Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia Axis Powers. Copyrights go to Hidekaz Himaruya.
Kotatsu tables = win. 'Nuff said. And thank goodness I'm reading parts of The Odyssey for English. x3 Also, I didn't wanna use Fahrenheit (people seem to use Celsius more), so ~37 degrees C is ~100 degrees F.
I have an epilogue planned after this chapter to explain Greece's condition - mon dieu, I kinda feel bad for making him go insane. x3 (Bwahaha, I'm making you guys wait for the full explanation of the story! Delayed gratification to the max.~)
As always, reviews = love. They keep me writing.
Enjoy!~

Trial Three: Destruction.

Waking slumber blurred the whole of Greece's periphery as he sat up, hands jerking upward to cover his face for a moment and ridding the saffron particles of sleep from his eyes. The center of his vision cleared to create a tunnel of clarity fringed by a miasmic haze. His aquamarine eyes deliberately scanned the room, brows rising in surprise at the sight of a lightly-sleeping Japan, lying beside him underneath the kotatsu table. The faint pitter-patter of rain buffeted the house, cleansing it and the surrounding earth. Midnight darkness shrouded the window outside, seeping like an insidious disease throughout the home: only the dim light of the moon barely illuminated the dusk. A hand reached out and shook Japan's shoulder until his eyes fluttered open, bolting upright immediately once he realized that Greece had come to. "G-Greece-san... you fainted. I'm sorry that Turkey dropped in unexpectedly... he likes to do that... I should have anticipated it and warned you. I know that you don't like him very much." He adjusted to sit on his knees, hands perched in his lap.

"It's not your fault," Greece replied. "I don't know what's wrong with me, Japan. I feel... out of control..."

Apprehension haunted Japan's cordovan eyes as he extended a hand toward Greece, taking one of the other's into both of his. "Would you allow me to take you to a doctor?"

Greece shook his head swiftly, though he immediately wished that he hadn't: it felt as if his brain had been jarred as viscous dizziness engulfed him. "I don't need a doctor. I'm not sick."

"That may be the case, but..." Japan hesitated, squeezing Greece's hand before he continued, "...something isn't right. A doctor may be able to help."

Greece tugged his hand out of Japan's clutch as he struggled to stand - the world around him seemed to spin double time on its axis. He thought he could almost feel the ground beneath him rotate. "I said I'm not sick. I just need fresh air."

He left Japan sitting in the middle of the living room as he passed through the hallway and crossed the front door's threshold, regaining his sense of balance in his advancement. Nature's breath encircled him, her boreal fingers snaking around his limbs and neck, her tears saturating his clothes and hair as he ventured off of the path carved into the ground, cutting through the sparse forest that stretched out across the left side of Japan's property.

He always tries to manipulate you, doesn't he? What a pushy little country he is... he should learn his place.

"Get out of my fucking head," Greece whispered, hands flitting up to the sides of his head as his palms pressed into chilly ears.

You need me. I will guide you. Without me your decisions are rash, not for the betterment of yourself. I will be your Athena, if you are indeed the cunning Odysseus. Without my help, you will never find your way home.

Greece softened at the mention of his mother's goddess and the hero that she eternally revered. His hands returned to his sides as a foggy memory surfaced in his mind of a much younger version of himself situated on his mother's lap in a half-asleep daze, listening to the rolling cadence and fervent tone of his mother's voice as she relayed the supernatural adventures of the hero, Odysseus... her hero... "Where is home?"

Oho, so you've finally come around! Let your feet guide you. Listen to my voice.

"Who are you?" Trees skirted beside Greece on all sides as the light of the moon seemed to intensify, the world laid out before him shimmering as if the temperature instantaneously spiked to 37 degrees Celsius instead of just above freezing.

I've already told you! I am your guide.

"Where are you guiding me?"

Home.

