Disclaimer: I don't own Axis Powers Hetalia. Neither do you.

Author's Note: This was written in collaboration with Star the Foxhound. It's also the first time we tried to write something serious together. It didn't turn out nearly as serious as we wanted. Go figure.

Warnings: Enough fluff to give dust bunnies nightmares.

Germany stared into America's eyes, not turning his attention away from the other. He wasn't sure what America intended, now that they were alone, but he knew one thing. "Italy, get behind me," He instructed. He would at least be sure to protect Italy.

America grinned, although his smile was not nearly as optimistic or friendly as usual. No, this smile had a more vicious, almost predatory element to it. He kept his eyes locked into his enemy's, the only possible thread present. The cowering Italian was of no consequence, really.

America held his gun in his hand - loaded, but not aimed yet. He knew that he could send a bullet through Germany in a fraction of a second, if he so wished. The German knew it as well. Tension rose, each waiting for the other to speak first, and America loved it.

Feeling the tension in the air, Germany was at least glad that Italy had listened and was safe behind him. He didn't look at the Italian, knew he couldn't tear his attention from America. "What do you want, America?" He asked, his voice calm despite the situation. He would remain calm. He always did.

"You're losing the war," America said, the fiendish grin still plastered across his face. "It may not be official yet, but you know it. And I know it." His grip on the gun tensed slightly, but he did not shoot the cornered, unarmed nation before him just yet. No, he wanted to see Germany to lose it, even just for a second. He wanted to see Germany's stoic expression turn to fear.

"Germany..." Italy whined slightly, tugging on the back his uniform coat. "Germany, I'm scared..." Not like he needed to say that. His terror was clear even before he spoke.

Still, Germany didn't move, his expression unchanging. He was nervous, that was true, but he wasn't one to show it. He had to hold an example for Italy who was still cowering behind him. "It's not over yet."

America laughed slightly, cold and humorless. "Keep telling yourself that, Nazi."

Germany continued to stare into America's eyes. He didn't like being called that, even if he knew that it was true. "It's not over," he said again, still keeping all signs of emotion from showing.

America's smile faded a bit from annoyance at Germany's lack of reaction. He was almost as bad as Japan when it came to facing defeat - even if he knew he had lost, he wouldn't show any sign of fear or remorse. He finally glanced away from Germany's eyes to look at Italy, pale-faced and just barely peeking out from behind his protector. "Enough of this bullshit," He muttered. He aimed and fired the gun in one swift movement, sending a bullet through Germany's skull. The loud cracking of the gun firing wasn't quite enough to drown out Italy's scream.

He had barely registered that the bullet was coming before it hit, instantly sending him into unconsciousness. The impact of the shot knocked Germany back into Italy, sending both of them to the ground as the German landed on his side, somehow not landing directly on top of Italy.

America turned and left without a word. He knew that the bullet was probably not enough to kill Germany - it was extremely difficult to actually kill a nation - but it would probably keep him out of the way for a few days at the very least. He ignored Italy's yelling and sobbing coming from behind him. It wasn't important.

Germany wasn't moving, but he had to be all right, didn't he? "Germany!" Italy shouted, trying to get the other's attention without any reaction. "Germany!" Italy knew that Germany wasn't dead - even he had survived worse than that - but a bullet through the head was a serious injury, even for a nation. Germany was breathing. That's all that mattered. "Germany," he mumbled, tears streaming down his face. "I won't leave you here! I won't!" He clung to his ally's hand as tightly as possible, even though he knew Germany couldn't feel it.

He couldn't leave Germany on the battlefield like that. It would take some time for him to heal, but it would pass faster if he was in a safe place. Italy tried to lift Germany, to carry him someplace safe, but it didn't work. Italy was weak, after all. "I'm so sorry, Germany..." He said, knowing that the other couldn't hear. "I have to get help..."

Leaning over and hugging the German's still form, Italy apologized quietly before jumping up and running for help. He had to get help.

