Chapter 70

Gil opened his eyes, groaning, bringing his left arm over his face. He turned, looking down at his right arm. An IV was deep in his skin, taped down and attached to a tube.

"W…what…?" he said, groggy. He blinked hard, trying to focus, trying to figure out where he was. He pressed his fingers against his closed eyes, shaking his head. He felt sick. He turned to the tube in his arm again, following it to a small packet of clear liquid hug on the back of the headboard. He shook his head. The setup was rough, but it was working, though, his mouth felt dry. A metallic taste lingered in the back of his throat.

Saline? he wondered. It had to be. Only one thing tasted that bad. He sat up, looking around. He was in his room back at the hotel. He saw Heinrich sitting in a chair by the window. The man turned to him as he groaned again, "Why did you open the window…?"

"You're awake!" Heinrich stood, running up to Gil, putting a hand on the man's shoulder, "They said it could be days…"

"Was it?" Gil asked, still groggy.

Heinrich shook his head, "Nein, only a few hours…"

Gil nodded, "That's good at least. So…" he looked back up at the young man, "They told you everything about me?"

Heinrich sighed, nodded, "I'm sorry, sir… about Prussia…"

"Yeah… that wasn't the best day of my life…" Gil tried to brush it off. He closed his eyes, remembering Germany sitting beside him. His brother's face had looked worn, tired, exhausted and under-fed from the war. He had looked down at his own hands. They were boney and rough. The war had taken its toll on both of them.

Gil looked down at his hands. They were even worse now, and he'd lost more muscle in his arms. He looked back up at Heinrich. He didn't want to think about what being GDR had done to him. He looked away again. The way the man looked at him was different.

"What did they tell you… about me?"

"A lot…"

Gil sighed deeply, "So… are you afraid of me yet?"

Heinrich didn't move, looking away from Gil.

Gil closed his eyes, "I'm sorry… whatever they told you…" he shook his head, looking up at Heinrich "It was probably true. I told you myself… I've killed a lot of people, I've done a lot of terrible things. But… you don't have to be afraid of me… please don't be afraid of me.."

Heinrich looked up at him, "Everything in the war… that was you? Everything that happened…?"

Gil closed his eyes, "Ja. My fault. All of it… everything. Blame me… blame for your father, blame me for the millions of people we killed… but please, PLEASE don't think I don't regret it…" He looked up into Heinrich's face, keeping his eyes steadily on him, trying to force his hands not to shake.

Heinrich looked into Gil's face. He'd never seen that much pain in a man's eyes before. How could he trust someone who was hundreds of years old? How could he believe he regretted it after everything he'd done? He sighed, "Ok. Well, we have a mission."

Gil nodding, sitting up slowly, looking back at the tube in his arm. He shivered, his stomach churning. He leaned forward, pressing his head into his hands, "Ugh…" he looked up at Heinrich again, "Do you know what they gave me? I've never felt that good in my life, but… ugh…" he shook his head.

Heinrich looked away, setting his jaw, his hands clenching into fists.

"Heinrich? What's wrong?"

"I don't like it, sir… but I do know what they gave you…" Heinrich shook his head.

"What…?" he almost wasn't sure he wanted to know… his body was begging him for more of it, the urge stronger than it had ever been before.

Heinrich looked down. He didn't want to see Gil's face. "Heroin, sir."

"W-what?" Gil looked up at him, standing, wincing as the IV in his arm stung. He didn't take his eyes of Heinrich, "Why? Why would he want to…"

"He wants you to need it." Heinrich felt sick. He didn't like this, any of it, but it wasn't his job to question GDR's boss.

Gil sat back on the bed. He shivered again. They'd given him a heavy dose, but not nearly enough. He shook his head. That's why he'd gotten high. That's why it had felt so much better than anything the painkillers had ever done. He hated it. What had he done to himself? He regretted ever starting. He stood again, turning to the IV in his skin and pulling it out, pressing down on his arm as it bled instantly.

"What does my boss want us to do?" He asked simply, walking towards his suitcase to find a bandage for the wound.

"With the celebration coming up, there's been some talk of a rebellion going on," Heinrich straightened, looking at Gil, all business. He could talk about the mission easily enough. It didn't make him feel sick.

Gil nodded, grabbing his shirt from the hanger and tugging it on, starting at the buttons, "So, we're supposed to make sure that doesn't happen?"

Heinrich nodded back, "Yes, sir."

Gil picked up his gun and a package of ammunition. He started to load the clip, his fingers shaking. They could barely push the bullets down against the spring. He tried to hide it. He had to be able to load his gun. He couldn't lose that. He couldn't risk it. His boss was giving him a chance to prove himself, and he intended to follow through.

"What else did they tell you? Where are these rebels? What do they want us to do with them? Are we killing them all, or bringing them in?"

"Bring them in, sir."