The laden presence that seemed to have rooted itself in the very back of Greece's head vanished almost completely as he halted a few steps away from the dampened shore of a natural pond. Citrine reeds poked out from the languid water's surface, dispersed almost at an even interval around the perimeter of the body of water. Greece's head tilted skyward, gazing upon the hallowed full face of the moon, blue-green eyes tracing the outline of the Sea of Tranquility. "Hey, Greece! Didn't expect to see you here!"

The voice that called to him now harmonized with the voice that had planted itself on the edge of Greece's mind. His head snapped to the right, eyes narrowing instantly at the sight of Turkey trotting lazily up to him. He seemed to be dressed for bed, wearing only a t-shirt and baggy flannel pants. "Why are you here?" Greece asked vehemently, his hands reflexively balling into fists as animosity as hot as the very sun pitted in the bottom of his stomach, thermal heat spiraling outward to sear his insides and mottle his cheeks with crimson.

"I should be the one asking you that, actually! Japan let me stay in his country for a few days - I wanted to see his architecture and history, all the usual stuff. Technically, this is the property I'm staying on," Turkey explained matter-of-factly, jamming his hands into his pockets. "I didn't realize how cold it was out here before I ran out of the house... I should've grabbed a jacket or something... Eh?" His sepia eyes spotted Greece's fists at his sides as he took a step closer to the Mediterranean country. "What's wrong, Greece? You look tense."

A peculiar image flickered across Greece's gaze for an instant: he espied the fragile form of Japan glaring at him, a teasing grin upturning his lips as an arm slid securely around Turkey's waist... Greece's teeth gritted as his hands began to quiver with the sheer force tautening his fists. "You're after Japan. Aren't you?"

One adumbral brow quirked incomprehensibly. "What makes you think that?"

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't have good reason. You already know a lot about Japan's culture, architecture, art... you are not here to learn. You did that just a few centuries ago... you must be after Japan." Certain confidence lingered in Greece's teal-hued irises as he took a sure step toward Turkey, a warrior-esque aura seeming to infiltrate the increasingly-tense air around him.

"Heracles, listen to me," Turkey stated firmly, defensively withdrawing his hands from his pockets, "I'm not after Japan. Can't I have the liberty to take a vacation once in a while?"

His words had no effect on the energetic gait of Greece's steps. "You have the whole world at your feet and you decide to visit Japan, a country that you are obviously far too familiar with. Did the thought ever cross your mind to go somewhere else? You are not wanted here."

Turkey shrugged, his hands fisting and popping up to hover in front of his chest as he positioned one foot behind him. "I don't care if I'm not wanted here. I wanted to come here, and so I did. Japan even welcomed me to stay here. You're blowing this out of proportion."

"No. You're wrong, Sadiq. I am protecting Japan. You... need to leave..."

With more speed than thought possible Greece flew across the few feet that separated him from Turkey, his dominant fist snapping up as his knuckles connected with his nemesis's cheek. The blow didn't seem to faze Turkey as he shoved his fist into the center of Greece's toned stomach, knocking his assailant back a few paces. "You're no match for me, Heracles. Leave me alone."

Greece charged in an attempt to tackle Turkey; the taller country's hands unballed as he grappled the other's shoulders, effortlessly flinging Greece over his back using his own momentum. Turkey pivoted about-face and unsheathed a stiletto dagger from a band around his bicep, initially concealed by the sleeves of his shirt. He pointed the freshly-sharpened blade directly at Greece, eyes narrowing to slits. "You must have a death wish, Heracles."

"That useless weapon alone will not kill me, Sadiq! You yourself know that!" Greece roared as he scooped up a fistful of stagnant water from the edge of the pond, racing toward the other country. "Countries do not die as easily as humans!"

He shoved the water into Turkey's face as his other hand deftly wrested the blade from his enemy's tight grasp: an aged memory of battle piqued Greece's mind, envisioning an armor-clad beast of a soldier in front of him with a formidable sword thrust toward him... He threw himself onto Turkey, straddling his stomach and pinning him against the unyielding sand below, the very tip of the tempered steel hovering just centimeters above the cottony fabric of Turkey's shirt. One large hand coiled around both of Turkey's wrists, shoving them against the ground above his head. The other's eyes remained closed after the onslaught of water that they endured. "You said it yourself, Heracles," Turkey spouted, noticeable acrimony tingeing his tone, "countries don't die that easily. Even if you plunge that stupid knife into my heart, I'll still survive."

