Disclaimer: Hidekaz Himaruya owns Hetalia and its characters – no characters were harmed during the making of this story.

Acknowledgements: Thank you to all those who have reviewed, alerted, favourite (they all mean a lot and keep me updating): xxcattxx, .1, fire hores is awesome, Lani Carmine, xxEu-chan, ChubbyCubby23, AFreezingFlame, Animechic420, White eyed fox, Furret the Sparrowsong, rubyredroses1, PhantomPrussia, Art and Soul, Starchacer296, GirlLoki, FiresCreek, JustAGirlWithAPen, SchrapnelGirl, GermanyIsAwesome-NotPrussia, iTorchic, kakashailuckyblackcat, , Xou, alexf801, chattie98, Myrna Maeve (and Romania!), ThatPurplyThing, Forever Halfa, WinterLake 25, Frustration, Ankhasia Riddle, Kitty the Dinosquirrel, envysfangirl, PikoPiko-Chan, Silver FoxWolf, citrine sunflower, Canyon's Rose, chickenkitty, ZeroLuver567, Lady Sandra of Sealand, Tamarutaca, 101Icestormxx, VengefulCat (my beta reader) and all my anonymous readers.

Right, that was a long hiatus, but have just about finished all the remaining chapters – there are a lot of sub-plots to tie up and some dum dum der revelations to come out and I dithered about them... so here goes.

Warnings: None!

Very late pm, Wednesday

Chapter 21 – You Oughta Know

"I wonder why that bed fell down, Esty?" Russia asked the Estonian.

Estonia shook his head. In fact his whole body was shaking – with cold. They were now back in the battered Volvo on their way to Warsaw.

The Murphy bed had crashed down on the two of them and Russia had burst his way out of it (rather like the Incredible Hulk but less green), pulling Estonia from the wreckage.

After checking his middle Baltic was okay, Russia had stormed out of the hotel bedroom, slammed downstairs, shoved aside several Elvis impersonators who had over-spilled from the Elvis convention and made his feelings known to the concierge on the front desk. This had included smashing the reception desk up, and then punching the manager out. When one of the Elvis impersonators had remonstrated with him, "Hey, man!" he'd said, Russia had punched him as well.

So here they were, with no windscreen and huge holes in the side of Sweden's car, it was a wonder the vehicle was moving at all.

Russia had decided that was it. He knew Latvia was on her way to Warsaw, or already there, and he ached, literally ached, to be with her. He couldn't wait for a flight – much as he loved flying and airports – he decided they would drive through the night to get to her.

Vienna, Austria

Belarus and Hungary returned from their trip to the doctors in, what the author can only call, very disturbing moods. Belarus immediately took to the extensive grounds and began her knife-throwing practice. This was usually enough to calm her down. However, it was now getting dark and although light was filtering out from Austria's mansion, it wasn't quite enough. She slammed a knife into the trunk of a tree and then stepped back, pulling a ribbon from her hair. She was pregnant. She'd thought as much, but the reality of it had thrown her.

At first, she'd felt almost exuberant and when she and Hungary had arrived at the Auction House to meet the male Nations, she'd been bursting to tell Arthur. After all, he was now back to 'normal' and not spouting Shakespeare or singing sea shanties and then... she'd felt her fragile and abused heart break as she'd seen him kiss Alfred. If she'd thought he was going to kiss anyone behind her back she'd thought it was going to be France... but Alfred...

She pulled the knife from the tree-trunk and wiped a tear from her eye. Did he even know she'd seen him? Did it matter? She gripped her knife and strode into the mansion. She was going to have it out with them, she decided, she and her baby was not going to be cast aside for some brash, loud American.

Inside the mansion, the chaos, the rubble and evidence of the building project underway mirrored the emotional turmoil felt by the occupants.

France, usually the most bubbly, optimistic, joyous Nation was sat in a corner with a bottle of wine looking extremely morose. "I have lost it... it is gone... oooh je suis ordinaire!" he lamented and hung his blond head sadly and sipped his wine.

Even his usually elegant attire and gorgeous hair appeared to have suffered from his 'loss' as his clothes seemed to just ... hang there. "Ah me! I have lost my superpowers!" he wailed.

