Yo, Hikou no Kokoro here, bringing you the last part of Reason 1. I hope this part pleases your expectations. But I have to admit though, this chapter got a little unsteady somewhere, due to my poor planning in the previous parts, so some historical parallels and references may go right over your head. However, I do hope that doesn't hurt the effect and change the message I'm aiming for, since I did try to patch up my mistakes. Unfortunately, I will also warn you all that the next chapter might come around a little late, since I hit a terrible writer's block in the beginning, unsure on how I shall execute the part. So I apologise beforehand.

Anyway, I forgot to do this in the last chapter (I'm so sorry!). Special thanks to all those who reviewed!

Reason 1, Part 1: Crazy Green Earphones and NeonMonkey.

Reason 1, Part 2: ForestFireSong, Crazy Green Earphones and firelight3.

So, enjoy!

Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers: Hetalia. It belongs to Himaruya Hidekaz. I merely own the AU plot.

To Create Perfection

"One death is a tragedy; one million is a statistic."
—Joseph Stalin

"Reason 1: Tower of Babel, Part 3"

Gilbert and Fritz had become increasingly close as time passed. The two were rarely seen apart. Gilbert had a terrible habit of following the old man around like some sort of lost bird. But Fritz didn't mind too much and would always give the boy a nice pat on the head. The old man would often give Gilbert errands, or "jobs" as Gilbert called them, and the boy wouldn't hesitate to run off and complete every instruction to the letter. They would teach and learn from each other, and would do everything together. They even went back to Canada. And this time around, before Fritz could even fire, Gilbert had sniped a deer in its midstride. Fritz didn't even need to hand Gilbert praise; all he did was pat the boy's head, and the boy already felt like he was soaring over the world. Then they sold the meat for money to buy little Canadian trinkets. Gilbert tried to buy something for Fritz, but Fritz said that he wasn't a child anymore and turned everything down. However, Fritz did manage to find a small plushie of a yellow bird and gave Gilbert that. The boy gratefully accepted the present and narcissistically dubbed the stuffed animal "Gilbird." The two both laughed at the stupid name. The two also bought an antique called the "Happy Flower." It was a plastic figurine of a flower in a pot, and running on solar power, the flower and its leaves "danced" and "swayed." Both little souvenirs made it to BCWD: "Gilbird" found a safe home in Gilbert's pocket as he carried the plushie wherever he went, like the child that he was; the "Happy Flower" rested on the window sill, always sitting there and "dancing" its solar life away.

Despite all the great times Gilbert and Fritz spent together, Fritz's health deteriorated as years passed. The closer Gilbert got to Fritz, the worse the old man's condition was. But it was inevitable anyway. Fritz was an eccentric man; he wasn't a big fan of all those weird drugs that BCWD was spitting out of its science department. And rarely did he follow his doctor's orders, despite Gilbert's pleadings. The first things to go were Fritz's legs. They crumpled underneath him while he was walking down the staircase. That gave Gilbert a horrendous shock. Luckily, Fritz was fine afterwards, but he was bound to a wheelchair, and had to have Gilbert push him around because the old man didn't want to ride in one of those "stupid electric" ones built for "the idiot masses of the lazy." Then Fritz's vision started to go as well. The old man couldn't quite aim properly anymore. His reading glasses' lenses were getting increasingly thicker by the month. And finally, Fritz was beginning to get more and more tired by the day. He would do less and less, and his attention span became as jumpy as a squirrel's. Eventually, he spent most of his time sleeping, and Gilbert would always stand guard beside the sleeping man, growling and threatening the lives of those who dared to think of disturbing Fritz's long naps, and hoping that Fritz would get better faster with undisturbed sleep. Later, Gilbert would get three dogs to keep Fritz company as well. Gilbert hoped that if Fritz busied himself with taking care of the canines, then Fritz would relax and feel better. The trained dogs kept Fritz awake a little bit more as Fritz would have them retrieve him things, and Gilbert was glad that the old man seemed to be doing better while they played with the animals.

