Dear CarolinePolanski, I'd love to e-mail you, but your e-mail did not show up in my comments. Can you try again please?

Germany woke early and exhausted as always, having gotten a minimal amount of sleep the night before. Even now, so close to the possibility of a solution, Germany found himself afraid to sleep. After all, it wasn't a stretch to think that Italy's heart could stop, like it had only the week before.

He was up for only a few minutes before the soft whimpers over the baby monitor told him that Alexander was awake. Germany let the dogs outside quickly before jogging up the steps, going into Alexander's room. The baby was awake, laying quietly in his crib, head turned to the side, and his blue-violet eyes seemed to be studying the mural that Italy had painted. Germany went to the crib, scooping up the little baby and carrying him closer to the mural.

"Do you like this?" Germany asked the infant quietly as Alexander cooed, his hand reaching out as though to grab the river painted on the wall. Germany chuckled at his son's antics, changing Alexander's diaper before dressing him for the day and carrying him downstairs.

...And nearly had a heart attack when he got downstairs and Romano was in his kitchen, moving around as though he lived there too.

"Romano? what are you doing here?" Germany asked, once his heart had started beating again. "How did you get in?"

"Veneciano gave me a key years ago." Romano sighed, moving over to the cabinet and pulling down some mugs. "The stupid tomato bastard insisted that I go with Veneciano to his doctor's appointment. So here I am. Is fratello awake?"

"Nein. He usually does not wake until later." Germany said, shifting Alexander over to one arm and grabbing the can of formula and a clean bottle.

Romano ended up hanging around until it came time for them to leave for Italy's appointment. Then, he helped Italy get ready while Germany warmed the car up and got Alexander into his coat and socks. Finally, they were on their way.

Italy was sitting shotgun, his face pale as the snow lining the streets as he sat in the seat, barely strong enough to lift his head. His portable oxygen tank was nestled by his feet, but the redhead's struggle for breath was still agonizingly clear.

Once at the hospital, they had literally no wait. Once Italy had been situated into a wheelchair, the three followed a nurse back to where a small team of doctors sat around a conference table. Germany and Romano, who held Alexander, sat hesitantly at the table, and Germany felt a laugh swell up in his throat. One of the doctors at the table was Spain, who looked absolutely exhausted and was smiling faintly at them. Vaguely, Germany remembered Hungary saying that Spain had a medical degree.

As soon as they sat down, one of the doctors stood. He was older than the others, but Germany recognized him as Dr. Samuel Smith, the man who had been Italy's doctor since the very beginning.

"So you think you have a possible cure?" Romano asked bluntly, cutting to the chase.

"It's a possibility." Dr. Smith said. "Looking at Feliciano's labs, it appears as though this disease, whatever it may be, came from his own body, similar to the way that cancer cells are created from the body's own cells. The disease is in his lungs, his bones, even his brain and nervous system, which is why he's been having seizures and the phantom pains. Using this information, we got the idea to take specific components from chemotherapy drugs and chelators, which are medications that are often used to treat illnesses like mercury poisoning. We'd also put him on a medication that would increase his heart function and take the strain off, and..."

Doctor Smith kept talking, and Germany tried to pay attention, he really did, but all of the medical jumbo just went straight over his head. Instead, he focused on holding Italy's hand gently, rubbing gentle circles on the cold palm.

"We'll leave you in privacy for a moment to discuss this." Dr. Smith concluded, and the doctors all stood, filing out of the room.

Germany, Italy, and Romano all sat in silence for a moment, and Italy squeezed Germany's hand feebly. The exhausted nation looked at them with tired honey eyes. "V-Ve... I-It's my last h-hope..." he whispered.

"There are a lot of risks, Veneciano." Romano said, his green eyes lacking their normal fire. He looked almost as tired as his brother.

"It's up to you, Liebling." Germany said, bringing Italy's hand to his mouth and kissing the freezing knuckles softly. Italy gave him a weak smile, his breathing laboured.

"I want to do it..." Italy whispered, tears matting his long lashes. "I w-want to... stay with A-Alexander... and Germany... a-and fratellone..."

"If that's what you want, that's what we will do." Germany said, taking a deep breath.

"I'll get Spain." Romano said, not arguing for once as he exited the room.

They had to sign a lot of papers. Because the drug was so experimental, they had to sign a lot of forms saying that they understood the risks. Eventually, they got through them all, and Italy was admitted.

"Are you scared?" Germany asked Italy as the doctors prepared a saline IV. Italy shook his head, smiling tremulously.

"He's lying." Romano spoke up from his spot against the wall.

"I'm fine." Italy said softly, then squeaked as the IV was inserted into the back of his hand. He squeezed Germany's hand as tight as he could with his free hand as he coughed suddenly, blood spilling thickly from his lips. A nurse held a small basin before him, letting the redhead cough his lifeblood into the basin.

