Author Notes: WARNING: there's a scene here (that starting one) that takes place at a concentration camp during liberation; I'm doing my best to be as appropriate, respectful, and truthful to history as possible - I have read a LOT of stuff on this subject that I wish I could unread but ya know, the things I do for fanfics

9

It's sometime in April 1945 when Canada decides to leave his own forces in France and join America in liberating camps in south western Germany. By the third one, he's realized that he'll never be used to the horrors. Hearing about the camps, reading information reports, is not at all the same as visiting them in person.

This one in particular is scarring him internally with every new sight. After seeing decomposing corpses stashed in railcars, Canada has to step out and relieve his stomach.

"Hey, bro," America says as he steps up, clinging to his rifle like it's a lifeline amid the darker sides of humanity thrown out for everyone to see in full view. "You holding up okay?"

Canada nods slowly, wiping his mouth and grabbing his own rifle off the wrecked ground. "Y-yeah. I'll be fine. We need to help these people."

"What's left of them…"

Canada winces at what his brother says. He wishes they had all been better prepared. America's soldiers hadn't even been expecting to liberate concentration camps, but who could blame them? They were pushing toward Berlin to force Germany to surrender.

This…

"Ah shit," America jerks a bit, revealing the dogtags hanging outside of his M1943 field uniform. "My men are worked up about something. I hope they're not rounding up the SS soldiers who surrendered and-"

Canada freezes at the implications, remembering what happened last time. "Go check on them. I'll search around this area for more survivors."

"All right. Catch ya later, dude."

He watches America dash down a rocky road back toward the camp entrance. Then he takes a deep breath, coughs at the smell that reaches his nose, and wipes tears from his eyes before continuing to head deeper into the camp.

Feeling like he's marching in a daze at the end of the world, Canada searches through building after building. With each step, he loses more faith in humanity. How could the people do this to their own neighbors? How could this be allowed?

How did Germany and Prussia withstand the pain, knowing what was happening, feeling what was happening to their own citizens?

He takes a moment to rest against the outer wall of one building. His rifle sits next to him. The heat is almost unbearable under all this military gear. It's almost summer, too. Such a stark contrast from the last time he was in this area, though Berlin is still several hours north and east.

Staring up at the overcast sky, glad to have some measure of relief from the sun, Canada blinks and frowns. Is that a yellow bird?

He sits up, grabbing his rifle, as the bird in question comes flying down. It is a yellow chick. So similar to the one in Gilbert's house, resting in the albino's hair all the time. Wait. He frowns as the bird comes closer and flies around in circles above his head, tweeting loudly and obsessively.

"Gilbird," he whispers, eyes widening at a realization. "Mon dieu. Gilbert's here, isn't he? Where? Show me."

The bird flies a circle around him once more, then takes off down the dirt road. Matthew follows, gripping his rifle closer with each step. America has the right idea. The weapon is like a life line amid all this darkness. Something to cling to when he doesn't have anyone to fill the position.

He's trying to come to grips with the idea of Gilbert being thrown here with Germany's other list of undesirables. It's hard to believe a brother could do that, and Prussia had been so sure he would be fine. But why else would the yellow bird be here?

Chewing his bottom lip, he forces his mind to accept the thought and finally follows Gilbird into one of the buildings. At first there's nothing to see. It's empty of inhabitants. Just a place with a few bunk beds, a notable lack of blankets, and not a soul remaining.

Until the yellow bird leads him to a shadowed corner and Matthew gasps in a breath at the sight of the familiar shock of wild silvery white hair. His weapon falls from his fingers. Gilbert is laying down on the dirty ground, curled up on his side, red eyes open but vacant.

Gilbird tweets a few times then lands in front of the albino nation. Matthew works up the courage to step forward, leaving his rifle behind him. Kneeling down, he reaches out to gently shake the other nation's shoulder.

"Gilbert…" he whispers. "Why are you here? You told me he wouldn't do something this radical so, why?"

Red eyes lift up and glance away as the man pulls himself to a sitting position. "Great. I'm hallucinating now."

"Gil…" Matthew starts then takes a deep breath, fighting the sting in his eyes. "You're not hallucinating. I'm really here. With America. Come on. We can get you somewhere to rest and eat."

Maybe it's too many words for the addled nation to follow. Prussia barely seems to comprehend. Instead, he just stares without saying a word and his eyes look so dead it breaks his heart. This man has so much energy and life and personality, but now it's all been stripped away.

Thankfully, the bird is here to help. He's curling up in the dirty white hair and chirping. He even pokes his beak at the albino's head a few times when Prussia refuses to believe him.

