Chapter 93

Prussia walked beside Russia down the long open halls that lead to the meeting room. It had been a while. Even when his country had been accepted back to the world meetings, he hadn't been allowed to go. His government had been worried about him saying something 'unhelpful'.

"You can take my offer any time you'd like, Gilbert," Russia smiled, his usual childish smile, and kept walking.

Prussia resisted the urge not to swear at him, "I'm good, thanks," he snapped.

"You might want to think about it. If all goes well today… you might not have a choice at all."

Prussia tried to ignore him.

"You know…" Russia smiled again, "I've heard that it's quite painful to die… I've never been even close to that weak, but-"

"Shut up," Prussia snapped again, turning to glare at Russia.

Russia's smile grew, "You'll change your mind."

"You wish," Prussia growled, walking faster ahead of Russia. He walked into the conference room, almost freezing in the door for a moment. He looked at the ceiling, the walls, the floor, the table, chairs, lights…. everything. Everything was different, but still very much the same. Still sterile, political, completely void of any emotion. Emotion wasn't important in politics, at least, not usually. Prussia could feel it twisting in his stomach. Or maybe it was the heroin. He wasn't sure.

Prussia looked around the room again, this time at the faces. He knew a lot of them, from the television if nothing else, but there were a few unfamiliar faces. America was there, with his boss, as well as Russia's government of course. Finally, his eyes rested on the face he was most excited to see: his brother's.

The bright blue eyes looked tired, worn into his brother's face. They were slightly bloodshot and the blue circles under them revealed the lack of sleep. Gil didn't care. He hadn't really slept either. Almost instinctively, like no time had passed, he stepped towards the chair next to his brother, only to be held back by Russia's hand on his shoulder.

"Nyet," Russia snapped, just barely calm enough not to raise any suspicion.

Gil pulled his arm away and sat next to Germany, not bothering to look at Russia's face. He knew what expression he'd find there, he didn't need to see it. He tried to ignore the pain he saw on his brother's face. He didn't want pity. He didn't want his baby brother to be worried about his safety. He just wanted to go home. Nothing else mattered except going home.

Prussia leaned back in the chair, looking up at England as he stood. He bit his lip when England turned away after meeting his eyes. A twist knotted into his stomach. England didn't want him back with Germany. He was still afraid of him. He could feel it. He could see it. England was still afraid of him.

He smiled a little, faintly, as he felt his brother's strong reassuring hand on his knee. He shoved down the choke that rose to his throat and brought his hand down on his brother's, giving it a gentle squeeze before returning both his hands to the table in front of them. He saw Germany do the same out of the corner of his eyes. He forced himself to look back up at England as he spoke.

"Germany… GDR…" England sighed, "After many, many hours of deliberation… France and I still don't think it's a wise or intelligent idea to allow this reunification to take place. I'm sorry."

Gil tried to swallow down the breath that was punched out of him. He tried to sit calmly, to take that answer and wait for Germany's response. He tried to force himself to stare forward and not look at Russia. He couldn't. Red eyes met violet and the knot in his stomach grew tighter at the smug pride he saw in them. He saw his brother stand up next to him, but didn't hear what he said, only felt the contained anger in them. Then France stood up. England and France argued against him, his brother for him. Russia stayed silent, horribly cruelly silent, his eyes fixed on Gilbert.

Finally, England agreed to reassess things with Germany and France, but only after a few hours of talking with his government. Germany agreed.

"Gilbert?"

Prussia looked up at his brother, looking around the room suddenly realizing everyone else was gone. He nodded, standing slowly. He felt his brother's hand on his shoulder.

"Gilbert?" the deep voice asked again.

Prussia nodded slowly, sighing deeply, "Sorry," he shook his head, "sorry it's just…. a lot."

Germany nodded in return, "I won't let you go back to him. Not for one more day. Not for one more second, I promise."

Prussia smiled sadly. His eyes felt heavy, painfully heavy, the weight in his chest refusing to ease. He felt so tired, so sick. Every muscle in his worn body ached like it was being torn apart.

"Is there anything I can get you…?" his brother's voice was gentle, but he could hear the hint of fear in it.

He shook his head, "No. No, I'm ok," he lied, "I'm just tired." He attempted a smile again, knowing it would fail miserably. He was too tired to make much more of an effort.

"This is going to take a few more hours… I'm sure there's somewhere in here you could rest…"

Prussia nodded slowly, trying to take a step forward. Pain shot through him, tearing, burning through his legs up to his chest. He slid against the table, trying to support himself with shaking arms. He felt his brother's hands on his sides, lifting him gently, helping him stand.

"How bad is it?" He could feel the worry in Germany's voice even more than hear it.

He shook his head, "Not as bad as it looks," he lied again. He didn't want Germany to worry about him. Germany always worried, and about almost everything, the last thing he needed was to think his brother was dying. The last thing he needed was to know his brother was dying. Was he dying? He felt like he was dying? How long had he been dying? He tried to shake away the thought, digging for willpower to make himself stand without help. He found it, somehow, and stood strong again.