Spain was there suddenly, sitting gently on the edge of the hospital bed and using a soft touch to push the redhead's sweaty locks off of his pallid face. "Listen, little one, we need a few tests done, so we can get current results. Is that okay?"

"W-What tests...?" Italy asked breathlessly, chest heaving for air as he sank back into the pillow.

"An MRI, a CT scan, and a... spinal tap." Spain, saying the last one hesitantly.

Italy panicked.

"No! Nonononononono!" Italy gasped out, his hands clawing at the thin hospital blanket until Germany captured his frail wrists.

"Liebe, you're okay, it's okay..." Germany said, speaking low and soothingly, painfully aware of the frantic beeps of the heart monitor. Slowly, slowly, Italy became to calm, but his honey eyes still held terror.

"L-Luddy..." the nation whimpered. "A-A spinal tap... is wh-where they stick... a big needle into your back..." he sniffled.

Germany honestly had not known that, but... "But they wouldn't do it if they didn't need to." Germany reasoned.

"Please, bebé, I know it'll hurt, but we need to do these tests. All we want is to help you." Spain said, still brushing Italy's hair back gently.

"...Okay..." Italy said at last. Spain smiled and stood, patting Italy's knee gently.

Germany stood, intending to accompany Italy as far as he could, but at that moment Alexander began to cry. Loudly, and in the way that Germany knew he needed fed. Germany sighed, conflicted. Romano pushed away from the wall.

"I'll go with him." the darker redhead said, going to his brother and letting Italy grab his hand.

"Alright." Germany said, sighing. He sat back down in his chair, quickly preparing a bottle as the doctors wheeled Italy's bed from the room. He fed Alexander, trying not to worry so much. Italy was going to cry, kick up as big of a fuss as he possibly could in his weakened state. There were few things that Italy hated more than needles.

The tests didn't take as long as Germany had expected they would. By the time he had gotten Alexander fed, burped, and changed, they were back. Italy was nothing more than a quivering lump under the thin hospital blanket.

"He did well." Spain said before Germany could ask. "But he has a headache from the spinal tap, and he doesn't react well to pain medicine."

"When will you get the results back?" Romano asked.

"For the spinal tap, in about an hour. The other doctors are going over the MRI and CT scans as we speak." Spain said. Now, I really need to go join them. I also need coffee." The Spaniard smiled, before swooping in on Romano and kissing the younger nation and fleeing as Romano's face instantly turned bright red.

Italy peeked his head out of the covers, gifting Germany a cute smile. "Luddy...? Will you... do me a favour...?"

"Of course." Germany said instantly.

"Fist of all... give me the baby... S-Second, can you g-go... home and pick up... some stuff?" Italy asked softly.

Gently, Germany lay Alexander next to Italy on the hospital bed, and Italy curled close to the baby. "What do you want from the house?" Germany asked, pulling out a pen and a pad of paper.

"A-A better blanket..." Italy said with a weak chuckle. "A-And some... pictures or something... to liven up... the room." He sighed softly, closing his eyes. "M-My head... still hurts, so I'm... going to sleep for a bit..."

"Okay." Germany said, scribbling Italy's requests down on the pad. He left Alexander with Italy, knowing that Romano would keep an eye on the little baby. He left and drove home.

At the house, Germany pulled a blanket from the hall closet, folding it and tucking it into a bag. He went into their bedroom, looking around. He chose the picture of their impromptu wedding ceremony, a picture of Italy's "family" (Italy, Romano, Germany, Spain, Austria, and Hungary) and the picture from the first time that they had seen Alexander, when Italy sat in the rocking chair at the orphanage, holding the baby gently.

He packed these into the bag as well. At the last moment, he grabbed Italy's iPod and headphones, stowing the music device carefully in his pocket. He headed back to the hospital.

When he was walking back to Italy's room, he could suddenly hear yelling. Fear curled sickly in his stomach, and he broke out sprinting to the room, passing Romano, who was leaned against the wall and holding Alexander tight to his chest. As he burst into the room, just in time for the doctors to send jolts of electricity into Italy's body, trying to restart the nation's heart.

Germany could almost swear that his own heart stopped as well. He stood in the open doorway, clinging so tightly to the doorway that it was beginning to conform to the shape of his hand. He wasn't aware whether or not he was breathing. Doctors shouted, the paddles changed hands, and medications were injected into the IV line. Finally, the monitor began to register a heartbeat, and Spain set the paddles back on the defillibrator, turning and seeing Germany in the doorway.

Spain's face fell. "He had a seizure, and his heart stopped." the Spaniard said, running a hand through his dark curls. "But we got him back."

