Chapter 55
Germany jumped as the door behind him opened. The shoes on the concrete sounded heavy. Boots? He was fairly sure the person was a man, but it didn't sound like the same steps as before. He forced himself to breathe normally as the person sat across from him on the other chair.
"So," the person spoke. It was a younger man, though his voice was still rough, "Ludwig Beilschmidt, it seems you are, in fact, as important as you say you are."
Germany jumped again as the door opened once more. Several people came inside the room. He heard the clicking of metal against metal. They brought something in front of him, and he heard something hit the concrete, then more metallic clicking. Something turning? Snaps, more clicks…
"Do it," The voice of the same man as before, the older man, barked the order.
Germany struggled suddenly as he felt hands on his shoulders and hands. They were untying him? Maybe he had a chance… He froze, hearing the very familiar sound of a gun. He figured it was aimed at him.
"Fight back, and I shoot," the older man's voice said flatly.
Germany nodded, not moving as his hands and legs were untied. He started struggling a little as he felt their hands on his shirt. He shook his head, ripping off the blindfold. The dim light almost blinded him. He looked around, trying to quickly figure out how many enemies he would have to fight. They'd set up a camera, he couldn't tell if it was running. There were four men and two women, three men near him. The man from before held a gun aiming towards his chest. He didn't have time to take anything else in. He immediately started fighting the four people around him, glancing at the girl who ran the camera. He was sure it was on. He elbowed one of the men in the face, struggling as they grabbed him. He was stronger than they were. He gasped suddenly, staggering back. He looked down at his chest as blood starting soaking through his shirt. It barely hurt. He kept fighting. Three more shots and he was down, flat on his back, nearly hitting his head on the concrete. He looked up, gasping, choking a little. He rolled onto his side, coughing hard, looking up at the faces of his captors. They were shocked. He forced himself not to cry out in pain as the man from before emptied the rest of his gun into his chest. He let his head fall back, closing his eyes in pain. He clutched at his chest. He hadn't counted the bullets, but he knew there were enough to raise questions he wasn't going to answer. He looked up at the face of the man who shot him as he walked over, kneeling beside him.
"Who are you?" The man whispered, shock, and a hint of fear in his voice.
Germany opened his mouth to speak, but couldn't get words out. Pain was overwhelming. He turned his head, gasping for breath, closing his eyes as the relief of unconsciousness started to take over.
…
Gil knocked on the door of Gisela's hotel room, taking a deep breath, hoping she was still there.
There was a long pause before she opened the door timidly. She smiled at him, "Gil."
Gil smiled back, "Gisela. Did you sleep well?"
"Very well, Danke," she opened the door more fully, motioning him inside the room.
Gil sat down in the chair beside the window again, "So, we need a plan."
"You get to the point don't you?" she sighed, sitting across from him, a small table between them.
Gil nodded, "Unless there's anything else you have to tell me."
She shook her head, "No, I guess… I guess the plan is the best thing we have to talk about…"
Gil sighed, "You sure?"
Gisela said nothing for a moment, "You know, I really don't know anything about you. Except that you're a literal country, you want to help me… and… everything from before…"
Gil sighed again, "Ok, what do you want to know?"
"Is your name really Gilbert?"
Gil nodded, "Mmmhmm."
"What do you… like? I don't know…" She looked away, picking at her bracelets, pulling her feet under her chair. She wasn't really sure how to talk to someone who'd been alive for hundreds of years.
Gil smiled, "I like… weapons of all kinds… history, especially if it involves me of course…" he thought for a moment, "Anything that has to do with military strategy, horses, being outside… camping I guess… oh, and birds. I love birds, I have one actually."
"You have a bird?" Gisela grinned, looking at him.
Gil nodded, smiling, "Yeah, his name is, don't laugh, Gilbird."
"You named your bird after yourself?" Gisela rolled her eyes.
"I was a kid when I named him! A dumb kid," Gil smiled.
"Can I meet him? Gilbird I mean?" Gisela smiled.
Gil sighed, his smile fading suddenly, "I hope so. He lives with my brother actually… across the wall…"
"How long has it been since you saw him?" Gisela asked sadly.
Gil didn't answer, "Anyway, we really should talk about the plan," he leaned forward on his elbows on the table, "It's not going to be easy…"
"I uh… know a few people business men from the West…"
Gil said nothing. He didn't think he wanted to ask anyone she knew for help.
"They might be willing to get me across… for the right price…" She looked down.
"I'm a country, I can pay you need."
She looked up at him, her eyes speaking for her, "Gil… that's not what I-"
"I'm fully aware that's not what you meant, but you're done. You're done, I'm not letting you. I'll pay whatever money this businessman wants to get you across. What's his name?"
"I don't know his real name… he never used it."
Gil sighed, "Then how is he supposed to help?"
"I could probably find him."
"Nein. Nein. You can't, I'm not letting you."
"I'm not asking your permission," Gisela stood, "If you really think this is my best chance…"
"Nein. I'll find another way," Gil stood, walking up to her, "I will, I promise."
Gisela said nothing, looking away, "Gil I just want to go home…"
Gil pulled her into a hug as she started crying. He wasn't sure if she was trying to be manipulative, or if she was genuinely upset, but he didn't care. He hated seeing girl's cry.
…
Italy bit his lip, adjusting his suit, pulling the jacket down. He took a deep breath, reaching up to knock on the giant dark-stain wood door.
The door opened, and a tall security guard looked down at the redhead.
"This meeting is off limits," the man said simply.
"I…" Italy forced his voice to steady, "I don't care. I want to help."
The man started to close the door.
"Wait!" Italy tried to push his way in, "Let me help!"
"Geier!" A man's voice called from inside the room, "Who's there?"
"Feliciano Vargas!" Italy said, a little out of breath from trying to fight his way through the door.
