Lilium (from the anime Elfen Lied, music box version by Stefan Studios)
Carlotta Fanelli, North Italy's personal bodyguard and fiancee, was buried with honor at the San Michele cemetery in Venice. Us countries stuck together to console Italy. He is such a merry man, who always tries to get along with everybody, it was the least we could do for him in such a moment.
There were several times when the attention was stolen from him. Like when Switzerland and Austria showed up at the funeral home and left everyone with their mouth hanging. Those were two dead people who came back to life. Hungary turned very pale, then went red, and couldn't help breaking the solemn and respectful environment in the place when she saw them. She made her way through the crowd and slapped Austria in such a way everyone, everyone went silent and looked at them. His spare glasses flew away. 'Stupid! Idiot! How dare you scare me like that!'. Aware that she was making a scene, she dragged him out of the room. Prussia later told me he had caught her kissing him and making him promise he would never use that mean trick. But seeing Austria and Switzerland alive was one of the few things that made Italy smile that day, even if it was just for a brief moment. The other thing was Spain's apparition. He could walk on his own, although Belarus, who didn't take her eyes off him, followed him closely. He seemed much more lively, but it would take him some more time to fully recover. I heard Italy say he was glad to see him and Spain, after giving his condolence, hugged and cuddled him like he used to do when he was a child.
We all had him in our hands. Ever since I found him in Iceland and collapsed in my arms, wounded, I didn't move away from his side. Italy greeted the attendants and went back to me and miss Fanelli's family. Nor Seborga nor Romano moved from his side and only abandoned him for a good reason: Seborga promised to save him some bad times taking care of the unpleasant preparations a funeral and a burial implies and Romano had to deal with the reporters who were lurking outside.
Italy had let all of his rage out in Iceland and then he allowed himself to be vulnerable. I saw how he let France kiss his hair and cheeks affectionately as he rubbed his back. I heard my brother Prussia lavish on sincere and heartfelt apologies for not being able to prevent Greszczyszyn from killing his girlfriend; Italy smiled at him and as he held his hands he told him he knew he had done everything in his hands and he didn't need to apologize. Nicaragua and him didn't exchange a single word but she caressed his cheek and almost cried more than he did. 'It didn't have to end up like this', I heard her say. Poland took him aside and told him something which made Italy tear up.
I didn't lose sight of that one.
But the one Italy cried more with was Japan.
As soon as he came in he show his respect to the deceased's family and then approached Italy. During the war a link was created between us three, I think. It was us against the world. We spent a lot of time together. When Japan approached him, Italy started sobbing and hugged him. I know Japan doesn't like physical contact much and has always found the Italian effusiveness shocking, but he accepted Italy in his arms and let him let it all out in them, like a refuge.
I was gazing at them when I heard a sigh by my side. It was America.
"Poor Italy. It is heartbreaking to see him like that."
I nodded silently.
"The worst thing is Greszczyszyn's not going to pay for his crime. He knew it was very likely that they took him to my place, and he had earned the injection for what he did. He committed suicide this morning. With a razor blade he took out of nowhere. They found a note in which he dedicated it to me."
He sighed.
"Do you believe I am a monster or something like that, too?"
"War makes some men crazy" I replied.
"All I did was for..."
"I know why you did it. But this is not the moment to talk about it. Today, the only thing we must think of is Italy."
"You're right..."
I chewed on his words for a long time, not following my own advice.
After the funeral procession, miss Fanelli was buried and I didn't approach Italy again. He stayed with those who were going to be his father-in-law, his two brothers-in-law, and his mother-in-law, who he embraced and didn't let go for the rest of the day, in whose shoulder he cried as they placed the coffin inside of the piece of the country she loved so much and protected with her own life. The journalists, despite Romano's threats, didn't respect miss Fanelli nor her family's pain and took many pictures. One of them, which showed Italy following the hearse which carried the coffin, was seen in the whole world for its artistic dimension, showing Italy like in one of his religious paintings, with broken expression and delicate pose, and for its meaning. The comments I read made reference to a display of humanity never seen before from a nation. It served for the public opinion to incline in his favor, but I would have preferred that they him alone. Romano even sued the paper who published that picture. I don't know if he won, but it was for naught anyway: today, with social media, it is impossible to prevent pictures from being published.
We could do nothing but leaving Italy alone and go to our respective houses.
"Poland. Wait a moment, please. I'd like to have a few words with you."
No. I had something to do.
"I wanted to apologize to you. No cameras around. No rulers or associations present. For...for..."
Poland didn't understand at first. When he did, his eyes opened wide and his expression turned sour.
"You know very well none of us like to talk about that."
"I know. I know both of us would rather forget about it. But we can't. That's why I want to..."
"What? Drop on your knees and ask me to forgive you? That I get back at you? Is that what you want? After seventy odd years? After every year doing homages, floral tributes, museums and that crap? Germany! If we started remembering everything we've done to each other, we wouldn't talk among ourselves and we'd stay at home alone and bitter! I don't want that! It is true you hurt me! You can't even imagine! You will never have any idea of what you did to me and my people! But you know what? That happened long ago! You're a good guy! You have good part of the weight of the European Union on your shoulders and you do it great! You're methodical, have brains and values! I know your bosses and your own people drove you to that and you just went along! I know because I've also done a few things I didn't personally agree with! All of us, everyone, everyone at all have! And you know what? We moved on! Look...I don't know, Japan! America massacred him! He wiped cities out with his bomb! He left him in misery! People's skin fell off as they ran! And he didn't stop talking to him, they're such good friends! They like to talk about comic books, music and shit! You and I...! Well, we don't see each other that often, but we could be like that if we wanted! Was it the movement? Did they put that idea into your brain? And you're going to give them that satisfaction, of doubting yourself, of seeing yourself as the Nazi? You're so much more than that, dammit! So you'd better get it into your head and never come with me with that! Alright?"
Both of us went quiet. His expression relaxed, I even thought he looked at me hurt.
I didn't know what to reply to that, if there was something that could be said. I could only think of 'sorry', but it was clear that was not what he wanted to hear.
He helped, approaching me to hug me. It felt a bit awkward. We had never been so close before. I had never done anything worth a hug from him. That is why I treasure it in my memory as something very special.
"I am glad you're alright" I heard him say.
That was another picture some paparazzo stole from such a private moment. There was no way to stop this either. Truth be told, I didn't chase the author. I have the clipping in a frame in my office. At the bottom of the picture you can read: 'Fresh start'. Sometimes, when the bad memories of what I was seize me, I look at that photo and shoo the ghosts away with the promise of giving back what I took away.
