Poor Italy. :'(

Warning: Violence, gore, fight scene, weapons, threats, mention of GerIta, mental torture.

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

"I've loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night."

—Galileo Galilei

Doubt

Feliciano was so caught up in his thoughts that he didn't hear Todd's signal.

He had been standing before the doors to the Expansion Center, every subtle movement on the other side making him flinch. He half expected a savage beast to burst out and gobble him up, and his reasoning wasn't that far off; indeed a beast with many limbs, heads, disowned mouths, and blind eyes was growing ever larger just feet away, behind a pair of doors that were not nearly thick enough.

"You can't cry when you're out there, Feli," Ludwig whispered, standing beside him, hands brushing. But the German did not lace his fingers with Feliciano's like he usually did. His thumb was poised over the button on his watch, both hands jabbed to midnight. He was staring straight ahead, forget-me-not eyes unblinking and flinty, and although he was not looking at him, Feliciano could still feel his eyes on him, begging him to listen as they so often did. "You must not cry, Feli, not in front of them. Fear can be a form of strength if you know how to channel it."

"And h-how do I channel it?" He was ashamed that his voice sounded so small, so meek. He waited for Ludwig's lips to downturn in disgust.

But the German remained just as stony-faced as he had a second before. "It is different for everyone. Swallow your fear, and it will find a place somewhere else as something else. When the time comes, you will know."

Already Feliciano could feel the fear crawling up from his belly to rest in his gravelly throat. "I-I don't think I c-can…"

"You can," Ludwig assured. Somehow the brushing of the German's hand against his own seemed more intimate than even their first lovemaking mere hours earlier. "You will."

Yet, even as the minutes ticked by, certainly long enough for him to know, he only became more and more frightened. And it wasn't helping that most of that fear was stemming from the fact that he was incapable of living up to Ludwig's expectations.

I'm sorry, Luddy, he thought, lowering his head as an Organization soldier walked by, hot tears rolling down his cheeks and dropping onto his shoes. He clenched and unclenched his clammy hands, certain that those black boots, so professionally polished, had never experienced tears on their surface, because crying wasn't allowed, was condemned. All those men wearing the same black boots were surely not crying like he was, were brave and strong and confident. Feliciano was just a coward and didn't even deserve to wear the enemy's shoes. He was useless.

Holy Rome's voice wormed its way into his head. "Feli, you are so strong! Why are you scared?"

Because I'm not strong, Nonno, you're wrong.

"You have the blood of one of the most powerful former empires in the world running through your veins!"

It's different, Nonno. I'm different. I'm not as brave as you. I will never be.

"Don't listen to what anyone else says and don't doubt yourself."

How can I not? All my life I've been like this, how could I change so suddenly?

"You have so much in you that no one has seen."

I don't. I don't have anything.

"When you show your true colors they won't know what hit them."

What colors? The only one I know is white.

Feliciano's eyes focused on the dark, wet spots spreading on the toe of his boot, trailing down the sides. Why am I even here? I'm not capable of anything. I am nothing.

He sniffed and his shoe became blurry as moisture flooded his eyes. Luddy, I'm scared. Why did you have to leave me?

It was then that he saw Red move out of the corner of his eye, heard what must have been the remnants of the signal buzzing in his ear. He couldn't believe it, that it was happening so soon, that he was nowhere near prepared for anything. He vaguely wondered if anyone else felt as helpless as he did, highly doubted it, as Red made her way to the doors, turning to him and hissing, "Step back, Feli."

Feliciano felt his heart jump into his throat even before anything had happened, which made him feel even more ashamed. Surely Ludwig wasn't this nervous, surely he was the only one being this ridiculous? He had put himself in danger before, right? Faced many things that threatened to destroy him, yes? Then why was he acting like this? Why couldn't he summon whatever strength he had before in those turbulent, uncertain times when he needed it most?

Then he saw Red pause, saw suspicion then shock cross her face, and felt guilty that it made him feel confident that someone else was experiencing what he himself was. But just as soon that fierce spark returned to Red's eyes that Feliciano could never duplicate, and the Italian was plunged back into his spiral of doubt.

