Saturday, October 19th, 1991 : 67 days till Christmas

"Good to see you awake and moving around."

"Hm?" I ask. Germany looks up at me from the kitchen table.

"I didn't say anything." He answers. I look around the kitchen then move into the living room. No one else is here.

"Get it? Because you're chained to the wall and you can't move." Russia laughs.

I look around the empty living room again.

"What do you want?" I hear myself say.

"Me? Oh, you thought that being caught in that bear trap was enough punishment for you trying to run away? We had a deal, my little mouse. I think I have to remind you of why you are in here." I can hear his voice but I can't tell where he is. In a bid to protect myself I place my back against one of the living room walls and look around me.

"Cold?" comes his whispered voice, "look at you shiver. . . Your skin is so soft and pale. It's a shame I have to ruin it."

"Stop, stop," I whisper while putting a hand on my forehead, "you're not here. This isn't real."

"Why do you keep saying that? No matter how many times you tell yourself that this can't be happening, that I can't do this, will not make it true."

"Please, go away." I ask.

"Did I ever seem like the type to not believe in revenge? I told you and your dumb German dog that if you ever betrayed my trust I'd make you suffer a fate worse than Hell. Did you not believe me?"

"I'm sorry."

"Sorry won't help you. Sorry won't bring back all the sons I lost to your greed."

"Gilbert?"

I look up and see Germany standing before me. I'm shaking like a brittle leaf in autumn.

"What is this?" I ask him.

"What is what?"

"This? . . . Where even am I?" My eyes warm up as hot tears threaten to leave them. He attempts to place a hand on my arm but I smack it away.

"Don't touch me." I say in a dark voice, feeling woozy and light-headed. My balance gets thrown off and as I open my eyes again I'm standing near a water well in a small clearing in the forest. The well isn't incredibly deep, but it still takes a few minutes to get the water and pull it back up. As I look down into the well to watch the bucket fill up, two hands grab my arms and pull them behind my back. I try fighting but another pair of hands helps the first and together they are stronger than me.

"Let go of me! What the hell?" I try. "Help!"

"Oh, keep calling for help. No one cares." I hear Poland say as he walks in front of me, crossing his arms. Breathlessly I stop struggling. "Already out of breath, huh? Must suck being so small." He says in a patronizing tone.

"What do you want?" I ask.

"Hmm," he muses, tapping his finger on his lips, "well, I was wondering why you collected water so early in the morning, before it donned on me. You do all of your outside things before sunrise or after the sunset. It really got me thinking." He stands really close to me and bends down slightly to be level with me. "What would happen if I stripped you and left you out in the sun for a few hours?" I furrow my eyebrows slightly and shift.

"I think that's rather obvious." I admit.

"Aww, little Prussia's allergic to the sun." He says with a mocking little voice before laughing. "I wanna see what happens." He looks up at the two people behind me and nods, causing them to start pulling at my clothes.

I'm fighting against hands trying to pull me. They easily take me where they want to go, wrapping around me, lifting me up. The world spins as I open my eyes and see what looks like my bedroom. I'm torn between feeling like I'm being burned all over my body, and seeing that nothing is actually happening to me.

"Ah, ahn, ah." I try curling up but it doesn't stop the burning.

"Gilbert." I hear Felicia's voice as she kneels beside my bed and rests a hand on my shoulder. "When did this start?" She asks.

"I-I, like twenty minutes ago. He was acting strange and I was trying to help but he wouldn't let me touch him, then he just passed out so I brought him in here." Germany says.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. Everything's alright." She tries in a soft voice, but it does nothing to stop the intense burning. I grab her wrist as my body begins to tremble.

"Ahh, please I'll do anything, oh God."

"I'm so sorry, I-I don't know how to help you." She says a bit frantically, taking my hands into hers. "He's burning up, maybe a cool cloth will help?" She asks. I close my eyes and hold onto her hands like they'll save me.

October 20th, 1991

"You could never understand what that was like!"