Hungary threw a cushion at him and told him to 'shut the hell up'. She was trying desperately to think of a way to tell Austria that she was pregnant in such a way that he would not hit the proverbial ceiling. This had been unplanned. Granted, she'd drunk some of the pink baby potion bandied around weeks before at the last world's meeting, but she wasn't sure really if she'd taken it seriously. I mean, honestly, a potion that would guarantee the sex of a baby?

"Francis! Shut up! We are fed up of hearing of your problems... so what if your hair needs a wash?" England was saying, "We need to find a bloody way of getting that bloody painting that you had painted..."

"A wash? It needs a wash?" France held up a strand of his usually gorgeous locks. Once a burnished gold, his hair looked dull and had... split ends. France wailed, "My hair! It is no longer beautiful! It looks like yours, mon Angleterre..."

Hungary shoved past them both and stalked out of the room. She almost bowled Austria over and hesitated as he complained.

"I mean, honestly, Liz! Can't you at least apologise? No manners..." Austria shook his head at her. She stood rooted to the spot, trying to say something... anything.

'Go on, tell him... tell him,' she thought and then blurted out, "You can't see what's right in front of you, you big useless jerk..." she yelled at him.

Austria took a step back and then tutted, "I am fed up of people telling me I'm useless... I'm off to this concert in Vienna." He said and stomped out.

Hungary ran after him, "Go on then... go and listen to some dead guy. We'll sort this out... go and listen to your damn Mozart. You care more about that dead ponce than you do about me!" she shouted after him and slammed the door three times just for effect. At least it made her feel better.

Austria headed out to his small Citroen and hesitated. He had no idea why on earth she'd shouted at him. He wondered whether he should go back and then shook his head and got in the car and turned the key. Really, he had no idea what he would do or say if he did.

That was the problem, these days, he decided. No matter what he did, she would frown and tell him he was useless. A bunch of red roses, a kiss, a short composition on the piano would be all it took at one time to get her smiling, dancing and singing. But that was... what? Well over sixty years ago now.

Since their marriage had ended (Austria still missed those days – the happiest 51 years of 1000 year existence) and since the War had ended they'd seen each other sporadically or as much as being on opposite sides of the Iron Curtain had allowed. But, for Austria, it was never enough. He sighed as he drove the small Citroen to the Opera House, there might as well be a huge steel curtain between them, he thought, because those days were long gone.

Hungary threw herself back into the mansion and took herself off to the rear of the house and the gardens where she found Belarus sitting on the garden swing-seat. Hungary held her breath – it was an old wooden swing meant for two – and she and Austria had spent many a warm summer evening holding hands and gazing at the stars – but this wasn't a warm summer evening. She shivered and plonked herself next to the Slavic Nation.

"You okay?" she asked Belarus gently.

Belarus spun a knife in her hand, threw it into the air and caught it expertly and then secreted it somewhere in her dress.

Hungary watched with wide eyes. She had always admired the Belorussian – not for her pursuit of Russia – although she'd been impressed that the biggest, scariest Nation was afraid of this small, slender girl. She admired Belarus because she'd always stayed in shape and that Natalya looked as if she could quite easily fight a war at the drop of a hat. (Elizaveta felt she'd let herself go quite a bit – she hadn't kept up her sword skills and hadn't practiced with a gun or a knife for years.)

"Nyet," Belarus whispered, "Arthur and Alfred... I hate them."

Hungary shook her head, "Perhaps we caught them... oh I don't know... maybe it wasn't what it looked like?" she said. But she didn't sound confident in this.

"I mean... who would have thought that Arthur is gay... has these tendencies?" Natalya said, her voice sounding more hopeful.

Hungary almost laughed out loud at this, but then composed her face hurriedly. 'Yeah, who'd have thought?'

"I'll wait a bit until I tell Arthur... I don't know... bloody men," she finally concluded. Belarus sighed, still twirling the knife in her hand contemplatively, "So, have you told Austria?" she asked.

"Austria?"

"About the baby."

"Erm, well..." Hungary swallowed, "It's not that simple."

"It is Austria's isn't it?" Belarus asked and then she turned to the other Nation and her eyes widened, "Oh Elizaveta! You haven't? You didn't?"

"No, Natalya, it's Roddie's," she sighed heavily, remembering their 'reunion' in a narrow hospital bed in Vienna General Hospital. "But it's complicated. It always bloody is."

