The awesome has arrived.

Warning: Weapons, injuries, angst, betting on lives.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Then There Were Six

—And they whipped around to see none other than Ludwig and Gilbert. Immediately, the two brothers lowered their weapons, Gilbert waving at them and shouting, "Hey! If it isn't the whole family here to greet the awesome Prussia!"

"Shut up, bruder." Ludwig growled, studying the other refugees. "You have all been here for how long?"

"Ah, don't be like that, Germany." Alfred pouted. "Aren't you glad to see us?"

"Gilbert, mon ami." Francis strode over to him with a broad smile. "It's good to see you're in one piece."

Gilbert chuckled. "Kesese, almost wasn't." He turned to reveal the bloody gashes in his back from the glass.

Francis emitted a small gasp as he examined the damage. "It looks like you were attacked by a bear."

"I'll go with that story, then. Kesesese," Gilbert smirked.

Alfred, being his usual, nosy self, craned his neck to get a good view and winced. "Jesus, Gil, what the fuck happened?"

"We'll get to that later." Ludwig waved a dismissive hand and set down his pack, rummaging in it. "You four don't happen to have any medical supplies, do you?"

"Are you kidding me?" Alfred laughed. "I'm indestructible! Of course I don't have any, man."

"You're not helping, America." Arthur snapped, then continuing considerably more politely, "I'm sorry, mate, I had to leave in a hurry. I didn't have time to grab any."

"It was the same with me, ami." Francis said sympathetically.

"I might have some…" Everyone looked at Matthew, who blanched at the sudden stares. It took him a moment to gather himself long enough to dig through his supply pack. When he found the first aid kit, he sighed with relief and tossed it over to Ludwig. The man caught it with ease, and motioned to Gilbert. "Bruder, come here."

Gilbert snorted, folding his arms. "I really don't need that, West. I'm awesome. Honestly, I think these will heal well on their own."

Ludwig gave him a skeptical look, then demanded in a voice as hard as steel, "Don't give me that load of scheiße. You need medicine, so get your ass over here right now." The last two words were ground out between his teeth. It was quite obvious that their flight over to the airport had exasperated Ludwig.

Gilbert feigned a pleading look. "Only if you say 'your awesome ass.'"

"Gilbert!"

"Okay! Okay! Sheesh," Gilbert walked over to where his brother crouched over the kit and sat down in the chair before him. "Can't take a joke…"

"A-Alfred?" Matthew asked quietly.

Alfred gave him a warm look. "Yeah, Mattie?"

"I'm feeling a bit tired… I've traveled miles on foot, and it'd be nice if I could rest…"

"Sure, man. C'mon." Alfred led him over to the rows of chairs sitting in front of one of the gates a ways away from the group. "I'm sorry. It's not much, but this is all I've got."

Matthew smiled at his fawning. He really was trying. And you could tell, because Alfred would normally clench and unclench his hands as well as bite his lip when he was nervous or thinking really hard. It was a habit that Alfred had had for a while, but that he himself didn't even seem to notice. "I've had to sleep on the cold, hard ground in the woods for a few weeks, so this chair looks like heaven to me."

"Yeah, well," Alfred laughed sheepishly. "Enjoy."

He ran a hand through Matthew's hair as he settled down. The Canadian gave him a tired smile in reassurance, and Alfred rejoined the group.

"… hold still, dammit."

"I am, Lud. But you're being a bit—Ah!—rough."

Ludwig was digging his fingers into Gilbert's wounds (which honestly was pretty sickening to watch). "I can't help if the glass is deep down in the skin, bruder." Then he said, with bitter humor. "You did this to yourself, you know."

"Are you complaining that the awesome me saved you?"

Ludwig frowned and purposely ripped a shard of glass from Gilbert's back. Gilbert nearly shrieked and arched away from him. "I suggest you remain silent."

Gilbert did just that the rest of the time he was being treated.

Meanwhile, Arthur was pacing the rows of chairs in front of Gate 4, hands gripping his pistol. Francis came striding over to him, relatively calm.

"What do you want, Frog? No one to molest around here?"

"You're pacing," Francis said flatly, ignoring Arthur's jibe.

Arthur looked offended. "You don't think I already know that, git?"

"It's what you do when you're panicked."

"I'm not panicked!"

Francis didn't flinch despite Arthur's raised voice, instead raising a skeptical eyebrow.

Arthur gave a frustrated groan, sitting himself in one of the chairs. "All right, perhaps I am. But I'm not the only one, surely. After all, we all do face the very likely possibility of being killed."

Francis let out a soft laugh. "I thought England was always ready for an attack."

"I am always ready!"

"Then why are you so nervous?"

"Because I couldn't—!" Arthur began, shooting up from his chair until he stood nose-to-nose with Francis. His hands were balled into fists, and he would have given anything to yell at him with all his might, but couldn't find the words to. Because I couldn't save them… was what he was about to say, but the words caught in his throat and if he said them, he was afraid that he'd break down right there. He eventually calmed and stepped away, keeping his gaze steady with Francis, despite how incredibly embarrassed he felt. "I am not panicked. I am not nervous. And I am ready for anything."

A look of concern flickered across Francis's face—something that Arthur definitely did not want. "You sound as if you are telling yourself that, ami."

Arthur paused a moment, making sure that he wouldn't raise his voice as he had. "I am. This is not a sane world, Francis, if you haven't noticed. It's starting to get to me, especially with all the death I've seen. Sure, I've seen similar things during my days as a pirate and during the wars, but it never struck me as hard as this. Seeing my people die because of what they accuse me of, having to fight them to stay alive, knowing they hate me… it's the worst feeling I've ever had."

Francis's face softened. "I know how you feel, mon ami."

