Chapter 22
Gil stood up straight, looking into her face. He wasn't sure if he was angry, or confused, or both. "What?" he asked finally.
"I'll tell you anything you need to know in exchange for you getting my family across the wall. That's my price," She nodded, taking a step back from him crossing her arms.
"No," he laughed, staring at her, "Do you have any idea what you're asking?"
"Of course I do! Don't you remember last night!? They were my friends too!" She took a deep breath, looking away for a moment, then back up at Gil, "I need to get them out of here. I need them to be safe. I can't…" She shook her head, "I can't risk anything happening to them. I can't lose anyone else," she looked down, brushing away tears.
"Save it," Gil snapped, grabbing her wrist, pulling up her chin to look at him, "Do you know how much trouble I could get you in?" He laughed again, "Of course you do."
She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling again, "What about Cort? What about him? He's a child… he doesn't deserve to live like this… caged…"
Gil looked down at her, releasing his hold on her wrist, "I like Cort. He's a good kid like I said… but I can't help you. You have no idea what you're dealing with… there's more at stake than you realize. I wish I could help you, intelligence or not… but my hands are tied. I can't do anything." He shook his head, "And you…" he held back a few words he wanted to say, "You're trouble."
She smirked, "I suppose so… but you said you didn't want to disappoint Russia." She slid her hand up his arm, onto his neck, "You said he expected trouble…" She brought her hand to Gil's face, "Shouldn't you give him some?"
Gil pulled her hand away from his face, gripping both her wrists again. He pushed her back against the door they still stood in front of, pinning her there with her wrists held near her face, his body pressed against hers, holding her to the door. He looked into her face, noticing her breathing getting faster. His was too.
"Don't try that on me," Gil spoke through his teeth, his voice hot with suppressed anger.
She didn't speak, just looked up at him, her eyes daring him to come closer as she smiled.
Gil laughed, shaking his head. "Nein," He threw her wrists down from the door and stepped back. "Look. I will do what I can for your family, and I'm sorry about what happened to your sister, but I can't help you. I can't do what you ask. You don't have to tell me anything. I'll find out myself." He stepped towards the door again, grabbing the handle. She stayed pressed against it, looking up at him. "Move." He snapped.
She grabbed his hair, pulling him into a kiss.
He slapped her, pushing her back, "What do you think you're doing!?"
She rubbed at her cheek, which had turned bright red. "Trying to get you to listen to me!"
"Well I'm not listening, I'm leaving," he turned away, grabbing the door handle again, reaching for the latch to unlock it. He heard a gun click.
"Don't move, Gil."
Gil sighed, standing straight.
"Let go of the door handle, and turn to face me. And let me see your hands."
Gil rolled his eyes, turning towards her raising his hands near his waist, "Look. I don't want to fight you." He sighed.
"You're not fighting me," she shrugged, "I'm the one with the gun."
Gil rolled his eyes again, and grabbed for the gun, twisting it out of her hand before she could shoot. He aimed it at her face. "You're not as good as you think you are," he shook his head.
"Teach me?" She looked up at him with the same familiar spark in her eyes.
"Stay. back," he held the gun steady. "You're going to answer some questions now."
"Or what, you'll 'interrogate me'? Tell me, how many people did you beat to death during the war."
Gil set his jaw, trying to stop his hands from shaking with rage, "You have NO IDEA what you're talking about. Sit down." He motioned to a kitchen chair. "NOW!"
Adelaide listened, sitting won, keeping her hands raised by her sides.
"Now, who are you? Who's side are you on? And what. do. you. know?"
"I told you my conditions for answering that," she didn't look at him.
"And I told you, no. I will shoot you if you don't give me the answers I need."
Adelaide looked up at him, smirking. She stood, walking towards him slowly until the barrel of the gun was pressed against the scar on her chest. "Go ahead."
Gil grit his teeth, trying to force himself to pull the trigger. "Just… tell me one thing." He almost whispered, hiding his shaking right hand behind his back, his left still holding the gun to her chest.
"What?" She asked, her eyes tempting again.
"Does the rest of your family know what you are?"
She paused for a moment, trying to decide if she should tell him or not. "No, they don't." She answered truthfully.
Gil nodded, pulling the gun away from her slowly.
"Does this mean you'll agree to help me in exchange for information? I can be useful to you, Gil."
Gil didn't answer, trying to process everything he'd just seen and heard. "I can't make any promises."
"All I need is that you try."
Gil nodded slowly, "I'll try."
"Danke!" She threw her arms around his neck, bringing her lips to his again.
He didn't push her away.
…
Gil sat on his bed, his elbows resting on his knees, and his forehead resting on his hands. He glanced at the clock again. It was only 2 in the afternoon. He sighed deeply, letting himself fall back on his bed. He sat up again, standing, taking off his military jacket and setting it down on the chair. He unbuttoned the cuff of his sleeves and rolled them up above his elbow. He shook his head, sitting back down, pressing his hands into his forehead. He'd made a promise he didn't think he could keep. He shook his head again with a deep sigh, standing again and walking to his suitcase. He unzipped it, opening it slowly, and reached into the side pocket, unzipping another closure. He took out a syringe and another bottle of liquid painkillers. He didn't even bother to grab a band for his arm. He filled the syringe to the top, pressing the needle into his arm, his veins already easy to see through his white skin. He barely managed to tuck the syringe and bottle back into their hiding place before his vision started to blur. He stumbled back to his bed, letting himself fall onto it, closing his eyes. He opened them immediately, images flashing before them. He blinked, shaking his head, trying to calm his mind. He looked up, people standing near his bed. They were blurred, but he could see they were so thin they looked like death.
"Why?" They asked, begging him.
