8

The day wears on and Prussia sits on his couch, thinking. Gilbird reminds him when lunch time hits and he gets up to cook something simple for him and Canada. They have more conversation over lunch, but it's subdued. Prussia simply can't engage like usual because there's more pressing matters on his mind.

Canada returns to the room to read or whatever he does up there, and once more, Prussia sits on his couch and thinks. What to do about Canada? What to do about the fact that he's falling for the man who is supposed to be a prisoner? He wants to ignore the warnings and find a way to get Matthew home. Once West returns and Prussia has nothing to show him, he's pretty sure his brother will take Matthew himself and work through interrogation methods that Prussia taught him. On top of the new stuff…

So he has to get Matthew out - and soon. But how?

It isn't until after midnight that an idea solidifies in his mind. He'll call in a favor and see if a certain asshole will work with him. It's the best chance he's got, even if he isn't particularly friendly with this other nation.

When Prussia gets up off the couch and makes his way to the back room where he's been sleeping lately, Gilbird flies along after him, tweeting questions. Prussia waves him off and heads to the somewhat new rotary phone in his room. Hopefully the line won't be watched.

He has to look up the number to be sure he doesn't call the wrong brother, but when an annoyed, sleepy voice answers he knows he got it right. "Who the fuck is calling me at this hour? It better not be that fucking tomato bastard."

Prussia chuckles at the nickname for his friend and lets a sly smirk spread on his face. "Nah, Romano, it's just the awesome me."

A beat of silence, then. "I'm hanging up."

"Wait wait wait I know about your resistance connections."

Another beat of silence, then a monotone response. "What resistance?"

"Come on, Lovino, I'm not an idiot."

"Yes you are," Romano shoots back. "I'm not part of the resistance. You think I would go behind my brother like that?"

"Considering I'm doing the same behind my brother's back, yes I do."

"...you're lying."

Prussia rolls his eyes and sits on the small cot he's been calling a bed for the past few weeks. "No, I'm not. I've met some of your people that work on this side. In Berlin, no less."

"..."

Since there's no response, Prussia lets out a lengthy sigh. Romano is always stubborn to a fault. He's not sure what his friend likes about him.

There's no time for this. He has to get Romano to work with him. It's the best shot to get the guards out of the way and have a place set up to ferry Canada away. So instead of snapping at this stubborn asshole, he needs to play it cool.

"Look, I'm only calling about this because I need your help."

Finally Romano gives him a decent response, though he's clearly still hesitant. "Why?"

"I need to get Canada out of here before West gets back."

To his surprise - and annoyance - Romano starts laughing hysterically. Prussia pulls the phone speaker away from his ear and scowls. This is why they don't get along. They have some things in common - such as their brothers being the ones to run the country - but when talking to each other it becomes such an angry insult fest.

Prussia's just being nice for once.

"Oh shut up," he growls into the phone. "Don't ask why just tell me if you'll help or not."

More laughter ensues but Romano eventually gets around to answering. "Sure, I'll see what I can do, but you have to do something for me."

"Of course. What?"

"Mmm. I don't know yet. Let's just say next time you're in my area, you have to do me a favor."

"Hah. Shit," Prussia barks, pushing his bangs back as he rubs his forehead. "You really like keeping favors open, don't you?"

"Take it or leave it."

"Fine, fine, asshat, I'll do whatever."

"Good. Now. Tell me the details and give me the name of the person you've worked with before so I can make it easy."

"Right, right, I know how this works," Prussia says, laying back on the cot, bringing the whole phone with him and not caring about stretching the cords. "You'll have to take care of the guards outside my house while you're at it."

"Heh. You don't ever make things easy. Guess I'll have to come up there myself and -"

"No!"

"...the hell is your problem?"

"West will sense you and ask questions."

For a long while there's no response and he imagines Romano is waving his hands around and holding back a string of curses. Prussia waits patiently. He's already risking too much with this phone call. And with the operation in general.

West is going to be pissed when he comes back and Canada is gone. Best not to get Romano caught up in the fallout if he can help it. Besides, that might hurt relations between Italy and West too.

Yeah, he'll take the blame all on his own shoulders. West wouldn't do anything too serious. No matter how mad he gets.

