During the next twenty four hours or so, no one saw hide nor hair of the former Free State of Prussia. The meeting closed at six that evening in relative peace (at least compared to the brawl that happened before lunch. There was no such thing as "peace" in world meetings), and all the attendants either retired to their rooms, left to hit restaurants for dinner, or raided bars for get-togethers. Normally, Prussia would be found in one of those bars being his loud and boisterous self, both annoying and entertaining his fellow nations around him. Without his presence within the tavern, it was unusually quiet (minus the normal bickering between France and England), and there was only the muted murmuring of casual conversation.

Needless to say, without Prussia there to egg other nations into drinking games, no one left that bar smashed (though England was more than just a little bit tipsy).

The next day was twice as cold and rainy as the day before, and the poor weather conditions didn't help the mood of the nations whatsoever. Fortunately, there wasn't a repeat of the day before, and by four in the afternoon everyone was able to leave relatively unscathed.

This afternoon, Germany decided to join Veneziano (and his brother, good Lord...) for a nice dinner at a nearby Italian restaurant. Normally, he would follow the usual group of nations to loosen up at a bar, but going out for a drink wasn't as much fun without his brother there to challenge him into a drinking game, especially one involving Jägermeister and Red Bull.

After agreeing with the younger Italian brother to meet at the lobby, Germany excused himself to his room so he could quickly change out of his stuffy suit. His hand dug for his key, but when he clasped onto the door handle, it gave way easily under the weight and pressure of his hand and the door swung open. The blond instantly tensed and stepped inside, wondering how anyone could break into his room. His breath held, he closed the door and he was washed over with darkness, the only light coming from the dark window. The air smelled heavily of alcohol.

"Hello?" he called, his thumb flipping the light switch on. The room was bathed in light, and he was met with a mess. Beer cans were littered on the floor, and his bedsheets were thrown around and lumped on the bed as if someone were curled up under them. Germany had a feeling that he knew who the intruder was.

"Prussia, what are you doing here?" The blankets were ripped off to reveal the half naked form of Prussia, who was huddled in a curl with his face buried in the pillows. When he didn't move, Germany grasped his arm and shook him. "Bruder, where were you all day? Everyone was wondering where you went."

The question made Prussia shift his position and pull the blankets from his face, revealing puffy reddened eyes and flushed cheeks.

"Oh really?" His words were slurred and hoarse. "Why do I find that hard to believe?"

Germany rolled his eyes and sat down, shaking his head. "I know you're still upset over your bird, but that doesn't mean you miss a meeting. You need to be there–"

He was interrupted by a loud disbelieving snort followed by drunken laughter.

"I n-need to be there?" Prussia continued to snort and chuckle. "Oh, you're so funny, West, you're so funny..."

"What do you find so funny about skipping important meetings?"

Prussia's laughter only increased. "You actually think I have to be at the meetings? Oh, Jesus Christus, West, stop it, I-I can't breathe!"

Germany had no choice but to wait until his brother's fit of laughter ceased, which surprisingly enough did not take long. Within a moment, his last chuckle filled the room and Prussia fell into silence. Germany was about to ask what he found so humorous, but he was cut off before he could open his mouth.

"You actually think I have to be there." Prussia sounded so solemn, a complete contrast to his previous outburst. "You legitimately believe that I, who no longer has a kingdom or state or any land whatsoever, have to go to a world meeting where all the nations of the world talk about world issues involving their country as well as others?" His voice quickly grew hostile, and every emphasis was spat out. "Me, the Free State of Prussia, who was officially declared abolished sixty years ago?"

Germany frowned at Prussia's lack of the use of "awesome," "amazing," or any other word the albino used to to glorify himself. "B-Bruder–"

"–Don't." Prussia was on his feet, his stance not swaying despite his drunken state. "Don't "Bruder" me, Germany." He took a few steps and clamped a hand on Germany's shoulder, but more for keeping his balance than to try to stress his point. "Eight hundred years, Ludwig. Eight hundred years. I've been alive for almost eight hundred years. I was known as Prussia for five hundred! For two hundred years – two hundred years – I had my own kingdom in my hands! I had everything! Everything! I had the land, I had the wealth, the recognition, the fear, the power."

