Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia.

A/n1: Pssssst – you also want to sing that ugly "Bassie en Adriaan" –song? I've noticed there's sort of a meme going on about it. People all over the world are apparently karaoke-singing it with much glee… and with even more horrible voices. But! That's probably because they don't know Dutch, so they don't know how to pronounce the words. Therefore, let me offer you some assistance.
I'll write down how you're supposed to pronounce the first four sentences of "Bassie en Adriaan":
Hallo vreent-yens, an vreen-tin-net-yens,
Heer coomen weh wear aan!
Hallo vreent-yens, an vreen-tin-net-yens,
This Bassy… an Adriaan!
There you have it – I believe this is how you're supposed to pronounce those GODAWFUL words.
Have fun! 8DDDDDDDDD

A/n2: A very big part of this (HUUUUGE) chapter is about Dr. Delgado, that mean old bastard – he's going to tell his background-story and the reasons why he has become the way he is.
Also, and maybe this is more important to some of you, this chapter will offer you some insights about what is going to happen, now that the personifications are pretty much cornered without any hopes of a happy ending. Or have they?
I know this sounds vague and cryptic, but nope, no spoilers for you!

A/n3: There are two specific reasons why I named Mr. Pita… well, Mr. Pita (just to let you know, though, it's got nothing to do with Peeta from the Hunger Games).
Reason one: Pita's a word derived from an Ancient Greek word, meaning 'solid', but also 'clotted'. Make of that what you want.
Reason two: I really don't like pita-bread. Yuck.

~~ And Three Makes Five ~~

Chapter 67:

We must be very careful when we give advice to younger people: sometimes, they follow it!
Edsger W. Dijkstra
(Dutch computer scientist)

Dr. Delgado gave both me and the dangling, still unconscious body of Antonio – being held by two PPSS-members – a blank, empty look.

'Ah. There you are. Good.'

I glared at him in response, my arms and legs shaking for whatever that was going to come.

Antonio's (former?) personal doctor had waited for us to meet up with him in the hallway. We apparently were going to a more private room, or so Mr. Pita had told us – and right after that announcement, he had practically kicked all of the still-conscious nations out of the Hemicycle with the words "it's up to your doctors now!".

It's probably nice to mention that while Delgado seemed to shine and sparkle with power and confidence more than ever right now, all of the other doctors were looking like worthless shells of their former selves. They did seem to hate having to do this job for the PPSS. They did seem tofeel honest guilt. They did stammer and beg their personification to please, please forgive them. Hell, they looked even sicker than the nations themselves!

That reminded me – where the hell was Dr. Tosca?

'She wanted to talk with your brother first,' Delgado instantly answered me when he noticed my eyes darting around the hall restlessly. 'She said she would come and join us right after her little talk with North Italy, Germany and Mrs. Alt – Germany's doctor.'

'Oh,' I said.

'It must be very tiresome for Mrs. Tosca to be both your and your brother's personal doctor,' Delgado said as he beckoned me (and the men that carried Antonio) to follow him. 'I admire her spirit and enthusiasm. You don't see many talented, young people her age anymore.'

I stared at Delgado's back, speechless. Was that guy fucking shitting me? They were going to take our kids away from us, and he was – he was fucking talking about his stupid, totally not-relevant admiration for one of the people that would help them to exactly do that?

'I don't give a goddamn fuck,' I heard myself snarl at him, before I could stop myself. 'I don't give a goddamn fuck about her, about you or about anybody in this forsaken organization.'

Delago sighed. 'Mr. South Ital—'

'I hate you.'

A third PPSS-member, somebody that apparently was supposed to look after me, grunted and harshly grabbed my arm.

'Let go of him,' Delgado instantly said, without turning around.

'But sir,' the man said – giving me a dirty look as I yanked myself free again, 'he said—'

'I know what he said. I'm not deaf.'

Reluctantly, the PPSS-guy backed off.

'I really hate you,' I continued, like nothing had happened, and pursed my lips together tightly. 'I never liked you, but now – now I hate you. Not because you can't stand me and never gave me a chance, but because you've betrayed him. You've backstabbed Antonio – the only fucking person on the world who's ever honestly, unconditionally liked you. I hope you feel proud.'

'I actually am a pretty proud man, yes,' the old coot calmly said.

'You're horrible.' I shuddered. 'You have a heart of fucking ice.'

'Don't be ridiculous, Mr. South Italy. A heart of ice can always melt. Mine can't.'

I heard the bitter, sad tone in his voice, but I didn't care, not even a bit. I wasn't interested in his background-story, his reasons for doing this or his Freudian excuses. All I wanted was get out of here, as fast as I could – but I knew that was impossible right now. I'm not saying I was unable to escape, but…. but then I'd be forced to leave Antonio behind.

And I didn't want to leave the only good, loving and eternal thing in my life behind.

