A/N: This chapter has all the warnings, including mentions of the Holocaust.

Chapter 17

Gil stood in the doorway, frozen. He couldn't take his eyes away from the thin, small, blond country pressed into the corner of the room. Poland's arms were bound from wrists to elbows in black chord. Loose pants were his only clothing, and they were caked with blood. Gil could see his spine poking through his back, his ribs clearly seen through his skin. He was shaking, his hands over his face as he turned away from the door. His blond hair, just brushing his shoulders, was dirty and matted.

"Please…" Poland whimpered, not looking up at Gil. "Please… don't hurt me again… I don't have any names… please…" he sobbed trying to press himself further into the stone wall.

"Feliks…" GDR took a step forward, then stopped. Poland brought his head up suddenly, looking into Gil's face with absolute terror in his big green eyes.

Poland shook with fear, staring up at Gil, holding up his arms slowly, turning his face away, trembling. "Please… Please…"

Gil watched, hiding his shaking hands in his pockets. He looked at Poland's body. It was covered in scars and fresh wounds. He turned away. He couldn't look at him. "I… I'm not…" Gil bit his lip, taking a deep breath, forcing himself to speak, "I'm not going to hurt you…"

"Liet said you would…" Poland's voice was shaky, almost a whisper.

"I won't." Gil shook his head, trying to get closer to him.

"NO! PLEASE!" Poland kicked at him, trying to press himself into the wall, covering his face.

"Ok," Gil held up his hands, "Ok." Gil took a step back.

Poland pulled his arms away from his face slowly, looking up at Gil. "Did Russia send you to kill me?"

Gil shuddered, Poland's voice was hopeful. "Nein."

Poland looked away, resting his head on the wall, letting his arms rest against his legs, carefully.

Gil closed his eyes with another shudder, swallowing hard as he saw Poland's arms more clearly. He wasn't tied with cord. He was tied with barbed wire. Gil felt sick. He looked back at Poland, who struggled to find a more comfortable position against the stone. "Can…" Gil stopped, wondering if he should continue. He looked into Poland's face as the blond looked up at him, trembling. "Can I at least take those off of you?" He nodded to the barbed wire that dug into Poland's arms.

Poland shook his head, pulling away. "No… No, you'll have to get too close…" he pressed further into the stone.

"All right. I won't… if you're sure."

Poland nodded, shaking, "W… what are you… why are you here?" Poland looked up at him.

Gil turned away. He couldn't look at Poland's eyes. "Russia… sent me." Gil breathed harder, trying to force down a catch of panic in his throat. "He wants me to get… names…" He bit his lip, looking back at Poland.

Poland rested his head on the wall again, shaking it, his voice breaking, "I don't know any… I don't have any… please… please tell him I don't know…"

"I don't know if he'll believe me…"

Poland looked up at him, tears streaming down his cheeks, "Then hurt me. Please… please if it'll make him stop…" Poland turned away, bringing his arms up to his face, resting his hands on his forehead, his elbows on his knees, his thin frame shaking with sobs.

Prussia took a step closer. "Feliks…"

Poland trembled more, shaking with terror as Gil stepped closer still. He breathed hard, gasping with sobs, trying not to panic.

"Poland…" Gil reached forward, unsure if Poland would let him touch him. He put his hand on Poland's.

Poland jumped, pulling away, pressing himself into the wall, sobbing, gasping for breath. "DON'T TOUCH ME!" His voice was a panicked whisper.

Gil pulled his hand away and looked at Poland. His stomach churned. He turned away, he couldn't keep looking at Poland.

"I'm… I'm so sorry…" he bit his lip.

"What?" Poland's voice still shook.

"I'm sorry for everything. For everything my country did to you, for everything the Soviet Union is doing to you… all of it, I…"

Poland looked up at him suddenly, still breathing hard.

Gil met Poland's eyes and shivered. He'd never seen them so angry before.

"Sorry?" Poland whispered, "You don't get to be sorry. You don't get to apologize for what you've done…" he choked back a sob, turning away again. "GET AWAY FROM ME!" He kicked at Gil.

Prussia fell back, almost scrambling to his feet, stepping away from Poland. "I'm sorry."

Poland looked up at him again, "Do you know what you did to me!?" His voice shook, this time with hate.

"No." Gil looked down, breathing hard, "No, I don't know what they did…" He shook his head. "I looked the other way. I didn't ask questions. I didn't want to know, I just-"

"Then you're going to listen."

"Poland…"

"NO! You're going to stand there and listen to it. All of it!" Poland shook his head, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Feliks… please… please just let me untie you… please." Gil's voice broke. He couldn't even look at Poland.