Prussia's other hand held his brother's arm in a vice grip. His red eyes were wide and borderline manic with tears freely streaming down his flushed cheeks.

"I even had my own language! Now I have nothing – nothing. My pathetic attempts to even stay a part of you only turned out in failure. I don't exist anymore! The only maps you'll find me in are in fucking textbooks! People could care less about the Kingdom of Prussia 'cause, you know, all I am is a dead nation! A dead fucking nation that everyone mistakes for Russia!"

At this point, Prussia was bawling, his anger violently swinging to despair. His fingers loosened and he collapsed against Germany's shoulder, his shameless and intoxicated sobbing muffled by the cloth of his shirt.

"Russia, Ludwig, friggin' Russia..."

Germany stiffened. While he was used to his big brother's drunken fits and mood swings, not once had he seen his brother cry, and he especially never saw him talk about himself in such a negative manner. His muscular arms gingerly wrapped around the small shaking body and guided him to the bed, speaking softly to try to calm him. More incomprehensible wails came from the albino, and it took much rocking and shushing to calm him to the point where his words were understandable.

"I'm such a nobody," he moaned after a moment of sniffling and hiccuping.

"No, Gilbert, you're not a nobody."

"Yes I am, Luddy. I'm such a loser. My best friend is a fucking bird for Christ's sake! I have no reason for being alive anymore. I do nothing bu-but prank Austria and watch Spain's shitty soaps and look up porn on your computer–"

"–Wait, you were the one who's been getting on my laptop?"

Prussia pulled back from Germany and gave him a brief incredulous look. "Yeah. You know anyone can get on your account. Password is the shittiest password anyone could use, you know that, right?"

"...I've been meaning to change it."

"To what, your birthday? You need to be more clever than that."

"I'll work on that."

A silence fell between the two, but not an awkward one. Prussia's sobbing reduced to sniffles and heavy breathing with the occasional whimper. His arms wrapped around the younger nation and squeezed tightly.

"I want my Junior back..."

"Hush, Bruder, you'll find him again soon."

"...Hey, Luddy?"

"Mm?"

"Can you go get me another beer? I ran out back in my room."

With a sigh, Germany untangled himself from his brother and went to the small refrigerator across the room, not at all reacting when Prussia collapsed onto his side and proceeded to once more hide under the blankets. When he opened the small white door, he grimaced at the lack of any alcoholic drinks he stored the night before. Then realized that the empty cans on the floor were originally his.

"Gilbert. You drank it all."

"O-Oh yeah." Prussia lifted the blankets from his face, his eyes squinting to try to clear his foggy vision. "I was planning on breaking into Austria's room and stealing his. He says he only drinks wine, but that's gotta be the biggest fattest lie I've heard from that stupid prissy assbutt son of a bitch..." His arm fell and his head was hidden under the bedsheets again, muffling his string of cursing and name calling.

Germany groaned and returned to his place on the edge of the bed. His hand laid on Prussia's hidden shoulder. "Why don't you try and get some sleep? I'll let you stay here, how about that?"

A mumble. Germany sighed and stood up.

"I'm going out to dinner with a few friends. I don't want you getting into any trouble, Bruder. I'll be back in a couple of hours–"

A pair of arms shot out from under the blankets and wrapped around Germany's waist, effectively pulling him back down onto the bed.

"No!" Prussia wailed. "Don't leave me alone! I'm so lonely! I don't wanna be alone..."

Any attempt to loosen the death grip was futile, and Germany slumped, his hands rubbing his face. He let Prussia bury his face into his lap and cry once more. A hand gently petted snowy locks as the other looked for his Blackberry in his pocket. Germany figured that it'd be intelligent to text Veneziano and warn him that their dinner would be a little bit late.

Morning number three was better than morning numbers one and two, with the skies overcast, but not a drop of rain plummeting to Earth.

With the lunch hour just around the corner, anticipation flooded the room and left all the nations itching to leave.

It was Estonia's turn at the podium. Charts were projected on the white screen, and the bespectacled country was currently pointing out the slices of a pie chart and their significance. Several nations paid attention, many pretended they were, and a select few didn't even attempt to look attentive. Everyone had long since learned to ignore Greece's quiet snoring over in the European section.