But it was inevitable. Gilbert knew it. One day, Fritz would die.

Fritz knew that as well. So as the clock counted away his numbered days, he decided to pull one outrageous stunt.

Frederick Hohenzollern declared the World Domain independent.

It had taken many days and conferences for Frederick to persuade the World Domain "government." Hours were spent behind the desk, writing papers and reports and making speech after speech with Gilbert standing stiff beside his wheelchair. The idea was actually not foreign to the World Domain. A total of five people had suggested that independence. Each proposal was shot down. Fritz was the first to hold a concrete conviction that did not waver under the rejection of the superiors. He listened to each opposition and turned each one on its head. Statistics, theories, laws and philosophies were all tools for Fritz's grand idea. But his biggest persuasion was of an ideal.

"We must declare it now," he had said. "We have long separated ourselves from the rest of the world, and we have enough resources and inventions, enough secrets and confidential information, to withstand a war. We have seen advancement that humanity would never have achieved. But we all know that we're still bound by the rest of the world, which does absolutely nothing for us. They refuse to give us 'controversial' resources that are pivotal to continue going. And I know that you know what I mean." He had paused for a moment, waiting for his audience to realise the implications, and then continued. "They say that the sky is the limit. They are right. They say that they permit us to do whatever we want, yet they have placed the limit. We have reached the sky; we have the heavens within our hands, but we need to keep going. And in order to be completely gone from controversy, we must declare independence."

Frederick repeated those ideas over and over again before his superiors. For weeks upon weeks, the subject was brought up and discussed. Frederick was insistent, unable to take the multiple no's and possibly's coming from the administration's mouths. Nobody quite understood why Frederick was so keen. Gilbert asked once, while he was pushing Frederick down the hallways with one of the dogs trotting beside him, and he got an answer—an answer he didn't quite understand. Maybe it was because the old man was tired and was starting to fall asleep, but this was what he said:

"Gilbert, I may be a soldier, but I'm a scientist too. This is my personal little experiment. I want to see if science can truly separate from humanity. Maybe reason isn't godless."

Gilbert tried to ask what Frederick had meant, but the old man was already snoozing away, head lolled to the side and his tired hands lain on his blanketed lap. After that, Gilbert never brought the subject up again.

A day passed. A flag that the world had never seen before was raised to the tip of a flagpole. It was white with light blue lines coursing through the sheet like veins and a large, black dot at the centre. Shouts of a mixture of joy and anger roared through the countries. That day, the whole World Domain rose up in celebration. And the next day, millions upon millions of people in developed nations would follow closely behind. Then, a month later, the world would declare war.

The World Domain declared independence. Frederick had won.

But Gilbert didn't celebrate. Neither did Frederick. They couldn't participate in the cheers, the music, the parties, or the drinks. Gilbert chose not to join; the day was his most dreadful. The boy dragged himself around, depressed, and he refused to break out the beer that was stored in the back. Frederick couldn't join; the day was his happiest. The old man was in bed, unable to move, and he couldn't find the strength the open the beer bottles. Sickness finally caught up to Frederick, and there was no more escape. No medication, procedure, or operation would be able to help him. There were no monitors, tools, or drugs at his bedside; the doctors had lost hope, and Frederick had refused anything other than water and blankets. Nothing would be able to save an old man waiting to die.

Gilbert and Frederick spent all day in the infirmary, ignoring the cheers that echoed from the building across the campus. The old man slept most of the time, tucked in his immaculate bed, but he would sometimes wake up and speak blearily to Gilbert, who refused to leave his side. They talked about only a few things: SS, trinkets from Canada, and their happiest days.

Sometime in the morning, Frederick had opened his eyes to see Gilbert standing at his bedside. One of Frederick's dogs was beside Gilbert; its chin rested on the edge of the bed, black, little eyes looking at the old man. The boy held himself like a soldier, just like how he was trained, and stared out the window. That disconcerted Frederick a bit, and he tapped Gilbert's hand, smiling upwards. A jolt shocked Gilbert out of his trance, and he looked down at Frederick, visibly relaxing as he smiled at his mentor and asked what Frederick needed. The old man shook his head and asked what the weather was.