So eventually those red eyes widen and Prussia leans forward, setting hands on either of Matthew's arms. "Holy shit. You're real. You're actually- Wait. Does this mean we've lost?"

Huffing because he can't believe Gilbert would immediately worry about such a thing considering the situation he's in, Matthew responds while trying to keep the bite out of his voice. "Not quite but it's only a matter of time until Germany surrenders. Is that really what matters to you right now?"

Prussia shakes his head. "West. He's - he's okay, right? Not too badly hurt or anything?"

"I don't know for sure. I think Russia is going to beat us to Berlin, if he hasn't already."

Gilbert's face sets into panic and he scrambles to his feet before Canada even finishes his statement. "I have to get to him. I can't let that asshole hurt him. I have to-ugh-"

Pain crosses the albino's face and Canada stands up to give him something to lean on. "You're not in a good enough condition to do that, Gilbert."

"I don't care," Prussia hisses. "I have to-"

"You can't get there anyway," Canada insists. "Al and I won't let you. Come on. I can take you back to our base and you can get some food and new clothes."

Red eyes turn on him, a dangerous glow in that glare. Prussia opens his mouth to say something, but he's interrupted by another sound echoing from the outside. Gun shots. Canada sucks in a breath as Prussia flinches back as if he were the one shot, and he makes sure to hold the albino nation while the man slumps and groans.

Narrowing his eyes, Canada looks toward the exit of the building and murmurs a curse. Al's people probably got worked up again. This can't keep happening. They're supposed to hold the German soldiers prisoner once they surrender, but far too often now the Americans are taking justice into their own hands.

What's difficult is that it's hard to blame them for the departure in protocol, especially after all he's seen.

A shuddering breath escapes from the man he's holding up, and Matthew frowns as he tries to walk Gilbert toward the exit. Their steps are slow and as soon as they're out in the sunshine, the other nation pulls away and leans his back against the outside wall. Not knowing what else to do, Matthew steps away and waits to see if Gilbert will say or do anything.

He's stunned at the sight of tears in those red eyes as the other man blinks up at the sunlight.

"I hate this," Gilbert growls. "So much shame on top of so much hateful rage. It's worse than the hunger."

Matthew winces and whispers. "I can't imagine."

White hair shifts as the albino shakes his head. "You shouldn't have to. No one should."

"What -" Licking his lips, Matthew tries again. "What about you?"

Red eyes glance toward him. "Huh?"

"I mean, that's how your people feel. But what do you feel?" He pauses, staring down at the dusty pavement under his feet. "What are you going to do when you get the chance to see Germany again?"

There's the sound of a sharp intake of breath followed by absolute silence. Maybe he shouldn't have gone there. Maybe he should be asking how Prussia feels about him instead. After all, it's because of him that Germany could have even thought of throwing his own brother into one of these places. Because Gilbert rescued him. Because he helped Canada escape from Berlin before anything bad could actually fall on him.

Only for Gilbert to end up here…

Putting a hand to his heart, Matthew squeezes at the uniform he's wearing, wishing there was more he could do. He knows what England and France and the others have been discussing. How much England wants to blame it all on Prussia. How they want to do everything possible to get rid of him. But he can't warn Prussia. He can't say a thing. The guilt drives into him and he fights the sharp sting of tears.

Now isn't the time to break down. He needs to push it off and get them out of here. Get Prussia somewhere safer where he can recover as much as possible. What comes next, he isn't sure, but they need to leave this place. That much is certain, and everything that comes after will just have to be thought about later.

So he shakes his head and holds out his hand to Prussia. "Nevermind. You can think about that later. We need to get you out of here, and to do that I need to bring you to Alfred."

Prussia tenses. "He's here, huh? He's going to see me like this and there's no avoiding it, is there?"

"I - yeah?" Matthew frowns. "Is that really such a bad thing?"

The other nation scoffs as Gilbird flies around to land on his shoulder and tweets something at him. "Guess I don't have a choice anyway. You guys have pretty much won at this point. That makes me the prisoner now."

There's a bit of a laugh but it sounds so weak and forced and Matthew has to bite the inside of his cheek at the sound. This isn't right. None of this is right.

Thankfully, Gilbert doesn't say anything else. He doesn't take Matthew's offered hand or shoulder, either, refusing any help to walk down the road. Canada of course has to run back in to grab his rifle, but then he's leading Prussia toward the camp entrance.

His heart sinks as he walks and has more time to think since neither of them talk. Gilbert. Here. As a prisoner in the camp. He can't believe it. And it's all his fault. If he hadn't come to Berlin and gotten caught, then this wouldn't have happened. Prussia probably would have kept getting the short end of the stick in the military, but it would be better than this. Anything would have been better than being thrown in here.

