A/N: Again this is a short chapter.


Chapter 2

Austria never forgot the sound of something. Once a note, a tone, a voice played on his ears, it stuck in his mind, floating there until it was called upon. It would have been a curse, had he not liked music so much.

That night the Austrian's mind was especially unsound. More than anything he wanted to sit down at the piano, but these problems could not be assuaged by music. Or at least not by music alone.

Austria had heard a voice, a voice that he should not have heard.

He had been spending a quiet evening at his residence. His evenings were always very quiet, especially when he was not entertaining company.

But then he heard the phone ring.

"Hello? Is this Austria?" Someone said, and Austria could not guess at who it was.

"Yes? Just who is calling?"

"You are familiar with the recent trade agreement involving Germany and France." Then the gears in Austria's mind clicked.

"Of course. A neutral zone, you wouldn't happen to be the new leader of that zone, would you?"

"A-actually I am. But you see this, um, zone has a representative, just like you."

"A representative? Already?" Surely it was possible. Of course, there was that other representative who wasn't really a nation. What was his name? Sealsand or something…

"Well, he is kind of small. Anyway, he wants to speak with you."

"He does? But what could he possibly have to gain from speaking with me? Any trade deals will have to go through my boss-"

Austria was interrupted. "He says he knows you."

"How is that possible? I can assure you I've never met him before."

"Is it alright if I just put him on the line… this is sort of new to me. Talking with nations."

"By all means, I must correct him."

"Here," The man spoke to someone else, "he says he doesn't know you."

"I speak into this?" A young child asked. Something seemed quite off with the voice to Austria but he ignored it. He had a creeping feeling of suspicion.

"Yes. Just hang it up when you're done."

"Hang it?"

"I'll hang it up for you."

"Excuse me, just who am I talking to?"

"Austria? It's been a long time since I've heard that voice. Wow, this thing really does work."

"I beg your pardon?" Is this person serious?

"Don't you remember me?"

"Remember? I've never met you before. Just why are you calling me?" Then it hit Austria. "This isn't Prussia is it?"

But the voice didn't leave any implication of being found out. "Prussia? You think I'm Prussia?"

"Just who am I supposed to believe you are?"

"So you really don't remember me? Can I speak to Italy then?"

"Why would you want to talk to him? And why do you think he's here?"

"Him?"

"I believe you have me mistaken for someone else."

"But I really want to talk to Italy."

"By all means subject Italy to this nonsense and not me, although I think he's at Germany's house right now."

"Germany?"

"I do not make it a habit of recognizing non-nations, so please do not call me in the future."

"Really-"

It was only after he had hung up and began to play his music, the sounds pouring from his fingers like water in a rainstorm, that it dawned on him who it was.

It's impossible, was his first reaction.

He continued to play but the realization made his pace unsteady. His hands shook slightly and the notes came out strained and unnatural.

Austria knew that voice. He knew the notes it hit when it was happy, and the blasé attitude it feigned more often than not. He could remember the insistence when it had said "Can I speak to Italy then?" and its naivety in all forms of manner. Hearing it through the phone lines had skewed his perception and given way to cynicism, but he could not mistake it.

Austria never forgot a sound once he heard it.

"Really, you think I'm a non-nation?"

The empire listened for the voice but all he heard was a tone.

"I think this thing is broken," he called to his boss.

"Oh no, it's just dial tone. He must have hung up on you."

"Why would he do that for?"

The man only shrugged and the Holy Roman Empire took that as an answer. He remembered Austria fondly but he also remembered Austria's moods.

Outside he heard rain, a soft plit and plat on the window. It was a relaxing sound, and after going through general affairs with his boss, it was a welcome repose. A faint smile played on the boy's face.

This new world was very complicated to him. Europe had changed so much since he had been gone. It seemed like everything had become bigger, the nations, the wars, the technology.

It was all very overwhelming for him. Now he'd have to go through years and years of history that he hadn't lived through if he wanted a chance of survival. So far his boss had been helping, but he was only as good as his experience, which wasn't very good at all. He was nothing like his old boss. Everything was nothing like the way he left them.

He was slowly getting sleepy when, after a time, he heard a loud and insufferable noise. It shocked him with its obnoxious sound of a million tiny bells.

His boss picked up the phone. "O-oh it's you. Yes. No. I don't think we'll be going anywhere tonight- it's this rain. Alright, I'll tell him."

His boss hung up the phone and faced him.

"That was Austria. He's coming, and he says not to go anywhere until he arrives."

The smell of forests was always much heavier in the night, especially after a light rain. Austria drove fast, the tires slick on the wet roads. He smelled the pine, its scent wafting around the interior though the windows were up. Stray raindrops hit his windshield, splitting and rearranging and regrouping until they were promptly wiped away. He thought that was a good metaphor for something, but he couldn't figure out what.

He relaxed thinking in terms of music. The hum of the car was the backbone of the performance, steady and constant. The raindrops were the lead, the stars of the show, unpredictable and versatile. The splash of the tires gave the music depth. Austria thought it might do pretty well as a musical piece provided he could find some way to transpose the different sounds to playable instruments.

It was only when he was standing at the foot of the ancient castle, the mud squelching underneath his shoes that his anxiousness once again returned. A shy man greeted him, holding a flashlight and explaining that they could never manage to get the electrical wiring at the entrance quite right because they had never had much of a use for it, until now.

His nerves became a chorus of unpracticed singers, screaming in separate pitches with no harmony between them as he approached the room.

"He's just in here. I think he may be asleep."

Then there was a knock on the door, a sleepy reply and the creek of a poorly oiled hinge.

Then there was the rustle of bedclothes, small footsteps, and a childish yawn as the boy came out into the light.

Then there was only silence in Austria's mind.