Chapter 62

"Hey, Nazi! Look over here!"

Germany didn't turn, wincing hard as the end of a wooden rod hit his cheek. He looked up in time to feel another blow on the other side of his face. Four RAF members stood around him, all of them with the staffs. Germany kept his head down, refusing to look at them. He took a strike to the face and back at the same time, giving a low grunt of pain, blinking hard as his vision blurred. He tried to lift his head, not bothering to struggle as one of them grabbed his hair, pulling him forward so they could see the scar more clearly.

"You don't deserve for this to start fading!" One of them said, hitting the side of his face again.

Germany winced hard as the hand in his hair kept him from giving in to the blow. His cheek throbbed, and he knew he wouldn't avoid a bruise.

"Why don't we make sure you keep this, Nazi?" The young man grabbing his hair laughed, pulling his head down further.

Germany gasped slightly, the strain on his shoulders from his arms being wrapped around and cuffed to the chair becoming more than a little uncomfortable. He struggled as he felt metal against his back, cold, sharp, metal.

"Don't-" his voice cut off as his head was pulled back roughly.

"What was that?"

Germany said nothing, refusing to look at any of them still. He didn't struggle as the young man pulled his head down again, pressing against his neck. He felt a hand on his shoulder blade, the knife still laid against the scar on his back.

"I think I'll just…" One of the young men smiled.

Germany closed his eyes tightly, opening his mouth to cry out, but refusing to let the sound escape. He struggled involuntarily, shaking with pain as the blade dug into his skin, moving slowly. He wouldn't cry. Not this time…

"Ludwig? Ludwig?" His bosses' voice faded into his mind.

Germany looked up, "Sir?" he blinked. Had he fallen asleep?

"You zoned out there, is everything all right?"

Germany nodded, "Of course, sir."

"You were telling us about what happened…"

"Ja… um… I think I told you everything, sir." Germany lied. He hadn't mentioned the scar. Some things were too painful.

"All right, then. I'll have people start working on all of this right away. We will catch them, Germany. I promise we will catch them."

Germany nodded, standing, "If it's all right, sir…"

"Oh, ja, of course!" his boss stood, walking up to him and putting a hand on his shoulder, "Go home. Rest, sleep, eat a good meal. Don't worry about any of this, all right?"

"I don't know if I can do that, but I will try and rest," Germany nodded stiffly. He wasn't sure he could sleep, but he could dry and rest. He knew he wouldn't be able to stop thinking about everything, so he didn't bother trying.

"One more thing," his boss motioned to the guards at the door, who let in two men in dark suits. They walked up to Germany and nodded respectfully to him.

Germany turned to look at his boss, somewhat confused, though he had a guess.

"These are your new bodyguards."

He guessed right, "I don't need-"

"Ludwig. You were just kidnapped. I'm giving you bodyguards. No arguing."

Germany sighed, annoyed, "I can take care of myself…"

"I know you can, so more help will only make that easier. I need you protected. They cannot capture you again. They're too close as it is to knowing things they shouldn't…"

Germany nodded, understanding, "All right. Fine. I'll accept the extra protection. But they have to be able to keep up with me."

"That won't be a problem, sir," one of the guards said with a smile.

Germany looked at him, every so slightly amused, "Oh?"

"No, sir. Not a problem, sir."

Germany looked at his boss and nodded, "All right. I'm going home," he turned to his new bodyguards, "What are your names?"

"I'm Hans," The taller one said simply with a nod.

"I'm Fredrick," The dark haired guard smiled a little.

Germany nodded, "Fredrick, Hans, I'm going home. I believe you're going to come with me," he glanced back at his boss, who motioned politely towards the door.

Germany left the room, not turning back to look at his new bodyguards. He knew he didn't them, but he wasn't thrilled about the idea of needing protection, especially from humans.

Italy was waiting for him when he got home. The redhead grinned, running up to him as he walked in the door. He put his hand up to stop a hug. His back hadn't fully healed, and he knew if Italy hurt him the smaller country would apologize for hours. He didn't have time for that. He smiled at the redhead, putting his hand on his shoulder. He looked down at the other man's clothes suddenly, raising an eyebrow.

