Staying in Switzerland (Hetalia One-Shots)

Ireland

    Denmark roared and swung the sledgehammer at the concrete. The hole opened a wider with the help of a few other countries around him. Denmark took a deep breath and prepared to take another swing.
    I should’ve taken Mary’s advice about sledgehammers a long time ago.
    Another hit and the hole was big enough for someone to walk through.
   The countries around him hesitated. Denmark didn’t really blame them, considering there was at least one dead country in one of those cubes. But if the country inside of that cube was alive, Denmark didn’t want to wait a second longer.

    Tossing the sledgehammer aside and grabbing his axe from the floor, he marched into the cube, grasping his axe tightly and ignoring his shaking hands. He squinted as he waded into the ankle-deep water. His eyes adjusted to the darkness and he saw a body lying on the ground a few paces away.
    “I found someone!” he shouted out to the others, a second later realizing what a stupid statement it was. Of course someone was in the cube. He ran forward, leaning down and grabbing the person’s shoulders. Lifting the body carefully, Denmark leaned his ear down toward the man's head.
     He wasn’t breathing.
    Denmark groped until he found the accursed chain that held the country to the floor. A few good hits with his axe and the chain broke. Denmark lifted the man out of the water and toward the light. When he stepped out, gasps sounded and shouts were made for Vale.
    England, Scotland, and Wales crowded around Denmark as he set down their unconscious brother, Ireland.
    “Move, move!” Vale pushed Denmark away with a surprising amount of force. Denmark stepped back and watched as Vale put her hands on Shawn’s forehead.
    The seconds that followed were agonizing. Denmark stared at Ireland’s still chest. His shoulders and arms were covered in scabs. Denmark winced when he thought of all the torture the country must have gone through.
    Vale gasped.
    “He’s all right!” she cried.
    Ireland sputtered and choked, leaning over and coughing up water. England was quickly kneeling beside him. Denmark let out a breath he hadn’t realized he'd been holding and watched as the countries of the United Kingdom helped their brother stand. Ireland looked at each of them, his eyes wide and disbelieving.
    “I told ya not to go, ya dunderhead!” Scotland rebuked before embracing his brother tightly. Wale’s bright eyes were wide and still slightly panicked. England’s smile showed his relief.
    One country down, three more to go.
    Denmark took a deep breath and turned to go help with the next cube, when a shout made him pause.
    “Shawn! Ya stupid, idiot brother of mine!” a woman’s voice shouted in an Irish accent.
    “Erin?” Ireland gasped, his eyes growing wide as he looked over his brother’s shoulders. Denmark looked and saw a lady with incredibly curly orange hair running toward them, a machine gun in her hands. She tossed the weapon aside carelessly, the water filling her eyes making her light green eyes shine.
    “Erin!” Ireland called out again, relief in his voice. Denmark immediately noticed the resemblance between him and the woman running toward them. Ireland stumbled away from his brothers, but she was right there to catch him.
    “I hate yu! I hate yu so much!” the girl shouted in his face before hugging him tightly. Ireland leaned his head on her shoulder and began to cry.
    “I told ya I would make it by myself, Shawn,” the girl sobbed, her tears streaking down her freckled face. “I told ya not to come after me…”
    The other three men crowded around the two and Denmark couldn’t see Ireland, but he had a clear view of Erin’s face.   

     “Denmark! Denmark!” Germany shouted, breaking his thoughts, “Come on! Ve need your help!”
    “Right… right!” Denmark exclaimed, turning away, gripping his axe. As he walked toward the other cubes, he glanced back over his shoulder.
    She met his gaze.