So let's see the next nation that Germany will tie some ends too. Awesomeness, right? Of course, of course. The angst is going to come around about now. Maybe. I'm not really sure. I'm typing the author notes before I even type up the actual chapter, so I don't even have a clue D:

/=+=/

It took a few minutes, but Germany was able to walk despite the crazy headache that was disorienting his balance. Canada kept his hands on his waist as Germany slowly walked down the stairs toward the living room, seeing the other worried nations staring back at him (well, there was a scolding Romano, but let's ignore him for now).

"Are you all right?" Spain asked.

"I'm fine, thank you…" Germany sat down on the couch. "I just need a few minutes of walking around."

"Geez, we were worried you needed hospital care~!"

Germany just rolled his eyes. Romano had to be so smug at a time like this. But seeing as how the fact that the simple fall down the stairs had actually given him a whole load of memories back to him, Germany was more than willing to forgive him…after he gave him a few death glares.

"Please don't start a mini-war, Germany. None of us can afford it." France sighed.

He quickly let it go, staring at a smug Romano before turning back to France. Now that he has his memories, Canada really was right: this was the France that had killed him before…starting all this misery. And from France, out of all people. That must be awkward, right? Oddly pathetic.

Oh well. He owned him hard during the World Wars.

"You must be hungry, Germany. We just ate a little bit before." Spain stood up. "We should be able to make something quick."

"Why the hell are we feeding the potato bastard?"

"He's been hurt, my dear Lovi! This is his house, after all!"

"Grgh…I'm not staying in a room with him. I'm coming with."

"Oh wait…I know how to cook. I can make something."

Germany watched as the three of them stood up and walked out to the kitchen, leaving him alone. He turned his head and saw that France had stayed behind as well, trying to find anything on TV that might be even remotely interesting. That's what he gets when he comes to his country. It was apparently only then that he looked around.

"Hm…? Where is everyone?"

"They went to make me something to eat, apparently."

"Oh my my…you must feel really lucky to have such close friends after everything that happened to you."

"What a way to rub everything in…"

"Well, we as nations can't just hold in everything that they want to say to themselves for so long." France stated with a chuckle. "After everything that happened between the both of us, I'm more than entitled to rub in whatever I want in your face. You've harassed me and my people, of course."

"The wars have long since passed, France. How many apologies do you need in order for you to get the hint?"

"Well, I already understand…but I still think it's fun having that small grasp of power over you, just for a little while."

"…you've already had that feeling, France."

"Hm?"

"You've killed me before. Don't you remember?"

"Germany, I only talk about the fact that I won a war over you. I don't need to hear about you dying because of the Berlin Wall."

"No, it's not that…you've won a war over me before, yes." He looked up, knowing the only thing that can finally get through his head. "Don't you remember killing me…Francis Bonnefoy?"

The Frenchman's head darted up to meet steely blue eyes that were slowly regaining a strange, familiar light. He had only told three countries his human name before: Arthur (the English bastard), his son Canada, and…one other man. He told him that name once, at the height of his power…

/= [FLASHBACK] =/

He had never felt such a huge surge of power in his veins before. It was an awesome wave through his blood, the strength of his men taking down everyone that was standing in his way. A few feet ahead of him, his leader Napoleon was carving his way deeper and deeper into the heart of the feeble army. Was this really the army of the powerful Holy Roman Empire? It dwarfed compared to his! Why didn't he take him away sooner? This part of the world could be all his!

Francis could only laugh like a madman as he slashed through the rest of the men, and just as he predicted he had won the battle. He took a deep breath and saw the chaos and destruction that he and his men have started. Man, what a rush this was! Was it always this perfect to have this much power in his hands?

"Francis." He heard Napoleon call him. "You might want to see this. Someone's still alive."

"After all this? I'm surprised that someone can even survive with that many wounds on his body."

He had to admit, he was shocked: the boy looked no older than fourteen or fifteen years of age, his blond hair folding over his face that was covered with mud and blood. It was a startling sight to behold…but alas, it was always a war that cut so many mortal lives short. Ah, how beautiful it is to be immortal!