The guilt swarms around inside of him until they finally reach the entrance. Near the barbed wire fences, a line of German soldier corpses lay on the ground. America is discussing things with another officer and the soldiers no doubt responsible for the act. Canada isn't sure what sort of punishment America will give them for killing enemies who have already surrendered, but he's at least thankful the tough decision is out of his hands.

He walks toward America to try to get his attention, then notices that Prussia has stopped by the soldier corpses. It's hard to explain the emotions in the albino's face, but Canada is surprised there isn't anger there. These soldiers no doubt mistreated their own nation - having no idea of course - and yet all Gilbert can do is stand there frowning with a blank look in his eyes.

Matthew wants to say something to him, but America finally walks up and makes his presence known. "Hey, bro, find anyone else hiding back there?"

"Well, yeah…"

He drifts off and then notices America's eyes widen. "Holy shit, dude. You found Prussia? Here? What's he doing here?"

With a sigh, Canada shakes his head. He has so much he wants to say to explain things but he can't find words. Everything is stuck in his throat and he's on the verge of breaking down from the pressure and the mounting guilt at what's happened because of him.

America, no longer holding his rifle, crosses his arms and stares behind Canada to the albino nation. He looks like any of his other soldiers dressed in his army fatigues instead of his favorite bomber jacket. The rest of them just sort of blend in with their nation militaries, after all.

Prussia, though…

"I can't believe he's here," America mutters. "Do you think England might lay off on his plans if we tell him?"

Canada sighs. "I doubt it. I mean, will you?"

America winces. "Hard to say, honestly. Convincing my boss would be the hard part. You know that. Besides, at this point I'm going to be more focused on Japan, so I'll probably leave Europe affairs to Artie and whoever."

"Right… I guess I'll have to do what I can to convince him, then."

"Good luck," America mutters before looking away from Canada and putting on a grin. "Hey, dude, long time no see."

At this moment, Prussia walks up to them both, hands trembling at his sides, though it's minor and probably not something he wants Canada to point out. The man looks more shaken than earlier, most likely because he's closer to his people. Considering what he could be feeling from them right now, Canada wants to reach out and hold him and tell him it will be all right.

But he probably wouldn't want that either, especially not in front of another nation.

Prussia does take a moment to size America up and then sigh. "Sometimes I regret helping you back then."

America and Canada both blink at the statement, though Al is the one who speaks. "What the hell? Why even bring that up?"

Gilbert smirks. "Why not? It's the only time we've really worked together and I think you owe me."

"Yeah right," America says a bit uneasily. "You didn't do much. I owe more to France for help in the revolution than you. You didn't have your boss help or anything. Just you and some guy."

While Canada makes a mental note to ask about this revelation later, he knows now is not the time. So he waves a hand in between them and tries a smile. For once, he manages to grab attention and the two focus in better than he expected.

"Look," he says. "There's no time for this. I want to take Gilbert back to the closest base we have so he can, uh, wash up and stuff."

Gil nods, immediately turning away. America, on the other hand, slaps Canada on the shoulder and laughs.

"Sure, treat him special, that's fine by me," Alfred says before leaning in close. "You gonna get revenge for whatever he did to you when you were a prisoner?"

"I-" Canada feels his face flush. "It's not that at all. I really do want to help him, Al."

"Sure, sure," America says as he hands over a set of keys. "Take my half-track. You can drop off a handful of wounded and then go wherever, right?"

Canada nods in relief as he takes the keys. "Yeah. Thanks, Al."

"Not a problem, bro," America says. "I am the hero here."

While he rolls his eyes at the comment, Matthew has to smile because for once Alfred says this line at an appropriate moment. He doesn't respond, instead letting Al leave and focus on what he's supposed to be doing. Matthew has more important things to worry about now.

Even as he faces Gilbert and leads him to one of the armored vehicles on the outskirts of the camp, it's hard to keep the smile.

~!~

Nothing feels right.

He's tried to explain it to Canada, but there's been no luck there. Just like there's been no luck in pinning down his true feelings for West. It's hard when he's surrounded by so many of his own people who are in the same situation as him. Even more difficult is the fact that he can't hate the soldiers responsible for guarding or enacting such horrible atrocities.

Propaganda is a scary thing. What it can do to the mildest of people. How the constricting thoughts have turned West's control into a monster. How even he fell in line at the beginning.

So it's hard to blame anyone when he's seen what's been working behind the scenes. He wants to blame their boss. And himself for not preparing West for such issues. Then again, he still can't believe his own brother actually went so far…

There has to be some blame, right?

