"Alaric. Wake up." The voice was familiar; firm and always meaning business. West Berlin cracked an eye open to see a serious face peering in through the window. His green eyes gleamed, and he held a paper bag.
"I'm not hungry."
"It's not enough that Moscow is trying to starve you, is it, because you want to starve yourself too?" London raised an eyebrow. "Who will that help?"
"Everyone," he whispered.
"Spare me your dramatics." The Brit rolled his eyes in exasperation. "Lee already filled me in on your low self-esteem issues. Now, are you going to keep yourself healthy, or do I need to cut right to the threats?"
"Mein Gott, you don't give up, do you?"
At that, Todd grinned, even if it was only a hint of one. "Never have, never will."
Alaric sighed. "Alright. But is-"
"Don't worry your oddly-colored head about it. Your city is being well taken care of. The Berlin Airlift is a success; flights take off at all hours of the day, and return only to go back."
"Really?" West Berlin was surprised. "You… You're actually helping me?" He hadn't completely believed Lee before; he had a tendency to stretch the truth.
"Don't make me regret it," London scowled. "But yes." He dropped the bag through the window. "Hopefully, this'll hold you over until morning."
"What is it?" He had heard the rumors that London couldn't cook to save anyone's life, so, frankly, he was afraid. Apparently it showed in his voice, because Todd grit his teeth.
"Relax," London said. "Paris made it. With a lot of prodding," he added. "But she made it."
That didn't make West feel much better. The minute London had named the French city, fresh guilt washed over him, and he averted his gaze.
London raised an eyebrow. "We thought you'd appreciate some… they're pronounced 'knishes,' right?"
West flashed a tiny smile. "Thank you."
Todd nodded. "You're welcome. You don't look so good," he noted. A touch of sympathy crept into his face. "Do you feel alright?"
"I guess. Haven't been sleeping well."
Todd sighed. "Happens to the best of us. Just… Keep a clear head, alright? I'll be back, I promise."
"I'll be here," Alaric mumbled. He nibbled a knish, and drifted off into an uneasy sleep.
"Well, this is just great." The Axis cities were huddled in a locked room in the basement of the house, chosen to make the agreements. The door was locked; they had tried to open it already. Leona leaned against a wall, exasperated.
"That we lost, or that we got caught?" Alaric raised an eyebrow.
"Both," his sister said after a pause.
Rome sighed and crossed his arms as he sat next to Tokyo on the floor. "How could we have been so stupid?" he muttered.
Alaric shrugged. "I guess we just wanted our time to shine."
"For once," Leona chimed in.
The room settled into silence again. Alaric turned his ears upward to hear the conversation on the floor above.
"So Lee will handle the Pacific," London was saying. "That still leaves the issue with Germany."
"What do we do with them this time?" Moscow asked.
"We can't do the same things we did in the Great War," London admitted.
"Yeah, look at how well that worked out," Washington DC snorted.
"We could divide the country. That might work."
Alaric met Leona's gaze. She was bristling in rage.
"It's the best idea. It divides their strength."
"So we are dividing the nation? Fine, but you all owe me. I was the one that helped with the Eastern front. I will take the east. All of it." Moscow's tone was forceful; he wasn't one to be argued with.
"…Fine. The capital should be divided too."
"What?" the Berlin twins cried in unison.
"Which one is east, and which one is west?"
"Don't we get a say in this?" Leona shrieked.
"Moscow, since you want the east, take Leona."
"N-No!" Alaric gasped.
"If that is all, I will be on my way." A chair slid; Moscow was getting up.
"We're going to be separated!" Alaric cried.
Leona was curled into a ball on the floor. "Don't let the Commie take me!" she whimpered, tears streaming down her face. Alaric was frightened; Leona never acted like this. He dashed over, sat down, and put his arms around her.
"It's going to be alright," he murmured, his own eyes welling with tears. "I won't let him take you, Lona."
The door slid open. Rome and Tokyo didn't move a muscle. Moscow stood in the doorway.
"You," he pointed at Leona. "You are coming with me."
Leona shook her head, clutching at her brother's arm.
Moscow sighed, and stepped inside. He grabbed Leona by the arm, and started dragging her away.
"No!" Alaric roared, lunging after him. "Get your hands off my sister!"
Alexei kicked him in the stomach, sending him reeling. He got his balance back quickly, and raced to the door-
-which closed in his face.
He heard Leona screaming as she was dragged down the hall. "Stop it! Bring her back!" Alaric pounded on the door, sobbing. Finally, he began to hiccup and slid down the door to the floor. He buried his face in his hands.