-

Prussia sat up and spat out some blood, mentally cursing. The albino nation narrowed his eyes towards the direction in which Russia had disappeared. That… that giant had some nerve, trying to defeat him and then asking him to become one with him. Like hell. The almighty Prussia would never bow down to anyone. He stood up and winced slightly at the pain in his side. Cracked rib, most likely. He may have lost that battle, but Russia was gone for now. Prussia would never lose the war.

But we are losing.

Shut up.

You can't deny it forever.

Shut. Up.

"Prussia!" The call snapped him out of his inner argument, and he turned around to come face-to-face with Italy. He blinked in surprise. It wasn't normal for Italy to go anywhere without Germany.

"What happened?" He asked, getting straight to the point. The fact that Italy arrived alone, added to the desperate expression on his face, said almost everything right there.

"Th- there was – America, and he – he – Germany's shot." Italy finally managed to say. "Germany's shot…" The small nation started to shake uncontrollably, the real impact of the situation hitting him for the first time. "Germany's shot…" He mumbled to himself, over and over, as if he couldn't think of anything else.

"Where is he?" Prussia demanded, grabbing each of the Italian's shoulders. The shaking nation looked up for a moment, still mumbling the same two words to himself. Then it seemed as if something snapped. Italy's trembling abruptly stopped.

"This way," he said, his words sounding empty and hollow. He took off in a brisk walk, a pace that seemed almost alien, more befitting of a nation like his brother. Prussia followed, trying to deal with the sudden news and the even more sudden change in Italy's personality. The nations reached Germany rather quickly – they weren't human, after all, and they were able to cross long distances in little time with little apparent effort.

Prussia froze when he saw his brother. When Italy had said that Germany had been shot, he thought it was in the chest or something like it – an injury that would be bad enough to keep him from being able to move much, but not too horrible. He never would have guessed something like this…

Italy sat next to Germany, gently wiping excess blood from his face while carefully avoiding the bullet wound. It was already starting to heal, Prussia could tell. Bits of Germany's skull were slowly knitting themselves back together, so slow that it was hardly noticeable. Prussia knew without looking that the back of his head would still be a mess. Bullets did that – they looked like such neat injuries from the front, but from behind the real damage was shown. The real damage, the damage that was caused by a shard of metal dragging the flesh behind it. "We need to get him home," Prussia said, feeling a bit detached from the situation, "at the very least. Help me move him." Italy looked up at the albino, his expression curiously blank, and nodded.

The two of them managed to carry Germany with no more difficulty than was reasonable. They both made sure to not distress Germany's wound – such an action would only delay healing. Eventually the blond nation was laid back in his own bed, bandages wrapped around his head to keep the injury contained. Italy stayed near him, still uncharacteristically stoic and quiet.

Days passed, and Italy stayed with Germany while Prussia had to leave to continue fighting battles. The albino started to worry about Italy – the normally cheerful nation had not spoken an entire sentence since Germany was shot, and hadn't been eating either. If that was not indication of something being horribly wrong, Prussia didn't know what was.

When Germany first opened his eyes, he didn't remember what had happened, started to sit up until he felt a sharp pain in his head and his last memory of America, the shot, rushing back to him. He put a hand to his head, felt the bandage and looked to the side, realizing that he was back in his own house.

Italy snapped awake almost instantly, and then frowned, realizing that he had fallen asleep. He looked over to Germany, and the second their eyes met, he knew what had woken him up. "You're awake," He said, perfectly aware that his voice sounded blank and rough from days of silence. It wasn't a question. It was just an observation.

"I'm awake." Germany's voice was softer then usual as he looked at Italy. He wondered what had happened in the time when he'd been out. Italy must have found help for him to have ended up back home, and for that he was grateful for. Even if Italy was weak most of the time, he wasn't useless either.

Italy smiled, but only slightly. He was still too tense. Every time he closed his eyes, he would see Germany's face as America pulled the trigger, Germany falling, Germany motionless on the ground, pulse barely noticeable. "I was worried," He said simply.

He was unsure of what to say, just stared at Italy. Germany noticed how tense the other nation was, the slight smile. It seemed that the event had made Italy more serious, at least for the time being.

