Chapter 56

Gil walked down the hallway of the government building looking at no one, holding his head high, taking firm, strong steps. He smirked, he felt powerful here. This was his city. Russia wasn't there. He owned the place. These were his men. And, despite having to listen to his bosses, it was his country. He walked past several offices, barely glancing inside, when he stopped suddenly, taking a few steps back and looking in at the door. Projected onto a screen was a video.

"Nein…" Prussia whispered, shaking his head. He stepped forward into the room, "What is that?" he nodded towards the screen.

The two soldiers in the room stood to attention, while the men in the dark suits, watching the video, barely looked up at him.

"This," one of the men said, emotionless cold in his voice, "Is a ransom video for your brother, GDR."

Prussia set his jaw, clenching his hands into fists behind his back, "What did you say?"

"RAF has your brother, apparently. We didn't expect this development, but we'll take it."

Prussia glanced at the screen again, trying to hide his horror at the sight of a knife against his brother's ear. Were those bullet wounds in his chest? Prussia looked back at the men sitting in their chairs, watching emotionlessly. He turned back and walked out of the room and down the hall. He walked straight to the room of his boss and pulled out his gun.

"Tell them to let my brother go, or I will not hesitate to kill you." He held the gun steadily at the man's face, his finger on the trigger.

The man leaned back in his chair, raising his hands with a smile, "I don't control RAF."

"Nein, you just fund them. Tell them that stops unless they let him go!"

"You should remember that he's your enemy-"

"My brother. is not. my enemy." Prussia's voice grew low and hot as he clenched his free hand into a fist.

"Well, he's mine," the man shrugged.

Prussia moved his hand to reemphasize the gun, "Tell them. To stay away from my brother."

"Why would I do that, GDR, your brother is still a Nazi."

"Nein!" Prussia snapped, "Why would you say that? My brother is rebuilding his country while I'm stuck here- HEY!"

Prussia stopped, looking down at the folder his boss had flipped open. The photograph was grainy, the color skewed by the flash that was almost too bright. His brother's hair could be seen in the top right corner, a hand pushing his head down. His shoulder, in the lower left corner, was also held down, and in the center right side of the photograph, was the scar. The dark, rough, deep Hakenkreuz (swastika) scar. A permanent mark on his brother's body of the one thing he hadn't been able to protect him from.

Gil's hands shook. He looked up, realizing the gun had been pushed down as his boss stood.

"GDR… your brother is not a good man."

Gil shook his head, "You're wrong. I'm the one who's not a good man," he brought the gun forward again and fired through his boss's arm. He winced as the pain of the bullet tore through his own arm. He ignored it, looking steadily at the bleeding man in front of him.

"Tell. RAF. To stand. Down," Gil held the gun to the man's head again.

"It's not that simple, GDR. I can't control them!"

"Well, what do they want! What are their demands?" Gil snapped, staring down at the man, trying not to look at the photograph of his brother's back on the desk.

"Their immediate demands… are knowing who and what your brother is."

Gil set his jaw, "Done. Don't tell them who sent the information, only that it was sent. Whatever they want to know, I'll tell them."

"Doesn't that betray all of you?" his boss asked, his voice shaking with pain.

Gil wasn't sure if his question was threatening, or genuine, "I don't care, he's my BROTHER!"

Gil pulled his gun away, his hands still shaking. He heard the door open behind him and three security guards grabbed his arms. He fought, struggling hard, trying to elbow one of them in the face before he felt a gun pressed against his head. He looked up at his boss. He wasn't scared, he was angry.

"Just, get him out of here," his boss said.

Gil struggled again, wincing as he felt the gun press closer into the back of his neck.

"I'll figure out later if I call Russia or not."

Gil looked up at him, struggling harder, not caring if they shot him. He felt the side of the gun strike the back of his head before he blacked out.

…

"Liet?" Poland walked into the room, his step firmer, surer.

Lithuania looked up, disoriented suddenly. He'd fallen asleep at his desk again. He turned to look at Poland, who held out a brush.

"Brush my hair?" Poland turned around and sat on the ground in front of Lithuania, having barely phrased it as a question.

The dark-haired country smiled slightly, happy to see Poland returning to his usual self. He took the brush from Poland and started running in through the soft blonde hair.