~!~

About a week or so later, Prussia dresses himself in as much black as possible, finding a cap that can cover his silvery white hair and hoping that'll be enough. Sneaking around the city after curfew hours isn't going to be easy, but he's gotten more practice at it thanks to the current climate of his country. He has to hope Canada hadn't been lying when he talked about how he's done the spy thing for years. He doesn't want to have to worry too much about the other nation as they make a break for freedom.

After checking the outside by peering through the still-boarded-up-window, Gilbert heads upstairs to where Matthew is sleeping. He takes a moment to watch him in peaceful slumber, enjoying the relaxed state of the man under the covers. But then he reminds himself they don't have time to waste, so he lightly shakes at Canada's shoulder and leans down to whisper near his ear.

"Hey, Matthew, wake up."

The blue-violet eyes slowly open and blink as the man rejoins the waking world. "Gilbert? Something wrong?"

"Get dressed and come downstairs," Prussia whispers with a smile. "But be quiet."

The frown should be expected but thankfully Matthew doesn't question, just nods. So Gilbert returns to the window downstairs, watching the guards. They're looking a little sleepy and out of it, but they're not completely relaxed just yet. He hopes whatever Romano set up is going to work. It'll be upsetting if he sits here all night with no way out of his own house.

When Canada comes downstairs dressed in his usual clothes, which Prussia has been cleaning almost every day for him, the man hovers nearby and crosses his arms, eyebrows raised. Gilbert smirks and holds a finger over his lips, checking the window again to be sure the guards are actually falling asleep on the job.

"What's going on?" Matthew asks softly.

Gilbert grins. "I'm getting you out of here."

"Huh? How?" The man frowns, eyes narrowing. "Why?"

Waving off the last question, Prussia moves away from the window and pulls out two black trench coats, handing one to Canada. "You think I wouldn't know about the operations set up to sneak citizens out of my own nation? West tries to hunt them down. I leave them alone."

Matthew takes the trench coat and slips it on, though he's still frowning. "Okay, why do you leave them alone?"

"I'm nice, remember?" Prussia says while rolling his eyes. "Now come on. We don't have much time to make this work."

He holds out his hand and waits. Canada stares at his hand, then looks up at his eyes with that same narrow-eyed suspicion. Since the clock is ticking on their opportunity, Prussia has to fight the urge to snap at him. It's become a gesture of trust all of a sudden. He needs to be patient, regardless of how on edge he feels.

So it's with relief that Prussia releases a held breath when Matthew finally takes his hand. "Okay."

"Awesome," he whispers. "Now just keep your head down and don't say a word."

"I know."

With a smirk, Prussia checks on the state of the guards outside one last time. Once he's sure it's safe, he pulls Canada out the door and they're on their way. Crossing the first street is easy enough. The patrols aren't facing them and far away so it's a simple matter of making sure their own footsteps are soft while keeping their pace fast. Once they're safely hidden in the shadows of an alleyway, though, he realizes they have to wait for the next patrol.

So he pulls Canada back, pressing him against the wall of the nearest building. There's no talking, but he can see the steady tremble in the other man's face. He's nervous, but he's doing a good job at hiding it and working through it. To be honest, so is Prussia.

Licking his lips, he leans in, pressing his body against Canada's, and whispers into his ear. "Just a few more streets and we'll be at our destination. There's a store run by a friend of mine that's hosting a smuggling operation tonight. They'll get you out."

"Okay," Canada whispers back. "Is this person reliable?"

Prussia hesitates, because he's thinking of Romano and not the owner of the store, but then he shakes his head with a light laugh and pulls away. "Yeah, I trust him. I've gone through him before. Just don't tell anyone."

He gives the man a wink, then faces the street again. The patrol is moving along and the one behind them hasn't noticed anything out of the ordinary at Gilbert's house yet, either. So that's good.

"What? With who?" Matthew mutters behind him. "When?"

So Gilbert turns back around. "No one important. I just don't like the idea of hurting your own citizens, you know?"

Matthew smiles. "You really are a good person."

Which causes Gilbert to blush and hiss between his teeth. "D-don't go spreading that around now!"

"Why not? It's a good thing, isn't it?"

"I have a reputation."

