Chapter Four
America stared at the metal man. He was frozen solid where he stood, with a firm expression and agitated posture. He looked as though he were tensing, getting ready to defend himself from attack, or about to attack. America took a step closer, staring more intently than ever. He slowly reached his hand out to the metal man.
"America!" Italy called from behind the trees. "I got some food together!"
"Sweet!" America said happily. He turned from the metal man and ran toward Italy, with the promise of food making him forget his unusual find not too far away.
While the ingredients weren't much but wild fruit, Italy had cooked them in such a way that the flavors mixed together into a sweet and slightly salty dish. It served as dinner, but tasted more like dessert. America had a thing for sweets, and even though this dish didn't glow in the dark, he didn't complain. Even if he had, his mouth would have been too full for Italy to understand him.
All too soon, the food was gone and neither of the two had eaten enough to be full. They weren't necessarily hungry anymore, but they certainly still had room. "I wonder if that metal dude has any more grub," America mumbled absentmindedly.
"Metal… dude?" Italy repeated.
"Oh, right, I forgot to tell you. There's some guy in the woods over there made of metal, just standing there. Maybe he rusted or something. And get this—he had an axe!"
"Wow," Italy said.
"C'mon, dude, I'll show ya."
Italy didn't like the sound of a metal man; it sounded scary. But night was closing in, and the animal noises were sounding scary, too. America was disappearing into the woods, and Italy didn't want to be left alone. He hurried after America, holding Pooky close and petting him for some comfort.
"Here he is, dude. He looks like iron or something," America presented. He held out his gloved hand which had straw sticking out.
Italy's heart leaped. "Germany!" he said with a smile.
"Huh?" America looked at the metal man. "Oh, yeah! He does kinda look like Germany, doesn't he?"
"It is him!" Italy cheered. "But… he's just standing there."
"Mmmmmrrrrrrrggg…" Germany mumbled.
"What?" Italy asked. "I can't hear you, Germany."
"Mmmmmrrrrrrrggg!" Germany tried screaming though his metal lips. Still, neither of them understood.
"I got an idea, dude," America's face lit up. A mischievous smile spread across his lips as he reached or Germany's face.
"MMF! MMF! MM!" Germany's muffled cries grew louder, more frightened, as America drew closer.
"Open wide!" America shouted, almost laughing. He gripped the metal jaw with one hand and the metal nose with the other, then yanked them apart.
"Oooooooouuuuuch!" Germany screamed at the top of his lungs. "Verdammt, Amerika! Ich werde dich töten!"
Italy jumped and hid himself behind America. "He used to tell me that a lot; It means 'I'll kill you'." Italy trembled.
"How's he going to kill me, dude?" America said. "He's rusted solid."
Germany growled and strained his arms, but to no avail. They were, as America had said, rusted solid. "If I weren't rusted I would kill you in a heartbeat!" Germany screamed.
"Hey, look," America pointed. "You can talk. Guess how that happened?"
Germany tested his jaw, finding that, although squeaky, was able to open and close. "Alright," he said. "I won't kill you. Can you help me out some more?"
"Sure!" America said. He and Italy set about forcing Germany's limbs to bend against the rust. America had accidentally dented him in his powerful grip when an especially rusted joint was in need of bending, and Germany was visibly in pain.
"Sorry, dude," America would say, straining to free the joint. A long, painful process for Germany left him freely able to move, but occasionally trailing red-brown bits of rust from his knees and elbows. As America twisted and bent Germany's limbs, Italy told him all that had happened.
Even though he was able to, Germany was in far too much pain to move about. Instead, he lay there on the ground, breathing heavily, trying not to yell. Even though he was with friends, he had trained himself to endure torture and out of habit kept himself from screaming. America wiped some stray pieces of straw from his eyes and gently laid Germany against a tree. Italy tore up a peach and fed it to him. His jaw had stopped squeaking now, and when he had finished the peach, Italy tossed the pit away.
"How did you get all rusted, Germany?" asked Italy.
