Hello everyone! Sorry for the late update!

Thank to those who reviewed and followed! It's actually more motivating than I thought it would be! :)

It was mentioned that the end of the last chapter was a bit confusing, so I've gone back to edit it. Hopefully this chapter won't be!

Today's names:

- Romulus Vargas: Rome

- Aldrich Beilschmidt: Germania

- Athena Karpusi: Ancient Greece

- Cleo Muhammad Hassan: Egypt

- Peter Kirkland: Sealand

- Charles Tailor: Hutt River

Warnings: none apart from minor swearing.

Disclaimer: I do not and will never own Hetalia.

Remember, constructive criticism is appreciated. Please enjoy!

Chapter 3

About an hour after the stranger's arrival, Gilbert was finally free to leave the infirmary. Tino had insisted on making sure he had a shower, dried himself properly afterwards, changed clothes and had a hot chocolate before letting him leave, muttering about "irresponsible people" under his breath.

Before he left, the albino glanced at the cross-shaped pin that had been removed from the stranger's hair. He thought for a second before turning to the short nurse.

"Tino, can I take this? I want Eduard to have a look at it," he pointed towards the ornament.

"Hm? Sure, providing you bring it back afterwards. I don't think he'll be awake for a few days, anyway. Oh yeah, don't break it," violet eyes stared pointedly at him.

"Don't worry, I'll be careful. See ya, Tino!" the red-eyed man rolled his eyes and pocketed the clip.

He glimpsed outside, noticing how the storm hadn't yet stopped. Well, that was annoying. He'd have to wait to give it to the IT expert; he doubted the Finn would appreciate him getting soaked again. At least the electricity had returned. Just as he was considering going to the kitchens and convincing whoever was in there to give him some food, an announcement rang through the loudspeakers that could be found in every room and corridor.

"This is Commander Romulus Vargas speaking. May all personnel join me in the meeting hall as soon as possible. I repeat, join me in the meeting hall as soon as possible."

The meeting hall was a large circular room with rows of wooden benches faced towards a long table. This was where the commanders sat. Commanders were pretty much in charge of the Palace and directed the patrollers. So far, there were four of them: two men and two women.

The head of the table was, of course, Romulus Vargas, Feliciano and Lovino's grandfather and one of the most respected people in the establishment. He was tall with short curly brown hair and eyes, and appeared intimidating, but in reality had a great sense of humour and loved both women and men.

Besides him was Aldrich Beilschmidt, Gilbert and Ludwig's own grandfather. They had only found out a few years ago, when the resemblance between the younger brother and him grew too great and, after a DNA test, they were revealed to be related. To be fair, though, it wasn't very surprising. The German was also tall with long blond hair that was often braided and stern blue eyes. He was fairly quiet, but was not one to upset.

On their other side, the women Athena Karpusi and Cleo Muhammad Hassan were gossiping. Both were beautiful, the Grecian with her long wavy brown hair and green eyes, and the Egyptian with her short black hair and amber eyes, but they were deadly. Athena was extremely smart and an excellent tactician, whereas Cleo was notorious for her abilities with poison. Either way, it was better not to mess with them.

The Italian stood up and gestured for the assembly to sit down. The storm continued to rage on behind him.

"Thank you all for coming. I notice that our lookouts aren't here, but considering the weather, I think that's understandable. I trust that one of you will inform them of what's going on?" he peered down at the crowd.

Almost immediately, a short blond male wearing a pink dressing gown raised his hand in excitement.

"I'll, like, totally do it!"

Gilbert glared at him. He disliked the Pole. This was mainly due to the fact that the kid dressed as a girl, was useless at everything and clung on to whoever he liked. And he hadn't been kicked out yet! Bloody connections…

"Good. Now that that's settled, let's move along to what I called you for. Just a few minutes ago, we rescued another stowaway. He is currently being taken care of in the infirmary, and we will interrogate him about his origins once he wakes up. In the meanwhile, I hope you won't bother him. This leads me to my second point: when I give a curfew, I expect you to uphold it!" his almond-coloured eyes locked onto the albino, "do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" they replied as one, some looking guiltier than others.

"Good! Now, is there anything anyone has to report? Seeing as we're all here and the weather is foul, we might as well make the most of it," Commander Vargas smiled happily, seemingly a lot more relaxed.

As someone raised their hand to comment on how the locals were complaining about something, Gilbert clenched the cross pin in his hand. Should he mention it? It sure seemed important, but was it really? What if there was nothing to it and it was just a simple hair ornament that got mixed up with some wire? Finally, he decided to wait until he'd showed it to Eduard.

And, with those thoughts in head, he turned back to the meeting.

The outside sun was blinding. After the storm, the skies had turned back to blue immediately, resulting in many civilians leaving their shelters and taking a look at their surroundings to check none of their belongings had been blown away.

