OK, before you will read, I have to warn you: this chapter has some religious content, so if you are fighting atheist, who will be flaming me for it, you can skip this chapter or don't read it at all. Maybe, I'm a little paranoid with this warning, but I put it anyway, just for safety.

Now, thank you. Enjoy the chapter and leave a comment.

Chapter 8

Vatican's patience was reaching its limit, while he kept hitting the door to Spain's house. His heart was pounding quickly with nervousness, he had to face a broken man after all. Whole previous evening he was thinking, what he will tell Antonio; he planned this visit to the tiniest detail and now there was no turning back. As a capital of Catholic World, Angelo Vargas had to bring relief and comfort to other nations and there was no way he will let Spain sulk in his depression.

Finally door had been opened by France. He looked at Vatican with skeptical eye. Angelo straightened himself, chocked twice and said:

"I've came to Antonio."

"I don't doubt it, but I'm not sure if I should let you in."

"Listen up: I know you're secular state and all, but it doesn't mean, I don't have right to help Spain my way."

"And how you want to help him? Tell him that he will go to hell, if he won't cheer up?"

"No, I'm not going to threaten him with images of hell. I want to take him on a little trip and peacefully talk. Don't you know that faith can be great comfort?"

Suddenly Romano appeared in the hallway inside the house. Seeing Angelo, the Italian froze for a moment.

"Angelo? What are you doing here?" He finally spoke. Vatican looked at him.

"I've came here to help Antonio, but that guy," He pointed at France. "has an objections."

"Wine bastard, let him in." South Italy said harshly. Francis turned his head to him.

"Are you sure? He will make exorcisms on Antonio."

"No, he won't, bastard. I know him. Now let Angelo in."

France reluctantly moved aside and Vatican came in. South Italy led him to the living room, where Spain and Prussia were sitting at the table. Gilbert was talking about something, Antonio was listening without much interest, but when they saw Angelo, Gilbert silenced and they both looked with surprise at Vaticanian.

"God bless you." He said to them.

"Hi, Vatican." Prussia waved to him.

"Yeah, hi." Spain responded weakly.

Angelo slowly pulled out one of the chair and sat beside Antonio. For a moment he was only observing the Spaniard with light smile. He couldn't miss Spain's paler than usual skin, dull eyes and half-healed wounds on his wrist. Depression was painted all over Spain's body, which only confirmed Vatican's suspicion. As most of nations, Angelo remembered Antonio as a cheerful man, who can be happy in worst situations, and now Angelo hardly believed his own eyes.

This view of broken Spain, motivated him to go straight to the point of his visit. Vatican cleared his throat, rested hand on Antonio's shoulder, looked into his eyes and said:

"I've came here, Antonio, to take you on the trip."

Spain's eyebrows rose with light surprise.

"Trip?" He asked.

"Yes." Vatican replied and smiled at him again. "Don't worry, it will take us an hour, maybe two."

"Where you want to take him exactly?" France was a bit suspicious. Vatican rolled his gaze on him.

"To the church." Was his answer.

"I should have known!" Gilbert smirked. "But I guess, it won't harm anybody, if you try, Angelo."

"So how are you feeling about it, Antonio?" Vatican returned to Spain, sending him another smile.

Antonio was a bit confused by this question. He didn't know, what was Angelo's point in taking him to church. Probably he wanted to tell him there that suicide is an mortal sin and that if Spain was succeed with his attempt, he would be burning in hell right now. Or he could start from the other way – he could say that Jesus loves every creature and that Spain should find joy and sense of life in Jesus Christ. Antonio didn't want to hear it. He didn't care about hellfire or comfort in Jesus. All he wanted is peace and it could be eternal peace as well.

But he hadn't said anything. He was just staring at the table in front of him, which was rather confusing for four other nations in the room.

"You know, Angelo." South Italy started, breaking the silence. "You can take him. I think, it will make him better."

"Yeah, but you have to return before down." Prussia added.

"And what about you, Francis?" Vatican turned to France. "Do you have any objections about our little trip?"