'Why are you doing this! Why are you doing this!' I suddenly heard a high-pitched, broken voice cut through the already loaded air. I turned my head to the right in shock and witnessed how a screaming Hungary was being dragged off by PPSS-members, away from her male doctor, who just stood there, shaking and crying his eyes out as he stammered he was sorry.

Then, I felt a hand landing on my shoulder. 'Move, Mr. South Italy.'

Too late I realized that Delgado's hand had touched me – and before I was able to smack his claws off me, he had already let go of me and walked further.

My heart bonked in my chest hysterically as I followed him, while other personifications around me, also walking or being carried down the hallway in many different directions, made facial expressions and uttered shrieks and moans I'd probably never forget, never ever, not in my entire life.

Or... or would I?

'Are we there yet,' I almost sobbed at a certain point – I just couldn't handle all of this misery anymore.

'Yes,' Dr. Delgado responded, and halted in front of a white, plain door. Private Room 2.2. He opened it and stepped aside.

'After you, Mr. South Italy.'

\0o0/

The room wasn't small, but it wasn't big, either. Its walls and floor were sterile-white and creepily clean. There was a table, four chairs and a whiteboard. Also, no windows. Apparently, these kind of rooms were made for smaller groups of people to work together or discuss certain matters.

Or, you know, to take personifications to in order to tell them horrible information right before stabbing them with sedative darts and erasing all of their precious memories. Those kind of things.

'Take a seat,' Delgado ordered – and I obeyed by letting the PPSS-member politely but determinedly push me down on a chair. Antonio was awkwardly put down in the chair next to me. While the three PPSS-members took a few steps back and kept on observing both me and Antonio, Dr. Delgado sat down on the chair on the other side of the table. His chair seemed higher.

'Right – let's waste no time and get right to the point: these are the people I've selected as your children's new parents.'

Delgado snorted and threw some sort of documentary file on the table. Photo's and notes spilled out of it – and it was like someone had cruelly kneed me in the fucking stomach when I, as I had feared, indeed recognized Hernández' upbeat smile and his lover's grumpy mug.

At the same time, as I stared at Hernández' friendly face, I could almost hear him say those cryptic words of a little while ago again.

…I'd rather experience the nightmare of losing a child, than the utter horror of never having been a parent at all.

That…

That cold, sick bastard.

That sly, mean, evil, awful, downright disgusting man. My trembling hands started to claw at the table and the papers, just because I didn't know what to do with them. God. He had even given me a fucking hint. He knew what was going to happen. He—

'No,' Delgado at that point said. 'It's not what you think.'

'Shut the fuck up,' I growled. I wanted to hit him. I wanted to kick him. I wanted to run the entire way back home and beat Hernández and his thug boyfriend until they'd fucking shoot me. I didn't even care anymore what would happen to me – I just wanted my revenge.

How… how dare they, giving me the family I've always longed for, ever since I was a lonely kid, right before talking all of that away from me just as easily…

'Sir,' a PPSS-member behind me suddenly said, 'I've just got a message from Miss Spain. She's saying South Italy is probably carrying a forbidden object.'

Luisa's necklace. I felt the blood drain out of my face and fought the desire to hold on to it for dear life.

Dr. Delgado shot the man behind me and Antonio an annoyed glance, for some reason, before sighing and focusing his attention on me again.

'Mr. South Italy. I don't like you, but I'm sure you're smart enough to know what's going to happen in the following hours.'

I didn't say a word.

'However, just to be sure, I'll tell you anyway.' Delgado cleared his throat and nodded to the PPSS-man guarding me – probably telling him to stay alert and make sure I didn't do anything dangerous.

'Right at this moment, PPSS-members are busy removing all the objects that might remember you to your children out of your House. Drawings, furniture, diaries, photo albums – even DVD's that your kids might have watched, they're all being taken away. You know why, right?'

'You're going to erase our memories,' I hoarsely said. 'Just like you did to America and England's memories. You're going to erase them and attempt to make it look like they never were in our lives in the first place. T-the kids, that is…'

Why the hell didn't I try to kill him yet?

Why the hell didn't I fucking cry yet?

Why the hell was Antonio still out?

'Urgh…' I at that moment heard Antonio groan. He was starting to wake up.

'Exactly,' Delgado in the meantime said. 'You indeed are quite clever. Yes. They will erase your memories of the children, and they're going to erase the kids' memories of you, too. To avoid too much mental damage and all. Ridiculous, of course – children's minds are flexible, they can handle a little trauma.'

They…they can handle a little fucking trauma?

'You fucking asshole,' I grunted, feeling my good hand made a fist – and yes, finally, I was about to actually do something I'd probably never regret, ever – when a needle was swiftly smacked into my neck. They did the same to Antonio, who hadn't even fully woken up yet. I gasped, not because of pain, fear or shock, but because of the realization we were going to fucking pass out now, and I had a very horrible idea of what they were going to do to us once we were out. Oh fuck fuck fuck, oh god...