"The sky is blue. There's only a little bit of clouds. And the breeze is nice too," Gilbert had replied.

"So a great day to be outside?"

Gilbert had shrunk at the notion. His shoulders rode up his neck and he looked to the side, saying nothing.

"How's everybody else? I heard them preparing some celebrations earlier. Aren't you going to join them?"

Again, Gilbert said nothing.

Frederick smiled and reached at Gilbert's hands. "I wish I had brought you to Sanssouci. I know you'd like it there."

"'Sanssouci'? Where's that?"

"Oh, it's SS. It's really nice there. Just like Canada. One of the few towns that refused all of the new renovations."

"Wait, wasn't SS the previous capital? The first one when the World Domain was built, but was moved when planes tried to bomb the headquarters?"

"Yeah, it is. It's the most beautiful town you can find here, with its brick buildings, rock streets, gothic churches…" Frederick sighed and closed his eyes again. "'Sanssouci,' the French words for no worries… I love it there; it's so…"

Frederick's words trailed off when he drifted to sleep. Gilbert pondered the words for a moment, and then decided that he was going to visit "Sanssouci" when Frederick was "better." Then he pushed Frederick's hand back in the blankets and resumed his stiff post, only responding when Ludwig came in and brought food for lunch.

The next conversation was during lunch. Frederick wasn't quite awake when Ludwig came in, but he was an hour later. Gilbert helped the old man sit up against the large pile of pillows at the head. The boy had waited for Frederick to wake up to eat so then they could enjoy the food together. Unfortunately, Frederick refused the spicy soup and simply watched Gilbert eat a bowl of noodles. They didn't talk about anything for a while, and only Gilbert's soft slurping added to the "conversation." And during this moment of painful silence, Frederick noticed something weird.

"Where's Gilbird?"

"Gilbird?" Gilbert paused, setting his fork into the bowl with a clink. His eyes were cast downward as he spoke softly. "I left him next to the Happy Flower on your desk. I dropped him in the mud yesterday on accident, so I got him washed. He's drying right now."

That was a lie. The day before, Gilbert had went on a rampage in Frederick's office, screaming, pushing, kicking until he let out a horrid, choked cry and sank to his knees. People had panicked upon hearing the noise, but the door was locked so people in uniform had to knock down the door. When the doctors entered, Elizaveta, who was amongst the soldiers who broke the door, had to stop them and tell them to wait until Gilbert calmed down. The scientists had mistaken him for a patient who broke out of his room, judging from his incoherent shouts and the sheer destruction he caused. And during the pained episode, Gilbert knocked down the "Happy Flower" off its stand and threw Gilbird at a wall. The antique shattered on the floor. It was later brushed up off the floor and stuck through the Land Control Facility to help create paper that Francis would use. Gilbird went by relatively unscathed, so Gilbert picked up the stuffed animal and buried the bird deep into one of the drawers of Frederick's desk. Gilbert inherited the desk a year later, and when he found Gilbird in the drawer, he drove to Sanssouci to leave it there.

But Frederick didn't know that. He merely smiled, patted Gilbert's hands, and went back to sleep.

Frederick slept for the rest of the day until late evening. He woke up to find Gilbert sitting on a plastic chair and sleeping with his head on the bed. It seemed like nobody else was there, and when Frederick turned his head to the right, he didn't see the dogs that customarily stood guard with Gilbert. The canines must have been taken away. The old man didn't want to wake up the boy, so he spent a good hour staring up at the ceiling and petting the messy, blond hair. When Gilbert let out a small groan and shifted, Frederick pulled back for a moment to wait for a further response from Gilbert, but the boy didn't move. Then Frederick petted Gilbert again and spoke, his voice soft and croaking.