Prussia turns away but he can hear Matthew stifling a laugh, so he groans and squeezes his hand instead. Hushing him up with a finger to his lips, he pulls the other man forward and off they go across another street. No incidents this time either. Still no warning signals firing from near his house.

All is well.

Walking through the alley, they make it to another street and this patrol is in such a good position, Prussia doesn't pause. So once more they race across the pavement and find shelter in another alley. He takes a moment to mentally remind himself where they are, realizing that the store in question is across the next block.

So this is goodbye, then.

Taking a breath, he spins around, pushes Matthew against the wall, and dives in to kiss him without warning. Hands jump to his shoulders immediately, but quickly relax and cling. Gilbert lets the moment linger, doing everything he can to mark this in his memory.

There's no telling when they'll get to meet again, or what the state of the world will be when they do get around to seeing each other. But for now, he wants to remember this. Kissing and touching someone he actually likes quite a lot in the hidden shadows of an alleyway.

When he eventually pulls back, he smirks at the flushed face staring back at him. "We have got to meet up again after this war is over, ja?"

Matthew's response comes slow, but he does nod - and he keeps staring. "O-oui. Definitely."

"All right," Gilbert says, turning to nod his head toward the street. "This place is right across here. Once I drop you off, you'll be on your own with them. They'll get you into Allied controlled territory and I assume you can handle it from there."

"Y-yeah, I can handle it from there," Matthew says as he steps up next to him. "But what about you? What will happen to you when your brother finds out you let me go?"

Although a flash of fear spreads through his chest, Prussia waves it off. "Pft. Don't worry about me. West will probably just yell at me and keep me locked up in my house. Which will suck, but there's no way he'll do anything worse."

"I hope you're right about that."

Prussia drops his hold on Matthew's hand so he can grip into his shoulder. "Seriously. He's my brother. Underneath the monster, there's still that."

In order to avoid any more conversation on the topic, he walks across the street to their destination and heads to a side door to knock a few times in secret code. Matthew seems to be dragging his feet as he comes up next to him, but Gilbert shrugs. Whether or not he's going with him shouldn't matter. Matthew will be free. What happens to him afterwards isn't going to be any worse than what's already been going on.

So why does it feel like he's having to convince himself?

Once the store owner answers and they work out the last bit of details, Prussia spins to Matthew with a grin. "All right. This is it. Just follow their instructions as best you can. I'll see you on the other side of the war."

"Yeah," Matthew breathes, "Danke."

While Prussia is stunned hearing Canada speak a German word, basic though it is, the other nation wraps him in a hug and squeezes with all his might. Which is far more than Prussia is expecting so he covers his grimace with a laugh. And pats the other man on the back.

"Right, right, don't go getting weird on me now."

Matthew steps back and Gilbert pretends not to see the tears forming in those beautiful blue-violet eyes. "Seriously, thank you. I'll find a way to repay you. I promise."

He waves it off. "Pft. Don't worry. Just as long as I get to see you again, I think I'll be happy."

Matthew nods, they say their goodbyes one more time, and then he's into the shop and Gilbert is alone. He half expects the sky to start raining or snowing in response to the sudden emptiness he feels. But this isn't his country anymore, is it?

With a sigh, he sticks his hands in his pockets and makes his way back to his house, thoughts of Matthew and West colliding in his head. And Romano and Italy, too, wondering how that brother relationship is working out with this war. Gritting his teeth, he releases a curse into the wind and kicks a can into the street.

Which is a stupid idea because now the patrol is after him. Cursing again, he holds his hands up to surrender, knowing the worst they're going to do is check his identification and find out he's an officer in the military. With special records and instructions for how to handle him, no doubt.

God, West is going to kill him for this.

~!~

Several Days Later

~!~

Francis Bonnefoy, otherwise known as the person representative of France, lays on a couch in England's mansion of a home and stares out the nearby window, wishing he had a glass of wine to dull his senses. Life has not been easy. Of course, during war times, life is never easy. What's depressing is how little he's been able to contribute since the German force ransacked their way through his countryside.

Now he spends too many of his days wasting time in England's home. Arthur is not too happy by the arrangement, but he allows it because they're allies. They haven't always been allies and there's a lot of bitter history between them, but at this moment in time they're working on the same side.