"I had an ok day today, Liet." Poland smiled, sighing deeply, relaxing as the brush touched his head. It was comforting.

Lithuania smiled, "That's good."

"What about you?" Poland turned a little, looking up at his friend.

"I can't brush your hair if you don't sit still," Lithuania avoided Poland's question.

Poland turned to look straight ahead again, letting Lithuania brush his hair. It made him sleepy, "I like this, Liet…" he smiled sadly.

"Like what? Me brushing your hair?" Lithuania asked, continuing.

"Yeah… but like, more than that… I like… I like having a conversation where we're not talking about anything… bad… or… or painful… just brushing my hair… just talking…" Poland turned to look up at Lithuania again, "It's almost like it used to be, huh?"

Lithuania smiled sadly, nodding, "Yeah. Yeah, almost."

Poland sighed, "I mean… I know it's never going to be exactly the same… but almost!" he smiled.

Lithuania smiled, nodding again, "So um… what was so good about today?"

Poland turned back to looking at the wall, letting Lithuania continue brushing. "Well," he paused for a moment, thinking, "Like, I actually got to hang out with Hungary a little, I didn't see Russia at all, Ukraine made cookies, and I didn't have a single panic attack! Not even when Hungary dropped a metal tray and it made a really loud noise." Poland smiled.

"I'm proud of you," Lithuania smiled back, "You're getting much better."

"Mmmhmm," Poland grinned, "Russia's been leaving me alone a lot more recently… Hungary too. I don't think he likes us very much, and I'm pretty ok with that."

Lithuania smiled again, "It's probably because both of your people have been fighting back, keeping him from having too much control. That probably makes him mad actually…"

"Well he hasn't done anything to me about it, so I don't care how mad he gets!" Poland smiled. He stopped suddenly, turning around to look at Lithuania, putting his hand on his friend's knee, "Liet, don't tell me he's been worse to you because of us…"

Lithuania shook his head, "No. No, not at all… he's… he hadn't been as bad lately."

"Maybe he's drinking less," Poland shrugged.

"I highly doubt that…" Lithuania rolled his eyes, glancing up at the door.

Neither of them spoke for a moment, the only sound in the room dulling to the quiet ticking of the clock on the wall, and the sound of the brush running through Poland's hair.

"Liet…?" Poland broke the silence, his voice quieter, more contemplative than before.

"Yes, Felek?" Lithuania smiled gently.

"I think we're going to be ok… like… I actually think we might be ok…"

Lithuania didn't answer, looking down at Poland's hair.

Poland turned around, looking up at Lithuania again, resting his hands on his friend's knee, "I know. I know it sucks… but I think we're going to be ok. Things are going to get better. If I can go a night without nightmares, then anything can get better."

"You what?" Lithuania looked at him, shocked.

Poland smiled, "No nightmares last night."

Lithuania stood, helping Poland to his feet, staring at him, "Really?"

Poland grinned, nodding, "Yeah. Really. No nightmares."

They looked at each other for a second before Poland threw his arms around Lithuania, trying to keep back tears.

Lithuania hugged him tightly. He hadn't felt genuinely happy in a long time. He'd missed it. It felt good to be happy, even for just a little while.

…

"No, I'm NOT giving up!" Italy slammed his fist on the table, looking at the other's faces.

France looked to England, then back to Italy, "Feli, this isn't your country, this isn't your fight. You can't get involved…"

"That's my best friend they have tied to a chair! I can't just let this happen! I can't and I won't! I have to help, even if I can't do very much…"

"And what exactly are you going to try and do, Feli?" Romano asked, crossing his arms over his chest, "It's not gonna help."

"Lovi…" Spain looked at him disapprovingly.

"What? It's true? Germany's toast!"

Italy glared at his brother, "How could you say something like that…?"

"What? It's probably true!" Romano shrugged.

"I don't care if it's probably true, I'm getting him back! Prussia still needs him, after all. Or have you all given up on him too!?"

There was silence as everyone looked around the room at each other awkwardly, trying to figure out what to say.

"Oh, you have given up on him…" Italy shook his head, "Why? I mean… I'm terrified of Russia too, but… but RAF isn't Russia! They're just humans! If we all work together we could-"

"I'm sorry, Feli," England stood, shaking his head, "It's not our problem. We have enough to deal with in our own countries right now. We can't just all leave to go help Germany."