"No" France said, rather unsure. But then he added with more confidence: "Nothing."

Suddenly Spain realized that something is missing him. They were talking about him, like he just agreed on this trip with Vatican.

"But I have." He finally spoke and even stood up from his seat. "I don't want to move from my place. Especially, to some stupid church. I don't want to hear your rumbling about hell for suicidals."

"I wasn't going to even mention about hell." Vatican said calmly. "I was rather planning something… reflective."

"Go with him, Antonio." Gilbert was trying to convince him.

"And you hadn't moved from here, since you returned from hospital." Francis added.

"Come on, tomato bastard." Romano said and caught Antonio's arm. "You have to go out."

All three of them dragged him to Angelo's car. Antonio was struggling and screaming to let him go, but they were too strong. Angelo opened door to his car and they sat their victim on the passenger side and fastened seatbelt on his waist. Before Spain could free himself from belt and run out from the car, Vatican turned it on and quickly drove on the road way.

"Good luck!" Prussia called after them, while he, France and Italy was waving their hands.

Vatican City choose some small church in Barcelona. At first, when Angelo parked on the sidewalk near it, Antonio didn't want to go out. He was just sitting on his seat with arms crossed on his chest and trying not to make an eye contact with Angelo. But the Vaticanian wasn't going to give up.

"I know that it was sudden." He began. "But I promise, I will leave you alone, once it will end. We will go there, do what we must to do and I will drive you home."

Spain turned his head to Vatican and looked at him with sadness that was so strange in those usually cheerful eyes. He felt numb, actually he didn't want to do anything. He was too tired to resist. He rather preferred to stay here, on his own in Vatican's car. But he wasn't protesting, when Angelo unfastened his seatbelt, went out from the car and after few seconds opened its door from Antonio's side.

"Come on. God is waiting." He said to him.

God… Dios… In Spain's mind appeared an image of the old man with long, white beard and calm, merciful eyes. He was inviting him to His house, calling him like a father is calling child to his side. There was a time, in his childhood years, when Antonio was praying to Him every day and every night; when he was doing everything to be good boy and deserve to go to Heaven; when he was asking God for something, what seemed to be impossible to do in normal way. It was childish faith and after few years it changed into something more mature. He was believing like adults believe.

Long time ago it all had some sense to him.

So Antonio decided to finally go out, to the great joy of Angelo. When Spain stood on the sidewalk, Vatican closed his car and both men went to the church. Since it was middle of the week, the temple was silent and empty. They both dipped their right hands in sacred water at the entrance, made a sign of cross and gone deeper into the church. Angelo led Antonio to one of the benches and they both sat there.

In front of them was big cross with statue of Christ, hung on it. Walls were covered with light yellow paint, ceiling was white, supported by ionic columns. The sunlight was getting into church through the stained glass. It was rather new, neoclassical church, small compared to Sagrada Familia, but still big on its own.

After short moment of silence between the two, Vatican smiled and slammed Spain's shoulder.

"I will leave you alone with Him." He said, pointing at the cross.

Then he stood up and directed to the nearest confessional. To Spain's surprise, he opened its doors, sat inside and closed it. Suddenly Spain felt left alone. He moved his eyes back on the cross. The first thing, which came to his mind, was blood on the statue of the Christ. Blood around nails that pinned Jesus' limbs to the cross; blood on His left flank, wounded by soldier's spire; little drops of blood on Savor's head, crowned by thorns.

Antonio leaned before himself his filled with cuts arms and was observing it for a moment. Not so long time ago they were covered in blood too. He needed to get his pain out, take it from the inside to the outside. But in the same time he wanted someone to see those emblems of his emotional suffering and it was aching him even more, when no one noticed it in the end.

He raised his head to look again on the cross. Now, when he thought about it, there was one Witness of his pain. One Person, who was observing his depression from the very beginning to this moment. But the presence of that Person was hardly perceptible.