Wendy frowned as she noted that one of her flower pots had toppled over, and carefully put it upright and refilled it with soil. It had been a week since the Team's disappearance, and whilst they now knew with certitude that Iceland was indeed with the government, a photo of a bruised up teenager having been sent to them recently, and it was highly believed the Lady was with him, they still had no idea where Lukas was.

Charles Tailor, the Australian's superior, had finally convinced her to take a break from her searching, and so she was outside, back to her normal everyday life.

"Oi, Wendy!" a short boy with blond hair and blue eyes waved her over.

She sighed inwardly. Peter Kirkland was a sweet lad, but he was so annoying! He constantly bragged about how he wanted to work for the Resistance, yet hadn't made any attempts to attend their meetings or anything of the sort. It drove her mad!

"What is it?"

"I found out some cool stuff about the Resistance! Do you want to hear?" he beamed back at her, practically shouting in enthusiasm.

Wendy shot him a glare as the people around them turned to stare; some shifting away, others moving closer. A few government soldiers nearby glanced over at them cautiously.

"Shh, moron. They'll hear you," the small girl wacked the blond on the back of the head.

Peter winced, turning to glance at the soldiers behind him. He nodded, and suggested they get an ice-cream. Sighing with relief, they headed to the seafront.

Most of it had been destroyed. There weren't any souvenir shops or restaurants open anymore, there wasn't any need for them. There was, however, an ice-cream parlour. The man who owned it gave them out for free, as those who had remained on the mainland were generally poor.

The shabby building had been bombed many times. Because of this, it was made from a variety of materials: wood, steel and brick were only a few of its components. It was also painted with a rainbow of colours. Whenever it was rebuilt, they had to paint with the pots they actually possessed.

As soon as the two young teens approached, the owner came out to greet them. Carlos Garcias was a man in his late-thirties with dark skin, brown eyes and dreadlocks. At the start of the war, he had fled to France with his parents, but war had followed them there, and, unable to escape to a safe-Isle, they had remained here.

"Peter, Wendy, good to see you! It's been a while, hasn't it?" he beamed down at them.

"Yeah, life's been boring without ice-cream," Peter laughed.

"Isn't Emil with you today? It's been a while since I last saw the kid."

Wendy looked down as he asked the question. She couldn't say he'd been taken by the government, she wasn't supposed to know. If a member of the public found out she was part of the Resistance, she'd be taken away and never seen or heard of again.

"I've visited a few times, but no one was home," the Brit frowned.

"Maybe they moved. I mean, his brother always did seem a bit paranoid," Wendy suggested.

It was better to lie than to not say anything. That would be suspicious.

"He was a bit of a nutter. Talking to things that don't exist and whatnot. I worried about the kid living with that kind of person," Carlos pondered.

Wendy forced herself to remain calm. He didn't know anything. He wasn't part of the resistance after all. How would he know that everything Lukas did, he did to protect his younger brother? Instead, she changed the subject.

"So, can we have some ice-cream please?"

And so the conversation was over. Of course, once they were both licking away at their treats by the seafront, Peter switched back to what he had been about to say earlier on.

"Apparently, the Resistance's Boss' been arrested by the Army. They also caught another member, but he isn't of any use to them," the shorter boy explained, eyes shimmering in excitement.

The Australian shuddered as he mentioned the taboo subject. She didn't know which was worse: the government believing Emil was useless and executing him or the government finding out of his relation to Lukas and torturing him in order to gain information.

"Really? How did they find them? The Resistance keeps everything top-secret, after all. It's odd for one of their members to leak information," maybe she could find out more about the situation.

"Someone gave the Army some tips," the Brit shrugged.

"A member of the Resistance?"

"Dunno. But that's not the best part! They lost the guy they were actually wanting to arrest," he burst out laughing.

This caught Wendy's attention. She had a sinking feeling she knew what they wanted, but she hoped it wasn't so. After all, if that information was leaked, their whole organisation would crumble.

"Who? Wouldn't the boss be enough?"

"Nah, the Resistance doesn't tell each other anything," not completely true, "but, they need to know who's in, who's out, what missions will be accomplished and so on. So, they have one guy who knows everything."

Shit. They knew. They knew. This was bad. This was really bad. She had to get back.

"A-And do they know who it is?" she forced her voice to remain calm.

You aren't supposed to be a member of the Resistance, Wendy. There should be no need for you to be nervous about this. Peter can't find out. Peter won't find out. Stay calm.

"Yep, but they couldn't catch him. He managed to escape. The Army's looking for him, though."

"Do they know where he is?"

Peter frowned, scrunching his face up as if he was trying to remember. Finally, he shrugged, an apologetic smile on his face.

"Can't remember."

Great. Just great. She really had to get back to HQ.

Well, at least now we know with certainty that Natalya was right. We have a mole, and we need to find out who it is.