…

However, I didn't pass out.

And Antonio actually regained his consciousness again in the few minutes that passed.

We couldn't move anymore, though.

…

Oh.

'That's right,' the doctor said to my (and now also Antonio's) flabbergasted face, 'they've inserted a light, but extremely powerful, paralyzing liquid into your necks. You won't be able to move anything below your necks for the following hour.'

'Why!' I hissed. 'We didn't do anything!'

'You were going to.' Delgado raised an eyebrow and looked at my still-fisted hand, lying motionlessly on the table. 'Weren't you?'

'Guillermo? W-what's going on?' Antonio muttered, blinking his eyes and looking from the pictures of Hernández to Delgado's smug face. 'Why are you here? And… and where are we? Why does my neck hurt – why can't I move?'

Dr. Delgado moaned in frustration and snorted at the PPSS-members. 'See – this is why I wanted to wait until he had come back! Now I need to explain all I've explained South Italy to Spain as well. Ugh.'

'Explain what?' Antonio asked.

Delgado sighed deeply, but he explained. He explained, and explained, and explained, until Antonio knew all I already was told.

I had expected Antonio to either completely flip out or faint again – but now, he kind of had the same reaction as I had in the Hemicycle: he simply froze, even more than he already was. But still, it was… different. He had wanted to flip out. I saw it. He was staring at his personal doctor with as much hate as his eyes could carry out, which was a lot.

But he didn't say a word. He just sat and stared.

'As I was saying before the interruption,' Delgado continued, ignoring Antonio's haunting eyes, 'the kids' belongings are getting removed from your House and children right now. To make sure the kids and you will never experience some kind of trigger-effect, and to make sure you'll never try to track each other down. Some very overactive PPSS-members have even been attempting to remove some of these objects before today's happenings.'

The dog tags. I felt my throat getting dry. Alejo and Matteo didn't lose them – Blanca took them from them, while they were sleeping or something. Luisa didn't wear it back then, since she had given it to me.

God, and she wanted to go look for the kids' necklaces with Luisa, while she was wearing the thing, too…

'…and I've understood you're carrying your daughter's dog tag at this moment,' Delgado yapped on in the far away distance, or so it seemed. 'Now I'd like to have it.'

I snapped out of it and looked at the old man in horror.

'N-no. No, please don't.'

'I'm just following orders.' The doctor raised from his chair and lazily made his way to me. And I – I couldn't do anything to stop him. My body refused to move. I was only able to stammer and beg him to please let me keep Luisa's dog tag – just her dog tag, please, just that, the only thing I'll ever have of her, I didn't even need to know what the damn thing was later – just don't take it away from me, don't take it, don't take it—

'Thank you very much,' Delgado murmured and removed Luisa's dog tag from my neck.

I panted, gasped and felt tears welling up in desperation.

'I'm going to kill you,' Antonio then said.

Both Delgado and I looked at him – and I could suppress a startled yelp when I saw his face. It was strained, red, and the smile on his bloody lips was insane. His eyes now were swollen and looked like they could pop out of his skull any moment. There were all kinds of fluids streaming down his face – tears, blood, snot? I didn't know. But dear god. Dear god.

Was that what people he killed saw last, right before he murdered them in one of his crazy hazes?

'So you snapped,' Delgado observed, putting Luisa's dog tag in his coat's pocket.

'I'm going to kill you,' Antonio breathed out again. 'Then I'm going to kill your grandson and his lover. And then the rest of you. Of all of you. Oh. Ohhhhh it'll be great!'

'A-Antonio…' I stammered, crying even more when noticing his crazy smile was growing broader. Why did all of this happen? Why?

'You're not going to do anything, Mr. Spain, because you can't.' Delgado simply shrugged.

Then he turned to the three PPSS-members and told them to leave the room. They were surprised to hear those weird orders.

'Sir… are you sure? You really want us to leave you with them – alone?'

'That's what I said, didn't I?' Delgado frowned. 'Do I need to spell it out for you youngsters?'

'But—'

'They're paralyzed for at least a hour – just look at Spain! He's lost it, and yet, he's still sitting in his chair like a good little boy. So I'll be perfectly fine. Nothing to worry about.'

They all were quiet for a little while. I could imagine them exchanging glances and looking at the maniacally grinning Antonio, shivering.

'Alright,' one of them eventually muttered, 'I guess it could do no harm. We'll be waiting just outside, in case you need us.'

The doctor nodded and smiled a cold smile. 'Thank you very much.'

He followed them with his small, dark rat-eyes until the last one shut the door behind him with a soft thud – and then he breathed out harshly in relief.

'Good – no time to waste,' he mumbled – and pulled Luisa's dog tag out of his pocket, putting it back on my neck again. Then he sat back on his seat, before I understood what had happened in the past few seconds. Antonio was just as confused as I was and even stopped grinning.

