A/N: WARNING- this chapter deals with the Holocaust.
This story is really helping me vent. It's a little like writing in a diary. That's a major reason I love writing. Things are falling apart for poor Gil, and the people who could help him are unable to at the moment.

Ah, sorry about that. Okay, onward! Longest chapter yet!

It had been weeks. Weeks since Ludwig last had contact with his brother. Every time he had come out here, to this spot in the Wall, and called for him, he had not received a reply.

Every day, he was out here. Learning the rugged surface, every rough brick that stood out, each spot of blue-grey liken. He would walk along it, in both directions, looking for another crack. He looked for just one more, maybe a little wider than theirs, so that he could catch a glimpse of East Germany.

So far, all he had was the tiny space between two uneven bricks. It was the one he had leant against that first day, when he thought he was talking to himself. The cement plastering had fallen off on both sides, and the mortar in between was also gone. Six centimeters long and three centimeters wide, he had measured.

But what was the point of a break in the barrier if Gilbert was not on the other side? Ludwig kept thinking about everything he had said, trying to find double meanings in the words.

I'm fine was the overwhelming topic of conversation. Gilbert was not fine, obviously. Or maybe he was, and Ludwig was just being an "overprotective younger brother." Gilbert was so difficult.

He kept thinking about how hoarse he had sounded, and he didn't like that Gilbert was sitting in the snow. Healthcare in Soviet-run East Germany could not be very good. Ludwig had no idea what happened to ex-nations when faced with human illness. Did it affect them? He knew that nations sometimes got sick, but it was never serious. If it was a country-related problem however…

"Ach mein Gott." Ludwig stopped pacing. He placed both hands on the wall and leaned against it. East Germans had defected at an alarming rate before the wall was complete. Even now, some were risking getting shot to get to the better-off side. Prussian was equivalent to Nazi.

His brother's own people were killing him. Ludwig stared at the dirty snow without seeing it. Who wanted to be East German? No one. Who wanted to call themselves Prussian? Only his brother. The glory days of Old Fritz were long gone, and their memory was tainted by Hitler's fascination with them. His brother was fading.

"Ludwig?" The voice was impossibly weak, almost carried away by the wind. Ludwig sank to his knees.

"Gilbert?"

"Hallo. What's up?" Gilbert muffled a cough. Ludwig's chest tightened with worry.

"Where have you been?" He didn't mean the words to sound so harsh, so mean. Gilbert was quiet. "I'm sorry, I'm just stressed. Are you alright?"

"Quit asking!" His voice broke, and he coughed again, harder. Ludwig leaned forward, forehead pressed against the rough wall. Cold air blew through the small crack, biting his cheeks. Why was it so much colder over there?

"I'm sorry," he said again. It was now February, and this wall had been put up in August. Already, it was falling apart. It seemed like the even the land didn't want it there. Cement flakes littered the snow, and the barbed wire on the top was rusting. Ludwig felt loose rocks grating against each other under his touch, but then, he was stronger than the average human.

"How's it going?" Caution laced Ludwig's words. He sounded so much stronger than he had the last time they talked. He grows stronger while I grow weaker…Gilbert bit back a sigh. Right now was about Ludwig. He was fine, right? Right. Fake it 'till you make it.

"It's not bad. How're you?"

"Great! Production is picking up, and I've been patching things up with the Allies. There was this new group from England that I went down to Hamburg to see a couple times. I read this morning in the paper that they have signed a contract in England and are planning on going to America! They're quite famous now."

"That's cool." Gilbert was too exhausted to say anything more. Things were going well for Ludwig. It had been so long since he had even thought about music.

Ludwig blushed when he realized he'd been babbling. He cleared his throat nervously.

"I have something for you." He reached into his bag and pulled out a box. He had splurged on this, but he knew that his brother would appreciate it. "Do you want me to toss it over?"

"Sure." Ludwig made sure that the string holding the lid down was secure and threw the box like a Frisbee. It flew in an arc over the barbed wire, the light brown cardboard contrasting with the dark grey sky.

He heard a soft thud as Gilbert caught it; twine being untied, and then silence.

"A coat?"