He was close to flying down the nearest tunnel when he heard the doors moan open. He could barely hold down whimpers as he listened to Red's exchange with the guards, almost screamed when he heard the deafening gunshot, then another. He didn't look, but he knew the guards were bleeding, dying. He gasped and hiccuped, covering his ears and looking away, face hot and sticky with tears. Even so, he could still hear the marching of soldiers from both sides, surging forward like a storm-tossed wave meeting a rocky shore.

Red shouted, "Move in! Kill or capture—none get away!" and when the Resistance among the sea of Organization soldiers responded wholeheartedly, Feliciano wanted to shout no, don't do it, don't start, because that would mean he wouldn't know when or how it would end. That they wouldn't be able to go back.

Unsure of his place in the bloody mess that was commencing before him, Feliciano went back step-by-step until he was pressed against the wall, safely concealed behind one of the open doors. His breathing quickened and his heart felt three times its size as it beat like a drum within him, as if in imitation of the dozens of feet marching from within the compound, the combined force of their footfalls making the thick door vibrate against him.

"Feli, over here!"

Feliciano heard Red like he was dreaming, as if her voice was reality trying to wake him up. But Feliciano knew what a nightmare he would be shunted into if he emerged from his safe little corner of denial, and he stood there, frozen, and so full of fear that he knew gaining any strength from it was impossible.

That was before a bullet nicked the floor near his foot, and then Feliciano took off, his dream shattered. He saw Red, how her arms were outstretched, beckoning, and the Italian gladly rushed to her side, moving so fast that he almost knocked her over, unable to properly stop himself. As soon as he appeared relatively lucid, Red turned to him and began to give him instructions. Feliciano heard her but didn't listen; he was too snared by Red's eyes, how they seemed so focused and determined, how he could never emulate such strength, not even with many more centuries of experience behind him.

She's not even a country, and she still knows what she's doing, Feliciano thought hopelessly. What am I doing? What is my purpose? I don't belong here.

Before he had the chance to pose more damaging questions to himself, Red was gathering her guards and assigning Feliciano his own. Red asked him a question, something important, and although Feliciano didn't fully comprehend what she was saying, he nodded, worrying his bottom lip beneath his teeth until he broke skin. The taste of blood made his stomach churn, joining the coppery smell invading his nostrils and making him once again face the fact that he was scared to kill and be killed. He was scared of everything.

Red was no longer beside him, taking her place at the head of the vanguard and leaving Feliciano behind. He could feel his guards staring at him expectantly, and all the Italian could do was wring his hands and wonder why he had ever been entrusted with anything. He felt a hand at his back, and his head shot up, eyes wide with horror.

He hated the empathetic look the soldier gave him, imagined that the man was wondering how in the world he had gotten stuck babysitting a helpless weakling when he could have been put to better use elsewhere. Guilty welled all the more in Feliciano's gut when he was told "Go on, we'll be right behind you," as if he were an infant taking his first steps.

Feliciano swallowed his shame and let it settle deep into his stomach, hoping it held down all of the other things wanting to come up. He worked his way up to a tentative run, giving alarmed cries and throwing out his arms with every detonated defense like an imbecile. He dashed through the doors with his guards around him, shielding him and sending bullets into the mass of Organization pursuers. Feliciano seemed so incompetent among them, so unimportant. He flitted clumsily around like a fledgling while his guards took stances and struck with the might and precision of vipers. Beside him, a guard's reflexes failed for a mere moment, enough for a bullet to tear through him, exploding out of his back in a surge of blood and bone. The Resistance soldier screamed and fell to the floor, face up and staring, forcing Feliciano to look straight into his dying eyes and observe the bloody mess the gunshot had made of him. The Italian's legs wobbled and his hand shot to his mouth, bile creeping up his throat.

He was barely within the doors, hadn't even begun his mission, and he was already prepared to bolt. Everyone around him was still running, fighting, dying, and Feliciano couldn't do a damn thing. He stopped and surveyed, trying his best not to throw up when his eyes moved over the bodies with entrails swimming in bloody pools at their guts, over splatters of red and flesh and pieces of internal organs. It was then that he decided: he could not do it.

I'm sorry, Nonno. He turned on his heel and ran, like he always had. Away from his problems and everything he knew. But it was for the best. I will only hold them back. I know I'm a burden even if they do not tell me. I see the way they look at me. I hear the whispers.