Germany said nothing, still in shock. He stumbled back a few steps, dropping the bag, feeling his back hit the wall. His legs gave out, and he sank to the floor. He buried his face in his knees, focusing on taking deep breaths.

"Hey, are you okay, Germany?" Spain asked from directly in front of him. Germany ran his hands over his slicked back hair and took a final deep breath. "J-Ja..." he finally decided, looking away and getting to his feet. He stepped around Spain, going into the room and stopping when he got close to the bed.

Italy's hospital gown had been pulled down for the paddles, revealing his bony chest, tattooed with bruises. The prongs in his nose had been replaced by a mask, and Italy's breath fogged the device as he breathed. Italy's honey eyes were closed, lashes resting softly on pale cheeks. Even unconscious, his features were drawn as though he were in pain.

"We need to start the medication as soon as possible, or Feliciano likely won't make it." Dr. Smith said softly. "Also, we should consider putting him into a medically induced coma."

"C-Coma...?" Italy's shaky voice surprised them, and both looked down to see the lovely eyes were barely open.

Italy's could barely see, he hadn't the strength to lift his eyelids. Germany's face was blurred, he could barely make out those lovely blue eyes. He had never hurt so badly in his life. It felt as though his entire brain was throbbing, and pain radiated from the base of his skull to the tips of his toes and fingers. He felt like he were drowning, he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. Coughing and choking for breath, blood spilled forth from his lungs and throat, and after a moment he realized that his nose was bleeding as well.

"Italy..." A warm arm was suddenly around Italy's back, holding him upright and helping him cough, clearing his lungs as best as he could. His diaphragm seized with his coughs, and each spasm left him weaker and weaker, until he sank back into Germany's arms.

"Why do you want to put him in a coma?" he heard Germany ask as the blonde lay him gently back against the hospital bed. Italy shivered, the hospital air frigid to his skin.

"Seizures can do irreversible damage to the brain." Dr. Smith said. Italy vaguely wondered why the doctor's voice sounded as though it were coming from far away. "I want to put him in a medically induced coma so the seizures won't damage his brain anymore."

Germany's hand squeezed Italy's, and Italy bit back a sound of pain. His grip wasn't that tight, but Italy's tortured body was betraying him with the shocks of pain. Germany's blue eyes were suddenly swimming over Italy.

Vaguely, he heard, "It's up to you, Italy." from Germany.

He tried to get his hazy mind to focus. The words were floating vaguely in his head, and he couldn't think. Only feel. He struggled to make his voice obey him.

"Will... it... stop... hurting...?" he forced out between gasping breaths.

"Yes." Dr. Smith said. "It'll keep you from being in pain from your disease, but it will also mean that if the drug doesn't work, you likely wont get to say good-bye."

Italy shook his head, then stopped quickly, for the movement made him dizzy. "I don't... want... goodbyes..." he rasped.

Even with his eyes as hazy as they were, Italy could easily see the raw sadness in Germany's eyes. He hated that. He hated to look into Germany's exquisite blue eyes and see the sadness that Italy himself had put there. He was being promised painless sleep. And even if it turned into forever, that wouldn't be too bad, right.

"...Do it.." he decided, squeezing Germany's hand weakly within his own. Romano suddenly appeared in Italy's line of sight, holding something in his hands. A moment later, a thick blanket was settled over his limp, shivering form.

"What are you talking about?" Romano asked, his suspicious tone opposite of the way his hands gently pulled the blanket up to Italy's shoulders.

"They're going to put Feliciano into a coma." Germany's voice swirled down to Italy.

"What?!" Romano snapped.

"Hush... fratellone..." Italy voiced softly. "they'll... make it... so... I don't... hurt... anymore..." a sudden throb of pain shot from his overworked heart, and his breath caught in his throat, squeezing Germany's hand until it passed.

Whatever arguments Romano may have had, Italy knew that they were gone. No matter what Romano said, Italy knew he hated to see his little brother hurt. Italy nodded vaguely at Dr. Smith, who opened the medical supply drawer by the bed. Italy closed his eyes, focusing on breathing.

"Italy." Germany said, and Italy forced his eyes to open again with difficulty. A pair of warm, soft lips brushed his knuckles, and Italy forced himself to focus on that. Don't focus on how bad it hurts, focus on the feel of Luddy's warm touch.

"S-Sì...?" Italy rasped out.

"You're still going to beat this, aren't you...?" Never had Italy heard Germany sounding so uncertain. "You'll live, you'll get better and we're going to raise Alexander together, right?"

"Of course... I... will..." Italy breathed softly.

Dr. Smith inserted the needle into Italy's IV line, and pushed the plunger down. Blackness swirled over Italy's eyes, and as his eyes drifted closed, the last thing he heard was Germany's deep voice.

"Sleep well, Italy. I love you."

Italy fell asleep for what would be a long time.