A/N: Michelangelo is Seborga.

.

Late September, 1942, Russian Border

Feliciano didn't like how cold it was starting to get. He was used to nice weather, not this biting wind that came from Siberia. If he wasn't careful, he would get sick, and that wouldn't be good at all. Ludwig would probably get angry with him for being careless.

But that wasn't the only thing that was troubling the young Italian. Things were quiet there. Too quiet. He knew he should be expecting an attack any day, but with every day that passed with no attacks, he was starting to let his guard down, something a soldier should never do. Feliciano was starting to worry. What if there was another attack like the one at his last base? Would he have to slaughter even more men? Just the thought of that terrified him. What was he supposed to do? The men he killed had families just like he did.

"Is something bothering you, Lieutenant Vargas?" Ludwig asked, pulling on his gloves as he walked over. He was all bundled up in his uniform for the cold, leaving Feliciano to wonder how warm he would be if he followed Ludwig's instruction on bundling up as well.

"Nothing really," Feliciano admitted with a sigh as he pulled on his gloves to make them tighter around his hands. "You see, I have a lot going on in my head. There is just so much all jumbled up in there." He thumped the side of his head with his hand a couple times. "Don't mind me. I'm just thinking a lot."

"Well don't think too hard," Ludwig laughed, "you might hurt yourself."

"Very funny," his lover grumbled at him, crossing his arms over his chest to get warm, but making it also look like a pout.

"What are you thinking about?" Ludwig asked, walking up behind him. "Perhaps I could help ease your mind."

Feliciano sighed. "It's been quiet here lately," he answered, "too quiet. Don't you think so? It's like the Allies are just waiting for us to get nice and comfortable before they attack. Well it's not working for me. I'm constantly on edge!" He uncrossed his arms and threw his hands in the air. "It's just not fair, Ludwig. I can barely even sleep at night anymore because I'm just waiting for that surprise attack."

Ludwig hummed his understanding and then sighed. "Feliciano, sleep is important. You can't be losing sleep over trivial matters such as this, because we don't even know if they will attack or not."

Just as Ludwig finished his sentence, there was a gunshot and his arm was suddenly stained red. Feliciano was instantly alert as he picked up a nearby gun and faced the direction that the gunshot came from. He couldn't detect any form of movement anywhere, but that just made him even more nervous.

"Get down and stay down," he hissed to Ludwig, stepping in front of him to protect him. "Hopefully it will all be over soon." Another gunshot was fired from nearby, but Feliciano detected where it came from and rained bullets on the area, hearing a couple men fall to the ground, presumably dead. His heart was beating at the speed of light, but he knew he needed to remain calm for Ludwig's sake.

Feliciano slowed his breath as he examined his surroundings. He could sense enemies nearby yet nowhere at the same time. It was unnerving, almost as if he were waiting for them to surround him. Where were all of the damned troops? Why were he and Ludwig the only ones out in the open like this? What was going on? Were the other troops afraid to come out and fight? Never in his life had Feliciano felt more alone and afraid.

He would attempt to call out to his other troops, but at this rate, no one would hear him. If they hadn't heard the gunshots, how would they ever hear a human voice? His heart beat faster and faster until it was nearly jumping out of his chest. He wasn't scared anymore. He was terrified for his life.

There was a snap of a twig behind him and a gunshot. A sharp pain tore through Feliciano's abdomen. This is the end, he thought to himself. This is how I go. A hero to only Ludwig on a deserted battlefield.

He fell to his knees as he heard his other troops coming. Feliciano placed a hand over the wound to try to stop the bleeding, but it hurt too bad. Nothing was making sense anymore as his vision was starting to go black. What else was there to do but hold on the best he could by that point?

Here he was, bleeding out on the battlefield while Ludwig laid on the ground next to him. At least he would die next to Ludwig. That was what he cared about. His eyes searched for his lover, but Ludwig was no longer on the ground. He had lost his love in the sea of men. And as his eyes drifted shut, he couldn't help but feel sad.

.

Feliciano's eyes slowly fluttered open in an infirmary once more. How long had he been asleep? What day was it? What time was it? What was going on? Wasn't he supposed to have died? Last he remembered, he was bleeding out on the battlefield. Was this what Heaven looked like? Certainly it wouldn't look like an infirmary!

Ludwig walked in and stared at Feliciano for a moment before sitting down next to him. "That was a really stupid thing you did, Feliciano," he simply said. "Both of us could've died. You almost did. Why didn't you go and get help? You didn't have to take them all on by yourself! What would you have expected me to do if you would have…" His voice trailed off for a moment as he regained his composure, tears in his eyes. "You have no idea how happy I am that you are awake…."