And, as if summoned by his thoughts, the whispers came. Feliciano had barely rounded a corner into an empty part of the compound when his mind was attacked, knifed, sending him to his knees. He screamed and his hands flew to his ears, crouching, trying to make himself as small as possible. He could still hear the fighting, the gunshots, the death, however distant they sounded, and he managed to crawl into a niche in the wall. He pulled his knees up to his chest and tore at his hair, forced to cram himself into the tiny space and ignore the dust and little bits of rock shaken from the ceiling by the blasts nearby. Suddenly, nothing else mattered but those whispers.

"The stars will fall."

No, no, please… leave me alone!

"There is no room for them. They will destroy everything."

Stop! Stop!

"The bloody head is coming. It will arrive within the hour. You must stop it."

Feliciano began to sob, clutching himself, rocking back and forth. Please… stop… I can't…

"If you fail, they will all die. Their deaths will be your fault."

No, no, no!

"Yes. And you will fail, won't you? Look at you, so weak."

Leave me alone… go away. His eyes grew hot with fresh tears, fat drops rolling down his cheeks. Luddy, help me. I need you.

"You can't run from your problems anymore, Feliciano. It won't just go away, and no one else can help you."

Feliciano took his hands from his ears, used them to hide his tear-sticky face. But what can I do?

A pause, and then a click, as if a switch had been flipped in Feliciano's head. "Find me."

The Italian sat bolt upright, frozen, eyes wide. Fear gripped him harder than it ever had, and he scrambled out of the niche like it was a nest of ants ready to devour him, finding strength enough to stand and examine the alcove, wracked with tremors. I-it's not the same. The voice. It's—

All too late he felt a presence behind him, cutting through the echoing voice as sharp as a knife. "The Overlord is expecting you, Italy."

Before Feliciano could draw breath enough to scream, a hand shot forth from behind, pressing a rag to his face. At first he panicked, his mouth and nose covered, breathing in the soiled material. And then he felt strangely calm, melting like butter until everything went dark and silent.

He cracked open his eyes, unsure of how much time had passed since he had been knocked out, having no concept of it at all. He was met with the harsh glare of a bare bulb dangling above his head, encasing his whole body with light while all around him darkness loomed like a plotting menace. His vision was blurry, and it took a minute or two before his eyes could properly adjust to the bright assault, after which he confirmed that he was no longer in the compound, or, judging by the absence of the blasts, no longer in the tunnels whatsoever. He felt drowsy and weak, a bit limp, his muscles having somehow forgotten how to function. His mouth was dreadfully dry, and his head was pounding. He tried to lift a hand to rub it to ease some of the discomfort but found that he was strapped down to some sort of free-standing trap, his wrists tied behind whatever he was attached to and his legs, knees, and feet straining under coils of tightly-wrapped cord. He intended to yell, but when he tried to take air in through his mouth he could not. Someone had effectively rendered him more helpless than he already was, using duct tape to keep him quiet for good measure. What was going on?

Oh God, where am I? At least he could still see. His eyes darted around, taking in the full scope of his vision, realizing that he could see absolutely nothing outside of his bleak little spotlight of searing white. What am I doing here? Did I walk here without knowing? Did I fall through something? Then he recalled the voice, how greatly it had changed and how suddenly. The voice. Did it bring me here?

"Oh, you've woken up."

A very different voice made him stiffen, so much so that he rattled his trap. His head turned, eyes moving over everything they could find (which wasn't much other than blackness), the words echoing as if they were in some large empty room. He didn't notice the familiarity of the voice until it continued, "I was afraid I'd have to do it myself, which would not be nearly as fun. I like my captives to experience a bit of mystery upon coming to. Builds suspense, don't you think?"

Of course Feliciano could not respond, but if he had the ability he could not have brought himself to. Because at that very moment, a shadow moved among shadows just outside of his little, deceptively safe circle of light, growing in size and shape until a whole person separated from the dark, as if formally a shadow themselves.

