Germany lay on his back in the ruins of what had once been the beautiful city of
Berlin. The screams and anguish of his people…dying, dying…it was almost enough to block the pain of his own wounds. He still felt the rubble under his back, the remains of just another unfortunate building targeted by those damn Allies. The glass shards from the broken windows cut through his uniform into his back, opening new wounds that shed tears of blood onto the blackened street. He remained where he was, hoping the gash on his torso that ran shoulder to hip would stop bleeding soon. The explosion didn't help – he had been trying to find survivors in a building when a late grenade had gone off, throwing him from the building into the street where he now lay, surrounded by rubble ranging in size from tiny pebbles to bricks as large as an oven.

Could he really die? He was a nation, after all. He, like the others, had heard many strange things about when a nation died, none of them from remotely reliable sources. But none of that mattered now, as he guessed he was about to find out firsthand. Germany sighed, then immediately regretted the simple action as blood trickled into his lungs, stimulating a coughing fit. Relaxing at last, he began to slip into a semi-conscious state when a voice he had never hoped to hear again pierced the strange fog descending over his senses.

"Germany! Germany, where are you? Are you here?" Italy's frantic voice rang out through the darkness, begging, pleading with Germany to answer his best friend-

No.

Not his best friend.

Italy had abandoned him. Left for the Allies without a backward glance. Wasn't that enough proof that Italy did not consider Germany his friend? After all, Germany was always the one protecting his wayward ally. Italy just saw him as a means to stay safe and-

The thought was cut off by another violent coughing fit. Germany, detached, watched his blood spatter the street in front of him as his lungs punished him for his injuries. His exhaustion grew as his lungs never seemed to be able to hold the air he took in.

"Germany! Where are you?! I can hear you but I can't find you!"

The voice, frantic now, was coming closer. Germany tried to move, but his limbs weighed a ton each and the ground was so comfortable all of a sudden…maybe he could take a short nap…

"GERMANY!" the voice shrieked in his ear as Italy fell to his knees beside him. Raising his eyes upward slightly, he met the golden-eyed gaze of Italy. "Germany, are you all right what happened?! I have been looking for hours but I couldn't find you and the others don't seem to care!"

Germany unsuccessfully attempted the impossible task of making his mouth form words as Italy attempted the equally impossible task of pulling Germany off the ground. As Germany was about to fall unconscious he suddenly became aware of another presence, this one with messy dark blonde hair and blue eyes like his own, wearing a loose black tunic and pants with a billowing cape. The newcomer muttered a few words to Italy, which effectively seemed to calm him down, before the stranger turned his attention to him.

"What happened to you?" a distinctly German voice asked as he felt strong arms easily lift him off the ground. Unable to reply, Germany slowly drifted into unconsciousness, his last sensations being of the smooth step of his rescuer through the ruins and the sympathy in his deep blue eyes as the stranger carried him from the wreckage of Berlin.