Prussia shrunk away, pressing himself into the headboard, covering his face. That was worse. He gasped, shaking his head as he felt cold hands on his skin. He rubbed at his arms, trying to get the feeling away.
It's not real. He tried to convince himself. He covered his mouth, suddenly, gagging as the smell of burning filled the room. He closed his eyes, but the images in his mind were worse. He was sweating, shaking, images, faces, and screams ringing through his mind. He tore off his shirt, trying to press his own hands into his skin to keep the cold ones off of him. He looked around the room again, the people were gone, replaced by blurred shapes and shadows he couldn't make out. The burning smell was overwhelming. Tears streamed down his cheeks, and he shook his head, closing his eyes tightly, trying to get the images to stop. He couldn't. He reached for the gun on the nightstand, looking for it, his vision blurry, moving like slow motion. He found it, his fingers clasping around the trigger. He raised it to his head, closing his eyes.
If I take too long to wake up Cort would find me… He couldn't stand that thought. He held the gun to his head a moment longer, still debating whether or not to fire it. He threw it down, pulling himself off the bed, crawling back to his suitcase, reaching for the drugs again. He cried out in pain as he heard more screams, people calling his name. He turned, looking back into the room. He could just barely see Poland rolled into a ball on the floor. A man towered over him, kicking him as the blonde country screamed, begging. Gil looked away, sick with guilt. He swallowed back the bitter taste rising to his mouth and pulled the syringe and bottle from their place. He tried to see clearly enough to get the needle into the bottle, filling the syringe again. He drove it into his arm, trying to hit the vein again. He pressed down, letting the only distraction he had left seep into his blood. He collapsed on the floor, the screams fading, the facing blurring until they disappeared. He tried to slow down his breathing. The room was still blurring, but the screaming had stopped. He could barely keep his eyes open, the sound of his own breath almost overwhelming in his head. He took the needle from his arm and slipped it back into the bottle, filling it once more. He let the needle glide back into his arm, pressing it hard until ever drop was gone from the syringe. He closed his eyes, falling to the ground, finally losing consciousness.
…
Gil opened his eyes slowly with a groan. He winced, looking back at his arm.
Great. He congratulated himself, Look how good at this you are. He rolled his eyes. He pulled the needle from his arm, sighing as blood started gushing from it. He pressed his hand over the wound, waiting until the bleeding had slowed before forcing himself to stand. He took a bandage from his suitcase and wrapped it around his arm, still pressing firmly. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment. When he looked up, he noticed the clock out of the corner of his eye. It was just past midnight. He glanced at the door. No one had come in our out. He'd left a piece of paper over the latch to be sure. He sighed again, relieved. He didn't want Cort to see him like this. He didn't want anyone to see him like this. He didn't want to see himself like this.
Gil walked to the chair where he had set his military jacket, and picked it up lovingly, hanging it in the closet with the rest of his clothes. He found his shirt on the floor across the room, and folded it neatly, setting it in the drawer. He sighed, unbuckling his belt, changing into sweatpants, hanging his military pants with his coat. He sat back on the bed, pressing his forehead into his hands again with another heavy sigh. He tried to get the images from before out of his mind. He felt sick, sicker than he had in a long time. Again he swallowed the bitter taste that rose to his mouth.
He glanced around the room slowly, relieved to see that no one was there. He closed his eyes suddenly, realization hitting him in the chest.
Is this what Poland lives with every night? Every day? He didn't want to answer that even to himself. He knew Poland lived with worse. He closed his eyes, the image of the man standing over Poland again coming into clear view. He refused to let himself look away this time, reliving the memory in his mind.
Strike after strike after strike hit Poland's body with the barbed wire bat he'd twisted while watching the blonde country squirm with fear. He'd kicked him, and struck him, pulling his hair, yelling in his face. He'd even drawn a knife down Poland's temple and cheek out of spite.
Gil opened his eyes. He couldn't remember anymore. He breathed hard, tears streaming down his cheeks as he gasped for breath, overwhelmed. He didn't want to think about what he'd done to Poland, to his own people, to Adelaide and her family… every day it got harder to live with. Every day he needed a higher dose of the drugs he hid. He didn't want anyone to know, especially Cort, especially Latvia. No one could know. He had to deal with it on his own. After all, no one could save him from himself.
A/N: Woohoo two chapters in one day! This is what happens when I get back from vacation and my fingers are practically aching to type! I missed you keyboard! So, Gil and Adelaide went at it for a while... and maybe more? We'll find out perhaps. Also... Gil's not doing well. That bad trip (down memory lane...) certainly didn't help, but he's starting to loose it a bit. At least he can sympathize with Poland a little more now...?
So, Gil and Adelaide went at it for a while... and maybe more? We'll find out perhaps. Also... Gil's not doing well. That bad trip (down memory lane...) certainly didn't help, but he's starting to loose it a bit. At least he can sympathize with Poland a little more now...?
I do really enjoy writing for Adelaide. She's sassy and confident and knows what she wants and how to get it. She's an interesting match for Gil, romantic or not. They're an interesting team... if you could call them that. Much more fun to come with that.
Gil's coping skills are awful. Terrible. Really, really really bad. *wince*
As always, reviewers are given cookies, hugs, and a nice cold drink for summer! Also as always, I do try to reply to as many comments as I can! I can't reply if you don't have an account, I'm so sorry! Mini-replies here! Kattie: yes I do like writing it! I LOVE writing this story! I'm so glad you love it! Danke! Gast: I am aware that the wall was built in 1961, no worries! :D I am speeding up history a bit in this fic to make things run faster, hence them mentioning the war is if it was only a few years prior to this. In this story that is the case. This is done for narrative purposes, instead of historical ones! I'm glad you're still enjoying it, though! :D YAY!