Maybe that's why he's so passive staring at his own soldiers dead in the dirt after surrendering and being shot anyway by the American forces. Maybe it's too much to feel anything anymore. Maybe he's cutting himself off, wishing he could find a sweet release of mortal death even though he still fears that unknown.

But then Canada is there. Matthew smiles and even if it's obviously forced and doesn't reach his beautiful eyes, Prussia finds a reason to push on and live through this situation. He's still here. And someone who likes him, who knows the truth, is right here, pulling him along.

They ride in one of America's military vehicles and Prussia stares out at the landscape. He's not in his homeland. It may be Germany, but it's not the land he's ever called his own. Too far south and west for that.

The destruction tears into him anyway, and he wonders how his brother is doing. He remembers what Canada said about Russia being the closest to Berlin and has to fight the sudden urge to jump out and run for his capital.

There's nothing for it. West can handle himself. West has to handle himself. He's pushed everyone else away. If the rumors are true, he's even pushed Italy to the other side. So he's on his own for sure now. It's hard to admit, but Prussia is sort of glad he can't see West right now anyway.

He still has to work out what he's going to say.

Which brings him back to the original thought. Nothing feels right. He can barely feel anything at all and it's so confusing he can't figure out where his own emotions actually reside in all this. Maybe that's why he never answered Matthew when he asked earlier.

"Gilbert," Matthew says as he drives. "You're going to be okay."

Prussia lazily turns his head to face the other nation, though Canada can't do the same. "Sure."

"You'll see," Matthew goes on, forcing another one of those weak smiles. "I promise. You're awesome, right?"

His lips quirk up and Prussia nods, leaning on the side of the truck and closing his eyes. "Right. I'm awesome. And tired."

"I understand," Matthew murmurs. "Get some sleep."

No sooner do the words enter the air than Prussia is fast asleep in dreamland. At least this time, he can relax, knowing the worst is over.

~!~

Once Canada arrives at the closest military base in question, he finds a secluded building where he can temporarily drop off Gilbert. The albino nation climbs out and makes his way inside with the yellow bird flying around leading the way. Then Canada does his duty and makes certain that the ones America trusted him with are brought relief appropriate to each individual.

He spends way more time working on this last thing than he expected, but it shouldn't have been a surprise. The base is a flurry of activity. Mostly French and American soldiers work together to help the ones liberated from the camps, or those soldiers wounded in nearby skirmishes. Canada gets distracted and pulled around until he's dizzy switching between English and French.

But finally, he can make his way back to the small building he's managed to claim outside of any interference. Parking the half-track isn't too much of a problem and he doesn't think twice about leaving his rifle in the vehicle. His mind is awhirl with other things right now. Namely, whether Prussia is doing okay all by himself.

Carrying a plate of bread, cheese, and a bowl of soup, Canada walks into the base and frowns when Prussia isn't immediately in sight. He sets the plate down on the counter in the small kitchenette, eyes glancing over the seats in the lounge area. No sign of Prussia here so maybe the albino found a place to rest in the back. He's lucky no one else is in this building yet, but it's probably something Francis set aside as his own long ago. It is behind a gate that requires certain passcodes, after all.

Not that any of this train of thought matters. He needs to find Prussia. So he leaves the plate of food and explores the back hallways of the officer's club or mess or whatever they call it here. In his own experiences, such places have showers, sometimes baths, restrooms, and a few barracks style bedrooms. It isn't long for him to spot a familiar yellow chick flying out of the near bathroom, and Canada smiles lightly at seeing Prussia walk out shortly thereafter.

The albino has managed to find a set of navy pants and a white tank-top to wear instead of the horrid pajama-looking striped clothes of the camps. Which is a huge relief, even if Canada might have to leave some coins or something to make up for the clothes snatched from whoever normally roosts here. Red eyes find him and stare for a moment, a darkness hiding behind them that still has yet to be cleared, even if his hair and body has been washed of the grime of his previous living conditions. Gilbert twitches after a moment and takes the towel draped over his hair to wrap around his left arm and wrist.

"Uh," Gilbert grunts, eyes suddenly staring anywhere but at him. "You uh, have some medical tape or bandages I can wrap this in for now?"

Canada's eyes widen at the implication, glancing toward the arm in question and then frowning. "Yeah…"

"Where?"

He shakes his head. "I'll get it. You should go over to the lounge area. I brought in some food."

Gilbert's stomach growls, long enough to make them both wince, and then the albino nation mumbles. "Right. Okay. Sure."