To push back on Germany and all the others under the Axis Powers. Which includes his friend, Gilbert, better known as the once proud nation of Prussia. Still proud. Still an ass. After what Gil did, though, he's not so sure he wants to be friends anymore anyway.

The freezing rain from outside picks up, splattering the window as the trees outside dance to the storm winds. Francis frowns and once again wishes he had a glass of wine. Arthur's stores have run dry far too quickly.

"Why are you still here?" Arthur calls from across the room.

The English nation is sitting at a desk, reading reports and making notes. He never stops. He's exhausted as all hell, but he keeps pushing himself. That darker blond hair of his is tousled like the man just got out of bed, and his suit is wrinkled with the buttons undone, revealing beautiful, sweaty skin underneath that France watches as the other nation takes deep breath after deep breath.

They've already released some tension today, but Francis wonders if he can convince his ally to go at it again. Arthur's always easier to push when he's this close to breaking. Since the fun is something that manages to hold him together, even if there's not as much feeling in it as there has been in the past, Francis pushes him whenever he thinks he needs it. For his sake as much as for his country.

A pen drops to the desk and green eyes flash up at him. "Well?"

Francis waves his hand in the air and runs it through his own beautiful golden locks. "I am not leaving until Canada arrives."

"Why do you care?"

"He was mine before he was yours, mon cher."

Arthur positively bristles, though whether from the statement or the endearment, he's not sure. "Be that as it may, you could have met him when he crossed your country."

Once again, Francis waves his hand in the air to brush aside the idea. "Would take too much time, and I like it here."

"Well I don't like you here so -"

He's interrupted, thankfully before another spat of theirs can start up, by the door to the study opening. A familiar voice converses with the butler or maid or whoever walked him in, and then Canada steps into the room, looking like he's been through hell and back again. Francis and Arthur both spring from their positions and rush over to touch him and make sure he's alive and well.

The younger nation smiles, though his eyes seem a little too distressed to mean it. "I'm all right. I wish I could say the same for my team, but I promise, I'm fine."

Francis continues to hang around the other nation, but Arthur crosses his arms and steps back, nodding his head. "Yes, well, that will be the last time you make such an excursion."

Canada lifts his head like he's going to argue, then seems to decide against it and mumbles. "Okay."

For his part, France rolls his eyes at England and slaps an arm over Canada's shoulders. "What happened?"

"I -" Canada's face flushes. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Why not?"

"I -" Canada bites his lip then shoves away from France and stands back, pointing his finger at him and then England. "You both told me Prussia was a monster. That he's irredeemable. That if I were to be caught by him, I-"

Arthur's demeanor shifts in an instant. "What has he done to you?"

"Nothing!" Canada snaps. "He's not at all what you said! He's just trying to help his people and -"

"Absurd," Arthur says and turns around. "I won't hear it. You don't know what he's done, Canada. I'm glad he didn't do anything horrific to you, but I think you need a nice, long, rest before we can discuss further positions in this war."

"But -"

Green eyes flash and France winces. The British Empire is the one leading so much of the war efforts right now, at least among them. So much is resting on his shoulders. He's exhausted and he's going to be stubborn in his beliefs. Whatever Canada may have experienced behind enemy lines, it won't be enough to change anyone's mind on this side of the front.

Shaking his head, Francis gets a grip of Canada's shoulder and gently leads him away. They'll talk through everything so he has a better understanding of what's going through the younger nation's mind right now. Then he'll make sure Canada gets some food and sleep and can have time to recover from his ordeal.

Other than that, it's back to the war as normal.

~!~

Italy holds his breath and watches Germany closely as they ride in the back of a military vehicle. The North Africa campaign is a mess so it feels good to leave it all, hoping the build up of troops they've left will be able to make a difference. Honestly, Italy shouldn't even be back in Berlin right now, but he's worried for his fellow nation.

Germany has only gotten worse and worse as the war drags on. He's so easy to anger now. It's not quite as fun to frustrate him because the dark aura around him is only growing.

Like now.