God…

Dios…

And now, when he was looking on this statue – on this wounded body, eyes filled with agony and face that was showing nothing else, but pain – he couldn't resist the impression that there was some kind of connection between both of them. But then he pushed that thought away. Jesus suffered and died to save whole world from sin, while Spain was tried to kill himself for his own reasons – he didn't want to save anyone, but himself. The idea that their agonies were the same, was blasphemous in some way.

Antonio bowed his head. God had seen him sinking in this depression. He had seen him cutting his arms and desperately looking for help from other nations. Finally He had seen him trying to hang himself. Spain looked again at the cross. At first he felt anger and bitterness. If God is almighty and endlessly merciful, why he hadn't done anything to help him? If He was seeing all his pain, why He even let him feel it?

But then Spain remembered France, South Italy and Prussia bursting into his bedroom, when he was hanging on the lamp and waiting for death to come. He remembered their desperate tries to make him breathe again. Why they came in nearly last minute? Not so long time before his suicidal attempt they couldn't even see his pain, so why they appeared, when he wanted to kill himself? He wanted their help and their help had finally come. He was in some way lucky – after all not every suicidal is saved from death. If Francis, Romano and Gilbert had got to him few seconds later or if they hadn't gone to his house at all, he would be dead right now. Maybe… maybe it was a work of Providence…

Suddenly Antonio realized that there was Holy Bible lying on the bench in front of him. From pure curiosity he took it and opened on random page. He started to read in silent the first fragment, his eyes caught:

You are the salt of the earth. But if the salt loses its saltiness, how can it be made salty again? It is no longer good for anything, except to be thrown out and trampled by men. You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven…

Spain remembered this fragment. It was probably a part of Sermon on the Mount. Of course, those words meant, people should give each other good example (that's how Spain interpreted this fragment long time ago), but somehow in this time and situation it had slightly different meaning. You are the light of the world… Like world itself was less worth without him. Antonio smiled to himself, but then he saddened, remembering similar words: Because world without Spain, is a really sad world.

And he suddenly felt just like back then. He felt appreciated and loved. His eyes became wet from tears. He wiped them quickly with sleeve, but then there appeared another ones. He looked once again into Bible and read this verses all over again.

You are the salt of the earth…

Tears ran down his cheeks, but this time he didn't wipe them off. His lips formed into light smile.

You are the light of the world…

Was it God, who was speaking to him with those words? Spain didn't know, but he was still smiling. Salt of the earth. Light of the world. Was he something like that? Maybe not for the whole world, but maybe he was someone's light? Maybe he was someone's salt? As a country, yes. People were dying for him. But as a person?

Suddenly he heard someone's steps and soon Vatican was standing by his side. Angelo rest his hand on Antonio's shoulder and smiled to him friendly.

"You seem to be happy for some reason. Would you like to stay a little longer or go home already?"

"Why should I stay? And why should I go?" Spain asked quietly.

"You can stay here and speak with God." Vatican replied. "Or you can go home and speak with Him in your own room. It's up to you." Suddenly he saddened. "I know, you may be angry. I know that you may don't want to think about God. Most of people in harsh situation don't want to hear about Him. But maybe later you will want to find help in faith. To see God's love, you have to be open at it. You have to speak with Him personally. You can do it in His or your house. I'm sure He don't mind."

Spain gazed at the cross. For the last time he was watching the statue of agonizing Jesus. Then he put the Bible on the bench and stood up. His eyes met with Vatican's and he smiled to the other nation.

"Let's go home. Romano, Francis and Gilbert probably just made dinner."

When they arrived to his place, France led Spain to living room, where Prussia was already waiting to start some cheerful conversation with him. France returned to kitchen, probably to make dinner. Spain seemed to like Prussia's company. Vatican was observing whole scene with wide smile, until South Italy proposed him a cup of tea.

"No, thank you." He said politely. "I have to go, now."

"What?" France's head popped in the kitchen door. "I thought you will stay a little longer."

"I've done, what I could do. Now it's your turn, boys. After all you are his guardian angels." He smiled to them both and waved them, before leaving.

The Bilbe fragment is Gospel according to Matthew 5, 13-16. It was the fragment that helped me, when I had suicidal thoughts.