"I…" he started, "I think I will go somewhere for a rest."

Germany nodded slowly.

Prussia walked behind his brother, forcing one foot in front of the other. His boots felt a million times heavier than they were supposed to. He smiled a little as Germany opened the door to a small room with a table and couch. A small conference room for private meetings between two or three officials. Slowly Gil lowered himself onto the couch.

"I have to go," Germany sighed, "I'll be back soon? I have to get this figured out…"

Prussia nodded.

"I know it's been months but… I'll get you back. I promise I'll get you back."

Prussia looked up at him with a gentle smile, "I know you will Bruderchen. I know you will." For a second the pain didn't matter, because Germany smiled. A real smile. A smile Gilbert missed terribly. He'd had the same smile since he was a child. A soft grin with a closed mouth that pulled up the right side of his mouth just a tiny bit more than the left. Prussia smiled a little more, trying to hide a half laugh.

"What?" Germany looked at him, confused.

"Oh, just remembering that time I told you about how your smile is a little crooked," he half chuckled, leaning over his knees on the couch, trying to hide the arm he wrapped around himself to press into his stomach in a prayer to ease the deep, deep ache.

Germany's face fell, suddenly looking highly concerned, "It's still crooked?" he asked, horrified.

Prussia laughed, a dry raspy laugh that sounded harsher than the last time he'd heard it. He nodded, "Yeah it's still crooked, but it's still yours and I sill like it."

Germany rolled his eyes, "And I still like your stupid laugh."

"Hey!" Prussia smiled in mock offense, "My laugh is awesome!"

Germany rolled his eyes playfully, "Oh sure!" he said, sticking out his tongue and hissing like a snake.

"I don't sound that bad!" Prussia laughed more, shaking his head.

"Yes, you do."

"Do not!"

"Yes, you do!"

Prussia looked up at his brother as his strong shoulders shook with laughter. He didn't argue again, just looking up at Germany. When had he gotten that tall? That strong? He felt a tear down his cheek, brushing it away quickly and praying Germany hadn't seen it.

Germany stopped laughing after a while, "I…" his voice shook, "I should go. I have a lot to talk about with England and France still."

Prussia nodded slowly, "Thanks, kid."

Germany smiled sadly and turned around.

Prussia watched him walk out of the room with a sigh, falling onto his back on the couch the moment the door closed. He gripped his stomach and chest like it would relieve the pain. He closed his eyes tight, opening his mouth in pain that had to stay silent. He couldn't let anyone else know, especially not Germany.

Prussia's back hit the table as papers and glasses were shoved off it. He pressed into the wounds on his chest and stomach as hard as he could, desperately trying to stop the bleeding. More hands pressed on top of his. He looked up at the rough dark green tent and bit his tongue to keep from screaming. He heard people talking, men shouting orders, was there a woman too? He couldn't tell. His ears still rang, the sounds as blurred as vision clouded with dirt and blood. He felt a cloth wiping the mud away from his eyes and tried to look up. Germany. He could see his brother's face, worried, and barking orders at the soldiers trying to help him. He looked down at his own chest and the spikes of metal that stuck out of it. He swore, letting his head fall back against his brother's hand as it shielded him from slamming into the metal table.

"Gilbert you have to move your arms, please!" his brother's voice was distant, like listening through water.

He shook his head. He couldn't do that. He'd die, and dying hurt., and dying meant a lot of explaining things to soldiers who he couldn't explain things to, and that made for awkward conversations with the government, and there was nothing worse than having to have conversations with the government. He shook his head, feeling hands grabbing onto his arms to try and force them away from the wounds. He struggled, gripping his brother's hand as it slipped into his, gently pulling his arm away from the wounds.

"I'm not letting you die, ok?" Germany's voice broke through the awful ringing sound that wouldn't go away. "You're not dying. I've got you. I've got you, ok?"

Prussia nodded weakly, screaming in pain as one of the doctors rushed up to him and got to work. He felt his brother's grip tighten around his hand. He squeezed back, clutching at it.

"Is that all you've got?" Germany tried to laugh, "I know you're a lot stronger than that. Come on. You can't hurt me."

Prussia squeezed his hand harder, shaking with pain as shrapnel was dug out of his body. Maybe it would hurt less if he could just die. Why did Nations have to be so hard to kill? Why couldn't it just kill him and he could wake up in a few hours? But that meant the explaining, and that still sounded terrible. His ears were still ringing, but it was starting to fade. He could feel consciousness starting to slip.

"Gilbert? Gilbert listen to me ok? Just try to look at me!"

Prussia nodded slowly, turning to try and focus on his brother's face. His vision was clearing more, barely. He could see those bright blue eyes, worried but trying to be strong. Germany always, always tried to be strong, no matter what was happening. He could see panic hidden in his brother's eyes. Panic he knew Germany was trying to keep the soldiers from seeing.

He squeezed Germany's hand harder, throwing his head back with a loud cry of pain again.