They'd heard some information about Germany's brother that has spiked Germany's rage into unbelievable heights. This is why Italy is here now. If it's true that Gilbert helped another nation escape without ever interrogating him successfully…

Shuffling in his seat, Italy glances over at the manilla folder in Germany's hand. It supposedly holds secret intelligence and information on Prussia. On Gilbert. So why has Germany scribbled the word "traitor" across the front in black marker?

He doesn't like where this could be going…

"Ve, Germany, you're not going to hurt your brother, are you?"

The stoic nation glances at him with ice cold eyes, then looks out the window instead. He doesn't say a word. Italy gives him plenty of time to come up with a response, but all the waiting leads to nothing.

Before he can press again, they arrive at the townhouse area and the car stops in front of one that's heavily guarded. Germany climbs out and Italy follows, shivering from more than just the falling snow. They're both in their uniforms, but Germany is the one issuing orders here because it's his home. So Italy hangs back and worries at his bottom lip.

He is surprised when Germany gestures for him to follow into the house. It's quaint. Nice and clean, minus the boarded up windows and other indications of recent bombings - a sight that is all too common these days. They pass by a small kitchen and a set of stairs before reaching the den where Prussia is being held.

Italy sucks in a quick breath and puts a hand over his mouth. He's going to be sick if this leads where he fears. Prussia is seated on his couch with a military guard next to him and another perched by the windows. They really aren't playing when it comes to guarding him. They've even got the albino nation shackled in handcuffs already.

"Gilbert," Germany says, foregoing his usual "bruder" and making both Italy and Prussia flinch because of it. "What have you done?"

Prussia lifts his head and smirks. "The right thing. Now how about you relax a bit? Get this shit off me and go back to keeping me under house arrest like before."

"The right thing," Germany repeats in a montone, though Italy sees his fists clench. "Tell me you didn't actually release our prized prisoner."

Prussia narrows his eyes and gets to his feet, stepping up to stand directly in front of his brother. "Cut the shit. What are you going to do if I admit to the accusation?"

"Just tell me straight, Gilbert. Did you release him?"

Red eyes flash and the albino smirks. "Yeah. I did. Smuggled him out. By now he should be safe in Allied con-"

He doesn't have a chance to finish. Germany lifts a fist and punches Prussia hard in the face, sending the albino nation stumbling back to land on the couch. Italy gasps and covers his mouth with both hands.

He wants to scream. He wants to beg Germany not to do this. He doesn't like seeing these brothers fight, but this is even worse. Germany isn't in his right mind. And how he's angry beyond belief.

Italy's scared of him.

Prussia spits to the side and wipes his mouth with his arm. "Yeah, okay, that's probably the first time you've hit me that hard. But I'll take it."

"Shut up," Germany growls. "Traitor."

Italy flinches back because Prussia sits up at this, as if he knows what such a word could mean, too. "West, you wouldn't."

"You've betrayed me."

"No, I haven't. Come on, West, calm down. I'm your brother."

"I'm writing you off."

"West, don't!"

"The paperwork is already done."

"You can't be serious!"

Prussia tries to get to his feet again, but the soldiers in the area pin him down, punching him in the gut to get him to comply easier. Italy can't believe he's witnessing this. He wants to reach out and tell Germany to stop. There has to be something he can do.

"Lud-"

He starts but the younger German brother looks back at him with such an ice cold glare, he freezes on the spot. The words catch in his throat. Tears cloud his vision. He can't. He can't do anything.

Germany's monster is in control.

"Wessssst," Prussia hisses out though his head hangs and his voice is trembling. "You can't."

Germany's voice is hard and firm. "Take him away. There's a van outside that'll transport him."

Moving away from the door, Italy tries to rush over to Germany's side. Maybe he can still find the right words to stop this. As the soldiers remove a screaming Prussia from the room and eventually the house, Italy drops to the floor. He can't move. He can barely breathe.

"Germany…." He manages to squeak through the tears that are flowing down his face. "Why?"

Blue eyes meet his and there's a small spark of concern in that look, but it's gone too fast to give him hope. "Once we're done with our planning meeting, I want you to go home, Italy."

"Yes, sir."

Why can't he shake this feeling? The pain eats into his stomach. He wants to throw up. He wants to curl up and cry. He wants Germany back. This monster isn't the person he likes.

...but there's nothing he can do. He's helpless. Useless.