Warnings: Angst, cursing, and character death. Human names used. It deviates from the original plotline of Alicia's Head-canon, Ocean Blue, so this should be taken as a separate story. Also included in this story: loving two people at the same time.

General knowledge (especially for those who haven't read Ocean Blue): Alicia Aragon is the representation of the Crown of Aragon, Spain; now known as the region, Aragon. She and Francis were together in early 1500-1600s. They've been together for the longest time, and Antonio had only recently approved of their relationship.

"If you love two people at the same time, choose the second, not the first;

Because, if you really loved the first, you wouldn't have gone for the second."

~Johnny Depp

Prologue

"He wants to see you."

Ludwig slowly went out of the room, towing a teary-eyed Feliciano Vargas along with him. Antonio and Francis, two-thirds of the pack, exchanged nervous glances and made a motion of getting off their seats when the German shook his head and turned to the only woman in their midst.

"I meant you, Alicia."

Several pairs of eyes turned to her, and finally, the brunette lifted up her head from her hands, eyes livid and tears staining her face. She turned to Francis, whose blue eyes seemed pained, but he nodded and jerked his head towards the direction of the room, "Go." He whispered weakly.

And so she walked up into the hospital room and closed the door firmly behind her. It was large, like a few other people could still throw a party in it. But the walls were stark white, and had the eerie, hospital smell all about it. Several machines lined up near the bed and attached various tubes and wires unto its occupant. The room was warmer than she had expected, although she distinctly knew the reason for that. She walked up a few paces to face the albino in the bed: eyes closed, cheeks turning grey - not it's snow-white colour - and the bags under his eyes looked like he hadn't slept for days. Upon hearing her soft footsteps, crimson eyes opened slightly, and a small smile played upon his lips, "Hey," he whispered.

"I'm sorry," she immediately said, reaching his bedside and looking down at his form, "Gil, I-"

"No, Alicia," he whispered, looking up at her and frowning at the teary-eyed expression she gave him, "I was already dying, and you know that. It isn't your fault."

Tears fell from her eyes, "Even so!" she cried, making the albino wince. Gilbert never really liked seeing her cry, "I… I kept saying how much I needed you…" she gulped as his hand came up and wiped a few of her tears away, "… But you needed me more."

"Stop crying already," Gilbert attempted a smile, gently stroking her cheek, "I wouldn't have done anything differently. You take care of me best, and even Ludwig knows that. I don't regret anything, all right?"

"But Gil-"

"I don't want to hear it." His statement was firm, and he looked straight into her amber eyes as he said it. Then, he sighed and smiled at her again, "I didn't call you in here to hear from you what I already know." He gently caressed her cheek, his hands bony and frail, but still soft against her skin.

Alicia leaned into his hand, slowly placing her upon it to keep it in place, "…Oh Gil," she started, sniffling as she wiped her remaining tears with her free hand, "Why did you call me in, then?"

"Stay with me."

It had almost sounded like an order, and Alicia's amber eyes widened. Noticing this, Gilbert's brows furrowed and took her hand in his, "Stay with me, please." He added, hoping it would have a different effect.

"Gil, that's-" the Spaniard was about to say, but he cut her off almost immediately.

"I know." He said with a sigh, "… I know. I know that it's a bit too much to ask, but…" his voice trailed off as his crimson eyes met hers, and she remembered all those days that she couldn't refuse him.

She attempted to scour her brain for logic. All of it seemed to fail her, "F-Francis…" she started, but again, the Prussian before her shook his head lightly.

"I'm dying," he emphasized the word enough for her to cringe, "He won't deny me whatever I want now, of all times,"

"Don't say it like that!"

"Please." He was genuinely begging this time, and she could almost hear the fervour in how he said it, "Please… I don't want anyone else here. It's just you."

However, just as Alicia opened her mouth to answer, Gilbert's body tensed, and she saw his eyes widen in shock. Then, a series of dry coughs came from him, and blood began to pour from the corners of his mouth. He gasped for air, pressing a button frantically for painkillers, but still looking very much in pain. She had seen this before, far too many times for her liking. So she ran into the bathroom and brought out a basin for him, just in time for him to dunk his head into it and throw up blood, too much for her liking.

