Germany tied and retied his tie several times before he was satisfied with the knot, hoping that he wasn't to formally dressed for such an event. He had organized a meeting with England, in the hopes that the British nation's mystical knowledge might help Italy with his nightmares.

As Germany began to walk to the designated meeting spot he began to have second, third and fourth thoughts about asking England for help. Exactly what could England do? Germany stopped in his tracks and began to fret. Maybe this hadn't been a good idea after all. He was slightly surprised with himself. He prided himself with thinking through ideas. This meeting with England was impromptu and sudden: uncharacteristic of the German.

Germany and England weren't exactly 'friends' in any sense of the word- in fact they often found themselves constantly warring against each other. What could encourage the Brit to help him out?

Clearly Germany was not all that comfortable, speaking to England about a problem that was indirectly his. Even as he explained out loud what the trouble was, it sounded menial and petty. England raised a bushy eyebrow after Germany finished his explanation and nodded curtly.

"I experienced a similar problem with America and France mentioned it with Canada also. The dreaming I mean. There is nothing much you can do but wait. Italy will get over it himself."

Germany stood to leave, half-satisfied with England's answer but as he turned he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You and Italy…are in an alliance together correct?" England asked a crease of concern in his brow. Germany nodded.

"Just an alliance?" This wasn't a question Germany could answer. It held underlying ideas and beliefs; gossip and rumors. He needed a direct question so he could give a direct answer.

"Yes. Just an alliance, nothing more-nothing less." The words left his mouth, but without his military authority. He hadn't hesitated had he? No. You can't hesitate when you're sure of something.

You can't.

Italy had a brilliant mind. A beautiful, wonderful, amazing mind. It was agreed among all the nations that without Italy's citizens a lot of European success would have never happened. Warfare, art, science. This was all because of Italy's accomplishments. He was just very clingy. Afraid of being alone. Don't get clingy confused with weak. Italy was more than capable of defending himself. Some nations said that before, Italy was looked for fights. But then….he just stopped. He devoted himself to the arts and sciences, turning an unseeing eye toward war.

But, like time, he progressed. The World Wars forced the Mediterranean nation back into the battlefield; unsuccessfully in fact. Time began to make its subtle and not so subtle changes. The church became weaker, science became stronger, neighbors became more distance, and nations became older and wiser.

Time for Germany however was not so progressive. Italy still was restless and was becoming more and more withdrawn. Every now and then he would make pasta, but the presentation lacked his usual extravagance.

He rarely painted anymore and when he did, they weren't pleasant to look at. It pained Germany to see Italy so out of it, but what was he to do?

What was he going to do?

"Four weeks…" Germany muttered, cursing at the unresponsive lighter in his trembling hands. He was not a smoker. It wasn't that he was concerned about his health (smoking couldn't kill him like it did humans) but he refrained to keep his image upright as a polite and stern country. But there was something familiar in the tar filled sticks, a familiarity and comfort that he so desperately needed right now.

He hadn't seen Italy in weeks and it was bothering him.

Contrary to popular belief, Italy and Germany were never together 24/7, that was too unprofessional for the Germanic country, but they kept in contact even if they weren't together physically.

No phone calls, texts, no word from Romano or Spain or anyone.

He finally got the lighter to come on and took a long drag. He sighed as he felt the stimulant enter into his lungs, a sickly warmth invading his body. He exhaled through his nose and savored the burn as smoke exited his nostrils. When was the last time he had a smoke? Germany pondered this as he dropped ashes on the cement, but soon it was an uncomfortable topic that somehow lead him to thinking about his missing ally. A walk in the garden would be nice, but smoking and walking among the plants did not seem wise and besides, Italy's vegetables were there having not been tended since the nightmares began. HE didn't want to think about him anymore.

So he decided to stand where he was, hidden between the stone walls and the neatly trimmed bushes, taking smooth hits from his cigarette. Germany surveyed the scenery and decided that he wanted to change the whole garden around. As the nicotine began to take its effects, Germany listed ways on how to change the garden, each involving the removal of the vegetable patch. Maybe he would install a pool or a brewery…Beer…Germany would like that.

"West? West? Where are you?" The blond nation was snapped out of his daydream and back into reality. Germany grimaced knowing that if Prussia saw him out here smoking he would never hear the end of it. West, letting his hair down. What a laugh. The younger 'stick in the mud' taking part of such an unhealthy activity.

Or his brotherly instinct (which he often decided to show at the worst times) would activate, and Prussia would know that something was seriously wrong.

Prussia did eventually find him standing in the backyard, but much to Germany's surprise he stayed quiet. He leaned his slim frame back onto the wall and let his brother smoke in peace. The younger prolonged every drag and exhalation, not knowing what to say to his brother, nor knowing what HE wanted to say to HIM. Time passed and the cigarette became too short for Germany hold, so he gave up and stubbed it into the ground. As he squatted down he ran his hands through his hair, loose strands falling into his face.

"West we need to talk." Prussia looked very serious, his scarlet eyes slightly wide, glancing quickly at the dark imprint in the floor. So he had noticed the unusual smoking. Germany laughed bitterly.

"What about?" He was surprised by his sharpness, but his worry and anger won out and guilt was pushed aside. He wasn't in the mood for Prussia's or his little Trio from Hell's games.

"Spain called…..it's about Italy."

Germany really needed a cigarette.

I'm sooooooo sorry! I left you hanging and I am SOOOOOOOO SORRRY! I promise I'll update weekly if you guys keep reviewing. You guys are great hope you liked it!

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