Poland looked down at his bleeding arms, and back up at Gil. He didn't want him to come any closer, but the barbed wire was painful, digging into his skin. "Ok…" He whispered, closing his yes.

Prussia walked forward, kneeling beside Poland again, sighing deeply as Poland winced. "I'm not going to hurt you." Anymore.

Poland didn't reply, only held out his arms, trembling.

Prussia tired to find the end of the wire. He untangled the end, slowly, carefully, unwrapping the wire, trying not to touch Poland's skin at all. He stopped for a moment, noticing a faded tattoo on Poland's arm. "Feliks?"

Poland didn't need to look, knowing what Prussia had seen. "It's fading… finally…" He closed his eyes, tears falling down his cheeks. He wasn't scared, he wasn't angry.

Prussia shivered. Poland's eyes look dead, cold, distant somehow.

"Did you know?" Poland's voice trembled.

"Know what?" Prussia turned to Poland's arms again, untangling the rest of the barbed wire from his wrists, tossing it aside. He stood, taking a step back from Poland.

"Did you know about… the… camps?" Poland whispered, pulling his arms closer to his chest, rubbing them, trying to avoid the cuts from the wire.

Gil nodded, "Yes… they were for, political prisoners, POW's, criminals-"

"No, they weren't." Poland shook his head, closing his eyes. He pressed his hands over his ears suddenly, shaking, sobbing, gasping for breath, resting his head on his knees, pulling them tighter against his chest. "Please… please stop…" he whispered to himself, shaking.

Gil watched, breathing hard, closing his eyes. "Wh… Poland what happened?"

"They killed them, Gil!" Poland pulled his hands away from his ears, looking straight ahead, gasping sobs escaping his lips, "All of them… hundreds of them every. single. day…" He turned to look up at Gil, trembling, "I couldn't save them…" he sobbed, "And I… I couldn't… I couldn't die with them…" He shook his head again.

"Who…?" Gil didn't want to know, but he had to know.

"Jews," Poland looked up at him.

Gil closed his eyes. He'd known his boss hadn't liked Jews. He'd said they were a 'problem'. That he would 'deal with it'. Gil hadn't wanted to know. Don't lie to yourself, Gil. You knew he was killing them.

"Almost 6 million of them…Men, women…children…" Poland looked down, his voiced choked by tears. He looked up again. "Do you know what your officers said… while they were destroying my people… burning towns, slaughtering children…?" Poland looked down.

Gil didn't answer, setting his jaw, trying not to cry. 6 million? No. That was too many. It couldn't have bene that many…

"They said… 'when we're done… no one is left alive.'" Poland shook his head, "They weren't lying… 6 million…" Tears fell down Poland's cheeks. "They even took me…"

Gil turned to the wall, sliding down it, sitting on the stone, not looking at Poland.

"They gave me to you and your brother, and-"

"You don't have to-"

"And you two… you beat me for days…Germany's boot, crashing into my ribs until my lungs bled. And you." Poland looked away, "You didn't just use your boot…" he shook his head, turning away. "You-"

"I know what I did," GDR almost snapped, turning away.

"You used a wooden staff. Again, and again, and again. I begged you to stop! I said I'd tell you anything, and you didn't listen. You didn't care!"

Gil turned away, putting his head in his hands.

"Look at me!"

He obeyed, looking back at Poland, trying not to focus on the buses and scars on Poland's body.

"I begged you to stop… I screamed and cried and you… you didn't stop…" Poland turned, so Gil could see the deep scars on his ribs. "Remember this? You twisted barbed wire together, and…" Poland gasped, bringing his hands to his face, pressing into his skin, crying out in pain, breathing fast.

Gil turned away, closing his eyes. He wanted to leave, to go back to Russia and tell him he couldn't get Poland to talk, anything to get out. Anything.

"Then you just left…" Poland shook his head. You and Russia tore me apart…" He shivered, his voice breaking again. "But you… you were worse."

Gil put his head in his hand, still not looking at Poland.

"My government ran away to England… and they left me too… everyone left…" Poland pulled his hands away from his face, wrapping them around himself, "They didn't know what to do with me so… they didn't care. They took me away with… a hundred others…in a truck. When we got to the gate they said I was too small…They took me and everyone else they didn't want to a little room… and…" Poland gripped his arms tighter, trying to keep the sobs back long enough to talk, "I couldn't breathe…" He turned away, pressing his hands into his face again, sobbing until he coughed, gasping, "When I woke up… they were dead. Everyone. Everyone else…" Poland shook his head, looking away, trying to steady his voice, "They took me downstairs to one of your 'doctors'…" Poland's whole body shook, and he wrapped his arms around himself again, "And he killed me. Then when I woke up in a few hours he didn't it again," He looked straight ahead, gritting his teeth, "Over, and over, and over… every time trying something new… like I was a game… like he was playing with me… and I couldn't die… not permanently. I tried to figure out how… how to die, how to actually let him kill me… but I couldn't. He couldn't kill me… Just thousands of others… 200 people. Every day. That's how many people they killed… every day…" Poland sobbed, putting his hands over his ears again, shaking his head, trying to block out the screaming in his mind.