Probably hearing the commotion from outside, Ludwig, Feliciano, Antonio and Francis burst into the room, together with a nurse (a human one, probably), to find Alicia, holding a basin with a pool of blood, gently dabbing a damp cloth around the corners of Gilbert's mouth, with the sick man breathing heavily, but looking less pale than usual.

"Well," the nurse said, curiously taking a glance at Alicia, "It certainly looks like I'm not needed here. She seems to know just what she is doing," she turned to the other men in the room, "I take it that with his girlfriend here, he's going to be in good hands, right?"

"Actually," Francis began, looking despaired and turned to the nurse, "That isn't his girlfriend…"

"But nonetheless," continued Antonio, smiling slightly so as not to confuse the poor human further, "He is in perfectly capable hands. You can take our word for it."

X.o.X

There was nothing really much else to do when you were taking care of a sick person. However, Gilbert wasn't a person. And technically, he wasn't even a country anymore. But either way, each day went by with more interesting and amusing moments that Alicia couldn't possibly get bored. They'd talk for hours, about anything really, from the texture of the food ("Goddammit, this tastes like it was made by Arthur!" "I didn't tell you to eat it, Alicia, why in the world-?!" "You wouldn't eat it! It would offend the person who made it!"), to politics ("Such a child. He's so confused." "America? Well, how many people raised him? And then tell me why he's so confused."), to the machines that stood by him ("I don't understand how it's a painkiller if it doesn't stop the pain, Gil." "Nein, I'm just immune to it now."), down to the colours of the walls ("They really think white would be more comforting for a sick person?" "What would you want, black? That's what you see when you close your eyes, Gil. They're veering away from that." "… I'd rather have a rainbow-coloured room."). No minute was less than amusing.

In the mornings, they'd go on that semi-typical routine, occasionally turning on the television, or he'd make Alicia read him books. On most afternoons, Gilbert fell asleep, and when visitors would come, they'd talk to Alicia, instead, about his health. Various politicians, other nations, he was more popular than he thought he was. But whenever Alicia would tell him he'd say, "They should say those things to my face, don't you think?"

Nights were much different than all of their mornings. Once Gilbert was tired for the night, he'd move to one edge of the bed and practically ordered Alicia to sleep beside him. True, he'd gone thin from being so sick that the bed seemed large enough for two. During the first night, they had argued: about how it was a hazard to his health, how it would be so uncomfortable, and above all else, it would inappropriate. But Gilbert was the one who reminded her that it wasn't like they would be doing anything inappropriate, anyway ("-unless you want to fuck a sick person-" "Gilbert!" "… Right. Language-") so it should be fine. Eventually, his pleading worked better than anything he ever said, and Alicia found herself sleeping night after night beside the albino. Even the nurses found them together that way when they checked on Gilbert in the mornings, and would find his arms wrapped protectively around the Aragonese woman, as though she was the one in danger of being in so much pain.

For many parts of the situation, she really was. However, nothing Gilbert would do could ever change that.

After a few weeks, Gilbert finally argued with his doctors that he was tired, and that he hated all the machines, and that if he would die, he wanted it the normal way – with nothing supporting him, like the old days. And after much convincing (Ludwig was the one who needed to be convinced), they finally took all support from him, freeing his body from various tangles of tubes.

But he was still to remain in the hospital, so he kept Alicia there with him. Of course, Francis tried his best not to mind.

On most days, Gilbert was well enough to take a stroll around the park right next to the building, so he'd take Alicia with him and go for a leisurely walk. Then they'd eat something light, like waffles or ice-cream, before heading back to his room in the hospital. The other nations decided (more of, Antonio yelled for the hospital staff to serve non-English food, so they had stopped feeding the two after breakfast) that Alicia and Gilbert must be fed, so they often brought lunch and dinner. Most of the time, it would be Francis and Antonio, taking turns in making home-cooked meals, and eating it along with them. Sometimes, Lovino and Feliciano would join them, and the latter would end up crying after every visit, making is older brother yell at him from down the corridors ("You idiot, he's not dead yet!").

