Author's Note: And the theme naming slips a little this chapter, whoops. Hopefully you'll forgive me.

And hopefully you'll review. That is a very... hope-... ridden-... inciting... thing. Yup. So go do it.


Spain

There's a bunch of talking going on when I wake up. I still feel a little too weak to open my eyes, so I just lie—or maybe I'm sitting—here for a minute and listen.

"...on our way, if that's all right with you," says a female voice.

"Yeah, go ahead." Italy this time. "Thanks for staying with me for a little while."

"You're welcome. Now, if we may...?" Austria starts.

"Right." There are a few footfalls before Hungary's voice comes again. "Oh, and Italy?"

"Huh?"

Both pairs of footsteps have paused by now.

"If you want, the next time we run into Japan, we can get him back for you." Oh man, Hungary talking about fighting. She probably has an evil grin on about now.

The gap in conversation is long enough for a bird to suddenly chirp loudly.

"No? Are you sure?" Either I didn't hear Italy a second ago, or he shook his head. Maybe I should open my eyes sometime soon. But, urgh, not just yet...

"Yeah." I hear him this time. "I... I don't want to see his face again, but please don't hurt him."

"Okay," Hungary responds. "Stay safe, all right? Hopefully the next time we meet, it'll be off this island."

"All right. See you!"

The crunching of branches fades after a minute, leaving us in silence. I finally force my eyes open and look ahead blankly until my vision returns. Still in the woods, though that's not much of a surprise. Romano's slumped to my side, looking deep in sleep. The traps that caught us are gone, and the ground's dried up. How long have I been out? And did I wake up kind of early? Because I swear I can feel a little blood running down my neck...

"What's wrong, Big Brother France? You still haven't said anything."

I have to crane my neck to see where France is leaning against another trunk. Italy's right next to him, his lips quivering a little.

"Ah..." France's voice is so weak it's hard to pick up. He clears his throat. "I'm... fine. Just tired."

"Okay." Italy frowns at France's pale face. "It's good to see you sort of all right, though."

"You, too," France replies before exhaling and falling silent. He's not feeling too well, either, huh? I guess he went down before Romano and me, since he woke up earlier... Yeah, that sounds about right. Yeah, yeah, I saw that. He got his throat slashed open. Right.

I let my head clear a little more before I try to shift. I know it's normal to be tired, but I feel like I'm burning a little, too. After a second of investigation, I realize there are a good handful of little nicks and scratches on my arms and torso. That must be it, ow. But wounds that shallow'll be gone by the end of the day, even if it's already late afternoon. Or maybe early evening. I don't really feel like checking that much.

"Ah! Spain!" Italy finally looks away from France long enough to catch me with my eyes open. He hurries over and offers his hands to help me to my feet. "You're awake! Are you feeling sort of okay? Oh!" Now that I'm standing, his hands are free to go through his pockets. "And I think I still have a couple of nuts if you're hungry."

"Ah, no, no, not really," I respond. Actually, I feel a little nauseous for some reason. "I could go for some water, though, if you have any."

"Okay!" He takes his hands out of his trouser pockets and feels around the inside of Germany's jacket. "Um..." After a minute, he pulls out a beer bottle with some not-entirely-clear water in it. "Here you go!"

"Thanks." Of course, at this point, I don't really care what it looks like, as long as it's drinkable. Losing the majority of your blood tends to make you pretty freaking thirsty.

Hoping this isn't all of our water because I really can't restrain myself, I drain the bottle in seconds. I don't even really register what it tastes like—I just know it's supposed to be water and it feels wonderful going down my throat.

Italy takes the container back, and I wipe the water off my mouth. Starting to get a little fuzzy around there. Actually, it's less than I'd expect after not shaving for a week. But I've been dead for a good chunk of that. My body's had other priorities.

"I guess he's not awake yet," I start, "but Romano looks like he's coming back, too."

Italy nods cheerfully. "Yeah. I... was checking a lot."

I look over my shoulder at Romano. He doesn't look any different. I wonder if he honestly fell asleep after coming back to life. I'm not sure why, but the thought makes me smile a little. Let him sleep. If he's as tired as me, he deserves a little rest.

After a glance at France—who's just watching us silently—I turn back to Italy. "So, what were Austria and Hungary doing?" Talking's starting to make my throat feel dry again. But I'd feel kind of bad about asking for more of our limited amount of water. I really hope it rains soon.