'Listen, you two,' Delgado carried on in a quiet but urgent voice, 'I'd like to let you know that Ángel has got nothing to do with this. Got that? Nothing. You can hate me as much as you want, but don't lash this out on him. It was my idea to suggest making him and that freaky Italian lover of his the substitute parents of your offspring. I never told him, nor Stefano – I just told the PPSS, and they were okay with it.'

'What?' I could only say.

'Do I speak French?' Delgado gritted his teeth. 'Ángel doesn't got anything to do with this. He's probably just as perplexed as your children are right now, watching the PPSS-members taking away everything. He's not like the people that actually knew about this set-up adoption plan – he doesn't know he and Stefano are going to be your kids' new fathers.'

Antonio and I didn't have words.

'So please.' Delgado clamped his hands together tightly, as if he was praying. 'I beg you. He's my only grandson.'

'So?' Antonio's low voice laughed menacingly. 'Who cares? You don't give a shit about Hernández. You never talked about him. You ever even called him. You hate him because of his dirty, unusual sexual orientation. We know you do. And now you go and say you actually do love him? Pull the other one.'

'Don't get me wrong, Spain. I never said I love him. It's like you said. Yes. Maybe it's better if you don't believe me,' Delgado stated, although his fragile, wrinkly hands started to get white because of his squeezing.

'Why?' I then softly asked. 'Why are you so keen on letting others – and your grandson himself – believe that you dislike him?'

Dr. Delgado looked at me, bewildered. Then, he calmed down a bit again and averted his eyes.

'Everyone I love, dies.'

'I should've known your love's worth shit,' Antonio remarked, chuckling.

'Antonio!' I shot Antonio a shocked and alarmed look.

'No, he's right.'

Delgado looked away from me again and released the tension on his hands. They now became pinkish-red.

'It's a poison. They all die. They all did die, too.'

'Who did?' I asked.

'Yeah, Guillermo, you piece of shit – who did?'

I growled and glared to the asshole sitting next to me. 'Antonio, I fucking swear—'

'It's alright, Mr. South Italy. I deserve his words. You know I do.' Delgado wasn't scared or taken aback by Antonio's behavior in the least – I guess that's what a long and, apparently, hard human life does for you: you simply forget how to be scared, since the happenings just don't seem to be as bad as you have experienced them before.

'I hated my parents.' The doctor pursed his lips. 'They were rich, but they raised me in a cold, harsh way. I wasn't allowed to cry, to play or to make my own decisions. I should only do things that would make my parents proud – so I did. I went to the best universities of both Spain and England and got the best notes of my class. But I hated my life. I didn't hate myself – I was proud of what I could – but I hated everything around me.

Eventually, I decided to cut my parents out of my life and tried to live on my own. All went well. I even got married with a girl I loved. After finally receiving some love and warmth in my life, I felt bad for abandoning my parents and contacted with them, telling them if we could start things all over again. They were happy to hear of me and agreed to try and give our relationship a new, better start. But on the day my wife and I wanted to visit them, a burglar broke into their house, panicked when he was caught in the act by them and killed both of them.'

'Oh,' I stammered.

Antonio just rolled with his eyes and said 'tch', but that was all.

'Anyway,' Delgado instantly went on – he really just wanted to get this over with, no doubt, 'I got over their deaths by not wanting to talk about it, ever, meaning that I'm lying. Also, as we grew older and I got more bitter, my wife and I discovered we actually hated each other a lot more than that we liked each other, so our marriage was horrible. We screamed and shouted all the time. God, I hated her. Still, we managed to get one child – a girl. I hated her, too, and she couldn't stand me, either. She ran away from home on her sixteenth birthday with a man ten years older than she was. She had always been very rebellious. I hated her even more when she took off like that.

It was the last straw for my wife and she asked for a divorce. I refused to cooperate at first – a good Catholic man doesn't get divorced! – but when she said she'd rather kill herself than spend one more day with me, I told her I'd rather kill myself first before granting her that wish, and so, we got divorced. It was awful. Ugh. I don't recommend it to anyone.'

I felt one of my eyes was starting to twitch. My god.

'I lived alone for the following years. I hated everything and everyone and that suited me just fine. Or so I thought. But on a certain day, in a certain year, I felt so terribly depressed and awful about all of my hate that I wanted to try talking to my ex-wife again.

She had gotten remarried, but her new husband had passed away already when I finally found the courage to call her. She wasn't exactly eager to meet up with me, but she was lonely. Also, she was sick and stayed in the hospital most of the time. Most of her friends were either too busy or too dead to go visit her – so I did. The first few times I visited her were horrible. We nagged and we yelled, just like old times. But we got better. We actually started to listen and talk to each other, like grown-ups. I felt I was slowly falling in love with her again, and so was she. She even smiled at me again. Did that mean we actually had always loved each other, even when we hated each other? I didn't know. But I decided to buy a nice bouquet of flowers – carnations, her favorites – and ask her if she could give the two of us another shot. When I arrived at the hospital, I was just in time to hear the doctors say Emmanuelle died "relatively peacefully" the evening before.'