"You're such a dwarf to my appearance, young man…but I'll give you the fact that you are still alive." He chirped. "That is a feat that I have never seen one as young as you can do…"

"…that is because we are of the same…"

France froze at his words. It was then that he saw it: depth in this man's eyes…depth that only men that have seen the passing of many years can have. There was only one explanation for this: they were of the same category. They were the ones gifted with immortality.

"I see…Napoleon, go and tend to the wounded. I will handle this man."

"Understood."

He watched as the commander of his army followed his orders. Such power going through his veins, to command the strongest man in the world and to have him follow it…but alas, he had one of himself to talk to, and he was going to see this man to the end.

"So you are like me. Interesting. Are you the incarnation of the army I have fought?"

"…what do you think?"

"Being smart with me, I see? Interesting…" The only other nations he can recall being like this was Arthur. "You're a young nation, aren't you? Don't you realize just how much power you're up against?"

"You don't have to tell me twice…I've seen it."

"Good…now will you surrender yourself to me? If you do, I might let you live."

"…now why in the world would I do something like that?" He gagged blood. "I'm…a nation…I will not swoop to such lows."

"That's the wrong answer…now you'll have to get out of my way."

France drew his blade, stained with the blood of his people, and watched the eyes of his victim stare at it: not looking away once. After a few minutes, they met eye contact yet again. He did not see any hint of fear whatsoever. Did he not fear death at all?

"Do you not care that I will end your life for my personal goals?"

"I don't…for I will be free from his corrupted world…and those that I care about are in good hands."

"You're going to leave your loved ones in this corrupted world?"

"United…they stand. They will live through your rule…and all the other rulers that follow them. You will be unable…to take any of them down…for they will stand forever."

"…such naivety. Nothing lasts forever…with some exceptions." France stared at his reflection in the blade. "But just because you entertained me, you are allowed to know my full name. I am Francis Bonnefoy, the Kingdom of France."

"…Heilrich."

"What? No title?"

"…are you not going to take that away from me?"

"Ah yes…that is true."

He lifted the blade and plunged it deep into his heart, feeling the blood smear the blade and his hands. After a few minutes of sweet satisfaction (this is perhaps the only time he could ever kill a nation), he pulled the blade and licked the blood. What makes the blood of nations so much sweeter? As he walked away, his victory certain, he heard only one word uttered in the silent graveyard.

"Italy…"

/= [END FLASHBACK] =/

"…Heilrich?"

"You remember now." Germany nodded. "Do you remember everything?"

"All the details. It was the only time that I have ever killed a nation by my own hands, how will I not remember…" France turned to him. "You're not just pulling my leg, are you? How can I tell that you're telling the truth?"

"Well then, let me ask you this…" Germany sat up. "After two hundred years…has Austria and Hungary stayed in existence as nations?"

"…my god, it really is you…" France's eyes have widened even more. "Why did you keep your identity a secret this entire time?"

"I just remembered everything just a few hours ago." He answered. "Romano actually helped me."

"He…helped you remember? How? He hates your guts…"

"He gave me the hardest concussion ever…which stirred back my memories." Germany answered. "I've already forgiven him, so you won't see anything happening to him anytime soon."

"…to think that you're alive after everything that happened to you."

"That's the strength of the German spirit. Unwavering and unbreakable."

"Yes…yes indeed." He smiled. "Now that I think about it, I'm a little happy."

"Happy?"

"I always thought that, despite the fact that you were a nation, you were still a child. Here I thought I killed a child this entire time." France sighed. "Guilt is a horrible mistress."

"Yes it is…"

"So much so for me…that I told Italy everything that I've done once the war was over."

"W-what?" Germany darted his head.

"I thought you were dead…and this was during that Austro-Prussian war that they had." France stated. "You were dead. I made sure of that. But the fact that you two were so close…even I, the nation of love, felt moved by his dedication."

"W-what did he do…?"

"He said he'd always wait for you, no matter what. Even if he was to search for your human reincarnation." He sparkled. "Such unwavering young love and eternal dedication~! Is it not the most beautiful thing on this Earth?"

"…yes…beautiful…" He looked at his hands, squeezing them ever so lightly. "And yet so fragile."

/=+=/

Wow…I think this had to be a really bad chapter…perhaps the worst one of the entire mini-series. Blech :P