But some days weren't as good as most, and Alicia found herself in the honest service of taking care of someone in need. Unlike how she had raised several of her colonies, Gilbert was dying. She knew it at the back of her head, tried to drown it for the most part, but she knew that he would hear her sob when attacks would happen, because she was terrified. And so was he. Some nights he'd be vomiting blood, and coughing so badly Alicia thought he'd lungs would be coughed out. Some nights, he'd be freezing and running a fever that he'd cling to her for warmth under layers and layers of sheets, muscles tensed and praying that the pain would just go away. As usual, after a while, they would.

Because of too much activity at night, and nearly passing out from blood-loss, Gilbert would take long naps in the afternoon. Sometimes, Alicia joined him, sometimes she watched over him. On most days, she would talk to the visitors who would come for him.

Ludwig came by almost every afternoon since he had taken off all supportive instruments, and thanked her continuously for staying with his brother, "I know just how important you are to him. I'm sure this means a lot to you as well." She never really knew what to say – it always seemed that they had been such good friends.

Arthur had passed by once, surprisingly bringing Feliciano along. The Englishman had avoided all major questions, but had the bubbly Italian clinging tightly upon his arm as an answer.

"I daresay," the blond started, looking at Alicia as she sat by Gilbert's bedside, placing soft covers upon his form, "I didn't think the frog would let you."

"Let me what?" Alicia asked, looking at Arthur curiously, "Take care of our friend? Wouldn't it be cruel if he didn't?"

To that, Arthur chuckled, "You know, as well as I, my dear, that I speak of something else entirely."

Her amber eyes met emerald ones and the Spaniard shook her head, "Gilbert requested me personally," she whispered, turning away, "And I really can't deny him what would make him happy… Especially not now."

"But are you?" asked the Brit, "Are you happy, taking care of him?"

She turned to the sleeping form of the Prussian, pale cheeks even paler than it used to, and lips close to a violet hue. She smiled slightly and turned back to Arthur, "I'm just happy to be able to spend more time with him. Even if it means taking care of him," she said, "I have no regrets."

And proud, albeit curious, of her answer, Arthur bade her goodbye, towing Feliciano along with him.

The last people to visit were Elizabeta and Roderich. They claimed to have come from different places and had met at the lobby, but they brought pastries with matching baskets. Neither of them had known how bad things were happening, and Eliza began crying on Alicia's shoulders upon hearing of Gilbert's decisions. They had been childhood friends, and the Hungarian woman regretted ever leaving behind that childhood of hers because, to an extent, it meant leaving Gilbert.

"I'm sorry," Eliza sniffled and wiped away her tears, handing Alicia a small envelope, "But you're an angel, and I hope you know that. Thank you very much."

Roderich offered Eliza a handkerchief and bowed with grace and respect, "We'll be taking our leave, then," his first words to Alicia, "Thank you for having us, but it is high time that I bring Eliza home."

Alicia read the letter that night, and she began to cry.

Elizabeta was thanking her for being there for Gilbert, when nobody was – not even her.

"Because he's not a country, other nations tend to think that he isn't there anymore." Even she admitted that she often forgot to call or check on him, because of her personal duties to her country. She recalled how Gilbert used to be too proud, and picked on her. How he was one of the greatest empires in the history of the world. And how broken he was when his world fell.

"But he's changed," Eliza wrote, "And somehow… I think it's because of you." And she went on about how different he acted when it was Alicia involved. About how happy Gilbert would be, or concerned. However, it was the last of her words that Alicia engraved in her mind.

"I'd like to personally thank you because… well. You seem able to do the one thing I had always been afraid to do: to stay with him until the end. I made a different choice. And now, I must live with it."

Gilbert found her crying after coming from the bathroom, asked no questions, and held her in his arms until she had stopped.

X.o.X

She was sitting on his bedside one rainy afternoon, the most empathetic setting for what was just to come.

