Bring your grandfather's inheritance money to the plaza. You have one week from the time I walk out this door. If you don't have the money, your kid had better know how to swim. After all, I think of him as my own son. It would be a shame if I had to hurt him," Marcello snickered while looking at Antonio as if the boy was nothing but a scrap of meat for the dogs.

"Help, Papa, I'm scared!" Antonio cried.

"Toni…" Lovino strained to stand, "You son of a bitch, let him go!"

"Bring the money and the kid is spared. If you don't, well, the result is imminent."

And then, just like that, Lovino's very purpose for living had been taken away from him.