"Oh, they just kind of ran into me. And then they decided to stay a little bit because I was kinda really freaking out about you guys... And then France started to wake up, and Austria decided they would leave."

"Aha." I lean back against the tree and shut my eyes for a second. "Hey, France, I know you're drained, but talking's really not that much of an effort." Not that I'm used to all that much casual chatting with him, but we still haven't found out how he got to that neck of the woods with a bunch of gunshot wounds. Well, the wounds are pretty obvious given Switzerland's on the island, but it'd be nice to find out the rest of the story.

"Hm." France blinks, his eyes a little more focused on us now, and takes a deep breath. "So... I don't have a weapon anymore." Interesting way to start a conversation. Hope he's doing all right in there...

"Uh-uh," Italy says, looking down for a second. "Oh—wait!" He pops up suddenly and shuffles through his jacket. It takes him a minute to figure out which pocket he needs, but he ends up pulling out a knife. From what I've seen at previous meetings, I think it's Belarus's.

"I keep forgetting about this, anyway," he says, offering it to France.

France stares at it for a minute, frozen.

"Big Brother France?" Italy calls, looking concerned.

"Ah..." France finally starts to reach up for it, as he meets Italy's gaze and gives a sort of stressed smile. "Thanks." His hands shake a little as he receives the blade and slips it under his belt. He takes another deep breath. "Hopefully I won't have to use it."

Italy nods.

"So," I start, putting my hands behind my neck. "Now that you feel a little more like talking... What exactly led to you being alone with gunshot wounds and Japan's sword?"

"Oh..." A weak laugh. "I guess that does seem pretty weird..." He looks off to his side. "Well... After Russia attacked Hungary, I ended up running off with the rest of the usual group. And we fended for ourselves for a little while all right. America had some food with him." He pauses for a minute, looking back in our general direction. "Then things got sort of chaotic when Japan attacked us. We split up a little bit, and Japan ended up attacking America and me. America took care of him, and decided to disarm him. He gave the sword to me since he figured he could easily go without it."

He pauses for another minute, looking up into the branches. "And then... A while after we went to find the others, we ran into Russia. We ran, but then America decided to fight, but I didn't really realize it in time and kept going for a while. By the time I slowed down, I had lost all sense of direction, and I ended up wandering over to where Switzerland must have been hiding out." He rolls his shoulders back. "And then I woke up with you guys, and you know what happened from there."

"That sounded scary," Italy says, some tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"Very scary," France sighs.

Haha... I guess it must be scarier worrying about running from them, because I got killed by both, and it really wasn't too bad. Well, aside from all the headaches and blood loss and such.

"How about we don't think about it too much more, then?" I say, slapping the two on the shoulders.

"O-okay!" Italy pulls away from my hand a little bit. "Maybe when Romano wakes up, we can go back to a shore and splash around." He freezes. "He is waking up, right?" He rushes over to check before I can say anything, but he's instantly relieved when he sees his brother breathing.

"Didn't we just do that yesterday?" I pause. "Oh, right. How long's it been, anyway?"

Italy walks back over to France and me. "You were gone for two days."

"Yow!" I actually jump a little in surprise. "That long, huh?"

"Mmm-hmm."

"Huh! No wonder you've been so worried!" I stand with arms akimbo, looking around in case someone's trying to sneak up on us. "It's all right now, though, okay? We're still coming back, and I'm sure we'll keep coming for a long while yet."

Italy sniffles and nods.

"So, if Romano ever wakes up—" I'm careful to make my voice sound extra-joking—"we'll go off to the shore." I half-sniff my shoulder. "And wash off, phew. Dead for two days isn't the best cologne." It's kind of weird I hadn't really noticed before. Maybe my nose has been a little numb. Not that that's a bad thing in this case.

"Yeah, washing off would be nice," Italy says.

I snicker a little. "You know, you're allowed to say we stink."

Italy laughs, and France smiles and shakes his head. I exhale a last little laugh and look back over at Romano. I guess it's still only been a couple of minutes. He won't be waking up for a while yet.

"Well," France starts, looking a little more back to normal, "I've told my story. What have you all been doing since we ended up here?"

I end up detailing my and Romano's escapades before we found Italy. Basically, looking for food. Not too interesting. When I get to where Italy found us, I tell Italy to go ahead with how he ended up that far. I've already heard it, but I'm sure he could tell it better.

About the time he gets to his fleeing from Russia, I hear something outside our group. Interrupting, I put up a hand and say, "Hang on."