Gilbert knew – he was probably the only one who did. Alicia only somehow did, but in the end, it didn't matter what she knew. What she felt was more important. The Prussian was lying on his bed, doing something oddly interesting (for him, anyway) on his phone. She assumed it was "Dumb Ways to Die" (his current fancy of a game), playing on the irony of his current situation. She had chuckled at his sense of humour, and Gilbert had only winked. However, she felt her heart beat a mile a minute when he placed his phone carefully in her hands, the gestured for her to turn to him, "Alicia…"

"Gil, you're scaring me," she admitted almost immediately, looking straight into his blood-red eyes, her own honey-brown ones filling with tears. She noticed that his eyes had lacked the lustre it used to have.

Gilbert, however, chuckled and clasped her hands over his phone, "I just want to give you these."

"These?" the mobile in her hands began to vibrate incessantly, but she set it aside and turned to him, scooting closer as he leaned back into his bed, "Gil, what are you talking about?"

Gilbert sighed, took off the Iron Cross that hung from his neck and hung it over hers, "Consider it a parting gift."

"No." Alicia's tears had begun to fall, "Wait. It's today? Gil-" she grasped the front of his shirt, "Gil, why didn't you tell me?!"

"What would you have done?" he asked her weakly, a hand coming up to wipe the tears from her eyes, "Stop crying, Alicia, please. You already know that this was bound to happen."

"Yes, but…" she couldn't speak straight through her sobs, "Wh-why didn't you tell me? I could've told people, I could have made you your favourite meal… I could've taken you on one last horse ride, seen the sunset, watch the clouds move… I could've done so much more for you."

And Gilbert laughed, slightly startling her, "Oh Alicia," he said, cupping her face into his frail hands and wiping her tears away with his thumbs, "You've done much more than I ever thought you would. Thank you."

She could only gape at him for a long time, before her sobs came up to engulf her, "Gil, I-"

"Stop."

It wasn't like most of the words he had uttered to her. It sounded much more like a command than a request. Amber eyes widened, and Gilbert sighed, "… Don't say it."

"Y-You don't even know what I was going to say yet!" she argued, brows furrowing.

"Oh, trust me, I do." He smiled slightly, tucking loose bristles of her long, black curls behind her ears, "And trust me when I tell you that you're beautiful. I don't think I can get to say it anymore every time you don't believe it."

"Gil!"

"Ah." He sighed and sank into his pillows, looking only at her tear-stained face, "Don't cry, anymore," he whispered, trying to console her the best way he could, "Francis will take care of you now, I'm sure of it."

"Don't say it like that, please," she begged, tears streaming down her face, and making Gilbert frown, "Please, Gil."

"You have to believe me this time, okay?" He said quietly, caressing her face gently with his slightly bony fingers and pulling her closer to him, "I won't be here anymore to say it a hundred times until you believe me, so you'll have to believe it yourself this time."

"I know already," she argued, wiping her own tears with the back of her hand, "I'm beautiful. I already believe you."

But Gilbert shook his head, and then coughed lightly, slowly closing his eyes, "I'm sorry," he whispered, "But that wasn't what I was talking about."

"W-what? W-wait, Gil!"

He took her hand in his, then lightly kissed the back of her hand, and pressed it lightly upon his cheek, "I love you."

"Gil!"

But the hand had loosened its grip, and his head nodded off to the side. Emotions swelled from within her, and her tears had come on once more.

"No! Gilbert, please!" she begged, grasping the front of his shirt and burying her head into it, "No! Not yet! You're so unfair!" she sobbed harder.

It was a few minutes until she could finally release him, and she placed a gentle kiss on his forehead. He was gone. There was nothing else for her to do. She picked up the phone that Gilbert had given her and noticed that several people had attempted to call: Francis, Antonio, Ludwig and even Arthur. She attempted to wipe her tears to no avail, and she made a call to the first man she's ever trusted:

"… Gil! Please tell me you were joking, that wasn't funny, amigo-"

But it was Alicia's sobs and sniffles that Antonio heard from the other line, "W-wait… Hermana?"

She couldn't answer or explain in long sentences.

"He's gone."

A/N: This is my first try at something... Not very happy. Don't worry, I'm not very fond of sad endings, so I'll see what I can do. This is a four-chapter story. Expect a prologue, two chapters, and an epilogue. Thank you very much!