Gil nodded, "All right. And where are they?"

"We're supposed to meet with your boss to discuss the details as soon as you're awake, sir."

Gil nodded again, "All right, let's go." He didn't bother to put on his jacket. He wouldn't need it. He slipped his gun into the holster at his hip and turned to the door.

…

Germany looked at the men around him, good men. He was more nervous than he'd admit. It had been a while since he'd had to fight himself. He had rarely held a gun since the war. He had to do this. He couldn't let those people die. He turned to look at the leader of the group, who stood in the front of the dimly lit room, gun in hand.

"All right, boys. We don't have a lot of time, and we don't have a lot to go on. Once we're in, a lot of different things could happen. I want us prepared for the worst-case scenario. Our number one priority is getting those hostages out alive. Their lives before ours, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir!" The group responded.

Germany looked at the leader, the only man who knew who he was. He nodded to him reassuringly. He was impressed.

"All right. Let's go," The leader nodded.

…

Gil looked down the dark hallway for a moment, then back at Heinrich, "You ready for this, kid?" he whispered, holding his gun as tightly as he could, hoping it would hide his shaking hands.

Heinrich nodded, "Yes, sir."

Gil looked back down the hall. Their job was to kill people, the people planning the 'demonstration for freedom' at the celebration that weekend. Gil didn't like it, but he wasn't going to fight it. He couldn't afford to defy a direct order, and he didn't want to risk what they might do to Heinrich if he did. His boss had made sure to threaten the young man in case Gil got any ideas. Gil sighed, closing his eyes for a moment, trying to steady his heartbeat. Why was he this nervous? He was a soldier, he couldn't be stressed… but this was different. It wasn't work for a soldier. He didn't kill people in dark hallways. He looked back at Heinrich and nodded for the young man to follow him.

…

Germany ran with his men as they weaved through the back hallways of the airport. They couldn't risk being seen. He gripped his gun. It felt good in his hands. He stopped as the leader held up his hand.

The man gave a questioning thumbs-up to the group.

Everyone nodded.

The leader nodded back, turning towards the door leading outside. Everything was planned, everything was ready. They would hide in the plane's blind spots, attaching ladders to the back, opening the emergency doors and getting the people out while local soldiers created a distraction, drawing the hijackers away from their hostages. This had to work. He couldn't

…

Gil leaned his back against the hallway walls, his breath catching in his throat, his hands shaking. He could hear men talking through the wall. All he had to do was turn, open the door, and walk in, gun raised, and shoot. It would be easy. He just needed to gun them down. No questions, just a room full of corpses. That's what his boss wanted. That's what he had to do. He looked down at his hands, still gripping the gun with white knuckles. His hands shook. He raised the gun towards the opposite wall. He couldn't keep it steady. He shook his head. He felt sick. He glanced at Heinrich, the man's face was worried. He didn't dare speak, even in a whisper. His stomach churned. He shivered.

Nein. Not now, please… he shook his head, his heart beating faster. It wasn't nerves. He didn't get nervous about fighting people, killing people… He was in no danger. He felt Heinrich's hand on his shoulder. Why did he feel so sick? He turned to look at the young man again, shaking his head.

Heinrich risked a whisper, his voice so quiet it was almost breath, "Gil… Are you all right?"

Gil shook his head, leaning forward, gripping his stomach, letting go of the gun with his right hand. He couldn't be here. Why did his boss want him here? He'd needed more before they left, he'd told him that. He'd practically begged him, after nearly screaming at him for giving him Heroin. But he wanted it, needed it. He looked up towards the door again, the back of his throat burning. He felt sweat on the back of his neck. He couldn't do this. He couldn't do this…

"Gil, can you shoot?" Heinrich turned the white-haired country's face towards him, forcing him to look at him.

Gil didn't answer, trying to hold his gun. He could do this, he had to do this…

"Can you shoot?" Heinrich whispered, his voice urgent, angry.

Gil set his jaw, angry at himself, "No."

Heinrich shook his head, standing and turning to the door. They had orders. He had to follow them.

"Schulz, don't you dare-" Gil reached for him. Too late.

Heinrich threw open the door and started shooting.

Gil scrambled to his feet, catching himself on the wall, his vision blurring. He swallowed hard, forcing down the burning pain in his throat again. He raised his gun, praying he could hold it steady. He turned through the door just as he saw Heinrich go down. He fired at the shooters, watching them fall to the ground. He ran to them both and finished them off, wincing as their bullets hit him. He looked down, bringing his hand to his chest as blood soaked through his fingers. He took a gasping breath, falling to his knees. He looked back towards the door. Heinrich was on the ground, blood on his chest.

"No…" he whispered, dragging himself towards the young man, still holding his gun. He had gripped it so tightly his fingers refused to let it go. He lifted Heinrich's head with his right hand, leaning against his left, keeping his gun pointed away from both of them.