"What's going on?" Feliciano asked, confused. "I remember getting shot, but I don't remember anything after that."

"You nearly bled out, Feliciano," he said, sitting next to his lover in the chair by his bed. "The doctor said you might not even wake up. But I didn't want to believe that. You're one of the best men we have. I couldn't just let you die. That wouldn't be fair." A single tear trickled down Ludiwg's cheek. "I couldn't lose you. Not like that."

Feliciano smiled weakly at him. "I'm right here, Ludwig," he softly said. "I'm not going anywhere. It'll take a lot more than that to kill someone like me, that's for damn sure." He laughed faintly, but it hurt his stomach to do so. "How long have I been asleep?"

"You've been out for a few days now," the German answered. "No one was sure if you were going to make it or not. I'm glad you pulled through, though. I need my Lieutenant Vargas by my side. Things would never be the same without you."

"Never," Feliciano agreed, reaching a hand out to him.

Since they were the only two in the infirmary, Ludwig held Feliciano's hand with both of his, smiling at his lover. No more words needed to be said between the two for the time being. Everything else that needed to be said was being told through the looks they were giving each other. The two lovers needed each other in their lives.

"Is your arm still hurting?" Feliciano asked after awhile of gazing into Ludwig's perfect, blue eyes.

"It feels better now," Ludwig answered with a small smile. "The bullet only grazed it, that's all." He rolled up his sleeve to show Feliciano the white bandage on his forearm. "See? I'm perfectly fine. It was you that I was worried about. That bullet got you good. And when I saw what it had done to you, I went and rained hell down on all of those Allies."

"You did?" Feliciano asked. "Why?"

"Because no one does something like that to the one I love," Ludwig softly said. "Feliciano, I thought I had lost you. I couldn't see or think straight. I thought you were dead. It was the worst feeling in the world, and I wouldn't ever want to experience it again, having already experienced it twice so far."

"Twice?" Feliciano asked him, confused. "When was the first time, if you don't mind me asking."

"You mean to tell me you don't remember the little fall you took when you broke both of your legs?" Ludwig asked him. "How your brother just let you fall two stories onto your legs?"

Feliciano suddenly remembered and frowned. "Oh yeah," he sighed. How could he have forgotten the day he found out that he truly was a bad guy and not a hero? "Let's not talk about that day," he simply said. "Let's celebrate wellness for both of us."

"And how would you suggest that?" the German asked, raising an eyebrow to him.

Feliciano reached over and grabbed his lover's tie, pulling him down to his level before wrapping his arms around his shoulders and kissing him passionately. "I love you," he whispered against Ludwig's lips. "I always have, and I always will. Ti amo, Ludwig."

"Ich liebe dich," he simply said before deepening the kiss. "Forever."

The Italian almost hummed with delight and smiled into the kiss. He had never been so in love with someone before, and now was he chance to experience it for himself; for better or worse, in sickness and in health. His heart raced as Ludwig's tongue lapped against his. Everything about that moment was perfect. And he didn't want anything to ever change.

.

"Feeling better, Lieutenant?" General Mueller, his newest General to follow, asked, walking into the infirmary a day or two later. "I see that you woke up and joined us back here on earth. Welcome back. What you did was a very brave deed for all of us. You held off the enemy so we had time to surround them. That took guts, Vargas. I'm promoting you to Colonel."

"You're what?" Feliciano asked in disbelief. "What do you mean?" He was really getting promoted again, and so soon?

"What can I say, you deserve it," General Mueller stated. "Vargas, we have never seen anything like you in our military. You're like a completely different person when it comes to battle. Tell me, what is your secret to that?"

"I'm more concentrated in combat," he answered. "I don't let the enemy get to me. They're people, just like me. Why should I let the fact that they have a weapon intimidate me if I have one as well?"

"I like the way you think, Colonel Vargas!" General Mueller enthused. "You are a fantastic soldier, and I applaud you! I wish for a speedy recovery for you, so that we can have you back out on the field. We need more men like you."

"Well, it was Colonel Beilschmidt who trained me," Feliciano sheepishly replied. "He taught me everything I know about combat. Perhaps you should have him train some more troops?"

"How about I have both of you do it instead? It will get more troops prepared," the General stated. "You see, Colonel Beilschmidt can only teach so many men at a time. It's the same with you. If I have both of you teaching at the same time, our army will be unstoppable in no time!"