"Let him through the door, Geier!"
Italy stood straight, adjusting his suit again, and walked through, motioned inside by the guard, who closed the door behind him. He swallowed hard as all eyes turned to him, away from a black screen.
"I'm sorry, North Italy, we didn't expect you, is… anyone else coming?"
Italy shook his head, "No… um… just me. I'm sorry. I don't come here as North Italy, just… just as Feliciano Vargas… Ludwig Beilschmidt is my friend… and…" Italy stopped, looking around the room. He didn't see Ludwig, "Where…"
The men in the room looked at each other, before one of them stood, walking up to Italy and putting his hand on his shoulder, "Feliciano, I think it's best you come sit down."
Italy didn't move, staring up at him, "Where's Ludwig… where is he, what happened…" he allowed himself to be led to an empty chair and sat down, looking around at the faces of the men in front of him. "Where's Ludwig?" he asked again, forcing his voice to stay steady.
"Ludwig has been captured by the RAF."
Italy gasped, bringing his hands up to cover his mouth. He shook his head, letting his hands fall back onto the table. He looked at the leader of the meeting, "And you're going to get him back, right?"
"We're doing everything we can…"
Italy nodded, accepting the glass of water handed to him by one of the other attendees with a grateful nod.
"We have received a video from the RAF, we were about to watch it. You don't have to stay, North Italy, your country has nothing to do with this."
"I said I'm not here for my country, I'm here for my friend. I promise you I'm here only as Feliciano Vargas, not North Italy… please… I'm going to help!" he looked up at the screen. He brought his hands under the table, gripping the sides of his pants, clutching the fabric like it could make him less terrified. He closed his eyes as the video opened. He wanted to look away, but he couldn't, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the screen. He bit his lip, not letting himself cry, not in front of this many people. Germany was tied to a chair, blindfolded and struggling. Italy shook his head, glancing at the other political leaders as they whispered to each other, all watching. He looked back up at the screen, shaking his head as they untied Germany's hands. Don't fight back… please don't fight back… He covered his mouth again to hide the half choked scream as he saw bullets tear through Germany's chest and the man fell to the ground. The screen went blank for a second, then came back.
Italy watched, terrified.
Germany was again bound to the chair again, this time without a blindfold. His shirt was cut open at the front, and the half-healed bullet wounds showed on his skin. A man, who kept his face out of the frame, walked behind Germany and held up a newspaper with a date. It was from the next day, the morning they were all watching the video. The man pointed to the wounds on Germany's chest and spoke in a voice that was meant to hide his own.
"To the government of West Germany. Explain This." the man took a knife and laid it on Germany's chest.
Italy gasped again, keeping his hands up to his mouth, trying not to show how truly terrified he was. Please don't…
The man cut across Germany's chest, deep enough to draw blood. Germany didn't even wince.
Italy watched in horror as the man wiped the blood away, and the camera got closer. He bit his lip, as the very shallow cut visibly started to heal, scabbing over far too quickly. Italy looked back at the other government leaders as the man on the video spoke again.
"Who is this man? What is this man? You're going to explain, or I'm going to find out what he can, and cannot heal from." The man grabbed Germany's ear, laying the knife against the top of it, pressing down hard enough to draw blood.
Italy shook his head, looking away as he saw fear flash in Germany's eyes for a second before he forced himself to be calm again. Italy looked back up as the man stopped, pulling the knife away.
"You have until tomorrow at noon to tell me who this man is, otherwise I'm going to find out myself." The man walked towards the camera and the video cut off.
Italy leaned forward, covering his mouth. He felt sick. He took another drink of the water he'd been given, trying to calm down, trying to keep his breathing from speeding up. He felt panicked. He closed his eyes, trying to breathe. Not Germany. They couldn't hurt him. They couldn't… he looked up at the men around the table as everything erupted suddenly from the former silence. Everyone was talking, everyone trying to think of a plan, trying to help, trying to say everything would be ok, or it wouldn't be ok.
We can't tell them… we can't… Italy shook his head, but if we don't… He looked at the leader of the meeting, who sat silently at the end of the table with his head in his hands.
Finally, the man called for quiet. "We'll figure this out. We will stop them. We not allow them to… torture Ludwig. We'll get him back, in one piece, and we'll do it quickly. Get a team on that video. I want to know where he is. Now!"
Everyone stood except Italy and the main leader, everyone quickly moving to do what needed to be done. Silence fell in the room again as they all left, leaving only the leader and Italy still seated.
"Feliciano? Are you all right?"
Italy still looked at the screen, a tear rolling down his cheek, "I don't…" he forced himself to look away, clearing his throat and standing, "I'll be all right when we get him back. Just tell me what I can do to help."
"Why don't you help the video crew. You know about being a country, perhaps you can tell what condition he's in," the man nodded, looking at Italy compassionately.
Italy nodded, turning towards the door.
"Feliciano?"
"Si?" Italy turned, looking back at the man.
"You and Germany, you're very good friends, aren't you?"
Italy nodded, "Si. Yes, very good friends… I care very much about him. I want him safe. That's all that matters, I just want him safe. And I'll do whatever I have to do to make sure that happens. I just need him safe…"
A/N: A mid-day chapter for you all! Sorry I didn't get one uploaded last night! I spent some time with family and then I was super tired... anyway, most of this chapter is about West Germany! Though Gil and Gisela are trying to figure out what to do... (and mentions of Gilbird ftw!) Anyway, my friend from Germany, Eva, has been giving me all the good ideas for the RAF side of the story! Thank you! *hugs*
As always, reviews are appreciated so much! We're about to hit 300! WOOHOOO! Who will be the 300th reviewer... hmmmmmmmm... Cookies and candy and all things lovely for all of you! Thank you all for reading!