An awkward silence descends. Matthew takes a breath and turns away to find the first aid kits. There should be plenty to work with here, if not as much as at an actual aid station or hospital. Behind him, Prussia picks his feet up and drags his way into the lounge. A glance over his shoulder shows the man still with the towel wrapped around his arm.

Matthew chews on the inside of his cheek and wishes this nightmare could disappear. He's not sure what Prussia is hiding, but he hopes it's nothing serious. He doesn't remember seeing any fresh wounds on the other man, so is it something else? Searching for the bandage wrap, Matthew finds his own hands are shaking at every movement and he has to take a moment to step back and breathe.

This is rough, but he can manage. He has to. For Prussia's sake. No, for Gilbert's sake.

When he returns to the lounge, Gilbert is sitting in one of the chairs around the public radio. He's sipping at the soup with one slow spoonful at a time, and even though their nation-immunity means Prussia could never actually starve or face repercussions from being starved, it's nice seeing the man eat sensibly.

Matthew slides into a seat next to him and holds out the bandage wrap. "Here. Will this do?"

Gilbert puts the food to the side and takes the bandage wrap with a mumbled, "Thanks."

Silence stalks again but Canada doesn't feel quite so awkward this time. Maybe because he's focused on watching what Prussia does. The red eyes glance his way, the man sighs, and then the towel is removed to reveal a string of numbers tattooed on Gilbert's arm near his wrist.

"Did they -" he bites his tongue as soon as the words escape. "Sorry. I shouldn't ask."

Prussia grunts and works on hiding the numbers with the bandage wrapping. "I'd rather not let anyone know, but I trust you'll keep the secret, huh?"

"Y-yeah," Canada whispers. "I haven't seen anyone else with-"

"That's 'cause I was in another camp that did this before they moved me to the one where you found me," Gilbert says, his voice dead and distant. "I don't think anyone was comfortable with a political prisoner being someone who used to give them orders. So they moved me a couple times over the years. It has been a few years now, right?"

Matthew nods. "Yeah. Well I don't know when exactly Germany turned on you, but it's 1945 now."

Prussia tenses and whispers. "You had to say it like that."

"Oh! Sorry! I didn't mean-!"

"It's all right," Prussia interrupts, waving his now bandaged arm in the air. "Though it's more accurate to say his monster did all that. He lost control and-"

The man cuts off, taking a shaky breath. Matthew frowns because Gilbert remains silent even as he hands over the remaining bandage wrappings. A look into those red eyes show the shine of light against water waiting to fall.

So Matthew keeps his mouth shut and waits. If ever Gilbert needed someone to listen to him patiently, now would be it. He can't imagine having to suffer like this. When they're around their people, the connections of their emotions feed into their own. Maybe pulling Gilbert away from the camp and keeping him away from his people for a while would be a blessing.

England probably wants him under lock and key somewhere anyway.

"I need to see him," Gilbert mutters after a while. "Or write something. Or both."

Matthew chews his bottom lip. "I don't think I can get you to him right now."

"Who's going to take charge when everything is over?"

"Probably England."

Prussia leans forward, eyes hard. "Then take me to Arthur."

Canada pulls back and looks away. "I don't think that will be easy, but I'll take you to his country and I'll see what I can do from there. I doubt he'll want to be hanging around anywhere else."

"That's fine," Gilbert says, a small smile crossing his face. "Not much else you can do when you work under him, huh?"

Matthew sends him a look and Gilbert actually barks a laugh. It's harsh and cracked, but it's true and honest, too. He can't believe the other nation has the gall to make fun of Canada's state as a commonwealth nation.

But if it makes Prussia come back to himself, then it's all right by him.

Gilbert returns to the soup and bread as the yellow bird hops down to rest on the man's leg. "Oh. Can you get me some paper to write a letter?"

Matthew raises an eyebrow. "What for?"

"So I can write West in case I don't get a chance to see him." When Matthew frowns, Gilbert continues, making sure to tap Gilbird on the head a few times. "This little chick can find any nation and fly any distance. He'll deliver the letter so don't worry about the details."

"Oh," Matthew says with a blink. "Okay, then, I'll see what I can find."

He stands up, getting a mumbled word of gratitude from the albino nation. Canada quickly realizes the reason for the soft words, too. Prussia is giving his full attention to the food.

Feeling grateful that he's the one to have found Gilbert in this state, Matthew steps away and decides to keep a close eye on the other nation, even if it has to be distant and awkward between them for a little while. No matter what England decides, he wants to spend as much time with Prussia while he can. The war is practically over. Now it's just a matter of working through the aftermath.

And doing all he can to save the life of someone he cares about.