I open my eyes and sit up abruptly. Am I hearing something?

"I could never understand? Really? Like I've never lost before? You are young! You are just a kid compared to me! I've been alive for 1600 years, you couldn't possibly understand what I have gone through!" Italy yells.

I slowly stand up from the bed. I've never heard them fight before. . . Or. . . At least I haven't heard them fight since I've been here. There was plenty of fighting in the forties between those two.

"I am not a child, a child is not capable of the things I have done." Germany's voice carries well, but I stand by the door to the basement anyway. I had half a mind to go out there, but I think letting them work through this on their own would be best.

"That just makes you а psychopath, taking the neighborhood kittens and killing them slowly for your own enjoyment!" Italy yells back, her footsteps angrily passing the basement door.

"You think I enjoy hurting people?" Germany's voice is slightly raised now. I put my hand on the handle. Am I frightened that he could hurt her? Well. . . It wouldn't be the first time he laid hands on her. But that was decades ago, I have no idea what he is capable of now.

"I know you enjoy hurting people! What about this then? Hmm?" She asks.

"I. . . Felicia that's different. It's not fair of you to bring that up like this."

"I thought you changed. . ." Her voice is heart-broken.

"Felicia please, don't say that. Of course I did. I'm nothing like I was." Germany's voice shakes as if he is on the verge of crying.

"I don't know. . . I think you need some time to think about your actions, and how you're handling this situation. Gilbert needs us, and he needs time. You have no idea how to handle him when he's having a flashback, or dissociates, or is having a panic attack. So you have two options. One, I take Gilbert with me back to Italy, or two, you get Canada to stay here full time because you are not to be trusted to care for him."

"Canada is a busy man, he can't just uproot his whole life to stay here." Germany comments after some silence.

"So, then your choice is obvious."

Footsteps walk past my door again and a light is turned out. I walk back over to my bed and sit down. Am I really giving them this much trouble?

I look at the clock.

2 am.

Same day, five hours later. . .

Restless, I leave the basement and head toward the kitchen. I fill a glass with water from the sink, noticing the sun just barely poking up above the horizon. Once I'm halfway through the glass I notice Germany sitting outside on the back porch. I decide to join him.

"Up early?" I ask him while taking a seat right next to him.

"Up late." He says, voice soft and hoarse.

"Where's Felicia?"

"Packing. . . She wants to spend some time with France."

"How long will she be gone?" I venture asking.

". . . A long time probably. . . France holds nothing but contempt for me, she will only convince Felicia that she can do better than me. . . Which is the truth, but I. . ." He ends his sentence with a sigh.

"You're not as bad as you think, Ludwig." I offer. He smiles a bit.

"You're only saying that cause you have to, you're like my dad." This causes me to laugh.

"Fair, but I truly believe that you are wonderful. Being Germany is not an easy thing. It took down Charles, Wolfgang, Roderich, and me. . . You have done and are doing the best."

"Are we cursed?" He laughs.

"No. . . Just feared." I answer simply. "Did you hurt Felicia?"

"Why do you ask?"

"I heard you two last night. It seemed you were talking about it."

"It's. . . Complicated. She shouldn't have brought that up like that, I would never touch her like that without her consent. . . And those bruises she showed me were. . . I think this has been long in the making. I can feel her slipping away from me, and I have no idea how to fix it. Her going to France is the nail in the coffin of what I foolishly hoped would be an eternal connection."

I place my hand on his shoulder and he looks at me.

"Seventy years is a long time. . . I can empathize with your pain. It saddens me to see both of you in such a way, but perhaps some time apart will make things better. From experience, it has worked for me before." I attempt. He looks down back at his hands, face still blank and seemingly unfeeling.

"The worst part about all of this is how it is impacting you."

"Me?"

