Dro: Sorry this wasn't up last night. I've been having hell with my (crappy) satellite internet for the last few days, and it gave up on me last night. Just got it back in working condition earlier today. Tch! Stupid ISP! Anyway, have at it.

Chapter Summary: Feliciano's first day of training is...interesting. Meanwhile, Alfred wakes up and finally receives news of the devastation of Ivan's attack.

Warnings: Violence; Language

Disclaimer: Come on, you know me well enough by now, don't you?

"Are you going to stand there cowering in fear, or are you going to fight me?" Lovino twirled the knife in his hands. Feliciano didn't have a single knife wound or even a cut yet, but he did have plenty of bruises from where his fratello had repeatedly body slammed him, tripped him, and threw him off balance into the nearby building. They had run through the basics of defense and offense when it came to hand to hand combat and combat with weapons like knives, but Lovino kept berating him at every turn. And Feliciano really couldn't blame him.

His resolve to learn hadn't waned, but as soon as they began to fight, he would flash back to Berlin, and the memories kept causing him to falter. He knew he needed to get over it. Ludwig and the assassin bastard had been through much, much worse already, he was sure, and he needed to be able to help them, which was something he couldn't possibly do if he was too afraid to pick up a knife and go at the enemy without hesitation. He shifted back into the fighting stance Lovino had taught him, and his brother raised an eyebrow, still spinning the knife. Lovino didn't even need to come at him with it, he knew. One throw to the right place—neck, eye, gut—and in a real fight, this would all have been over in seconds. He felt like an infant compared to Lovino.

And it wasn't that he didn't have any skills at all—Lovino had told him the opposite repeatedly—but he just couldn't bring himself to fight his brother seriously. Every time he made a move to strike, he would feel himself inching closer and closer to that deep, dark pit that he'd tried his hardest not to fall into back in Berlin. He couldn't deny it. He was afraid of losing himself by doing this. He was afraid of accidentally destroying the things that made him the Italy he was. He wanted to improve his skills, but he didn't want to kill everything that made him different from his other self in the process. Yet every time he raised that knife, it felt like he was doing exactly that. It was so against his nature, and it was partly his fight-hating nature that made him the nation he'd always been. To successfully do what he wanted to do would take a very careful effort to maintain a very fragile balance. One wrong move in one direction, and he would lose himself. One wrong move in the other, and it could very well cost him not only his own life but the lives of everyone he was doing this for in the first place.

But when it came down to it, one of those things was more important the other. And thus, he would go through with this, even if he had to fight himself the entire way there.

He tensed his muscles and closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He heard Lovino take off, and his eyes snapped open, his body ducking instinctively. He quickly shuffled around behind Lovino and brought the knife up, only to have Lovino's own knife—backed by a much stronger arm—meet it halfway. Lovino frowned.

"Not only are you exceptionally slow, but you're still hesitating. Just let go, Feliciano."

Feliciano frowned back. "That's exactly what I'm trying not to do."

Green eyes rolled around in their sockets. "And that's why you're failing so miserably."

He huffed. "Ve, I'm trying my best."

"No, you're not. You're letting your inhibitions get in the way. Remember when you were in Berlin. Remember when you fought to protect Ludwig. You fought valiantly and without restraint because their lives were at stake, right?"

He nodded silently.

"Well, think about this way, Feliciano. They are always in danger now. In fact, I'll bet that Ivan has already made his next move against them. Everything you're trying to learn here will help you protect them better. Every move you master will be a move you can use to save their lives again and again. And every second we are here, we are not there to help them at all. So the faster you learn—the faster you let go and let your instincts take over—the faster we will get to them. If you keep this up for too much longer, we won't arrive until they're long dead and gone."

He swallowed. "Ve, I know. I know. I just…" His hand slackened on the knife. He felt his pulse racing, and the rate of the thoughts coursing through his mind matched it. He closed his eyes again and just thought. About everything. About nothing.

And then he moved. He swung faster and harder than he had the entire day. He let the world around him fade, and he focused on only two things. Lovino's movements and his drive to protect Ludwig. This time, he caught Lovino's leg with his periphery as it moved to trip him, and he jumped over it, landing on the font of his feet, spinning, and jutting out his leg to trip Lovino the same way. But Lovino was still better. He evaded Feliciano with ease. Lovino moved like the wind, Feliciano noted. Once second he was fast and furious and deadly. The next he was calm and composed. One second he was there. The next he wasn't. Feliciano needed to move like that, needed to move in a way that was both flawless and unpredictable.

So he tried.

And he failed.

He fell to his knees a few moments later, Lovino's speed catching him off guard. He'd known Lovino was just toying with him, of course. He wasn't moving nearly as fast as he could, nor was he using his full strength. Feliciano clenched his teeth tightly and grasped the knife harder. He could do this. He had to.

Lovino snorted. "Well, gee, I tried this the nice way, and that didn't work. So what do I do now?" He kept spinning that goddamned knife. He crouched down, and Feliciano looked up to meet his gaze. Lovino's green eyes were hard and merciless. "Did Ludwig ever tell you what happened to this world's Germany?"

Feliciano swallowed nervously. "Yes. He said that…that he was killed." He frowned.

