Don't Go

We Meet Again

"So what are their names?" Prussia asked as Germany steered his dogs into his house as he shut the door when they entered.

"Well, apparently Aster is the golden retriever," he said. "And the ones I got: Blackie the German Shepherd and Berlitz the Dachshund." He raised an eyebrow, eyeing the yellow bird sitting on Prussia's head, chirping. "Look that bird is on your head again."

Prussia looked up, unable to see. "Really?"

"You should name him," Germany suggested. "He seems to follow you around."

"Why?" Prussia asked. "He's not my bird. But since he loves me so much and thinks I'm awesome, I'm starting to like him. He can be... Gilbird."

"Gilbird?" He asked, trying his best to understand Prussia's weird quirks.

"Oh," Prussia laughed. "You don't know that I'm called Gilbert, do you? It makes him sound like a worshipper, worshipping my awesome self."

He ignored this as France came out of his house with Italy, the two of them smiling at each other as they walked down the street. "Oi, France!" Prussia called out, and they looked up, France's eyes widening as soon as he saw Germany.

Germany glared at France as him and Prussia approached them.

"Don't attack him yet," Prussia whispered promptly to Germany. "I haven't shown you my grenades yet."
He turned to France with a big grin on his face. "Hey, this is mein Brüder, but you already know him. Also, where's Spain?"

France avoided eye contact with Germany. "I was going to find him when I bring Italy to Romano," France answered, then winked. "Are we having a trio meeting?"

"Ja, of course," Prussia answered vexatiously, wriggling his eyebrows and sticking out his tongue. "Come on, let's go find Spain." The two of them left, and it was just Italy and Germany.

"Hallo," Germany said curtly, nodding stiffly. "I am Germany."

Italy stared at him with big brown eyes. "I am Italy!"

"Hmm..." Germany said, pensively. "Mein Gott, Prussia said he was going to show me his grenades. I guess I'll get my own prepared. Do you know much about weapons, Italy?"

He shook his head as they began to progress down the street, heading to Germany's place. "I don't like conflict at all..."

"Neither would I, if France hadn't attacked me like that," Germany grumbled bitterly, pulling his door open as he stepped inside, Italy following inside. A dachshund greeted them as Germany stroke him by the head. "How are you, Berlitz?" The other two dogs came to greet them and Italy hugged Aster.

"That one looks like the one Holy Rome had." Aster seemed to recognise Italy too, as he refused to leave him alone, yearning for strokes.

"Who is Holy Rome?"

"Well... he was a guy I used to like..."

"Oh," said Germany quietly, as they moved into the living room. "What happened to him?" Tears began to form in Italy's eyes as Germany bit his lip. "I'm sorry... it must be a painful reminder."

"It's okay," Italy told him. "He's forgotten about."

Germany reached for the rifle that was resting on his table and picked it up, staring down at it, before pulling ammunition out from the cabinet drawer next to it, and inserting some in.

"What are you doing?" Italy asked cluelessly.

"I'm going to make sure France doesn't mess around with me ever again," he returned defiantly, propping his weapon up over his shoulder.

"You can't shoot big brother, France!" Italy cried, astounded.

"Why not?" He demanded. "France nearly killed me!" Italy stared at him. "Unless you have something else that can resolve this situation?"

Italy thought about it for a while. "Let me show you my place," he said. "I think I have something."

***

"Pasta?" Germany asked, raising an incredulous eyebrow. "That's not going to solve anything."

"If everyone has pasta, they'll immediately feel better again!" Italy replied cheerfully.

Something was oddly familiar about that, but Germany could not quite understand what. He swore that he knew someone who's mood would lighten at the mention of food, but his mind was too foggy for him to quite make out who. "I need a weapon," Germany insisted. "I need to kill France."

"But big brother France is kind to me!" Italy showed Germany a painting that was hanging on his wall. A picture of a younger version of him sleeping, wearing a maid's outfit. "Big brother France found this... before Holy..." Italy stopped, unable to carry on, shaking his head as tears fell down.

Germany stared at the painting. "Who is this girl?" He demanded, pointing at the picture.

Italy looked shocked at him. "That's me," Italy replied, thinking that it was obvious. "Holy Rome kept it... but he's gone."

"You look like a girl here," he said. "Why were you wearing a dress?"

Italy smiled, his eyes clearing up again. "Mr. Austria thought that I was a girl... until my voice broke, of course!"

"Wow," Germany said. "And you never thought to correct him?"

"I thought it was normal for guys to wear dresses," Italy replied. "I thought it looked cute. You should have seen me in Hungary's dress -"

Germany froze, dropping his rifle onto the floor as a huge bang sounded from the ground. Italy flinched at the sudden loud noise as Germany stared. He did not think to pick it up, or comfort Italy, as he was too busy lost in his own thoughts to notice. "That girl... you... I saw you when I woke up in hospital..."

Italy looked at him, completely perplexed. He must have been crazy - Italy did not recognise Germany at all, and it seemed that Germany did not recognise him either.

"You were sleeping in the bed on my left... do you... do you know me?"

Italy blinked, clueless eyes staring back at him, brown meeting blue. "I know you, Germany," he beamed, cheeks flushing. "I met you today!"

"I guess..." Germany said, reaching down to pick up his rifle, before swinging it over his broad shoulders. "I'm going to get going. I don't want to take up your time. Besides, I have some training to get on with."

"Goodbye, Germany!" Italy called out to him as he turned his back on him, similarly how Holy Rome had done with him when he had departed. Germany opened the front door, stepping out and gave Italy a curt nod before leaving. Italy waved continuously as he left, a huge smile stretched over his face, even as he struggled for a reason to keep smiling.