He watched his brother's composure break with his voice.

"I've got you, big brother, "I've got you…" the choke at the end of the words hurt more than the shrapnel.

Prussia gripped his chest, eyes still closed. Shrapnel sounded wonderful compared to this. This was too much. He felt like his body was being ripped apart muscle by muscle, bone by bone, cell by cell. He'd heard England and France talk about civil wars and revolutions before. How it tore them apart from the inside and the kind of pain it caused. This felt worse.

Slowly, he forced his eyes to open, then his arms to move. He sat up, shaking with pain, and stood, stepping towards the sink and two cupboards in the room. He found a water glass and filled it, his hands shaking so badly he could barely drink. He wasn't sure if he needed drugs, or if it was just pain, not that it mattered. He tried to think. It had been at least six hours since he'd had any. He could usually last six hours. He cupped his hand, filling it with cold water, and splashed it on his face. He'd be ok. It was all going to be ok. It had to be.

Prussia turned suddenly as there was a knock at the door. He smiled a little to see Germany. He nodded, walking towards him. He let his brother support him, help him until they got to the door of the conference room.

"I have to walk in myself," he said, pulling Germany's arm away from him.

Germany nodded, understanding.

Prussia walked into the room and sat in the same chair as before, watching Germany sit beside him. His eyes met Russia's again. The ice was still there, but there was something else. Something darker, something colder and more dangerous. Prussia felt relief sinking into his chest. It had been a long time, but he'd seen that look on Russia's face before. Defeat.

England stood again, looking at Germany and at Prussia, "The governments of England and France will not stand in the way of the reunification of one German republic."

Prussia stared at him, barely able to believe the words he just heard. He turned as his boss stood, along with Germany's. They said something he barely heard, barely understood. He looked at Germany. Was this happening? This couldn't be happening. His boss shook the hand of Germany's. This couldn't be happening! He watched as aides passed out papers almost in slow motion, and handed him a pen.

Prussia looked up, staring at Germany's boss as he spoke.

"With the signing of these papers, Deutsche Einheit (German unity) will be complete. Berlin will once again, be one city, and Germany will again be one country, as it should be. With the signing of these papers, the Deutsche Demokratische Republik will be dissolved, and we will have one country: one Bundesrepublik Deutschland." (Republic of Germany)

Prussia looked down at the paper in front of him, and the pen in his shaking left hand. His eyes met his brother's for a second before he looked down at the paper again. Dread sank into his chest. What if it killed him? He'd gotten lucky when they'd dissolved Prussia. Russia had claimed him, saved him. He looked up at the blond country. The anger he saw in his eyes was the best adrenaline rush he'd had in a while. He'd won. Not Russia, not General Winter, not England, not France, not anyone else who'd said that he and his brother weren't worth anything after the war. Not anyone who said they'd never get better. Not anyone who said they weren't worth trying to save. Not anyone else. He looked at Germany again with a smile. They'd won.

He looked down at the paper in front of him again, then at the pen. He didn't care if it killed him. Let his brother have all his land. Let him die and fade away into whatever else. He didn't care. They'd won. They'd won and his baby brother was going to be ok. No matter what his baby brother was going to be ok.

He reached for Germany's right hand with his left and leaned down over the paper. He closed his eyes for just a moment more, wondering for just a second how badly it was going to hurt. He signed.

A/N: So... hi! This story isn't over yet! And I'm not dead! :D :D :D Sorry about the horribly long wait. I know, it's been horrible. I've sadly been dealing with some medical issues that are beyond frustrating, very painful, and don't have a lot of good answers... I had surgery in February for it, but it didn't work, so I have to go again sometime this month. Bigger surgery this time, and it's not going to be easy, but it's going to be worth it. Thanks for still reading this story after such a long absence! I truly enjoy writing it! And this story has done so much for my life in general! I met my best friend on here! (you know who you are! ;) )

My life has gotten crazy, but I'm still here! I've had surgery, been in a musical, helped a friend write a musical, and have started writing my own as well as helping the theater group I work with in becoming an official theater company with our first official three-show season released! (And I'm directing one this winter! AHHH! EXCITING!) Anyway...

More is certainly to come. Much more. This isn't over yet! I did decide to condense this year of negotiations into one chapter... because while some people do find chapters upon chapters of 100% historically accurate arguing to be entertaining... I am not one of those people. So in this condensation of history, where I have still, of course, tried to remain accurate! So... the year is now 1990 and the Soviet Union is NOT doing so hot! Much more to come on things over on that side of Europe, and on what's going to happen to Gil. Any guesses? ;)

To all of my loyal and patient reviewers, first: all my hugs! and secondly, since I must keep the tradition of giving you all treats... have some treats! I offer candy and lemonade and all things lovely and summery. How about some grilled shrimp and pineapple kabobs? That's always a good idea!

How about I try not to let it be another 7 months in between uploads again huh? I think that sounds good! Mojo is back! :D :D :D Love you guys! Thank you all for the lovely reviews!