"Heinrich? Come on…" he brushed the young man's hair out of his face. He saw blood in his mouth. No. He wasn't going to lose him. He looked down at the injuries. Three bullets, all of them in Heinrich's chest, and blood, a lot of blood. He laid his hand against the wound that he knew must have hit the man's lungs. He pressed down, trying to stop the bleeding. He needed help. They both needed help.

"Heinrich, come on. Stay with me here…" he closed his eyes, setting his jaw as he pushed against the wound again, drawing a very weak choke of pain from Heinrich, "Come on, open your eyes for me?" he looked down at the man's face, "Look at me, stay with me here!"

Gil looked up, and back towards the door. Their backup would have heard the gunfire. They had to almost be there. They had to be coming to help them. He looked back down at Heinrich. The young man's eyes were heavy, refusing to stay open.

"Stay with me. Look at me…" Gil brought his left arm under Heinrich's head, the gun still gripped in his frozen fingers as he pointed towards the wall beside them. He pressed against the wound with his right hand, ignoring his own injuries. His head was swimming. He still felt sick. He shook his head. He had to hang on. "Come on, don't close your eyes," he tried to reassure Heinrich, "I'm right here. They'll come get us soon…" he tasted copper. He turned his head, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. Blood. He ignored it. He didn't have time to think about it. He turned back to Heinrich. The young man's eyes were closed. Gil pressed hard on his chest again, begging him to hang on. No response. He looked at his chest. Heinrich wasn't moving.

"No. No no no no no…" Gil shook his head, moving his arm, trying to wake Heinrich, "Come on, kid… come on. Come on, please… please…." he looked towards the door, his eyes almost refusing to focus. He set his jaw, angry. If his boss wanted to prove to him who was in charge it was working. He felt sick. He blinked back tears. Why was he doing this? Why? He turned back to Heinrich, still pressing against the bullet holes in the young man's chest. He felt weak, looking down at his own wounds. He'd lost too much blood. He tried to keep the pressure on Heinrich's chest. He blinked hard, suddenly realizing he was lying on his back. He didn't move, closing his eyes, letting the world go black.

…

Germany watched out the tiny window of the door as he saw the local soldiers light a fire in front of the jet. He saw the silhouetted shapes of men in the front windows of the plane. That was their chance. They ran through the door, placing the ladders and climbing them and pulling open the emergency doors.

"We're here to rescue you, GET DOWN!" He screamed, watching all the passengers immediately hit the floor.

Everything moved in slow motion as Germany fired at the hijackers alongside his men. He saw two of them go down immediately. He winced hard as bullets hit three of the passengers, wounding them, but not killing them. He glanced behind him as one of his men went down, gripping his leg. He winced, turning back to the hijackers as the shooting stopped, the cabin of the plane echoing with the ringing of gunfire fading into silence. He looked down at the hijackers. All of them, dead or wounded badly. He immediately turned to the passengers.

"Is everyone all right?" he asked, lowering his gun. Four passengers were injured, though none of the injuries were dangerous. He sighed in relief, turning towards the exits, pulling the escape chutes. He watched as people slid down to safety, the world still moving slow.

1, 2, 3…27, 28… 59, 60… 72, 73, 74… 83, 84, 85, 86… Every single passenger on the plane counted for. Every single one of them safe. Every single one of them was going home. He lifted his radio, closing his eyes in relief, "Four opponents down, hostages free, four hostages slightly wounded, one commando slightly wounded." That was all, "Frühlingszeit! Springtime!" Cheers erupted from the men around him, all of them chanting the words, the coded words that signaled victory. Springtime. Springtime. Springtime!

A/N: Two brothers go on missions on opposite sides of the wall. One to kill, one to save... and you can see how it all turned out. Gil on the drugs is getting in the way of EVERYTHING, and he is very, very aware of that. Becuase of the rather large cliffhanger on this chapter, rest assured I plan to get the next one up soon. It's already started. XD At least we get some MAJOR happiness from Germany's side. All 86 passengers alive, acounted for, and safe. The only casualties were the hijackers. The real-life historical 'fire magic' mission took place more-or-less like I described here. It was quite the turning point in West Germany ultimately defeating RAF.

Purposefully left the Gil and Heinrich scenes as a cliffhanger of course. Is Heinrich dead? Is Gil dead? Is help/backup even on its way? So many questions...

Thank you so much to those of you who are still consistantly reviewing, even though I am not-quite-so-consistantly updating! I promsie it will get better. I'm feeling better (FINALLY) from being sick/some other stuff, so hopefully more chapters soon! I really do love writing this. The break down of the wall is coming every closer and closer... :) Btw... does anyone miss Russia? He'll be back soon... ;) Anyway, cookies and hugs and lemonaide and iced green tea (my new obsession), for all of you! :D