France sighed, putting his hand on Italy's shoulder, "Look, I know he's your best friend, and you care about him very much, and so do I, and his brother even more so… but England is right. We have to take care of our own people first. It's our duty as countries… Italy we can't… no matter what we would like to do…"

"But there has to be a way…"

"Nope," Romano stood, walking towards the door, "Have fun crying about it," he walked out, slamming the door behind him.

Italy watched Romano leave, shocked. He looked back at France, "But… but they're hurting him…"

"I'm sure his government will figure out how to get him back…" France sighed, rubbing Italy's back gently, comfortingly.

"And what if they don't!" Italy pushed France's arm away, looking around at everyone again, "RAF wants to know what Germany is… if they find out, none of us are safe. This does concern us. We have to get involved, we can't let them find out that we exist… right?"

France looked up at England, his expression changing from compassion to worry, "Arthur, Feli's right, that does change things…"

England growled, his distinctively large eyebrows pushing together as he frowned, "Well we certainly can't let them find out about the whole personified nations thing…"

"They cut him and he healed… and they shot him and he's healing. They know he can heal, England… it's not good!" Italy shook his head, his curl swinging along.

England sighed, frustrated, "All right… we'll figure this out. Do they have any idea where he's being held?"

"A concrete bunker somewhere…" Italy sighed.

"How many bunkers are there in West Berlin? They probably wouldn't want to take him too far away…"

"There are a few…" Italy tried to think about the video. There had to be something else he heard, something else he noticed. "Dirt…" he whispered, then looked back up at England, "Dirt! There wasn't a lot of it. There wasn't a lot of dirt, and there wasn't any water damage on the walls. I don't think the bunker was underground…"

"The towers?" France asked, surprised.

"Maybe!" Italy grinned.

France looked up at England, "There were towers built before the war to protect Berlin and a few other cities from the bombings… it would be perfect for them to be using one of them now…"

"And how would they get into one of them? Aren't they being used?"

Italy shook his head, "Not really… they could maybe manage it… it would make sense…"

England nodded, "France, why don't you explore that idea. Italy, go back to Germany's government and see if there's anything else they know that could help us. Tell them we're getting involved. Not our countries, just us. Just like you told them before. All right?"

Italy nodded, "So you really are going to help?"

"Looks like we don't have much of a choice," Spain shook his head, smiling at Italy.

France smiled too, putting his arm around Italy's shoulders, "We'll get him back, don't worry, Feli. We'll get him back."

A/N: Wait? A lighter chapter? From me? Yup. XD I thought we could all use a little bit of a break... so here it is! A lighter chapter! Gil's still in trouble... (but what else is new). Germany's obviously still in danger, but things are going well for Poland for a change. And the others are going to help get Germany back! YAY!

Addressing some guest comments: I know it's rather violent... it's definitely dark, and not for everyone. I hope you're still enjoying it, however. Also, about Liet having (or seemingly not having) PTSD. He does. He definitely does. But he's still living INSIDE the nightmare... so the trauma isn't over. Just like some soldiers in the middle of a war and seeming 'fine'... his worst symptoms are going to show up later. Right now he's pushing through because he has to. Because he has to in order to survive. He still shakes when he's near Russia though and is much shyer when he's around Russia, though we haven't seen a lot of that... so yes, he has PTSD. As does basically everyone in that house at this point...

I'm writing Germany and Italy as best friends here. Very close friends. Italy hasn't done anything that I wouldn't do for my best friend, especially if we were roommates. It's canon that they're at least roommates/housemates, so I'm going with that. If Gerita shippers want to see Gerita there, then they can, but I'm writing them as best friends, not romantic interests. Similar to how I'm writing Lithuania and Poland. Very close, very good, best friends who would literally die for each other, but not lovers.

Kattie: Thank you for the kinder egg! I've always wanted to try one! It's true that they aren't legal here... maybe next time I'm in Canada or Europe... (probably Canada sooner than Europe...)

As always, I LOOOOOOVE reading your reviews! 290! So close guys! Who will be the 300th... XD XD XD XD (special 'prize' coming for the 300th commenter... perhaps... *Wink*)