"But why is it complicated? I mean you two are living together. You used to be married...?" Belarus sighed - with a hint of jealousy. It's what she'd always wanted – to be happily married – once upon a time to her older brother and now to Arthur – have a happy home, roses around the door and lots of children.

"I know... it was lovely and we were happy. But it never lasts, does it?"

"Why not?"

"We just get on each other's nerves. He's so bloody mean. I mean he reuses tea-bags!"

"Hmmm, Arthur does that sometimes. I think it's endearing..." Belarus sighed dreamily.

Hungary just grunted. "I mean I've known the guy centuries and he never changes. All he thinks about is himself, his money and his bloody music."

"So why have you stayed with him so long? You must have loved him?"

"I have, I do, and he's always been there for me," Hungary paused and then said in a rush, "There have been other men."

"Oooooh..." Belarus stopped twirling her knife and pricked up her ears. Not quite a gossip in the same league as Poland and her sister, she was still intrigued. "Who? Not Francis?"

"Oh God, no. I'm not that silly... Gil..."

Belarus wrinkled her nose as if someone had placed a cow-pat under it, "I hate him. He's a complete..." The rest of Belarus' sentence was a mish-mash of angry Russian/Belorussian.

"Well, it was fun for a while. But there's only so many times a drinking competition can be funny. And his idea of romance was watching the football in bed. And he used to shout 'Goal!' or 'Awesome!' when we... you know..." Hungary shuddered as she remembered how long the Prussian would spend looking at himself in the bathroom mirror, the infantile jokes about her 'chest muscles' and the 'romantic evenings in' throwing pizza at the ceiling to see how much would stick. She wasn't a sophisticated lady by any stretch of the imagination but neither was she a complete hooligan like him.

"You shouldn't do anything in bed other than..." Belarus stopped and smiled, "Arthur and I never watched football in bed..." she said with a leer.

Hungary ignored this, "... and he never gave me flowers like Roddy did or sing to me like Roddy did. Well, actually he did sing but they were horrid Prussian drinking songs about invading..."

Belarus snarled, she could imagine what country Gilbert would be singing about invading, "Gilbert's a knobhead," Belarus said confidently and imitated disembowelling said Prussian in a most lurid manner.

Hungary raised an eyebrow. "And his stupid friends – that Bad Touch Trio and the stupid Awesome Trio... he said because I was a girl I couldn't join!"

"Why would you want to?" Belarus asked and threw a knife at a nearby tree, imagining Gilbert's annoying face in the centre. She scored a 'bullseye'.

"I could out-drink all of them. And then he'd call me dude girly."

"It's a good job that baby's Austria's then, isn't it?" Belarus concluded and pulled out another knife.

Hungary wondered where on earth Belarus kept them (her knives that is), "Yes, but he's bloody useless. He doesn't want kids. He keeps banging on about how old he and he wants to retire and all that. He's like an old man."

"But you've been together for what... centuries? Haven't you had children before?" Belarus asked, totally puzzled. She had aimed, before she'd seen Arthur canoodling with Alfred, to have at least four children with Arthur and she certainly did not intend for it to take 500 years.

"Well... yes..." Hungary sighed.

"Oooh?" Belarus was intrigued. "Have I met them? What's their name?"

Hungary shook her head, "I'm sorry, Natalya, I can't talk about it... it was a long time ago," Hungary's eyes suddenly filled up.

It took a lot to make Hungary cry – even the events of the revolution of 1956 had failed to make her tear up. She'd stood with the rebels and faced the might of the Red Army and had spat the KGB in the eye. She'd been dragged in to see Russia and had expected severe punishment but she'd refused even then to show any remorse or any sign of weakness. (That meeting with Russia should be left to another story.) But now, talking about her and Austria's child, she could feel long held-back tears welling up. Why was she thinking about her now?

"Anyway, that just proves it. Austria's a rubbish dad," she said conclusively.

"Why?" Belarus was really intrigued now. Who was this mysterious kid, anyway? Belarus had no children. No man had hung around long enough. Her sister however had had loads of children. Vanya, she knew had fathered at least two she could think of (she didn't know yet of the third). But in her head, parenthood was a special bond between parent and child, holy, beautiful and having had that particular 'timebomb' ticking for a few hundred years, she couldn't wait to be a mother so she imbued it with flowers and hearts and cute little giggling, pink-cheeked babies.