I felt a jolt shoot over my spine in shock, but I just nodded in silence. What else could I do, really?

'According to her caretakers, her dying wish was for me to seek contact with our daughter. Apparently, she had a new, better man, had recently given birth to a boy and was also waiting for an opportunity to make it up to me. We managed to speak to each other on the phone a couple of times, and each and every time I spoke with her, the conversation lasted longer and longer. I felt like I could love and trust her again. I was so relieved and happy. So I asked her to forgive and come visit me, with her husband and newborn son. She instantly agreed and on a very regular, yet stormy Tuesday, my dear Luisa got killed in a terrible car accident on the way to my place. She got torn to pieces.'

My eyes widened. Not only because his daughter had the same name as mine, but also because I was starting to see a quite disturbing patron in his story.

'Jesus,' Antonio smirked, shaking his head in amused disbelieve.

Delgado's lips tightened as he carried on. 'My son-in-law and grandson had survived the crash, which was a relief, but I had learned my lesson: I should keep on hating everybody. Because the second I tried to make things up with somebody I actually didn't quite hate, they died. Horribly. They got killed, they'd perish from an awful sickness or they'd get ripped apart – literally.

So when my son-in-law offered to stop by for a visit anyway, I offended him, I blamed him for killing my daughter, although I knew it wasn't his fault that that truck-driver was dead-drunk that evening, and I successfully pushed him away. I never heard of him again – not before my grandson, Ángel, called to tell me Joaquin didn't survive a train crash, and if I wanted to come to his funeral.

I hesitated and hesitated. I really wanted to meet the only living family member I still had – the only living thing that, sort of, kept both my wife and my daughter alive. But I was afraid I'd might end up liking him. Still, he sounded like such a nice, good-natured boy on the phone... and the poor kid was still a teen. He was all on his own now. So I agreed to come to the funeral and I even agreed to take him in when he asked me.

But I never gave him the feeling he was welcome. I treated the kid like he was worth nothing. I scowled at him, scoffed at him, made fun of his good heart and kind view on the world and I did the very best I could to hate him – and to make him hate me. Everything would be so much easier if I'd hate him and he'd hate me in return.

It were some very weird, awkward and uncomfortable years – because I couldn't bring myself to hate him. He was nice. Genuinely nice. He never lost his patience with me, he was very polite with me, he took care of me when I felt sick and he – h-he cared about me. Always. He didn't hate me at all, no matter what I did. It warmed me – and it infuriated me, because I realized I could have broken the patron if I never had tried to make Ángel hate me in the first place. So I longed to make things better with him – but I… I was scared. I was terrified, even. What would I do if something fatal happened to him, because of me? No. It was too late now. Things would be better if I just kicked him out of my life instead. But how?'

'And then he told you he had fallen in love with a guy,' I heard Antonio say, his voice thankfully sounding a lot more normal now. 'Didn't he?'

Delgado nodded slowly. 'I hate homo's. I really, absolutely hate them. They're disgusting. They make me sick. They do unnatural things and still expect others to like them – it's crazy. So things certainly happened fast when Ángel admitted he was one of them. I was so happy to finally be able to hate him, and I was even happier to give him a reason to hate me. We fought, Ángel left and followed his lover to Italy and I was back on my own again.

Not too long after Ángel had disappeared out of my life, members of the PPSS and the government of Spain asked me if I, Guillermo Delgado, one of the smartest and most intelligent doctors of the country, could look after the personification Spain. I was interested and that's how I came to work for you, Mr. Spain.'

Antonio nodded a bit. I saw he now had calmed down, although his chest still moved up and down pretty rapidly. He gave me a small, reassuring smile when he noticed my worried eyes, though.

'You looked exactly like Ángel.' Delgado licked his lips, dry from all his talking. 'You… you looked just like him. Maybe you weren't as smart as he was, but you were kind, accepting, patient and polite. I convinced myself to be nice to you – as nice as I was able to. You weren't part of my family anyway, and I didn't love you, or at least not as much as I had loved my wife, daughter and grandson, so why not?

Then I discovered you were a homosexual man as well. I felt like someone had slapped me in the face: my own country, gay? Impossible! Someone must have tricked him into becoming gay. Someone annoying. Someone who was constantly hanging around Spain. Someone who seemed to be angry at him all the time but got this loving look on his face whenever he was watching Spain and thought nobody was watching him.'

'I get the hint,' I groaned when he shot a calculating look at me. 'You blamed me.'

'Yes,' he said, 'so I hated South Italy and kept on liking kind, oblivious, he-can't-help-it-it's-all-that-Italian's-fault Spain.