Italy closes his mouth, looking at me curiously.

"I think I heard something." I turn towards where I think I heard it and take a few steps that way, by the bushes. There are a few more shuffles of leaves and branches and some panting, but it's further along to the left.

I crane my neck to see Italy, who's started quivering. "Don't worry," I say quietly. "I think they're passing us."

There's a yelp, and the rest of the noise stops. A little more shuffling, in no particular direction, and then a crashing sound through the bush. Something far too small to be another nation flies through.

Oh, man, all this fuss over a bird? Well, we'll have a little bit to eat if it landed nearby. So where'd it—?

I turn in the direction it went, and it all sort of happens at once. Italy screams, someone stammers, "Wh-wh-what d-did I just do?" and the bushes crash under heavier weight. And I see a very startled Romano reaching for the knife stuck in his neck.

The other voice starts spitting out "oh, no"s as Italy pushes past me and gets to his knees by Romano, who's just now starting to figure out what just happened. I'm still sort of working on it myself.

There's a little bit more shifting from the bushes before the attacker stumbles into our space. "I-I'm so sorry, I-I'm so sorry—"

Romano's starting to hyperventilate by the time I can get a spot at his other side. There's some blood slipping out of the wound, but he's holding the knife pretty tight in there. But with his hands shaking like that...

"—I-I was just running, a-and Russia, a-and we lost him, b-but I-I thought I h-heard him here—"

I try to get Romano to let me keep the blade in place, but Italy's sort of in the way. A little more blood is fighting its way out as Romano starts to freak out a little. Starting to feel the panic myself, I ask if anyone has something knife-shaped to plug up the wound. Romano's already started to cry, but he still gives me a look.

"—and I-I don't even know why I th-threw that, a-and I d-didn't mean to, and—"

"Shut the fuck up!" Romano finally screams. Latvia's jaw closes with a snap before he starts mouthing, "I'm sorry" over and over.

At about the point I realize Estonia's standing behind him, there's more crashing coming toward us. If Russia's made it here...!

"What, you knifed somebody? Good, if he's gonna die, we can, like, throw him in the path and see if it, like, distracts Russia—" Poland comes to a stop just behind the others and looks at us for a second. "Hi, I don't know you." He zips around to hide behind Estonia.

Italy's wailing of his brother's name is cut off as Romano shoves him away with his knee. "Move it! You're making it harder to hold this in! Ungh..." He struggles to keep his fingers wrapped around the knife as the blood keeps slipping out around it.

"Here, let me hold it," I start, putting my hand on the hilt. After a second, he lets me.

He just sort of stares at my eyes for a minute before dropping his gaze. "Spain... I... really am glad you came back, okay? I mean, if I d-don't come back this time..."

"Hey, hey," I start. "Don't talk like that. Really! We just came back again, so there's no reason to—"

"Just came back two fucking days later!" he responds. Wait, was he listening this whole...? Right, more important things going on.

"We know it's been getting slower and slower, and it's been so much longer since we actually got killed, and, a-and..." He takes in a shaky breath. "And if I really die, I just don't want my last words to you to be hateful, because you can be really fucking annoying sometimes, but I don't hate you. I don't hate you, okay? You're one of the only guys that always tries to be nice to me, and you don't make me feel worthless, and even if I die here, don't you dare go and die on me..." His breaths are shaking even harder, he's crying so hard now—crap, he really thinks he's going to die for good here... but, at this point, that might... N-no.

"And Veneziano... I don't hate you, either. You can be a real dumbass, but you're always nice to me, too, and you're my brother, and don't you d-dare die, either..."

Assuming he doesn't have much to say to the others present, I decide to jump in. "Okay, calm down a little! You're still going to come back, okay? And you're not even that close to dying right now—"

"You can't fucking say that! It's been too long since we got here, too long since the last time we got killed, and the longer we're here, the more dead we—" He cuts off suddenly and, squeezing his eyes shut, shoves my wrist away. I don't let go in time for any of the blade to stay in his neck, so the blood comes pouring out.

"Romano..."

Italy, half-bawling, half-screaming, jumps back over to hug him before he can fall face first. It's still a matter of seconds before Romano passes out, and he goes limp not too long after that.

France is watching off to the side—not much else to do—and the others have disappeared. I have to give Italy a minute before I can remove Romano's body. I wipe off some of the blood and set him up against a tree.

...Don't worry. I'm not going to go dying on you, all right?

But you can't die on me, either.