Chapter 17
Germany frowned when England motioned for the group to halt, his hard blue eyes combing the dark alleyway that surrounded them as Italy clutched desperately at his free hand.
"Where are they?" he demanded, not even trying to question the Englishman's methods of searching anymore. If it meant finding his sons again, he didn't care who lead them.
England hesitated and cocked his head to the side as if he was listening to someone, his thick eyebrows furrowing in a brief gesture of anxiety and frustration. After a moment, he pointed to the building on their right, his eyes narrowing when he saw the boards that blocked every window... all but one.
"Ivan," the Brit murmured. "Alfred. Antonio, Gilbert, and... whatever the hell this boy's name is. Would you like to get rid of these obstacles?"
The nations- and Gilbert's still-smirking son- nodded and moved forward as one, their hands curling into fists or- in Russia and Spain's case- clutching the handles of a lead pipe and a battle ax.
Germany watched for a few moments as the small group smashed what remained of the blocked windows to pieces, his eyes flickering away just as Britain cocked his head to the side again. Ludwig felt his blood run cold as Arthur's features went deathly pale, his heart stopping the same moment that an expression of horror and devastation spread across the Englishman's face.
For perhaps the first time in years, Germany found himself praying.
Bitte Gott... (Please God)
Cielo's hands shook as he slowly pushed open the door, his mind still filled with images that he knew would haunt him until he died. He had known that something was wrong when he was dragged past, but... To see Saichi's corpse, to see the dead look in Marc's eyes...
The Italian shuddered and forced himself to step into the dark, windowless room that held the remainder of his odd family, his amber eyes locking immediately on the three teens that were huddled at the back of the room, their faces and hair stained with streaks of scarlet that made Cielo's stomach churn, their skin pale and their eyes dull with exhaustion and fear.
"C-Cielo?" Francisco gasped, his bright blue eyes blinking furiously in the sudden light. "Mio Dio (My God), is it really you, cugino (cousin)?"
The younger Italian could only nod numbly, his gaze roaming cautiously over the pale, slack, and exhausted faces of his cousins before it traveled slowly, almost fearfully, to the Greek boy that was slumped against the wall. Achilles stared back at him, his usually-warm brown eyes nearly empty except for a small spark of relief.
"...εσείς (You)," he whispered.
"...Si," Cielo choked. Without another word, Sicily flung himself across the room, his thin, shaking arms wrapping tightly around the injured Greek, his eyes squeezing shut as if he could block out the images that would give such harm to this boy in his arms. "Achilles..."
Achilles blinked slowly, his arms rising to weakly return Cielo's embrace. "...I feel better now."
A sob caught in Cielo's throat and he shook his head, his lips pressing for the briefest of moments to Achilles's forehead before a loud crash from below made him flinch away from the embrace, his eyes widening in shock and dismay as the crash was echoed by furious, frightened yells from above, as heavy footsteps began to come closer...
Alyson's frightened, tear-stained face appeared in the doorway, her eyes brightening for the tiniest second in bitter relief when she met Francisco's questioning, happy gaze.
"Cielo, you need to find a way out now," she hissed. "Use the window. I need to go find Kat."
"Kat?" Magnus mumbled, his brow furrowing as he forced himself into a sitting position. "Where is she?"
Alyson flinched and shook her head, her bright green eyes flickering over her shoulder at the sound of another crash, another shout from above...
"Just get out," she pressed. "...Please."
And then she was gone.
Cielo swore quietly and slowly got to his feet, his arms still wrapped in silent, weak support to the half-conscious Greek by his side. He motioned for the twins to stumble out of the room before him, his eyes dropping as he exited the prison to find Marc waiting for them in the hallway, Saichi cradled in his arms.
"Non guardare (Don't look), Achilles," he whispered. "...Per favore."
He glanced at the Greek to make sure that the other boy had listened to him, his heart sinking when he saw that Achilles's eyes were closed, that his face was slack and his grip was weakening as he slipped into unconsciousness.
"Ach-" the Italian began, his voice dying in his throat when he heard another gunshot.
Cielo whirled around in the direction of the shot, his mouth falling open in horror as Marc fell to the ground in front of him, a new rosette of blood spreading across his stained, filthy clothes. The Canadian boy met Cielo's horrified amber gaze with calm violets for a brief moment before they focused on the corpse of the Japanese girl that he had allowed to fall to the ground several feet away.
"...Permettez-moi être enterré à côté d'elle (Let me be buried beside her)," he whispered. "And... tell Katenka that I'm sorry... Please."
Cielo cried out and fell to his knees, his thin frame shuddering as Achilles's limp body collapsed onto his shoulder. He glanced up with wide eyes as more guards began to pour into the hall, his catlike yellow eyes seeking Francisco and Magnus. He found no sign of the twins and allowed a small sigh of relief to break through his lips before he stiffened, his muscles preparing for the shot that would end his life.
Another gun shot roared through the hall like a herald from hell.
Except, this time, it wasn't aimed at Cielo.
"Marc!"
"Saichi! A-Achilles!"
"Cielo! Rispondimi, dannazione! (Answer me, dammit!)"
Cielo shuddered, his eyes raising from the dead man that had been trying to kill him just as his mother's arms wrapped around him and pulled him close, his grip loosening on Achilles's unconscious body as the Greek was lifted into his father's arms.
Sicily was engulfed by both of his parents in a matter of seconds, but he could still see.
He could see the tears that ran freely down Japan's cheeks as the Asian knelt beside his daughter's corpse, his katana lying abandoned by his side.
He could see Greece hold Achilles gently in his arms as France ran a practiced hand over the large gash in the teen's skull and murmured condolences mixed with encourgagement.
He could see Russia turn away from his dead son, his lead pipe falling from his limp fingers to hit the floor with a low thud.
He could see Canada sob and call out for Marc in hysterical French as America rushed to his side.
He could see England, Germany, Italy, and Prussia search the room for the rest of the kids.
He could see a teen with Prussia's bright silver hair frown and dart through an open door when no one was looking.
He could see the tears in Romano's eyes, could see Spain's lips move in an impossible mixture of thanks and cries of sorrow.
He could see blood...
Cielo shuddered and buried his face into Romano's shirt, a low moan breaking through his lips when he realized that the images of his dead friends were still printed behind his closed eyelids.
Per favore... Make it go away...
So... this one is pretty short... But I promise, there is a reason for it! The next few are going to be a lot longer...
Anyways, I'll get the next chapter up as soon as I can, mkay? And thanks to all of the people who have reviewed/read this story so far!
(PS: I know, I'm being cruel... Please don't kill me!)