"It was getting cold out," Germany explained through his breaths, which, although heavy, were slowing down to normal. "I was chopping wood for the fire at my house, since I was running low. Then that damn France came by and dumped a bucket of water on me. I braced myself to attack him, but I was moving too slow; the water he'd thrown on me was freezing and rusting me in place."
"Didn't you have a tube of grease or oil or something?" asked America.
"I did; but France stole it."
"What would France want with oil?" America asked.
"Who knows?" Italy responded. "But this means you have to be careful and not get rusted, Germany."
"Ja, I know that," Germany said. He yawned and his jaw squeaked again. America and Italy, after seeing Germany yawn, yawned also.
It had been a long day for all of them, and Italy was the first to fall asleep. Pooky curled up next to him and purred gently until sleep overcame him, too. America lay down. He was tired, and in the process of falling asleep, but had not done so yet. He looked over at Germany, who didn't seem to be resting at all. Rather, he was looking this way and that, as if keeping watch, his glances often lingering on Italy.
"Dude, aren't you going to sleep?" America was usually loud, but in considering Italy's sleeping and Germany's expression, he had taken on his gentler, more serious tone.
"Nein; I'm not very tired."
"This is the first you've laid down in ages, dude. How could you not be tired?"
Germany said nothing; he just looked at Italy, who'd let out a snore. "Ve," Italy whispered in his sleep.
"You know," America had adjusted his position, now lying on his back with his head resting in his hands. "There's still bitterness from all those wars. You'd think that when we'd stopped killing each other, things would go back to normal. Britain used to tell me all kinds of bad things about France, and when France helped me get independence from Britain, he did the same thing. I used to wonder why they did that, even after the wars were over. I think I kinda know now, but it's hard to explain. Once you've built an image in your mind of someone, it's hard to change the image to something better. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try."
Germany was dumbfounded. He looked at America, who was staring at the stars through the trees.
"You told me you didn't have a brain. Where did that come from?" he asked.
"Insight hardly ever comes from the brain, dude," America said with a smile and a blush. "It comes from the heart. You've got a brain, I'm sure you'd have known that."
Germany sighed and looked down, ashamed. "I haven't got a heart," he admitted quietly. America turned to face him.
"How's that possible?" he asked. He didn't mean anything by it, but his question made Germany even more ashamed.
"If it's possible for you to be without a brain, it's possible for me to be without a heart," he said in an irritated voice.
"Sorry, dude," America said. "I didn't mean… I- I was just…"
Germany didn't say anything. America sat up and moved closer to him, leaning against the tree alongside Germany. "Maybe the wizard we're going to can give you a heart," America offered.
Germany looked up in joyful surprise. "Would he?" he asked. "That would be… that would be wunderbar!"
America tilted his head. "Something I've noticed about you, dude. Your English is really good, but when you get really happy, or really sad, or really angry, you start speaking German."
"What's your point?" Germany asked.
America shrugged. "I don't have one. It's just something I've noticed."
Germany looked back at Italy.
"Hey," America said. Germany turned around. "What do you say we try to get along again? Maybe get rid of the old image?" America smiled and offered Germany his right hand. After a brief moment of shocked hesitation, Germany smiled and shook it. America went back down to lie in his previous spot.
"America," Germany said. "I'd always assumed you'd never… be the first to offer to be friends again. I'd always thought… you were too prideful."
America smiled. "Pride isn't something we're born with; it's something we're taught. It's a part of the brain, and the heart wants friendship more than anything. It's funny; the heart wants what's best without thinking of the consequences for getting it. The brain…" America trailed off, not knowing much about brains.
"The brain is afraid of the consequences," Germany finished. "Often getting in the way of the heart."
America nodded. "With no hearts, we're evil. With no brains, we're stupid."
"We can't win," Germany said with a dismissive smile.
"Get some sleep, dude," America said. "You really need it."
"Who will keep watch?" Germany asked.
"I have a feeling it'll be okay," America said, nodding off.
Germany didn't say anything, but tried to make himself more comfortable against the tree.
It didn't take long for both of them to be sound asleep.