Gil closed his eyes, trying to hold back the panic that rose in his chest. He looked at Poland. He shook his head, opening his mouth to speak. He didn't have anything to say. He couldn't find the words. His people had done that. His boss had done that. And he didn't know. And he didn't stop them.

"They're only crime was being the 'wrong kind' of human…" Poland whispered, looking over to Gil with so much pain in his eyes that Gil had to look away. "I could feel every single one of them die…every. single. one of them. I hear them… screaming in my head… I can't sleep… every time I close my eyes I can see their faces…" He shook his head, pressing his hands against his eyes. "I hate you, Gil. I hate you. Don't you dare apologize to me…. not after what you've done…" Poland wrapped his fingers around the numbers on his arm. "Don't worry about Russia turning you into a monster… you already are." He turned away.

Gil stared forward at the stone wall in front of him, unable to look at Poland. He shook his head, closing his eyes, trying to think of words.

"Russia asked you to make me give you names….well I don't have any." Poland shook his head. "So, do it." He looked over at Gil again. "Make me scream and cry until he's satisfied…I don't care anymore." Poland turned away, pulling his knees in closer, wrapping his arms around them, and his head against his arms, looking away from Gil.

Gil stood, breathing hard, still too shocked to speak. He saw Poland wince as he took a step forward. "I…" He tried to find words. "I ca-" He walked through the door without another word, up the stairs, past the kitchen, down the long hallway. He passed Lithuania, who he ignored, noticing that the dark-haired country took off, heading to the basement. Gil ran into his room, closed the door, and locked it. He stood, pressing his back against the door, panting from running. He sunk to the ground, gasping for breath, pressing his face into his hands, trying for breathe. The pressure in his chest was overwhelming. He couldn't be responsible for all of that. He couldn't be. He gasped for breath. He knew Poland wasn't lying. He tried to steady his breath, but he couldn't. He panted harder, resting his face in his hands, trying to breathe against the crushing pressure on his chest. His jacket felt like it was suffocating him. He ripped it off, tossing it aside on the ground, and unbuttoned his shirt, trying to breathe. He brought his head up, looking around his room, his eyes resting on the full length mirror. He stood, walking to it, his breathing finally slowing down. He pulled off his shirt, and tore the bandage off his shoulder, turning to look at the wound. The hammer and sickle, carved into his skin. He pressed his fingers into the mark until it bled, dripping down his back. He wined in pain, but it didn't hurt enough. It wasn't distracting enough. He couldn't make it hurt enough.

He turned to the nightstand, opening the drawer where Estonia had left him some medicine for the pain while he was healing. He emptied the bottle into his mouth. He dragged himself onto his bed and closed his eyes.

What have I done? Oh God, what have I done?

A/N: *heavy sigh* Well. The promised Poland Chapter. Please know, that I am jewish myself, and I have nothing but respect for those who suffered through the holocaust, and honor for those who died. I feel that these are topics that we must discuss so it never, ever, ever happens again. Therefore, I will talk about it. This was a hard chapter to write, but an important one. What happened in the real life country of Poland during WWII was horrific and terrible. As I mentioned in the story, 6 million polish were killed, most of them Jews. 90% of Poland's Jewish population was killed, and at least 1/8th of Polish citizens in general. Some estimates bring that number up to 1/6th of the people of the country. These numbers are unprecedented, and the treatment of the Polish people by the germans, remains to this day, one of the most horrible, complete examples of 'crimes against humanity'. It remains one of the darkest chapters of world history, something that I believe hasn't been touched in it's level of cruelty before or since, though horrible things are certainly still happening today. (but I won't get into modern day world politics.)

I can't imagine hearing this not affecting Gil horribly, so it does, as I'm sure you can see. Whether or not it's a deliberate suicide attempt, I don't think he even knows. He just needs the pain to stop, at least for a few hours. As I mentioned, the countries can't die permanently.

I listened to the theme from "Schindler's List" while writing this one. It helped. I cried. I promised myself I would work on this chapter until I made myself cry. I cried.

Reviews are appreciated as always. I know this was a hard chapter as always. This is, as I've said, a very dark, historically based story. I'm hoping I'll find a way to bring a lighter chapter into this soon, we all need it after this I think. *gives reviewers blankets, hugs, cocoa, cookies, and more hugs*