Chapter Three

Reutte. That was all Feliciano could make out as he stumbled down the road with broken grace. Feliciano couldn't read the foreign language, but he knew that the sign in front of him said, 'welcome to Reutte'. It was all too overwhelming, that Feliciano couldn't help but let out a small sob.

It caught in the back of his throat, and he tried to wipe away tears that weren't visible. He was still dehydrated, despite the water that he'd drunk the previous day. He was so tired – he wanted to give up. He knew that if he saw anyone who wanted to take him away, he wouldn't be able to even run one hundred metres before collapsing.

The world suddenly caught up to him, and Feliciano told himself to get over his exhaustion. He couldn't afford to get caught – not when so much was waiting on him. He had to find a way to get home to his brother. Lovino would understand, and then his fratello would get him out of the mess he found himself in without even needing to blink.

He got into Reutte after twenty minutes, even though he'd probably only been five minutes away. Feliciano tripped over his own feet, landing at the feet of another. The Italian looked up, with fearful amber eyes, only to realise that he was looking at a girl who looked around his own age.

Feliciano tried to stand up. However, as soon as he managed to stand, his legs gave out again. Feliciano let out a cry in surprise.

The girl in front of him quickly rushed to his aid, helping him to his feet, and guiding him over to a bench. Feliciano didn't even know there were any benches around, he was too disoriented.

"What's your name?" The girl asked him, speaking in her native language. Feliciano had to remind himself for a few moments that he wasn't in Italy, and that he couldn't reply in Italian. He was suddenly glad that he knew German, as that was the language they spoke in Austria.

Austria! That was where Feliciano was!

"My name's Veneziano." He croaked, throat dry as his eyelids drooped. He felt guilty for lying to someone who was kind enough to spare him some time, but otherwise knew that it was completely necessary to stay under the radar.

His throat was sore, but Feliciano realised that he couldn't do much on that note. Sleep called to him, whispering words in his ear, telling him that he'd be safe, but Feliciano fought to stay conscious.

His eyesight blurred, and he had to strain his ears to hear the girl who was talking to him.

"Are you alright..?" She asked him, "Are you ill..?"

Feliciano wanted to reply – god, he wanted very much to reply and tell the kind girl that he was alright – but he couldn't find the words. His eyelids closed, hesitantly, as he fought a losing battle against sleep.

He knew that he was in one of his weakest moment. The Italian just hoped that he wasn't caught while he took a moment to rest.

"Veneziano? Veneziano!"

Ludwig had been in the town of Reutte for a few days. At first, he had thought that Vargas wouldn't be anywhere near the town – case studies claimed that the Italian would never step foot into civilisation after all. However, gossip spread through the town quickly, and he soon learnt that there was a man who'd shown up the previous morning and lost conscious.

If that didn't shout out 'suspicious activity' in the town, the Ludwig didn't know what did. Ever since he'd heard the gossip, he'd decided that he'd play the part of tourist and stay in the town for a while until he learnt more about the man. Or rather, he'd stay until he'd learnt more about Vargas' condition and apprehended the man.

He received a phone call from Gilbert not too long after he'd gone out for a walk. He scowled as he picked up his phone – his brother knew the time zones were only different by an hour, and that he was working.

"Ludwig!" The German heard his brother shout down through the phone. Ludwig paled, stopping in his walk, as he sat down on one of the benches that were by the dirt path he'd been travelling down. He'd only heard Gilbert this panicked three times in his life.

"Gilbert..." Ludwig's shoulders were tense. "What's happening over there? What's wrong?"

The thought that his brother was unhappy made Ludwig close his eyes. He re-opened them when he knew that his brother was about to talk. Scanning the area around him with his eyes, Ludwig listened as his brother spoke.

"It's getting dangerous over here Ludwig. I don't want you coming back anytime soon, alright?" His brother sounded hysterical, and in the background of the phone, he could hear the drone of his brother's laptop. "I want you to stall as much as you can before getting back here alright?"

"Gilbert... what's going...?"

"I don't want you coming back to London until I phone you again, alright?" Ludwig suddenly realised that his brother wasn't having one of his usual panic attacks, and paled again. His brother had always been anxious growing up, but after he had been shot out in the field, it had gotten much worse.

This wasn't normal. Gilbert was usually rational and logical, not panicked and hysterical.

"Bruder-"

"Promise me Ludwig!" Gilbert hissed down the phone. "You'll stay away from the main buildings. Promise me! You stay in Austria until I call again, alright?"

Stunned, all Ludwig could reply with was a stuttered 'okay'. His brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could ask any questions, the phone line went dead.

What's going on back in London? Ludwig thought anxiously, as he stood back up. And why can't I leave Austria?

The first thing that Feliciano noticed when he woke was that there were people talking around him. They spoke of someone called Veneziano, and the Italian had to take a few moments to remind himself that they were talking about him. Letting out a shaky breath, Feliciano opened his eyes slowly.

It was too bright and the sunlight pricked at his eyes, but he couldn't find the energy to lift his arm up to block the light. Three people were talking around him – one being a girl who looked quite familiar, another being a man in a doctor's coat, and the last a man who had her hand around the girl's shoulders.

He stared at them blankly, waiting for them to notice that he was conscious. After a few moments, the girl did, and after a few seconds, she was by his side. Now that he could see her properly, he realised that she was quite beautiful in an unconventional way.

"You collapsed, and so we brought you to the town doctor." She told him, in German. It took Feliciano a few moments to translate her words in his head, but then he nodded. He opened his mouth to thank her. The phrase died on his tongue, his throat too dry to speak.

He closed his mouth, instead settling for a grateful smile. He had always thought that the idea of someone helping him was impossible, but he'd just been proven wrong. The person Feliciano assumed was the doctor made his way over to him as the girl gave him some water.

"You've got a lot of wounds." The doctor told him with a frown. "You had a few broken bones here and there, and a few strained muscles, but I've put that down to over exercising."

The doctor gave Feliciano some time to take in what he was saying, and very timidly, the Italian nodded, understanding now, why his arm hadn't moved when he'd tried to move it – it was wrapped in plaster after all.

"Malnutrition is also high on the list with why you need medical care. You need to take proper care of yourself sir..." Once again, the doctor paused, "you've got to stay in bed for a few weeks at the least."

Feliciano could feel the worry in his chest, and was about to bolt up to his defence, but the doctor stared him down with a look that made Feliciano nod timidly. Then, the doctor finished telling him about his injuries.

"I'd like it if you stayed in my care for a few days. You had a particular injury on your foot. It got infected, and you showed up here as ill as you were because of blood poisoning. You should be glad that Rose here got you to see me when she did."

Feliciano's eyes widened – when his foot had bruised... it hadn't been a bruise? No wonder it had hurt so much. He nodded, and because his throat wasn't dry anymore he replied,

"Thank you."

The doctor nodded, and left the room along with the girl, and Feliciano slowly pulled himself up to a sitting position with his good arm. How could he have hurt himself so badly and not known of it?

The Italian hoped that his injuries wouldn't make it so that he was an easy target for anyone who wanted to arrest him.

Looking out of the window of the room, and into the street, his shoulder's tensed when he realised that yes – it would make him very vulnerable to the German who was making his way through the streets to the house.