"Yes." An expensive coat."Do you like it?" He had bought it last week, on a whim. His boss had warned him against spending too much, as it was the government's job to keep him afloat and they were still rebuilding- pretty much the same lecture he got once a month when the heating bill came in. Ludwig couldn't help that Feliciano blatantly ignored the fact that he wasn't allowed to touch the thermostat.

"It's pretty cool. Danke."

"Bitte. Is it warm enough?" Ludwig had been sure Gilbert would like it. It was truly one of a kind, just like his older brother. It was made of soft black leather. The warm wool lining was Gilbert's favorite shade of yellow.

Gilbert slid the jacket on. His body heat quickly warmed it, and his fingers tingled as the feeling returned to them.

"It's perfect."

"I wasn't sure about your size, since I haven't seen you in a while..." and I might never again. The unsaid words lingered between them like the cold wall.

"No, no, it fits fine." The soft leather covered him like a circus tent, flowing in black ripples over his thin frame. He desperately needed some potatoes and wurst, washed down with a huge keg of beer. Snow, beets, and vodka did not build muscles.

"That's good. I also got you some cigarettes, but they are pretty pricey, so go easy on them." Ludwig knew that his brother would probably chain smoke them all in a night, no matter what he said.

"Okay." The familiar longing welled up in Gilbert's chest at the thought of the godly nicotine. There was a sullen silence from the other side. "West? Can you pass them over? Please tell me you brought a ligher."

"Oh, sorry. Here." A small pack flew over the wall and landed in Gilbert's waiting hands. Two seconds later, it was joined by a lighter.

"You're so generous." Gilbert snapped after counting them. "I'll go through these in day."

"Ration them."

"For fuck's sake, I'm tired of rationing! You of all people should know that." Everything had been rationed for the last twenty-odd years. Gilbert supposed it was God's punishment for trying to take over the world. Too bad Hitler didn't have to live through the aftermath. It was almost worse than the war.

"Gilbert." Oh God, it was the Tone. Not the "you aren't listening so I'm going to kick your ass" tone, it was worse. It was the "you aren't telling me what's wrong and it's hurting my feelings" tone. Ludwig was surprisingly good at it.

Way back in '42, Gilbert had found another side of Hitler's utopia. He was sent on a mission to the work camps to supervise. It was punishment for refusing to "take care" of the family of an official who was causing problems. Gilbert thought it was inhumane, these were his people, after all. When he had not completed the task, his boss had seen to it that not only was the entire family killed, but Gilbert was sent off to learn a lesson.

He had wound up working in a concentration camp in Poland. Felix himself was actually in a Berlin prison. As a supervisor in the camp, Gilbert had witnessed things no one should ever have to see. Even the years of being a kingdom basically created for war paled in comparison. The prisoners' empty eyes haunted him, dark brown pools of despair silently pleading with him. Skinny winter branches became their skeletal hands, reaching up to their god to save them. They cringed away from the gun slung across his back. How could they know he could never bring himself to use it? He knew how to handle a healthy, well-equiped enemy, but this? Children who were too tired to even cry, their parents lined up and shot like animals. These people were his "enemy."

When he came back to the capital, his mission was to hide the existence of such horrible places from his little brother. He had thought it would be easy. Just let him believe that work camps were places to get the Jews out of the way so that they could continue to build a glorious German state. But Ludwig was not stupid, he knew Gilbert was hiding something from him, just like now.

"What?"

"You know I love you, right?" Woah, emotion. Ludwig had always had trouble with the "L" word. Elizaveta would probably say that it ran in the family, he and Roderich weren't exactly romantics either. That's what the Mediterranean countries were for.

"I love you too, little brother. And I'm being completely honest when I say I'm fine."

"Alright, glad to hear it." Ludwig was still hesitant. He could climb over the wall right now, grab Gilbert, and hide him in his basement. It would be so easy, but once Ivan realised he was gone...He had dealt with an angry Russia once, and he wasn't really up for another round. Ivan would probably take out his anger on Gilbert, anyway. A few hours of his brother's freedom wasn't worth the risk of loosing him. "Well, I've got to go finish up some paperwork."

"Bye bye! Thanks for the coat."

"You're welcome." Ludwig touched his forehead to the wall one last time before standing and brushing off snow. He was going to talk to his boss about this attrocity marring his beautiful city. Not that he would listen, but getting the idea of a unified Germany into his head couldn't hurt.