"By who?"

Feliciano forced himself to look away. "Um…" He knew who. Even if Ludwig hadn't wanted him to know, he knew who had done it. He had seen it in Ludwig's eyes when he and America had been telling the story. Ludwig never wanted to talk about the other Germany. But Feliciano had figured out. He'd never said anything about it. He knew why Ludwig wanted to keep it from him, so he played along with the charade. "The…the other me."

Lovino shook his head. "No. Feliciano did not kill him. I did."

Cold rushed through his veins. "What?"

"I killed him. I grabbed my own brother's hand as it held a kitchen knife, and I forced him to stab it into Germany's back. I killed him. And not only did I kill him, but I also emotionally destroyed my own Feliciano in the process."

"You…you killed…"

"Yep." Lovino blinked at him, apathetic.

"Why…why would you do something like that?"

"Because I was ordered to by Ivan." He turned around, still spinning that fucking knife.

"But…but why?"

He paused and shrugged. "I didn't think too much about it at the time."

"You didn't care?" It came out as a whimper. "You didn't care that you killed Ludwig?"

"At the time? Nope. Not a bit. He was meaningless on my radar back then. And if it hadn't hurt Feliciano like it did, he would still be today."

Something cracked. He took off, coming at Lovino full speed. Lovino dodged the first blow, but more followed. He struck out with everything he had, and Lovino parried, knives clanging, hands catching fists. Lovino tried to throw off his balance, but he jumped before the other man could manage, flipped over him, and brought his knee up, smashing it into Lovino's nose. His brother stumbled, and Feliciano slammed the hilt of the knife into his forehead, sending him reeling. Then he was on him again, pinning him to ground. He raised the knife and brought it down, chipping the concrete next to Lovino's head.

His breathing was ragged. "How dare you. How dare you say something like that about Ludwig!"

Lovino chuckled, breathless, blood rushing down his face. "I can't believe you fell for that."

Feliciano pursed his lips, realizing he'd just been played. "You…you…that was…Dio, you're such a bastard!" He pushed himself off his fallen brother and angrily stomped away. But before he was out of earshot, he quite clearly head his brother's last comment.

"Told you you could do it."

Alfred woke slowly, his eyelids heavy from pain medication and dulled aching. The ceiling came into focus first, and for a long while, that was the only thing he bothered to look at. The first thing he had to do was get his muddled brain to remember why he was in the hospital. After he'd established that they'd been attacked by Ivan again, he tried to remembered what had happened after that, but all he could recall was vague flashes of bright explosions and bursts of pain. Which he figured was pretty accurate. Finally, he turned his head, only to see Mattie sitting nearby, dozing in a chair next to his bed.

He swallowed, his throat extremely dry and sore. "Mattie…" He rasped. "Mattie!" He voice was barely there, but his brother seemed to hear him nonetheless. Matthew's eyes fluttered opened, and he gaze at Alfred for a few moments, uncomprehending. Then he gasped, sitting up.

"Alfred! Are you…are you okay? How do you feel?" There was a stitched up cut on his forehead and his left arm was in a sling, but he didn't seem to have anything more serious than that. Which Alfred was thankful for. The bruises on Mattie's face were finally fading away, and it hurt to think that those would just be replaced with more caused by Ivan's agenda.

"All right. Mostly. They've got me on some good pain meds right now."

Mattie nodded and smiled. "I'm glad." His face lit up with relief, and Alfred couldn't help but smile. He hadn't seen such a look on Mattie's face in what felt like forever.

"Me too. For you. And…" He didn't want that precious look to fade, but he knew had to ask the question. "Mattie…what about everyone else?"

Mattie's smile faltered. "Everyone…" He sighed. "The other me is fine. A sprained ankle, a dislocated shoulder, some bruising of the ribs, and a few mild burns. The other you made it through, but he probably won't wake up for a while. He lost a lot of blood, and he needed multiple transfusions. Arthur is okay too. And Artie. Arthur needed some major surgery on his legs, but he got through it just fine. He woke up a little earlier. Artie wasn't much worse off than you. He was still asleep last time I saw him. Um…but…"

He placed his hands over his brother's, which was gripping the railing of the bed. "Mattie, I need to know."

His brother nodded grimly. "I know that. It's just…We lost Denmark. Sweden is barely hanging on. The doctors are still trying to save one of Netherlands' arms. Vash was having another major surgery the last I heard. His…his chest was crushed by a falling beam. Ludwig was impaled in the stomach, and he isn't doing very well right now. And…And God, Gilbert's currently in a coma with barely any brain function. This is…This is quite possibly the worst thing that could have happened, Al. I don't know if we're going to recover from this one. And in the time it will take us to do so—if it's possible—Ivan will have all the time and opportunities he needs to pick up right where he left off."

"We'll get through this, Matt."

Mattie blinked back tears. "I hope so. I hope for everyone's sake that we do. Because if we don't, then we lose. Right here. And there will be nothing that anyone can do to stop Ivan."

Dro: Wow, that was kinda mean, Lovi...

Next Chapter: Alfred goes around to check on all the other nations. His meeting Al ends in disaster. His meeting with Arthur ends in confusion. His meeting with Artie ends up...well, you'll see.