Greece thrust the miniature sword into Turkey's chest before yanking it back out and repeating the motion. "I don't care. It's worth it..."

Thick, scarlet blood tainted the center of Turkey's lightly-colored shirt before gradually diffusing through the fabric; Turkey gnashed his teeth together, barely holding back the howl of pain that his reflexes had conjured in his throat. Greece impaled him again, though the strength behind the blade abruptly fell short as his own heart oscillated abnormally, pounding against his sternum. Numbness prickled all of the nerve connections that spiderwebbed underneath the skin of his left arm, leading back to the left side of his chest. He released Turkey's wrists and abandoned the blade, his right hand automatically clawing at his chest. Turkey took the pained gesture as an opportunity for an opening, wrenching his own weapon out of his skin and shoving Greece down, taking only a second to stand and press his foot into Greece's stomach to hold him. "Is it truly worth it, Greece? Maybe I should invade you again, for what you've done to me. Would you like that, bastard?"

Greece's heart felt as if it had attempted to leap out of his chest: its beat spiked dramatically, pumping against his eardrums until it had completely overridden Turkey's voice. A blazing ache blossomed in his chest, as if an invisible, metric-ton anvil had been placed overtop his heart. His fingertips tried futilely to stop the pain by gripping his chest, undoubtedly leaving rose-hued trails against his tanned skin. His jaw seemed to have a mind of its own completely disconnected from his: he attempted to talk, to cry out 'Get Japan', but his voice died in his throat. Turkey scrutinized Greece's face for the first time since they had encountered each other on the edge of the pond, eyes widening as he read the words formed on the other's lips. "Get... Japan? I don't think you're in the position to be making requests right now, Heracles. Get him yourself."

Turkey pressed his weight onto the foot that pinned Greece before moving it off of him, deciding then to traipse back toward the way he had initially originated. Quartz tears cascaded down Greece's cheeks though his face did not contort with the effort of crying: the sky above him swam in tears and underlying delirium. Subzero cold, much more frigid than the air that engulfed him or the rain that drenched him, cracked overtop of his head much like an egg, relentlessly permeating into his being. His eyes narrowed as an intense light pierced the night sky just above the moon: he watched something- its humanoid figure appeared feminine- float down from the heavens as it suddenly took shape when it reached him. Her hair bounced in the air as if an upward breeze blew against it, seeming to possess the same hue as his own... an otherworldly, auroral aura enveloped her porcelain skin, directly contrasting with the chocolate color of her hair... an ivory toga draped elegantly across her body...

Her feet met the sandy shore beside Greece's shoulder as she crouched beside him; recognition dawned upon him as she leaned down and pecked his forehead, her aqua eyes meeting their exact replicas. "It seems that my gods and goddesses were unable to help you in your time of dire need, my son," she spoke eloquently, her voice gaining an echoey attribute as it met the crisp, pre-dawn air. "However, that's alright. No need to fret."

"Mother... it hurts..." Greece managed, though his voice seized once again in his larynx.

A hand reached down to cup his cheek, pleasantly radiating with matriarchal warmth and of childhood days gone by. "I know. It will not hurt much longer, Heracles. You have become such a strong young man... I knew that you would. I am so proud of you."

Greece tried to extend his hand toward his mother, though to no avail: his nerves resisted the electrical commands his brain sent. "Help me... please, Mother... help..."

She nodded as her body straightened, her hand remaining outstretched toward him. "Of course. It is time for you to come home... my son."

The chains of pain that coiled almost comfortingly around Greece unshackled him - the bumping in his chest slowed to almost nothing, the heartbeat vanished from his eardrums as his hand finally reached toward his mother, the clear tear tracks that adorned his face fading into his skin, the rain around him seeming to halt in midair. "Yes, Mother. Home sounds nice after all this time."

To be continued.