"Don't be sad, Gilbert. Today is the happiest day of my life. I have no worries. Tonight, I will not go to Elysian; I will go to Sanssouci."

Gilbert hiccupped, his head jolting up just a bit. Frederick noticed this, but he continued to run his hand through the boy's hair as if nothing happened. Eventually, the old man slipped back into sleep.

In the middle of the night, at around an hour before midnight, Gilbert jerked awake, eyes widening almost painfully. The room seemed colder, like a damp cave or den. In fact, he was starting to shiver; his lips turned a shade of blue and purple, like a bruise; his face turned abnormally pale and almost translucent; his teeth clattered together. He tried to will himself to stop the show of weakness, biting his lips to prevent the painful clacking of his teeth. When had the room gotten so cold? Was the heating system broken, or did someone turn down the thermostat on this August night? Whatever the cause was, Gilbert didn't care. He just had a foreboding feeling of loneliness, as if something was getting up to leave. Curling into himself and rubbing his shoulders with his hands, the boy glanced around the room. The dogs were no longer by his side; he remembered them coming over earlier in the day, but when one of them tried to get the sleeping Frederick to get up and play fetch with her, Gilbert ordered them taken away. And Frederick, as always, was still there, his chest, thankfully, still rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. Gilbert whimpered and scooted his chair closer to Frederick's bed. He folded on himself and rested his cheek on the sheets. His teeth were continuing to click together, and whether he kept his mouth opened or closed, they would still make the terribly annoying noise.

Frederick woke up. Gilbert could hear something shifting in the bed, and then a finger lightly tapped on his shoulder. The boy jerked up again to see Frederick's head turned towards him. A small smile graced the old man's face. The wrinkles that curled around his muscles had wrinkles themselves. And his sharp, blue eyes were faded, blurry and borderline glassy. They were no longer holding the spirit of a resilient, clever man who could glower and laugh all at the same time. And they didn't seem to be looking at Gilbert anymore; instead, they were seeing something past Gilbert's shoulders, through the walls, and down the BCWD campus. Then the old man spoke. His voice cracked, choked, and it couldn't carry any further than the edge of the bed.

"Aster… the dog… Put a quilt over him. He's shivering…"

Gilbert gave Fritz a questioning look, lifting his head and staring down. Then he glanced around him. He didn't see any dog in the room, and the door behind him was shut. Nothing would have been able to enter, and Fritz would never have been able to see anything other than Gilbert anyway. Turning back around with his eyebrows raised, Gilbert opened his mouth to ask what Fritz had meant.

Then Fritz threw his blanket over Gilbert.

The movement was weak. The wrist jerked, and the hand trembled. But it got the job done, and the thin, white sheet fluttered over Gilbert's head and slipped over his shoulders and back before Gilbert realised what was going on. Fritz no longer had a blanket to cover his thin body, and he was simply lying in bed with only his hospital scrubs on him. But his smile widened. He patted Gilbert's shoulder, his eyelids drooping with exhaustion. No words left his mouth, but Gilbert could sense that Fritz was trying to comfort him. Then the arm dropped, and the hand slid down Gilbert's shoulder.

With one last exhale, Fritz was dead.

Gilbert shot up in a flurry of panic. The blanket slid off his shoulders and crumpled to the ground. He shouted and fumbled for the dead man's hand. Haunting, blue eyes stared past him again, and they scared him. Gilbert called out for Fritz, telling the old man that the joke wasn't funny and begging him to say something. But the heavy, foreboding feeling eventually crushed him and Gilbert fell onto his knees, still imploring. Tears ran down his cheeks in waterfalls and he let out a strangled wail. He gripped Fritz's hand tightly in his two, and he cried into the lifeless palm until the morning, when Francis came to visit with a tray of food. Francis tried to persuade Gilbert to part from the corpse, but in the end, the man had to call for back-up, and he and Elizaveta had to pry Gilbert away kicking and screaming as Fritz was carried away.

Fritz was gone, and Gilbert once again became a curse of the world.