Arthur had the urge to shout 'No, you don't!' but he didn't know what Francis had gone through. He just felt like he was trying to grasp at his future with oiled hands—it simply couldn't be done.

"Well, he's asleep." Alfred approached them with a relieved look. "Later I'll check him for injuries. Speaking of which…" His eyes wandered over to Arthur. "I've been meaning to check you over. That isn't your blood, is it?"

"No, it isn't." It was clear Alfred wanted him to elaborate, but Arthur changed the subject. "So, since we all have nothing to lose, how about we wager on who we think is still alive?"

Francis and Alfred eyed each other.

"You want us to," Alfred began cautiously. "bet on lives?"

"Yes," Arthur said, knowing full well it was wrong, but not caring in the least. He just needed something to distract him from the memories of Lennox and his other brothers. "And since the money we currently have is worthless now, I suggest we bid using… certain keepsakes we brought along with us."

Francis snorted. "How dare you think that I would be selfish enough to bring something completely unnecessary along?"

Arthur rolled his eyes. "I know you have something, Francis. I can smell that ghastly cologne you've always worn."

"Oh, so you've noticed?" Francis batted his eyes.

"Okay, then," Alfred smirked cockily. "But I must warn you, I'm quite good at betting. The Kentucky Derby ain't no lie. I have ESP for this kind of shit."

"Sure," Arthur said flatly, then picked up his bag, rummaging through it before finding what he was looking for. He displayed it proudly in his palm. "A compass, and not one of the crappy ones they make nowadays. This is from when I was a pirate."

Alfred now showed off his own item. "Authentic Chippewa dreamcatcher. It absorbs negative images in dreams, and its power has been enhanced by a shaman. It's good luck. The chief of one of the odoodemaan (1) gave it to me as a peace offering many years ago."

Alfred smiled when he received rather surprised stares from Francis and Arthur.

Francis then cleared his throat and produced his item. It was a little sac he dangled delicately from his fingertips. "An aphrodisiac. One of the most potent in the world. Very rare, and very handy when it comes to wooing that special someone~" He sang the last few words and waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Arthur scoffed. "Of course you would bring that, of all things."

"Ironic," Francis smirked. "I've been keeping this for a while and have been planning to use it on you." Then he sighed woefully. "But I guess I'll have to give that plan up… for now."

Arthur scoffed and tried to hide his blush. "Whatever. Alfred, you're up. You can list only four people you think are still alive and one that you think is not."

"Okay, then. Lemme think, hmm…" Alfred's eyes focused on the ceiling as he thought, a finger stroking his chin. Arthur and Francis sighed as they waited for a quite a long time. "I think that Japan, China, Turkey, and the Italian bros—let's just make them count as one person, I mean, they're really one country, right?—are still alive. But definitely not Russia. He's not nearly as heroic and brave as me."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "Okay, I'll go next. I believe that the remaining survivors besides us are China, Japan, Russia,"—Arthur smirked as he put emphasis on the name and Alfred shot him a glare—"and the Vargas's. I don't think Turkey could have survived with his history."

"I suppose that makes me last, then." Francis said, then began, "Hmm… That would be China, Japan, Turkey, and Russia. There is a very slim possibility that Lovino and Feliciano could have survived, though I regret saying it."

Alfred's nose scrunched up in confusion. "How the hell did we end up listing the same people?"

"That is a bit uncanny." Arthur said, contemplating it. "Well, perhaps we think the same—though I highly doubt it's the exact same—way? So… why did you choose those nations, Alfred?"

"Well… Japan is a supercool ninja and he also has a ton of technology, so I went on that theory. I figured that since China is mega old, that he's wise in this area. I mean, how else could he have survived as long as he has? Then there's Turkey… I hate the shit out of him, but I have to admit, he's a persistent son of a bitch. Trust me, I've had to deal with his descendents. And I don't think there's any reason I have to explain why I think Russia is dead."

Arthur began, "Unlike you, America, I haven't let my previous grievances with other countries get in the way of my predictions. Japan and China I chose for mostly the same reasons as you, except for the fact that Japan advances very fast and is good at dealing with sudden changes. The Vargas's seemed too cowardly and scatter-brained for me to choose first, but after some thought I figured with both their minds working in sync, they could have pretty decent chance. Besides, they're good at running away. Russia I chose because I know that after his particularly bloody past, he most likely won't let himself become weakened by the Uprising. Turkey was a tough choice, but I concluded that after being the former Ottoman Empire—and he was weak during his last few decades of life and didn't adjust to change well at that stage—being as stubborn and proud as he is, he won't stand a chance."

Francis then went on, "China and Japan I chose for the same reasons as both of you, and Turkey I chose because he is persistent and was taught by his mistakes and he also ruled at one point most of the Balkans and Middle East. Russia was easy for me to choose… he did prove to be unusually strong during my Revolution and resilient during his thereafter. That, and he also is known to have a violent streak. Lovino and Feliciano, though, are a pair who don't adapt well to violence. Most likely, they're still trapped in their own countries and will remain there until someone rescues them, like they always have been. My poor Lovino, how I miss him…" He sighed regretfully.

They had been so engrossed in their conversation and Gilbert and Ludwig were shouting so loudly at each other, that none of them noticed the whir of helicopter blades just outside until just a minute before the passengers emerged from the Gate.

The group heard them way before they saw them. Entering the terminal was a peeved Lovino and a hysterical Feliciano.

No translations

References:

1-Odoodemaan is the plural form of 'clan' in Ojibwemowin, the language of the Ojibwe (commonly known as the Chippewa) native to Northern Midwest and Northeast America and Southern Canada.

A Word From the Writer: You all know this couldn't be a good fic without the Italies. And does anyone think England is a little uptight? No?