Spain was one of the nations obviously not focusing on the podium. His head was cradled on the nook of his elbow and his notes were covered with mindless scribbles. He was on the verge of falling asleep when he was jostled from his dozed, half asleep state.

"Mon ami?" France's deep voice was quiet and filled with worry. "Antonio, you look more tired than yesterday. Are you okay?" France had a right to fuss with his friend, for he hadn't smiled once in the last two days.

Spain moaned quietly and sat up, the joints of his back popping. "I'm fine, Francis. Trust me, I am. Just tired. Are we leaving for lunch yet?" As if on cue, Estonia announced the end of his presentation and the room erupted in chatter and laughter. Spain was slow with gathering his papers and folders and made his way out the door behind the mob of people rushing to fill their empty stomachs. France held onto his arm to not lose him in the crowd.

Finally breaking free of the lunch rush, the two friends walked down the near empty corridors towards the connected hotel.

"You're not hungry?" France asked. Spain sighed and rubbed his face.

"I feel so bad about what we did to Prussia," he murmured.

"So do I, but I'm sure that this bird will show up eventually. The two are practically connected with some sort of invisible string or something."

"That's the thing!" Spain stopped in his tracks and faced France. "I don't think they've ever been apart. Have you ever seen him without his bird?" When France's eyes unfocused momentarily in thought, Spain nodded. "See, I don't think that bird's ever been on his own, and on the rare occasion it has, it was probably left at his house. Who knows where it is now, or if it's even alive!"

The Spaniard was promptly elbowed in the gut and given a harsh look. "Don't say that, Espagne. That isn't going to happen. That bird is alive, it's just hiding somewhere."

"Well, let's go find it."

"We already spent most of the afternoon yesterday trying to find that thing!"

"What are we going to do then, wait until it magically shows up on one of the tables in the meeting room? Maybe it'll have a gift ribbon stuck on its head."

"...It could happen."

"No, France." Spain set off down the hall in a brisk walk. "We're responsible for losing Gilbert's bird, the best we could do to make it up to him is to find it. You know how much he treasures it, and if it isn't found he's going to have a grudge on us that he'll never let go."

France watched his friend leave, and with only a moment of hesitation he rubbed his face and jogged after him. It looked like he wasn't going to get his lunch hour after all.

When Prussia woke up an hour ago, he thought he was going to die. His head felt like exploding, his nausea was incredibly painful, and even with the lights off and curtains drawn, the room was way too bright. If it weren't for the fact that he was sweaty and smelly and had the worst cramps on his sides, he would've stayed comfortably curled up underneath the bedsheets.

The good news was that after a long hot shower, his hangover decreased just a little bit. The bad news was that his throat now burned after spending ten minutes puking his internal organs into the toilet.

With a moan, he collapsed onto a chair and buried his face into his hands. The room still smelled like beer, but at least the mess of empty cans left on the floor the night before were cleaned up. The window was opened in an attempt to air out the room, but with the curtains shut it didn't do much good.

Last night, after his drunken emotional breakdown, Prussia kept the bed, and while the rest of the room was neatly organized, a folded blanket on the couch told him where Germany slept. Guilt bubbled in the bottom of his stomach and he tried to make the bed to make up for it. However, after nearly losing his balance while attempting to pull the bedsheets from their impossible knot, he decided to screw the idea and leave it to the housekeepers. The clock told him that it was the lunch hour, and food was more important than making the bed look nice. The walk would be good for his hangover, anyway.

Not even a minute after exiting the room, he regretted leaving and wished he ordered room service instead. He kept a hand along the wall as he traversed towards the lobby and the other massaged his poor temple.

"The light people are merciless, ain't they, Junior," he muttered despite the lack of his yellow fluffy friend. "You'd think they'd be nice and use less brighter light bulbs or somethin'."

His heart still ached from his missing Junior, but pretending he was still perched atop his head averted the pain a little bit. During the last hour, all he thought about was his little Gilbird. Would he see his buddy again or was he forever gone? Who would he talk to at night when he was lonely? Who would he read his journals out loud to when he became nostalgic? Who would he share his meals and watch crappy American shows with?

Prussia laid his hand on his head and petted where the bird normally buried in his white locks. He imagined the tiny beak nipping his fingers or little claws digging through his hair to make a comfortable nest. He never noticed the little movements or sounds his Junior made, but now that he was gone...it was too quiet.