But you know what – Mr. South Italy kind of reminded me of… of myself. If I had been raised as a kinder person. If I had kept my loved ones close to me. If I had given people a chance. If I hadn't hated all the time. I don't like telling you this, Mr. South Italy – believe me – but we have a very similar personality. You're just more mature than I am, and than I ever will be.'

…

…

Good Lord have mercy on me – a very flattering compliment from the biggest homophobe I knew, also known as Delgado. What a day!

'I couldn't like you, though.' Delgado sounded firm. 'I couldn't – my hatred for homosexuals was and still is too deep for that. But I could accept you. I could allow you to make my country feel better. And I could use you to get used to the idea of my grandson, fooling around with other men.

When you and Spain got married and even invited me to celebrate it with you and your friends and relatives, I didn't come. But not because I didn't want to – I had wanted to! And that shocked me so much that I could finally bring myself to seek contact with Ángel again. So instead of going to your wedding, I called him, still wearing my fancy tuxedo, and asked him how he was doing – I didn't ask him to forgive me, because I believed saying that much could kill him.

Of course, Ángel, who told me he was sorry for his behavior – for HIS behavior! – immediately wanted to strengthen our bond and agreed to call me every once in a while. We got a fairly good relationship. Strained, yes, awkward and uneasy, certainly – but we finally accepted each other. We met a couple of times and I even came to know Stefano. And I liked him. All thanks to you two. But especially to you.'

Delgado paused, raised his head and, for the first time, I saw him smile. At me.

'W-what?' I stammered, while Antonio nodded in agreement.

'Thank you so much for trying so hard to get along with me. Thanks for trying to like me. Your efforts and my changing feelings, not towards sexuality but towards people, showed me I could still love my grandson. Thank you. I had missed him so much.'

Delgado teared up and had to pause again. I didn't really know what was happening, but apparently, I had done something good. My face got beet-red, partly from embarrassment, partly from feeling like I got way too much praise, and I wondered what I could say.

Delgado wiped away some escaped tears and breathed a few times in and out. His voice was sure, steady and serious again when he went on.

'Six months ago, all that Mr. Pita told you happened. England's discovery. His plans and his well-meant, but dubious ambitions. The PPSS and the Leaders of the European and North American Continents informed us all about it – so yes, Dr. Tosca and I, and all the other doctors, knew about what would happen. We didn't like it. We told them it was a foolish, selfish and ridiculous plan, even if it would succeed. We loved our nations and our personifications – we didn't want them to endanger you. But they threatened to sack us, to make sure we could never find work again and to erase our memories if we didn't want to cooperate. So we were forced to work with them. We had no choice.

After our careful examination of the children, we found out what we had actually known all along: they were mortals. Human beings. Kids. They weren't useful to the PPSS, and they were sure they weren't useful to you, either. Mr. Pita said that the countries would certainly collapse if the kids would die, and although some doctors tried to convince him that it didn't have to turn out that way, he didn't dare to take the risk. He was fed up with the kids. He wanted to take them away from you and execute them.'

Both Antonio and I let out an upset, choked gasp.

'Fortunately, I could talk some sense into him.' Delgado frowned. 'A couple of months ago, Ángel told me over the phone he was going to get married with Stefano. He also told me he hoped he and his fiancé could adopt kids, since they both loved kids. Back then, we didn't know for sure yet the kids were mortal – but it had been keeping me up some nights anyway. Because what if they were? What would they do to them? Ángel's desire to adopt kids gave me an idea, a possible plan B, that kept sticking around in the back of my mind in case I needed it – and when Mr. Pita said he wanted to kill the kids, Ángel's hopes of adoption instantly blurted out of my mouth. I told Mr. Pita it would be much easier to hand the kids over to other, new parents. That way, he didn't need to worry about the kids anymore and he could even do a good deed! Wasn't that better than killing them off?

Mr. Pita thought about it, then decided this alternative plan could even make the organization a small fortune if he acted wisely, and it was decided: we doctors were allowed to search for new, preferably wealthy and desperate, parents-to-be. So we did. And as you can imagine, I found the new parents for your three kids quite easily.'

'Dr. Hernández and his fiancé.' I concluded. 'And you claim he doesn't know anything about this?'

He smirked. 'Ángel would never have agreed with this. He'd be ashamed to go along with such a disturbing plan. Still, I needed him to get to know the two of you – and your three children. So I pretended to be sick and told him he should take care of you, which he did. He was officially meant to be your next personal doctor, but… well, it's up to him if he still wants to become one after all of this.'

'What do you mean?' Antonio asked.

'Well.' Delgado folded his hands together. 'Your children will be taken away from you. Naturally, your memories and the memories of the kids will be erased so the five of you can go on living like you never even knew one another, but… I don't think my grandson is… mentally strong enough to have you as his patient while taking care of your kids at the same time. Imagine you two, stopping by his house when he's celebrating his birthday and having you meet "his" kids. It even sounds wrong. And it would break his heart.'