Feliciano gulped, unsure of how to feel about that. "Okay, I'll do it," he told him. He really didn't want to, but there was no way he could deny a superior officer a request like that, especially right after getting promoted. Yet something was gnawing at him. How was he supposed to train these men if he didn't agree with what they fought for?

.

Late December, 1942, Russian Border

Feliciano had just about had enough of the military and teaching the men these exercises to make them calm in every situation. It was bothering him a lot. Why couldn't they see that they were the bad guys? They weren't heroes! And with every group of men he taught, he wanted to yell at them, but then they would probably question his reasoning. It was too complicated to explain, so he always kept his mouth shut, wishing that someone would understand him when he said they were the bad guys.

"Colonel Vargas," a young Italian soldier asked him one day after training, "how do we know who is right and who is wrong in this war?"

"What do you mean?" Feliciano asked, turning to him. The young soldier had hair that was an even brighter auburn than his own and bright green eyes. "What makes you think these things all of a sudden?"

"I get that we're supposed to be the good guys," the soldier explained, "but lately I feel like we're not. For example, what happens to the people we take prisoner? Where do they go? No one has ever explained that to me before. They did nothing wrong other than exist in the wrong place at the wrong time."

Feliciano felt as if he were looking into a mirror and talking to a younger version of himself. "I honestly have no idea what happens to them," he answered. "But I do know that we can all be heroes in our own way."

"How?" the young soldier asked, pained. He seemed really torn up about the whole situation of no longer being a "good guy". It tugged at his superior officer's heart.

"We can try to save the ones we love," Feliciano answered. "That's all that we can do. Fight for your family. Fight for everyone you love. You can never go wrong when it's love that you're fighting for. Remember that."

"But what if I have no one to love?" he asked. "I'm still pretty young. I was only drafted here about a month ago when I turned eighteen. I don't understand the military, and I still don't get why I'm here. I want to go home."

The older Italian gave him a pitying look. "Try not to focus too much on the negative, kid," he decided to say. "If you do, things will only get worse from there, trust me on that. Find something or someone worth fighting for, and have that be your motivation."

"But how do I know if it's what's right?"

Feliciano smiled. "Your heart will tell you."

The young soldier smiled at him. "Thanks, Colonel! I appreciate it!"

"No problem, Private, er…."

"Vargas," he answered. "Private Michelangelo Vargas." He beamed proudly. "I guess our names have pride attached to them, huh?"

"I guess they do," Feliciano said with a bright smile.

.

For the rest of the evening, Feliciano couldn't get Michelangelo Vargas out of his head. Could they possibly be related somewhere down the line? What was the purpose of their conversation? Was it a sort of fate-decided thing? Was Michelangelo supposed to represent a younger Feliciano? If so, they why did they both exist? All of the questions in Feliciano's head were maddening.

"What's going on?" Ludwig asked him after they had made love that night. "You seemed preoccupied with something the whole time."

"I could've sworn I met myself from the past today," Feliciano thought aloud to Ludwig, leaning against him. "It was so strange. I never thought someone would share the same views as me on pretty much everything."

"And where did you meet this person?" Ludwig asked him, raising an eyebrow and putting an arm around him.

"He's one of my troops," Feliciano answered. "His last name is even Vargas! Can you believe that?" He whistled low. "It's insane, Ludwig!"

Ludwig hummed noncommittally. "So what are you thinking about this guy?" he asked, jealousy evident in his voice.

"I'm wondering if he's a long-lost relative of mine or something," Feliciano said. He sensed slight jealousy, so he turned to Ludwig and kissed him. "Don't worry, I don't think of him in the same way that I think of you." He cupped Ludwig's face in his hands. "I swear, you get so defensive over nothing sometimes."

"I do?" Ludwig asked him, huffing out. "Well if I do it's because of the way you talk about people to me."

"But you should hear the way I talk about you to them," Feliciano answered in a dreamy voice. "I don't talk about anyone else the way I talk about you, my love."

"You expect me to believe that?" the German asked him. "Right."

"Why are you getting so defensive right now?" Feliciano asked, moving away from his lover. "I don't understand why you're acting this way."

"Because you were thinking about someone else while we were making love," Ludwig grumbled. "That's supposed to be a time for us, Feliciano, not us and whoever else you have on your mind. Don't you get that?" He stormed off toward the base.

"Ludwig, please!" Feliciano softly called to him. "Come back! Let's talk about this!"

But the German didn't even turn to glance behind.