Hazel eyes met wide, teary amber, the former so full of cunning that a whimper floated unbidden up Feliciano's throat. "Ah, so you do remember me? Well, how could you forget with your brother's grieving?" Jeanne leaned in, and Feliciano shivered when he felt her nose brush against his skin. He could have sworn he felt scales. "How was he, your brother? Romano, was it? How'd he take seeing his lover's brain splattered all over the floor and wall? Did he realize that it was smaller than average? Then again, I figure it was hard to tell. Marvin specialized in headshots; he would make sure he aimed so that there would be nothing left but pieces of that egotistical bastard." Her lips parted to reveal off-white teeth, her smile like ice sliding down Feliciano's spine. "And how about you? I assume it was your first time being that close to gore. His head looked like mush, didn't it, with bits of bone mixed in? It looked ugly. Everyone looks ugly on the inside, Italy, and you found out that day. You and your friends and even I look the same inside, just as ugly, the same deep down. I guess that's a way of telling us to never trust anyone. Well, you certainly learned with me, didn't you?" She reached out, running a finger over his cheek, through blood and tears, and dust. It felt alarmingly warm, almost aflame. Feliciano jerked his head away and shut his eyes. He couldn't bear to look at Jeanne's face, into her eyes which held the buried memories of Gilbert's death, of Lovino's suicide.

"Your brother isn't here," Jeanne continued, and Feliciano hated that she could tell what he was thinking just from his reactions. "We have eyes in unexpected places. You thought that you were running away? Right. The Overlord knows all. You ran straight into our trap, and just as your brother was a coward for killing himself you're just as much a coward." Feliciano's eyes were still closed, but he could feel her getting closer, warm breath puffing on his face. "You couldn't kill yourself if you tried, could you?" she whispered cruelly. "You're too scared. All you can do is run away, but I… oh, I will always catch you."

Feliciano felt her back away and with hesitation opened his eyes just a bit to confirm her location. He didn't need any more surprises. Sure enough, she was still standing there, staring at him with that twisted smile he couldn't fathom having believed was even close to sane, and as if drawn, his eyes wandered down to her belly and immediately went wide.

Jeanne noticed his gawking and patted the enlarged bulge. "Like it? It's a reward from the Overlord. Oh, I think I can feel it moving… watch, it's really very stunning." Feliciano knew he should look away but some morbid curiosity kept his eyes in place and he witnessed Jeanne's stomach growing larger, no—it was moving. Horrified, he met Jeanne's gaze again, not knowing if looking at her face or her belly was worse. Her smile softened to one of content, a dreamy sort of content that told Feliciano that she was far out of touch with reality. This was Jeanne's world he was trapped in, and she was calling all the shots. "I didn't lie about them beating my son to death inside me," Jeanne continued, her eyes glazed over, as if recalling the agonizing memory didn't faze her. She appeared just as much a robot as every other Organization soldier, except for the fact that the Overlord's influence had played a minimal role in her psychosis; her unstable mind had been easy enough to manipulate and the rest of the madness she supplied on her own. "I was sad for a while… yes, very sad. He was everything I had. I wandered around after I gave birth to him and buried his body—he was so tiny and fragile, had bruises from the abuse like I had—and I was close to just ending everything. But then," here a smile stretched her lips almost grotesquely, "Then the Organization picked me up again. At first I fought them, told them I hated them, they killed everyone I knew and took everything I loved. But the Organization can give back. Did you know that?" Her gaze snapped to Feliciano, made him freeze with the intensity of it. "They had me in the Expansion Program, found that I was too damaged to reproduce." Jeanne's eyes went unfocused once again. "At least not the usual way."

Feliciano stared, frightened by her appearance but too scared to take his eyes off of her for fear of what she may do while he wasn't looking. He didn't like what she was saying. There was something… off in her words. Very off.

"I was sad. All my life I wanted someone who could love me unconditionally. Was that so hard to achieve? And yet it was. I felt like dying, but I knew the Overlord would be disappointed. So I asked to see the Overlord one day, begged on my knees, said I'd do anything, anything for him if only I could have just a sliver of happiness in my life. He was hesitant at first, but he eventually let me in, as merciful as he is. He saw my potential which those other sow sluts don't possess. He said that he would give me what I wanted, that he had a very special mission just for me. He gave me a baby." Feliciano's heart began to pound. Something was definitely wrong. But Jeanne appeared at ease, staring at a point in the distance through the gloom, the words pouring from her mouth like they didn't hold the terrible weight he knew them to have. He flinched when she chuckled a bit. "Not himself, of course. I am beneath him, as is everyone else in the world, and it wouldn't do to have him sullied. But he gave me an injection, and it took. It began to grow. I wasn't scared," she stated suddenly in a voice that was unnecessarily aggressive. She still appeared to be talking to shadows. "No, I wasn't scared. It was a blessing I was receiving, and although it has never been done before I was honored to take the risk. And I even agreed to go after you and your friends to test the baby's strength." Her eyes darted back to meet Feliciano's so quickly that his heart nearly jumped into his throat. They were full of glee, almost maniacally so. "The Overlord made a promise to me. He said if I did as he said he would reward me with what I've wanted more than anything else in the world: unconditional love. And everyone in the world will love me soon enough, once I start contributing in my own way to the Expansion Program. Because I will be everyone's mother. They won't have a choice then, will they? They'll have to love me, no matter what. And that means they won't hurt me, like everyone else has."

