***So the first chapter was more of a prologue and I'm sorry that the chapters are so short, I'm trying to make this fanfic last longer. Again I don't own Hetalia or the characters. This fanfic is looking to be about 10 chapters long, so thanks again!

The Truth

Elizaveta jumped as the sound of a door being slammed cut through the silent air. She had fallen asleep and outside the sun was at its mid-point.

"Roderich! Elizaveta! Are any of you guys h…" the voice was cut out by a cough and the source sounded so weak.

Elizaveta knew who it was the moment her name was spoken. She jumped off the piano and sped down the hall towards the front door. Crumpled on the floor, leaning against the door, was him.

"Gil, what happened!" she tore off her apron and applied pressure to the wound on his forehead that seemed to be the source of the puddle of deep scarlet around him.

"France *cough* he's invaded." His eyes became unfocused and then refocused.

"Wait right here." She ran upstairs to retrieve the first aid out of the upstairs bathroom, and came running back down the stairs. "Where is your worst wound?" She asked.

He carefully lifted his hand from his side to reveal the real source of the puddle, a gunshot wound in his side.

"Gil, why do you always let these things happen? Running into battle, I could help." She took a knife from her boot and cut away his shirt. She used the surgical tweezers in the first aid to get the bullet out. Luckily, it wasn't really in deep and caused little damage. She took the needle and surgical thread and stitched up the hole, and then ace-bandaged it.

He smirked. "Is zhat concern I here?" he asked laughing slightly, trying to ignore the pain.

"No!... Maybe….." she sighed, "we've been friends forever Gil and as a friend I really don't want to lose you." She looked away, a blush bright as day across her cheeks.

He smiled. "Was-ever." He stared at her eyes. "Your eyes are beautiful, you know." He commented quietly.

Her blush deepened. "My eyes have always been the same." She looked at him again and placed bandages on a cut that went along his shoulder. All the scars left on his pale skin. She could remember how she had given him some of them. They had been so childish, fighting battles over such silly, little things. She regretted them.

"I know. Zhat same feisty green fire." He said, staring at her, with his smoldering crimson orbs.

"Your eyes are more like fire then mine, a smoldering flam that never goes out." She always felt comfort in his eyes. Whenever she looked into them she lost herself, as if the Earth had completely stopped spinning altogether.

He closed his eyes and leaned back. "I don't vant to go back, Eliza." He whispered.

She sat next to him and placed her arm lightly around his shoulders. "I know, but there isn't much we can do about it. Unless Napoleon suddenly dropped dead, we both have to just stand tall and do the best that we can."

"Do I have to go back?" He pleads to Elizaveta.

"Not now, Gil. Please stay and rest, but you're going to have to go back eventually. We can't leave your soldiers alone, now can we?"

"I don't vant to go back." He whimpered, scooting closer to her, allowing him to be wrapped up in her arms.

She stroked his head, soothing him. "I know, Gil. I know." A tear escaped her eye. She hated war like every other country, but she especially hated seeing him like this, his weak side showing from exhaustion and stress. "Gil, are you asleep?" she whispered.

"N-nien… but I vant to." He said as his eyes fluttered open.

"Ok." She slowly untangled herself from him and went to the laundry room and got a bucket of warm water and some old towels. She came back and cleaned the blood form the ground and him. When she finished she put the bucket and towels back in the laundry room and went into the family room, grabbing some blankets. She sat back down next to him and placed the blankets over them both and wrapped her arm around him once more. He smelt of war; blood, gun powder, and burning metal, but she didn't care because he still had the wandering smell of their forest in his hair. The earthy smell of green leaves, fresh air filled with the smell of fresh wild flowers. All of this brought back so many memories, both good and bad.

He twitched and muttered in his sleep. His eyes darted back and forth behind his eye lids, his hands tangling in her clothing, gripping for dear life.

She stroked his hair once more, causing him to snuggle closer and become lucid and calm, and his face smooth and childlike without the constant smirk on his face. No worry lines either. She found herself caught in the moment and kissed his forehead, just like he did so many years ago, and leaned her head against his. The truth, the truth was she did not wish to be his friend. She loved him.

Before drifting off she heard the quiet whisper. "Ich liebe dich, Lizzy."

A/N: Ratings and Reviews are an author's best friends. ;) Thanks again for reading, hope you enjoyed this chapter and hope you stick around because there's more to come.