Delgado got silent all of a sudden. He probably was pondering about what he could say next, while Antonio and I fought back burning tears and the need to scream till our lungs would dry out.

This was really going to happen. We really were going to lose our kids. They would get removed out of our lives and minds, and we'd go on living the life we had always lived. Maybe I would even revert back into the kid-hating asshole I had always been. Maybe Antonio would start whining about wanting to adopt kids again. All while we had kids. We had them, we cared about them, we loved them – and we would never know. We wouldn't, and they wouldn't.

It was so fucking depressing that at a certain moment I actually didn't give a flying fuck anymore and started to sob. My neck tensed up and my cheeks burned, and that was all, since the rest of my body couldn't react to this awful revelation yet.

'Maybe… maybe this is better,' Antonio then murmured all of a sudden.

'No,' I said, 'no, it isn't better. Shut up.'

'It's better this way.' Antonio swallowed. 'If… if we had to raise the kids, things would have been troublesome for them. Having parents that don't age. They wouldn't have been able to bring friends back home. They would've been bullied. People would hate them for having strange parents – 'cause that's what people do, Lovino, they hate those who aren't what they consider "normal". Our kids would become outcasts. They'd eventually grow to hate us.'

I breathed out slowly, but it still sounded like I was wheezing. 'A-Antonio. Don't say that. W-we've talked about this already. I thought we had agreed to—'

'Well maybe that was naïve.' Antonio looked at me angrily and bit his lip. 'Don't fool yourself, Lovi. You know… you know what hardships our kids would get if they'd stay with us.'

'No,' I said, shaking my head rapidly.

'Yes.' Antonio's eyes softened again and welled up with tears. 'I-I'm so sorry, my love… I'm so very sorry…'

'F-fuck. Shit.' I let my head hang and gritted my molars together, harshly. I didn't give a damn when I heard something crack.

'I-it'll be alright, sweetie,' I heard Antonio's forced-optimistic tone of voice. 'W-we'll get through this. We will! Easily, even! We're going to lose all of our memories of our kids anyway – the good, but also the bad ones, so… s-s-so…'

Antonio choked up and when I glanced to the side, I saw he was crying just as helplessly and silently as I was. It internally shredded me apart – it only made me want to cry more, more more more, more than he was crying, just to make sure I, and not Antonio, was the one who suffered the most from all of this.

Even though we both knew neither one of us deserved this much pain.

'Mr. Spain, Mr. Italy…' Delgado at a certain moment muttered, '…please stop crying. We've got something very important to tell you.'

Leave us the fuck alone – and what do you mean, "we", I wanted to say and already looked up in annoyance…

…but nothing really came out of my quivering, sticky mouth when I noticed not only Delgado, but also an extra doctor was now sitting at the other side of the table. A very pregnant one.

I blinked my eyes and blinked them again, just to make sure. 'Wh-when did you…'

'I entered the room just a moment ago, Mr. Romano.' The young, smart brunette smiled and adjusted her glasses, like she always did. 'But I forgive you for not noticing.'

I was baffled, really, and couldn't utter a word – this happened pretty frequently today, I know, but I had a fairly good reason for that. Same story with Antonio: he also had noticed Dr. Tosca and gaped at her like she had just finished an experimental dance routine.

'We should hurry,' Tosca in the meantime told Delgado, her eyes never losing sight of the door behind me and Antonio, 'the PPSS-members in the hallway are starting to get nervous. Did you tell them about the plan already?'

'No – I was waiting for you.' The old man ticked on his watched, frowning deeply. 'You took your sweet time, young lady. Didn't your parents teach you to respect the elderly and never, ever let them wait?'

Tosca made a face and the both of them started to bicker a bit, while Antonio and I exchanged puzzled, yet slightly hopeful looks.

P-plan?

There was a plan?

\0o0/

'Okay.'

Tosca, who had stopped nagging to Delgado, looked from me to Antonio to me to Antonio and finally decided to let her eyes stare at the door again, before continuing.

'Right. Let's go through this fast. We, the doctors, feel guilty. We… we had never wanted our dear personifications to go through all this suffering. If only we had known… no – if only we have had the sheer guts to actually stand up against the PPSS and had convinced the Leaders to dismiss their ridiculous plan, nothing would have happened. But alas, we were scared and spineless, and now we are forced to wipe many memories. You know your memories are going to be wiped, right – and the same thing will happen to your children. They will lose all the memories they have of spending time with the two of you. Instead, there will be a big, empty, black hole left in their memories.

Is that what the PPSS wants? No. It's not. They want us to fill up that empty hole with fake memories.

…

Well, we don't want to do that. Also, we can't do that. Not yet, anyway.

