Italy stared up at the ceiling, having woken up a while ago. Germany wasn't there, Italy assumed he had woken up a while before he did, since that's what usually happened. Italy was busy doing some hard thinking about the dream he'd had the night before.

It's definitely a continuation of my first dream, except this one actually told me something. I have to surrender. If I don't Germany will die. I know he'll get really mad, really really really mad. He'll probably hate me. I don't want him to hate me... but I don't want him to die either. Maybe he'll understand if I tell him? No, he'd tell me it was just a nightmare and to forget about it. I wanted to help, for once I really wish I didn't have to give up. Just this once I wanted to be useful, but I can't. I will never be useful, I just get in the way. If I don't surrender Germany will die, and it will be all my fault. I have to sign an armistice with the allies...oh Germany's really not going to like that. But I have to, even if he hates me it's better than him being dead. So I'm doing it, I'm definitely doing it.

Italy huddled further under the covers so that his head was covered "I really don't want to, though." He whispered.

He heard the bedroom door swing open, and a familiar voice spoke, wearily, "Wake up, Italy. We're heading back out."

Italy popped his head out from under the covers and was met by the face of a very tired German. "I'm already awake...ve, where are we going?"

Germany cocked one eyebrow, "To battle, you knew that."

Italy's heart almost stopped. No...no no no. Was that today? It doesn't matter, because I'm not going. I can't go, not now that I've made up my mind. Oh no, how am I going to explain this to him?

"Are you okay?"

Italy snapped back into reality, "Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. About that battle thingy...can we postpone that a day or two?"

"Are you crazy?" Germany looked at him, completely awestruck at Italy's absurd question, "You can't just postpone a battle, it doesn't work like that!"

What am I going to do? What if this is the battle where...where...no don't think about that. Just think of a way to get out of this...how do I get out of this?

Italy feigned a little cough, "But I think I might be sick."

Germany wasn't convinced, "Get up and get dressed. You're going."

He turned around and left out the door, giving Italy no more chances to convince him otherwise.

Okay, okay...I'll figure something out. Italy thought while getting out of the bed, There has to be a way, there must be something I can-

His thoughts stopped short as Italy rest his gaze on the window, suddenly getting an idea.

I'll just leave. Yeah, that's it. He'll be so mad, though. Oh well. It's not like what I'm about to do isn't already going to make him hate me.

Italy quickly got into his clothes, folded nicely atop Germany's dresser, who had probably discovered them on the floor and put up, due to his insane obsession with cleanliness. Once dressed he walked over to the window and looked out, suddenly realizing a flaw in his plan, this is a second story window...

Italy looked around the room for something, anything rope like. No such luck. I can just climb out...can't I? I know I'm clumsy, but if I'm really careful I shouldn't die. Hopefully.

He slid the window open and looked down at the perfectly trim lawn and hedges below him, "I can't believe I'm actually doing this."

He climbed carefully out, holding tightly to the sill and dangling scarily out the window before getting footholds on the brick wall. Okay...now what? What else is there to grab hold of? He discovered a small space near his belly button where a brick had fallen out, leaving a place to grab hold. He tightly gripped it with both hands and very carefully moved his feet down with the rest of him. Okay, now I need another hand hold. There was a very thin ledge a little lower down than where his elbows rested, it would have to do since it was all he had. He gripped it, but it really hurt. There was only enough space on it for the very tips of his fingers. He was slipping fast, and thankfully found another space where a brick was missing to grab hold of.

"Italy?" He heard Germany speak from the bedroom window.

Uh oh. That's not good...

"Where did he go?"

Climb faster, climb faster, climb faster! Italy chanted in his head, descending as fast as he could with as little places to grip he was given. He was only halfway down when Germany's head popped out of the window.

"WAS SIE HELL ARE YOU DOING!" Germany's face got so red Italy was afraid it might literally explode.

Italy didn't answer, rather he tried to descend faster, which was probably not the most intelligent idea. Before he knew it he was tumbling down off the wall, landing in a very conveniently place bush below.

"ITALY! GET BACK HERE NOW! WAS ARE YOU DOING? WHERE ARE YOU GOING!"

Italy rolled out of the rather spiky bush and began running down the street, a little while later he heard a door slam behind him in the direction of Germany's house, Here he comes, run! Run run run!

Italy ran as fast as he could through the strangest places possible, hoping to lose his German pursuer. Every time he's thought he lost him, though, seconds later he'd hear those familiar boots, trotting at him with terrifying speed.

Finally after what felt like hours of running (though it was probably only thirty minutes.) Italy found himself completely lost, but at least rid of Germany.

No going back now. He thought, catching his breath, Now...I just have to get to the Allies.