Italy bowed his head slightly, not quite meeting Germany's eyes. What could he say, really? He waited for a minute, before asking, "Are you feeling better?"

Germany thought for a moment before answering. He didn't really know if he was feeling better, seeing as he'd just waken up for the first time after it had happened. "It hurts," he said then, "But I can live with the pain."

Italy nodded slightly. Of course it hurt, but all of the nations had known pain. "I was scared," Italy said, very quietly. There was a brief moment of awkwardness, before Italy leaned forward and squeezed Germany in a tight hug. The tears that he had been holding back for days burst forth all at once. "I was so scared, Germany!"

"It's alright," Germany said, putting his arms around the other nation and awkwardly returning the hug. "You don't have to be scared, Italy."

"Well," Prussia said, leaning in the doorway and watching the other two nations. He flashed a bright grin. "It's good to see that things are starting to get back to normal."

Hearing the familiar voice, Germany turned his head towards the doorway. "Gilbert," he said in greeting.

"West," Prussia nodded in response, grinning slightly at the sight of Italy clinging to Germany like a barnacle on a ship. The brunette glanced over for a split second before burying his face in Germany's chest again. Prussia turned serious for a moment. "We need to talk," he said, despite knowing that it was probably far too soon to discuss something as serious as it was.

"Alright," Germany said. He noticed the serious expression on his brother's face, glanced down at Italy for a moment, not sure if his brother wanted the Italian to be there. "We can talk."

"We're losing." Prussia said flatly.

For a moment Germany was silent, remembering how America had said the very same thing. Then he had denied it, for he could never admit defeat to the other nations. But with his brother, it was different. "I know."

"Y- You're going to be fine!" Italy burst out, sitting up suddenly. "You're both strong! You won't lose!" He started shaking once again. "You can't lose..." He added, much more quietly.

Prussia said nothing, just looking from Italy to Germany and back again.

"It is possible to lose," Germany said, a bit taken by surprise by Italy. How could the nation not see what was happening? "And we are."

"NO!" Italy shouted, roughly grabbing the front of Germany's shirt. "You can't lose! You can't! I won't let you! They'll kill you! I won't let it happen again!" Italy was shaking uncontrollably by now, and crying, and screaming. Prussia's eyes widened in shock.

"They won't kill me," Germany said, "Calm down, Italy. We can lose. I don't want to lose, none of us want to lose but we have to also face the facts. We are losing."

Italy glared at Germany, an expression that made him look almost exactly like his older brother. "They will," He snapped. "They've done it before. They'll do it again." He looked like he was about to start screaming again when a strong hand gripped his shoulder. He looked up at Prussia.

"That was... a long time ago," the albino said. "Things have changed."

Germany wasn't sure what to say as he looked at the other two nations before him and so for a moment he was silent as he gathered his thoughts.

"Even if they've done it before," he said at last, "It doesn't mean that they'll do it again."

"I don't want to risk it." Italy stated.

Prussia stayed silent for a moment, looking at Italy with an unreadable expression on his face. "You're talking about the Holy Roman Empire, aren't you?" He asked softly, so as to not sound rude.

Italy replied with a barely perceptible nod of his head.

While Germany had heard of the Holy Roman Empire, he hadn't existed until after he had existed. He didn't know how close Italy had been to him, and so he was silent, having nothing to add.

Italy looked over towards Germany. Most people would say that his expression was entirely closed, but Italy knew Germany well enough to detect the tiny gleam of curiosity in his eyes. He sighed heavily, knowing that Germany didn't really exist until after the Holy Roman Empire left, until after Italy had heard about his death on the battlefield at the hands of most of the nations he had been fighting. "I'm sorry for yelling at you, Germany," He finally said. "But I... I can't lose you. I just can't."

"It's alright," Germany said. From all that had been said, he gathered that Italy had known the Holy Roman Empire once, before the nation's death.

Italy smiled slightly, knowing that Germany was being sincere. "It's okay, Germany," He said, trying to seem as cheerful as possible, despite the circumstances. "I'll protect you!"