Scars

(1945...and a glimpse to the future) A New World

Ah, here's the grand finale to this story. It's been fun, but all good things come to an end eventually.

May 8, 1945

Europe

Most of the fighting in Europe had ceased.

For all intents and purposes, the war was over.

And citizens in every affected country were out in the streets, cheering. The Allies were among them, relieved and happy.

Britain and France were waltzing out in the open. America and Australia held a drinking contest, with Canada and New Zealand keeping watch to make sure they didn't do anything stupid. Fascist watched his son mingle among his new friends, with a bittersweet look. Poland took to the skies, not caring if anyone saw. (Since most people were drunk, if anyone happened to spot him, it would be dismissed as a hallucination at best.) Romania and Bulgaria were just chatting. Hungary and Czechoslovakia were helping Austria move around. Anyone who wasn't present was in their own country.

Austria's coloring was restored, and the cracks were gone. Britain, France, and America had given him back his connection. While the three countries would still occupy his territory, they had promised to let him go once he got back on his feet.

Still, having spent so long with his life slowly slipping away, he was still regaining his strength and needed assistance to walk. He also got tired often, as he asked his siblings, "Can I sit down? You go hang out with your friends. I'll be fine, I promise."

Having nearly lost their brother, Czechoslovakia and Hungary acted as if he were fragile as glass and relucantly left him on his own. Austria simply witnessed the celebrations with a forlorn look.

"You okay?" Fascist, who was sitting next to him, asked.

"Not really," Austria admitted. "I'm as happy as everyone else that the war's over. It's just Reich."

"I'm not sad at all that he's dead," Fascist said. "But I'm not happy either. When Reich shot himself right in front of us...I was more concerned that my son had to see it. I was also angry that he did it with his child witnessing it. It wasn't until later that it really hit me. As much as I hate to admit it, Reich was once my friend. Combine that with my later experiences and now, I just feel numb."

"I'm numb as well," Austria stated. "And I hate it, because I should feel sad. He was my cousin that unfortunately lost his way. Czechy and Hungary are glad, but I can't bring myself to feel any joy that he died. I keep thinking, it didn't have to be this way."

"No it didn't," Fascist agreed. "But that type of thinking does you no good, Austria. All you can do is accept that it happened, and move on."

Fascist sighed, watching as Italy laughed at a joke America had made. "Just as I've accepted my choices. I wish I didn't have to force Italia into countryhood prematurely. But Reich made his threat, and it was the only way I could think of to save him. Maybe I should've tackled Reich instead. But I can't think of what if. Because those possibilities are no longer viable. I need to focus on the present. Like preparing Italia for his responsibilities in the future."

Fascist's shield appeared on his flag. "I'm taking some of the weight off his shoulders. But someday very soon, I'll hand full control over to him."

"Some advice," Austria stared him straight in the eyes. "It will be tempting to hold on. Just to spend some more time with your son. But don't. Dying is not a pleasant experience in itself, but it's even worse to watch your loved ones break down. I held on because of my circumstances. You, on the other hand, don't have a reason to hang around. Maybe a few days is okay, just to make sure Italy is settled. Then let go. Don't make your son watch you suffer."