"I've been cooking!" Italy said, dusting the flour off his shirt.

"I see that…" Germany shook his head, trying to hide the smile that insisted on being seen, "And what are you making, Italy?"

Italy grinned, "I made you potato and sausage soup! Your meat, my recipe!"

Germany smiled, nodding, "That sounds wonderful!"

Italy beamed, "Ve!" he stopped suddenly, his expression changing from joy to concern, "Germany… who… who are…" he looked up at the men behind Germany.

"Those are my new bodyguards," Germany resisted the urge to roll his eyes, "They're here to protect me from RAF."

"Good!" Italy smiled, "Good, I want you safe…I… I think I made enough soup for four people. I guess we'll find out!"

"You don't have to feed us, sir-"

"Nonsense!" Italy interrupted Hans, shaking his head, "You're here, and it's time for dinner. You're eating some!" he nodded once, determined, and went to grab more bowls.

Germany glanced back at his bodyguards, "You get used to him," he whispered, turning away from Italy.

"I heard that!" Italy said, turning to look back at Germany, pretending to be annoyed.

Germany rolled his eyes, walking to his place at the head of the table.

Italy placed the additional settings on the table and motioned for the bodyguards to sit. He grinned, stepping back to grab the soup off the stove.

"I really hope you like this, Germany!" he smiled, serving him first.

"I'm sure it's wonderful," Germany nodded, lifting a spoonful of the steaming liquid to his lips. He smiled, "It's delicious. Well done, Feli."

Italy grinned, "Ve!" he dished himself a bowl, set the pot back on the stove to keep warm, and sat down, picking up his spoon.

…

"What's your name?"

"German Democratic Republic."

"What are you?"

"A communist state." GDR's eyes were void of emotion, looking forward.

"And who do you belong to?"

"The Soviet Union. You."

"And the wall, why was it built?"

"To protect me."

"And the people who try and cross the wall, what do they deserve?"

"Death."

"And your brother, what is he?"

"America's dog."

"What are you?"

"Your bird."

"Do you like your cage, Ptitska?"

"Da," GDR nodded, looking up at Russia. He didn't struggle at the cuffs that he'd begged the giant to loosen. He didn't care anymore. He winced as Russia wiped the blood from his cheek.

"Now," Russia asked kindly, "Do you want forgiveness for what happened in Berlin?"

GDR nodded, looking up at Russia.

"Just ask me."

"Please forgive me, Russia… I'm so sorry I tried to help someone over the wall…" he whispered, looking down.

"I forgive you, Ptitska. Of course I do," Russia smiled, "It's over now. But never. do it. again. Is that understood?"

GDR nodded, shaking.

Russia smiled, kneeling beside him, unlocking the cuffs that bound the white-haired country to the wall.

GDR fell forward, his legs numb. He winced as Russia caught him. He didn't want Russia's 'comfort'.

Russia sighed, shaking his head, "I don't like hurting you so much, GDR…" he looked down at the deep bleeding gashes his pipe had left in the white skin. He didn't like it, but it made him smile. He looked down at GDR's legs. He didn't think he'd broken them… he put his hand against the skin, trying to feel the bone.

GDR winced, giving a soft cry of pain.

Russia stopped, looking at him, "Did that hurt?" he asked, concerned. He was trying to be gentle.

GDR nodded, inhaling through his teeth as Russia's hand stayed on his leg.

"I'm sorry, GDR," Russia apologized but continued to feel the bone. He felt a break. He sighed, "I didn't mean to hurt you this badly, Ptitska…" he looked down at GDR's legs again. The other one wasn't broken, just badly bruised. "I'm going to take you upstairs," he said simply, picking up GDR.

Gil struggled a little, refusing to put his arm over Russia's shoulder. It wasn't comfortable leaving it pressed to his side, but it was better than accepting Russia's help. But he needed Russia's help. He winced as his legs burned, even without having to walk up all the steps. Russia carried him into his own room, setting him down in a chair, turning away.