Her expression suddenly became excessively bitter, seething with scorn for the nation that stood bound and scared before her. "And you, you will watch. You'll watch me give birth to what you and your bastard friends never bothered to give two fucks about, even when you saw the signs. Why would you anyway, when you didn't even care about all the little people? You had your immortality, you had your decades of relaxation, your fun flinging shit at each other and not caring how many died because of it, how many families lost their own sons." Feliciano peered back down at Jeanne's belly, and she caught him staring, rolling up her shirt to allow him to further wallow in the horror. He watched her hand pass over the overly round arc, bile once again burning up his throat when he clearly saw what must be a limb of the thing inside her form a substantial ridge beneath her skin. The flesh was stretched oblong and deformed, veins as black as tar winding their way around the monstrous bulge. He could have sworn he saw them pumping, feeding whatever ravenous creature was growing inside of her.

"Hmm, I'll be a mother." Jeanne's voice returned to its airy tone, and Feliciano didn't know which frightened him more. "And everyone will love me. Even the Overlord. As for you," her eyes had returned to the shadows again, addressing him but not sparing him a glance, insignificant as he was to her, "your mental perception poses a great risk to the Overlord's power; you will surely inspire rebellion. Now, I can't allow that. I made a promise as well. When this baby is born, it will need to feed. But how selfish would I be to keep the birth from the Overlord's eyes?" Hazel eyes met wide, teary amber. "A change of scenery is in order. It would be fitting to have my child born in the Core, and I daresay you'll have some guests to say your last goodbyes to—if you're not a coward enough to do so."

"The bloody head," the whispers hissed. "The bloody head is coming, and you won't be able to stop it. You're not strong enough; you will see this baby born and swallow the world before you find strength enough to stop your whimpering."

Feliciano hung his head, temples throbbing, body aching, done. He felt the restraints, the sturdiness of them. Ludwig surely could have broken out of them, but someone as weak and useless as Feliciano would be trapped in them forever. There really was no going back.

You're right.

No translations

A Word From the Writer: Ahh, so, I have several valid excuses as to why this didn't come out earlier. 1, I'm on break, and to my parents that means free hands for manual labor. Since it's suddenly gotten warm outside, that's where I was for much of the weekend, lugging shit up and down the giant-ass hill that is my backyard. Now I ache all over ('cause I'm a lazy fuck with noodle arms who can't lift for shit) and my allergies are being a fucking bitch as always, which is very distracting to say the least. Then it kept going from 50 degrees to 90 all week (our ancient air conditioner keeps shitting the bed, that's nice) and, goddammit Nature pick a season! 2, I had to go to an open house and take a last minute French placement test (didn't do as shitty as I thought, that's a plus... only to find out I won't have to take a French class till my second year *facepalm*), 3, Today I went to register, which was just a big fun-filled hour of sitting and sorting, AKA I didn't get anything done for this fic. 4, I have yet to start on the shit-ton of homework and projects I have to do before May, so all posts may be a little slow coming out. But don't take that as bad! I'm gonna finish this fic if it kills me, I'm so close to the end. It would be terrible just to say, "Fuck it," and let it die. That's one huge cliffhanger, lol.

*sigh* Anyway, at least I finished this bit for you, and it's only... Tuesday. Well, whatever. You got Italy at least, in his semi-depressed state. And, whaddaya know? Jeanne's back! Crazy Jeanne with her monstrous pregnancy. Hehe, you'll find out later on what she's really giving birth to.

Next chapter (which I will hopefully start and finish soon) will be the last of the first part of the POVs (if that makes any sense), which means America. Prepare to meet the Overlord... next post!