The sky was black. Italy ran across the icy ground, heart racing. He tried to laugh away his fear again, but his giggles came out more like squeaks. Instead, he focused on figuring out what he was going to say to his friends. Friends. He hoped that everyone was okay.

But when he stopped in front of the three nations, he could see that everyone was definitely not okay. Germany and Hungary both looked like they were doing everything they possibly could not to cry. America stood to the side, looking somber.

"Germany? Guys? What's going on?" Italy said. He looked at each of them in turn.

"Italy," Hungary took a deep breath. "Prussia's – gone."

Italy pulled her into a tight hug as she began to cry, rubbing her back and whispering I'm so sorry over and over again. Before long he felt like crying himself, but did his best to hold it in.

"At least he – was with Eliza – I'm glad it was quick too." Germany let out a deep sob. Italy hurried to give him a hug next.

"I'm sorry about everything," he said. "I'm really, really sorry."

Germany's broad shoulders shook. It was the first time Italy had ever truly seen him cry.

"I feel like a screw-up," America whispered as they sat in the hospital lobby again. "Sorry I showed up at such a bad time."

"It's fine." Italy's response was flat.

Austria was speaking rapidly with a doctor in the corner of the room.

"Sir, there was no one in that room." Italy heard the doctor say.

"There most certainly was! An excellent friend of mine!"

"What did you say his name was, again?"

"Gilbert. Gilbert Beilschmidt." Austria sounded near hysterical. The doctor disappeared behind a counter for a few minutes, than reappeared, shaking his head.

"We haven't had anyone by that name recently. Are you sure it wasn't Ludwig Beilschmidt?"

"I'm sure."

"Sorry, sir. I hope this miscommunication can be solved. Would you like the names of other hospitals in the area?"

"No, no." Austria inhaled deeply. "It's fine."

Taxis were arranged. America, Austria and Hungary were able to book hotel rooms nearby. Italy and Germany got back in the car.

They rode without music. Italy's driving, for once, was decent; he stopped at all the signs and drove at a reasonable pace until city streets began to turn into country roads.

"Do you need any help navigating?" Germany finally said after a while. He was finding hard to wrap his head around the idea of a house without Prussia. A house where he'd never hear trashy pop music and an off-key voice singing along. A house where Gilbird wouldn't be seemingly everywhere at once. The thought of it was almost unbearable.

"We're not going home just yet." Italy's voice was quiet but firm. "There's somewhere we need to be first. Go to sleep if you like."

He kept on driving until they reached a grassy field. Italy shut off the car and stepped outside while Germany slept soundly on the passenger side. The snow was beginning to stop.

Italy could feel the cool white stones under his feet that had made up a walkway so many years ago. Weeds grew in every crack now. A decorative arch leading into an overgrown garden still held many of its original baroque carvings, but the marble crumbled. The enormous whitewashed house, though, still seemed regal even in its state of disrepair.

Italy opened the car door again and leaned over to give Germany a soft kiss on the cheek. His eyes fluttered open and Italy giggled.

"Sorry to wake you, but we're here."

"Where's that?" Germany asked, wiping his eyes.

"Come and see."

Germany got out of the car and looked around at the ancient house, the decorative fountains and finally, at the little white archway.

And then he understood. Tears sprang to his eyes once again. "I remembered," he said hoarsely. "That was what I needed to tell you – in that chest, everything is in that chest and your push-broom – Prussia,"

He was cut off by Italy running to embrace him. They cried together, for Prussia, for so many years of forgetting and painful memories.

They held each other until there were no more tears left to cry, rocking gently back and forth under the sea of stars.

"I'm sorry," Italy said. "I know it was selfish to come right – right after Prussia."

"It's okay."

Italy smiled shyly at him. "Are you going to kiss me now?"

"Do you – do you want me to?"

"You promised."

Germany gave him a smile and leaned in to meet Italy. "I know." His lips were slightly chapped from the wind and cold, but gentle and firm on Italy's. The kiss was soft and slow, and he thought it felt like being warmed from a flickering fire.

When they finally broke apart, rather flushed, Italy gave him a quick hug and then skipped off. Germany stared after him, slightly confused and a little dizzy.

When Italy had found a broken piece of the white walkway that was just small enough for him to be able to carry it, he picked it up and carried it over to one side of Austria's old house. Germany followed him.

"Since Prussia can't really have a proper funeral, how about we honor his memory here?"

Germany lowered his head and nodded. "He always liked the blue cornflowers. Maybe we could pick him some when summer comes." They placed the piece of semi-polished stone in a clear patch of ground.

"Maybe he can have a better grave sometime." Italy said when they had finished.

Germany gave him a watery smile. "I think he'd be very happy right here."

And they walked away, hand in hand, and headed for home. Everything was different – Italy knew that. But he also knew, in the end, that as long as he and Germany were together, everything was going to be alright.

A/N: And...it's over! Thank you so much to all my reviewers, favorite-ers, and just readers period. You guys give me serious warm fuzzies. I love you all so much I might write an epilogue to this later.

Another ENORMOUS thank you to ChocolateTurnip!

Bye for now,

The Bird/Dragon