"I'll get Estonia to help you. I have other things to deal with," Russia said without looking back at GDR. He walked through the door and stopped, leaning against the hallway. He sighed. GDR's body was torn and bruised, his face bleeding from a deep cut Russia had left with his knife. He shuddered. What was happening to him? Had he always done this? He looked back at GDR's door but refused to let himself open it. He did what he had to do… but he felt sick. He didn't want to have to look at GDR anymore, turning away from the door. He closed his eyes with a deep sigh and went to find Estonia.

…

"Luddy, what are you doing?" Prussia snapped, grabbing his brother's shoulders, "What are you doing!?"

"Gilbert, I have to do this, please don't get involved…"

"Oh, shut up Ludwig, I'm already involved! Why the hell would you want to-"

"You think I want this!" Ludwig pushed his brother's hands off his shoulders, "I don't want any of this, Gil! I don't want my people to be starving in the streets. I don't want my economy so damaged that there are days I can hardly stand! I don't want any of this, Gil, don't you get it that's the point! That's the point I have to do this! I have to, I don't have a choice anymore!"

"Luddy that's not true… there has to be another choice, another man, another-"

"There isn't, Gil. No one else wants to help us, help me… I… I don't have any other choice anymore. Maybe it'll be ok. Maybe nothing bad will happen and everything will be fine in the end-"

"There is NOTHING fine about any of this!" Prussia grabbed his brother's arm as Ludwig turned away again, "Look at me, you can't do this!"

"Gil, I HAVE to. Please, please at least try to understand that. I can't do this anymore, Gil. My people are dying… I'm dying. I don't have a choice…"

Prussia looked into his brother's face. The bright blue eyes looking back at him were terrified, angry, in pain… he closed his eyes. He couldn't look at his brother's face. He said nothing, the room so quiet he almost thought he could hear Ludwig's heart pounding in his chest, but he couldn't hear it over his own. He opened his eyes looking at his brother again.

"Ludwig… Ludwig if you do this… I can't protect you… I won't…" he shook his head, swallowing hard, "I won't be able to protect you anymore…"

"I know. I'm sorry, Gil. I'm so sorry. I have to this…"

"He's a monster, Ludwig… please…"

"I know," Germany sighed, looking away, "I know. But, that doesn't change… that doesn't change the fact that I need him. He's going to help. Maybe… maybe it'll all be ok…"

Prussia closed his eyes, refusing to cry.

"You don't have to watch…"

"Yes I do," Prussia nodded with a deep sigh.

Germany said nothing, pulling his arm away from his brother's hand gently. He looked at Prussia's face. He couldn't tell him how scared he was. He wouldn't let Prussia protect him. He had to do this. He turned to the door in front of him, took a deep breath, and walked inside where his new boss was waiting for him.

Germany touched the scar on his back, looking at it in the mirror. The damage the young RAF members had caused was already healing. He closed his eyes with a sigh. The scar had started to fade. He hated it. He hated everything about it, everything it stood for, everything it had done to him, his people, everyone he cared about, everything he'd tried to be… he looked away from the mirror, walking back to his bed, pulling a black sleeveless shirt over his shoulders, covering the mark. He sat down on his bed, closing his eyes and pressing his hands into his face, leaning down. He would find RAF. He would prove himself. He would prove himself to everyone… especially himself.

A/N: So... Russia broke Gil again. *sigh* all the fight gone... :/ and he can't walk... again... (learn to keep your mouth shut, Gil... please?) And Germany is dealing with a lot of different emotions, which he's hiding of course. (what else is new?). And a look at how he actually got that scar on his back... emotions everywhere. But Italy made him soup to cheer him up!

As always, thank you all for the reviews! I know, I know, I say that every time... onto answering some questions! This story WILL NOT END WITH THE WALL FALLING! It will continue on through Prussia's recovery, and into close to modern times... (though the 90's and early 2000's for SURE...), so no fear, the story isn't done yet! Possibly not even half done... we'll see. I'm certainly planning for well over 100 chapters. (but we'll see, as I said. XD) Tonight my mom and I made a full 18th-century meal (hi mom! ;) ) And it was so amazing, so I will share! Rabbit Stew, Salad with 18th-century dressing, Switchel (basically old fashioned ginger ale without the carbonation...), and 1767 bread pudding! Delicious, I promise! :)