"Ah, to be young again," Rome sighed, shaking his head.
"He is seventeen- he should not be crying," Tokyo scowled.
Rome shrugged at him. "I'm twenty-five, and I was getting upset like that only a few decades ago."
"It is a sign of weakness."
"To be able to let your feelings out like that? No. It's a sign of strength."
Alaric didn't hear anything, not even when the remaining Allies upstairs were arguing about his fate.
"I don't care what you do with him. Just keep him away from me," Paris snapped.
"I'm long distance, plus I've got the Pacific to worry about," the shrug was apparent in DC's voice.
London didn't respond for a while, but it was evident that he was not pleased. "Then I guess he'll stay with me."
Alaric yawned and stared at the ceiling. The tiny bedroom was dark in the morning; always was. He'd gotten used to it.
He always got up before London. A forcive habit, maybe. He didn't know.
West swung his legs out of the bed and shivered as his feet hit the cold wood floor. He tiptoed quietly to the kitchen, and winced as the cupboard door creaked. He rifled through its contents before he heard a voice.
"What are you doing?"
Todd stood in the doorway in a t-shirt and loose pants. He looked tired, and he rubbed his right eye with his fist.
"I got hungry," Alaric admitted sheepishly.
"It's early."
"Time zone differences, I think. Sorry, I'm not used to staying here just yet."
"Understandable." London yawned and stretched. "I'll be leaving soon. Should be back this afternoon. Don't break anything," he added as an afterthought.
"I won't," Alaric promised.
London was back sooner than Alaric had expected. He heard the car screech outside, and went to the window. Todd slammed the car door, and stormed towards his apartment building. What's his problem?
"Back so soon? Where'd you go?"
"Poland," Todd snapped, glaring at Alaric.
West Berlin was confused; He had thought London was beginning to be more civil towards him. "What happened?"
"I'll show you." The British capital grit his teeth. "Come with me."
They landed in Poland a few hours later, and got a car to their destination. Alaric tried to ask where they were going, but Todd only glared out the window.
"Do you recognize any of this?" he finally said.
Alaric looked out the window. They were, from what he could tell, in the middle of nowhere. "Nope. I've really only been to Warsaw. Leona came here a lot more than I did."
Todd nodded, and fell silent again.
The car rolled to a stop in front of train tracks and an iron gate. "What does that say?" Todd asked, jerking his head toward the writing on the gates.
"Arbeit macht frei," Alaric recited, a lump rising in his throat. "Work makes free."
London nodded. "I thought so. Come on." He stepped out of the car, and West Berlin followed him.
At first, Alaric gagged from the smell of the place. When he got used to it, he followed London inside the gates. "Where are we?" he asked again.
"Auschwitz." Todd replied emotionlessly.
It was hard to describe the feelings that washed over him as he walked through Auschwitz. People, little more than skeletons, crowded in alleys and clearings. Soldiers were giving them small bits of food. Alaric recognized the American capital city, Washington DC, holding a thin woman in his arms, murmuring something to her as he gave her a small piece of chocolate.
As he watched, the woman appeared to beg for more. DC shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. "If I give you more," he was saying. "You may die!"
Alaric gasped as he felt a hand on his arm. He whirled around and found himself face to face with a middle-aged woman with sunken eyes and a shaved head. "Weißt du, wo mein Sohn ist? Mein Mann? Ich habe sie nicht in so lange nicht gesehen!" she wailed to him. Do you know where my son is? My husband? I haven't seen them in so long!
"I-I don't-" Alaric stammered. "I'm sorry, Frau, I'm sorry-"
Tears streamed down her face. "Drescher," she begged again, hoping her last name would help.
He shook his head, but couldn't wrench his arm free of her grasp. Other women came over and murmured to her, taking her away.
West Berlin felt nauseous. He followed London through the camp, noting how indifferent the older boy was to the piles of bodies, the screams of people being helped by Allied soldiers.
"Hey! You!" he cried, suddenly drawing his gun and running forward. Alaric gave him some space, but stayed on his heels.
A Nazi soldier had a rifle aimed at a small girl, maybe six or seven years old. Alaric watched as Todd, in one motion, wrapped a protective arm around her while aiming his gun at the soldier. "Drop it!" he snarled, and the man obeyed.
"Don't shoot!" he cried in German, holding his palms up. "I was just following orders!"
Still holding the little girl, Todd cocked the hammer on his gun.
"Todd!" Alaric cried. "He says he was just following orders! Don't shoot him!"
The look that London gave him made his heart freeze. "I just saw this man shoot four people with one bullet. Following orders… is no excuse for murder." He pulled the trigger.