With a sigh, he leaned against the wall and slid to the floor, his appetite suddenly gone. His headache increased and he wished he never left the hotel room.

What was he going to do without his Junior? There was no way he could find another bird to take his place. He could possibly get a dog like Germany's been suggesting for ages. His brother was never fond of the mess the bird left around the house...but Prussia doubted he could balance a German Shepherd on his head.

He buried his head in his knees and scratched the top of his head, trying to imitate Junior's ginger clawing. Maybe he'd just sit here and sulk for several hours until someone found him. That or until his hangover went away.

Due to his lack of a watch, he had no idea how long he sat there scratching his head like an idiot, but not long after collapsing, he heard familiar voices.

"Have we checked the back courtyard yet?"

"Yes, Toni, we've checked there, like what, five times?"

Familiar voices that he did not want to hear right now.

"I meant today! Maybe it's perched on a tree back there now or something. Perhaps it was hiding because of the bad weather and it'll be easier to find now that it's clearing up."

"Spain, if it wasn't there yesterday, it's not going to be there today. Maybe it flew south for the winter?"

Prussia's head lifted as Spain and France turned a corner down the hall and stopped. The three stared at each other, an awkward silence blanketing the hallway, until France cleared his throat.

"Oh, uh, Gilbert, hello. We...missed you yesterday."

Prussia's sour mood returned and he forced himself to his feet, stumbling a bit as his balance tried to cooperate with him. "Is that so? How sweet to hear."

"Prussia, please." Spain approached him despite Prussia obviously not wanting them around. "We're really, really sorry for what we've done, and I know you're so angry with us, but please stop avoiding us. We're trying to help you find your little bird." He gently rested his hands on Prussia's shoulders. "Please, Gilbert."

Prussia glared at Spain, but didn't move. He flinched slightly as the other started to gently rub his shoulders. Spain was trying to calm him down, to ease his anger to the point where he could think clearer. He could tell that Prussia had a rough night, and his physical suffering as a result was fogging this rational thinking. If he calmed Prussia's anger, then the three of them together could go Gilbird hunting, and if they were lucky, Gilbert would have his little birdy back before the lunch hour was over. Perhaps Spain and France could grab a quick snack in the coffee shop across the street and Prussia would join them, and this whole deal would be but a fond memory the three of them would laugh over during future Guys Night Outs. Or at least, that was what Spain hoped for.

Footsteps approached them and the two turned to see France. "Hey," the blond murmured with a reassuring smile. "We'll all find him together. Even if we were jerks, we still care about you, and we want to see you reunited with your little friend."

Finally, Prussia caved. His tense shoulders slackened, and his furrowed eyebrows raised until he held a sad puppy look. Spain brushed aside his white hair to plant a kiss on his temple and pulled him into a hug. Prussia shuddered and stifled a sobbed.

Spain was relieved. Even if their friend still held a grudge against himself and France, he at least allowed them to be close with him again and accepted their apology and help. As France ran a hand through his snowy locks, Spain was confident the rift in their relationship was healing up nicely.

That was, until France decided to ruin the moment and the small hint of trust Prussia finally gave them.

"And if we can't find him, we can look for you a new little friend."

Spain felt Prussia take in a deep, harsh breath, and in an instant he was shoved away. A little "oof" of pain from France told him that the albino gave him a nice punch on the shoulder.

"You know what?" he cried. "You guys are jerks!"

"No, Prussia, wait!" Spain tried to grab Prussia's arm, but he jerked away.

"Why should I forgive you two? You both took away the most precious thing to me!" Prussia spun around and marched down the hallway.

"Gilbert, wait–" Spain groaned and glared at France. "La madre de Dios, Francis, why did you say that?"

"Désolé, désolé! I-It just kind of came out! I didn't mean it!" At that, he ran after Prussia with Spain following him, both calling for him to stop.

Ahaha hi guys. I totally meant for this to be uploaded earlier and for it to be much longer, but since it's been sitting on my hard drive for forever and a half, I figured it was about time I actually put it up. This was intended to be the last chapter, but I'm not feeling like finishing it right away, so there's still one more chapter remaining. So, yeah! Thanks for the alerts and the reviews and stuff. C: It's nice to know people are somehow still interested after ages of not touching this fic.