"For almost sixty years you were trapped behind that iron curtain. . . Probably yearning with every fiber of your being to somehow transport yourself here. I couldn't imagine what you've gone through, suffering for an entire human lifetime for something that was not only not just your fault, but mostly mine. I didn't give you a choice, back in the thirties, you didn't have a choice. It was join me or perish, what did they expect you to do? You told me no once, but I didn't care. And in the end you get. . . And finally you are back, but broken, unrecognizable. But the greatest disappointment is how unwelcoming the West is. It comes with it's own drama and broken households and now it seems you have to go somewhere else to get the care you need. . . Italy wants you with her, France wants you with Russia, I want you with me. . ." His sentence tapers off as he looks out at the rising sun. I look out at the horizon too, trying to piece together exactly what he means. He couldn't honestly think that I had no fault with what happened in the thirties and forties. He couldn't possibly think that any amount of 'broken-ness' that I have encountered here could measure up to what that house in Novgorod had.

". . . You used to smile so much before this. . . I don't think I've seen it once since you've been back." He says uncharacteristically soft.

What is there to say to that? How could I smile? After everything. . . I don't want to talk about what happened. . . Not with him at least.

"You'd be surprised about what other romantic options you have besides Italy. . . There is a lot to love about you, Ludwig." I say, obviously changing the subject.

"Well, I'm glad to see that that has not changed in you." He says, eyes never leaving the horizon.

Sadly I kiss his cheek and stand up. I'll leave him to his own devices for now.

Before I step completely back into the house I turn to look at him and notice the fresh tears sliding down his cheeks, glimmering from the morning sun.

I sigh out deeply as I make my way to Felicia's room. The door is closed, so I knock gently and call out to her. She opens the door and sighs in relief.

"Oh, Gilbert, I'm glad it's you." She says while pulling me into the room. She shuts the door and turns to face me. "I'm going to be living with France for a while. I asked her how she felt about you coming with me and she said she didn't mind. I h-"

"Woah, woah," I interrupt her, "there is no way I'm living with France. Not only would she find a way to poison me, it would absolutely destroy Ludwig if I lived with her. . . You know how much she hurts him, why are you going to France instead of Italy?"

Felicia walks over to her bed and begins folding some clothes and putting them in a suitcase.

"Because I need some time away from Germany, but I hate being alone, and fratello is living in Seville, and would despise me even more if I suggested living with him and Spain for a while."

"I understand that, but why France?" I continue.

"I just said why. I don't want to be alone."

"What about Austria?"

"He's. . . Busy with Russia. . . And anyway, if you're trying to get me to stay with someone that doesn't hate Ludwig's guts, you'd be hard pressed." She zips up the suitcase and looks up at me, "No one really likes him, not on this continent anyway. I know that staying with France is going to upset him, but Frances is a good friend of mine and I can't stay in Germany any longer. I need a break from that man."

"What did he do, if you don't mind me asking." I venture.

She sits on the bed facing me, and rolls up her left sleeve. Large, purple bruises stare up at me. They are almost in the shape of a hand around her bicep.

"I'd show you more, but I'd have to take off my pants for that and I'm not going to do that." She comments while I stare at the bruises.

"He said that this was consensual. . . Was it?" I ask.

". . . I like to make him happy, you know?. . . But this is a bit much for me to endure. And I'm leaving for more reasons than him being physically rough with me. I honestly believe he needs some time to sort himself out. He's been a wreck ever since you. . ." She cuts herself off.

"Ever since I got here?" I finish for her. She sighs and slowly nods.

"Yes. . . That's why I think you coming with me would help. . . Plus, he is not fit to be taking care of you."

I want to argue that I don't need to be taken care of but that would be moot. And from what I can tell, Germany isn't a good option for a caretaker. . .

"I don't trust France." I admit.

"Well. . . What about her son?"

"Canada?"

"Yeah. He's kind, I'm sure he'd have no problem looking after you again." She suggests.

"I would hate to impose." I say softly, looking down at the bed.

"Come on, he didn't hesitate the first time we asked him to help. I'm sure it'll be fine."