"Austria gave her away..." Hungary said and suddenly sobbed and then flung herself into Belarus' arms.

Lithuanian-Polish Border

Very late pm

Romano was driving his Avis car, a rare smile on his face. He'd got rid of his moustache, dark glasses and dodgy mackintosh (various people had thought he looked like a flasher) and had a gun held to his head. But he was happy. The reason for his happiness was the grim, efficient looking girl holding the gun. Romano was a sucker for a pretty girl, whether she held a gun to his head or not. He was convinced that he could talk a girl out of anything. Nobody could resist Italian charm, he thought.

Miss Bollockoff had succumbed for a moment to the Italian charm until her strict KGB training had taken over. She'd then taken her gun and, when Russia and Estonia had come charging out of the room (or should one say Russia had charged out, Estonia – rubbing his head – following) to kick some Elvis impersonator arse, she'd followed, forcing Romano in front of her.

The fact that this small, rather cute Italian was supposed to be a ruthless assassin had actually made her laugh out loud. It was hilarious really. Particularly, when she realised his target was her Nation. She attempted to tell him that unless he had a nuclear warhead his mission was doomed to failure.

However, when she'd heard Russia's ranting about 'rescuing' Latvia, she decided she would allow him to retrieve Latvia – he would be easier to handle then, plus, she thought, the small Baltic Nation could be used as leverage to ensure his compliance and then she could bring both Russia and his Baltics back with her resulting, she hoped, in instant promotion.

The little incompetent assassin, she decided, she would use as driver and extra pair of hands. He was clearly mentally incapable and could easily be manipulated by a smile and if that didn't work, a gun to the head.

Vienna, Austria

England had no idea why Belarus would not talk to him. He tried to give her a cuddle and a hug, but she shoved him out of the way, waved a knife at him most alarmingly and then, along with Hungary – who glared at him as if he'd just run over someone's Grandma – ran to the caravan, telling him in no uncertain terms 'he would be sleeping on the couch and don't even think of coming into the caravan tonight'. The girls had then slammed the door shut and locked it. No doubt to discuss the extent of 'bastardness' their respective lovers had descended to.

England was puzzled to say the least. He was stuck in what could only be described as a building yard – the mansion having barely any habitable rooms. America had commandeered Austria's dining table – which still bore the marks of the fire – and had a plethora of action figures on it. The American Hero told him he was making a plan for the bank heist they would have to commit to get the painting back. But Arthur was not buying this. "If you're playing soldiers just admit it," he told Alfred.

Actually, he did wonder why the Luke Skywalker figure was on top of the Darth Vader figure but decided to hold his tongue.

He ignored Francis who was laid on a sofa babbling about 'losing my style, my class, my elegance, my honhonhons...' and went down into Austria's kitchen and proceeded to do what he always did when stressed... he baked.

Author's Notes:

Pink baby potion – this is a nod to Baltics Secrets – Hungary had found a magic potion that when given to the drinker would ensure that the next baby born to that person would be a girl. She had a mad idea that if each of the female nations had a baby girl then they could ensure that the next generation of nations would all be female and women could take over the world – ensuring peace... or something like that.

Austria Hungary marriage – dual monarchy that lasted 51 years which was dissolved in 1918. As I said before in my head canon the Nations must have had kids at some point – either with each other or with humans. I don't subscribe to centuries old virgins and sooner or later nature finds a way – contraception wasn't that effective or efficient just 50 years ago...so in my head AustriaxHungary would have produced offspring. You'll have to wait to find out the identity of the child...

1956 – Hungarian revolution – a nationwide revolt against the Soviet-backed Hungarian government. The government fell and at first it looked as if the anti-Soviet rebels had won, however, a massive Soviet force invaded and re-took the country – 2,500 Hungarians were killed and a pro-Soviet government was re-installed. Please note Hungary was never part of the Soviet Union (that would mean she would be a soviet socialist republic), but her government was Soviet-backed and heavily influenced by the communist regime. 200,000 Hungarians refugees fled – over the border to Austria (Austria opened their borders temporarily to let them in) – and I think that on its own would make an awesome fanfic (unless someone's already done it).

Next Chapter: An evening at the opera and a Nation goes streaking (and its not France)