Still, we told them we could. Thanks to Dr. Delgado's strong leadership and stone-cold lies, we managed to fool the PPSS into believing we could replace the memories with fake ones. So when we're going to erase you and your kids' memories tomorrow evening, they'll think the kids will believe that their new parents have been their actual parents all along, for example. Meanwhile, the kids will keep that empty void in their memories.'

'And?' I asked, still waiting for the next step of the big, wonderful plan – I mean, this wasn't all, was it?

'That's all,' Dr. Tosca answered my silent question. 'There's nothing else we can do at this point.'

'So… so it's still going to happen?' Antonio softly said. 'You're still going to erase their memories – you're still going to take them away from us…?'

Dr. Tosca, who had looked like she was pretty satisfied with herself, now stopped smiling and looked at the ground. Dr. Delgado also didn't know how to answer us right away and furrowed his bushy brows.

'Mr. Spain, Mr. South Italy – we are just as powerless as you are, at this moment. Right now, there's nothing else we can do. If we'd help you escape this building and let you hide away with your kids… it would ultimately result in a war. A big, senseless, complicated, bloody war between personifications of countries and the people that live in them. Do you hear how confusing and mad that sounds? Also, do you want your kids to grow up in a world like that?'

Antonio and I just glared at him, but couldn't find the words to response to his cruel, but probably true predictions.

'So I apologize.' Delgado looked like he actually meant it. 'We apologize. But we'll have to do it. We will obey. We will take away everything that might remind you of the children and the other way around. Your minds will be wiped of all your memories of your children. And since you are countries that have lived for many, many years, there is a chance that there won't even be a metaphorical empty hole in your memories left, because you have gotten so many memories already – your minds could automatically fill up blank spaces with other, vague memories and thoughts.

However.

This is just a theory. Maybe we're wrong. Maybe you also will keep the feeling of needing to remember something – a feeling that the kids will always have as they grow up. At least, we hope they will.

It's all part of another plan. A plan for later. Much later.'

'Wh-what is it?' I stammered, hope filling my fearful heart once again. 'Tell us!'

'We have no time for that,' Tosca said in Delgado's place, anxiously staring at the door, 'they can come in any moment now to bring you back home. It's too dangerous. You'll just have to trust us and do what they say.'

'Why should we trust you? And why should we do as they say – as you say?' Antonio nagged, shaking with anger again. 'What are you scheming!'

Delgado ignored Antonio and nodded thoughtfully at the other doctor. 'You're right – we shouldn't tell them. We're not even sure our plan is going to work out in the first place…'

'Can't we help?' I wanted to know. 'Please – I'll accept that you can't tell us what your plan is for… for whatever you're planning to do, but… but there must be something we can do to help you out?'

Delgado turned to me with a haughty look. 'I just told you – do as they say.'

'No – something else! There must be more we can do… if… if it's for the sake of our kids… if it's for their sake… we'll do anything! Anything!'

Dr. Tosca groaned and wanted to scold me – but then her tummy apparently started to hurt, because she abruptly gasped and gripped it with both of her hands.

'Oh god, a-are you alright?' Antonio instantly blubbered as he watched her with panicky eyes.

On the background, in the hallway, I could hear doors opening and closing, people walking around, soft cries and sobs of other personifications, the muffled sound of… of bodies being dragged over the floor…

We really were running out of time here.

'You should return that thing,' Delgado then all of a sudden told me. 'It's not yours. You should give it back.'

I stared at him, my heart racing and my brains pounding. 'W-what… what thing… what do you mea—'

Dr. Tosca suddenly fell on the ground and cramped up in pain – but she didn't scream, she didn't make a sound, as if she wanted to buy Delgado more time like that.

After shooting a concerned look on Dr. Tosca's huddled figure, Dr. Delgado's face tensed up as he growled, gripped my collar and harshly put Luisa's necklace underneath my dress shirt. Then his face came unsettling close to mine – I could still see the dried-up tears on his wrinkly, flabby cheeks.

'Return. It.'

I opened my mouth to say something, but then the door was pushed open – and the three PPSS-members of before came spilling into the small, white room again. As soon as Delgado noticed them, his tiny eyes became cold and hard again.

'Are you finished, sir?' one of the PPSS-members asked. 'It's time to return the personifications to their countries.'

'Of course I'm finished – now take them away from me.' He gave me such a hateful, disgusted look that it gave me the creeps. 'I've got nothing left to tell them.'

Then a lot of stuff happened: Antonio and I were both lifted from our seats with ease, Delgado asked another member for a glass of water since his throat felt dry because of all that talking and of course there was Dr. Tosca, still rolling over the floor, still clutching her stomach in pain, and now panting out loud, pleading if someone could 'please come assist her'.

But the only thing that I was fully aware of, that I was concentrating on as if my life depended on it, was a small, silvery necklace, gently pressing its cold form against my chest.