Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot.

Chapter 3

And all along I believed I would find you

Time has brought your heart to me

I have loved you for a thousand years

I'll love you for a thousand more

"No. But if I ever do, I'll always come back to you."

Italy stared at the other, eyes wide with shock at the paraphrased sentence. Holy Rome had said almost the exact same thing...

And, just for an instant, Germany was Holy Rome. His eyes, such a stunning, warm blue; his hair, same as always, slicked back, but just as lovely when it was down and in a mess; his expressions, an array of emotions so rarely shown, almost as if stuck to a semi-permanent scowl; and his voice, now turned into a deeper tone due to adulthood - that low, gentle, warm voice that enveloped him and comforted him countless times before. But he couldn't be. He couldn't be Holy Rome, because Holy Rome...

"…what did you say?" His voice was barely at a whisper.

"I'll always come back to you," Germany repeated, gently brushing away the tears Italy had no idea were being shed. Resting his forehead against Italy's, he murmured what he knew would further break down the already broken nation in his arms, sweetly caressing the other's face. "I promised, didn't I?"

The tears fell freely now, like a torrent, unending and ceaseless. Italy clung to Germany's hand as if it were his lifeline, sobbing brokenly.

"H-Holy Ro-Rome…!" he cried, tossing himself at the Germanic nation, more than content to feel his embrace returned.

He couldn't believe it. He had come back. Holy Rome had come back…!

"No, Italy," Germany murmured gently, pulling Italy away so that they faced each other. Cupping the other's face in his hands carefully, almost afraid to hurt his fragile love, he continued. "I was Holy Rome. I remember now. I remember the day I had to leave you, the day I promised I would come back. And I did. But, I came back as Germany."

Instead of a negative reaction to his words, he instead received a sweet little smile through the tears, small but radiant, a smile that made his heart beat a little faster.

"I know," Italy replied, holding the other's hands with his own smaller ones, leaning into their warmth. "Germany is Germany, and Holy Rome is Holy Rome. But I'm glad you came back to me, even as another. I'm happy…happy that you kept your promise. So, goodbye…and hello." A happy little laugh escaped the Italian, the tears slowly coming to an end, as he felt an immense weight being lifted from his shoulders in that single action. "I can move on now. I don't have to wait for you anymore."

"Nein. Not anymore," he agreed, returning the smile sent his way. It felt good to see him happy again. Germany honestly didn't know what he would have done if Italy had kept on hurting the way he had been. To think that Feliciano was still so hurt, and for such a long time…it pained him to know that this is what he had done all these years, every night, sitting alone, waiting for Holy Rome, crying, breaking...

It nearly broke his own heart in two.

But now that was over, he knew it was as he happily held the smaller man who had once again snuggled contently into him. Even though the night had become bitterly cold, there was a warmth shared between them that the cold could barely manage to breech, a warmth that melted away everything and shrunk their world to just the other, and both were more than content with that.

The silence that enveloped them was a gentle one, a comforting one. They simply sat there, beneath the twinkling stars, beneath a Prussian blue sky, beneath the gentle, silver light of a full moon, caressed by a biting, yet gentle breeze, enjoying this peace, this contentment.

Neither knew how long they sat there. Only when both grew heavy with sleep did they realize that they needed to go inside.

"Come now," the German murmured, rousing Italy who had only just begun to doze off. "Let's go inside."

"Mm," was his only reply as the smaller male remained still, unwilling to move. Sighing with a little smile, Germany stood, carrying Italy like a new bride in his arms, chuckling lightly as the little Italian simply shifted to cuddle closer, falling asleep as he was carried home.

Tucking the small man into the bed, Germany soon followed suit, not surprised that the other almost instantly curled up to him once he lay beside him; such was the way it had always been. Wrapping his arm loosely around Italy's small waist, he finally fell into a sound sleep.

Both rested easier that night. Regardless of the usual routine of every morning henceforth - the yelling, the commanding, the banter, the subtle caring, the highs, the lows that were ever present in their lives, there was something, at least, finally left in the past where it belonged.

Without the noisy, oppressive clatter of the chain that kept him from moving too far forward, Italy was finally free to truly do as he pleased with a freedom he hadn't felt in years. With the realization of who he was, there was nothing to keep Germany wondering about those ceaseless, heartbreaking memories of a girl and a boy that came in fading bittersweet and haunting dreams, nothing to keep him from the little Italian he often housed.

And now both could move on.

And maybe, just maybe, Italy thought, they could be together. Not as Italy and Holy Rome, but as Italy and Germany, of whom he had loved and fallen in love with as a separate entity for centuries now, but had never had the courage to be with.

Who knows?

Noticing that Germany didn't shrug him off when he rested his head on his broad shoulder, noticing the light blush, the slightly shy and embarrassed expression hidden underneath that familiar scowl...

Italy couldn't help but think he had a pretty damn good chance after all.

A/N: Review!