Chapter 4

1

Italy watched silently as the G8 prepared to scale the mountain, below. He kept a firm grip on the cold pistol and closely observed their every move. With a deep sigh of hopelessness, Italy tucked his knees into his chest and buried his head against his legs. His hair whipped in the biting wind, flakes of snow beginning to settle on his scalp.

"Why did they come?" He whispered. "They're only going to get hurt."

Germany struggled desperately up the face of the mountain, failing to find purchase on protruding rocks. The other party seemed to have just as much luck. A thick rope was wrapped around America's waist, Japan took hold of the rest of the coil.

"Hey Japan, d' ya think you could chuck that thing up there?" America pointed a finger to a sharp pointed side of the mountain.

"I could try, Mr. America." Japan readjusted his grip on the coil of rope and made to toss it upwards when Romano intervened.

"What are you doing, you jerk! Italy's my brother, I should go and rescue him!" Before anyone could stop him, Romano prized the rope off of America and was busily tying it around his own waist.

"Romano no!" Britain stepped forward. "It's too dangerous. You don't know what you're doing!" Romano whipped round.

"Who asked you, limey! I can handle this! Besides, none of you know Italy like I know him. I'm the best one to go. Now lets just do it already!" The other nations decided not to argue and thus began helping Romano. Japan sighed and glanced to the ground. I bet Mr. Germany would volunteer if he was here. He understands Italy the most out of all of us. He looked up. Even more than Romano does.

2

Italy slowly raised his head at the sound of movement behind him. Turning over his shoulder, the boy was confused to find no-one there. He got to his feet hesitantly and peered over the edge of the mountain. To Italy's horror, Germany was a little way below him, struggling to climb to the top of the mountain. As a hand grabbed at the platform before him, the boy inched backwards and reached for his pistol, without looking away. Germany heaved himself full onto the safety of the summit and breathed with a laboured effort. A bullet suddenly struck the snow, an inch from the man's head. Germany looked up at once. Italy stood a couple of feet away, the pistol held with two hands. His skin was sickly pale, there was no colour in his cheeks. The tips of his hair were frozen over and almost blue from the cold. Germany made to stand up. Italy fired again, this time, puncturing through his shirt and in his shoulder.

"Why are you here!" He shouted. Germany winced in pain and opened his mouth, a dry gag leaving his throat. He gritted his teeth and grabbed at his shoulder, gripping the wound with a trembling hand. Suddenly, before Italy's eyes, Germany's weakened body morphed into Rome, holding the shoulder he struck him with. The boy's eyes widened with fear and he took a step back. He shook his head from side to side. "No! No! Stop!" The vision of Rome disappeared and Germany's body returned to normal, sprawled on the snow, the area surrounding the rip in his shirt, bleeding. He slammed a palm into the ground and staggered to his feet, clutching his shoulder with one hand. Terror took hold of Italy for a moment before his fear turned to rage. Germany limped towards the boy and outstretched his hand feebly.

Down below, France suddenly noticed something. He tapped furiously on Britain's shoulder and thrust a hand in the air, towards the peak of the mountain.

"Look! Someone's up there with Italy!" Britain squinted and shielded a hand to his eyes. He suddenly gasped.

"It's Germany!" All the other countries stopped and followed Britain and France's gaze. The two figures stood opposite each other, one at each end of the summit's platform.

Germany stepped forward. Italy raised the gun.

"No." he said weakly. The boy continued to hold the pistol up as Germany kept on moving closer. In a panic, Italy shot again, hitting just above the man's chest. Germany froze for a moment before falling forward. With his last ounce of strength, he wrapped both arms around the boy's shoulders and embraced him tightly, all his weight shifted on Italy. "Italy...I know you're in there. Please...fight back. I know you can do it. Please...you're all I have in this world. You're my best friend. Come back. Come back...please." Germany whispered, barely audible. Italy stood rigid, his eyes glistening. He could feel Germany's blood warming against his shirt. The pistol was still suspended. His hand trembled violently. Inside him, he could feel a strange conflicting sensation. It was the other self trying to get out. He was determined to keep it down. Suddenly, a flash of light crossed his vision. Consecutive images from his past burst before him, one by one. He saw himself and Rome enjoying themselves. As they passed, some of the pictures changed to him enjoying himself with the dying man before him. He cried out in anger and distress.

"Why are my memories getting mixed up! I don't want him with me! There can't be two of us! I won't allow it! He's not me! Why won't this stop!" The boy screamed again in despair. Suddenly, in the next flash of light, the images stopped appearing and he found himself facing Rome's adjusted version of his own self. They were surrounded by infinite white space. Both boys looked each other in the eye. Rome's Italy was crying, tears flowing freely down his face.

"Please don't hurt Germany any more!" he squeaked pathetically. "I won't let you touch him!" he cried, running towards his alternative self. Original Italy whipped his arms out in-front of him, blocking his other self's useless attack.

"Have you forgotten that Rome made you weak? There is no point in fighting me. I will win."

"But I am you!"

"Wrong!" Original Italy snapped, lashing out at Rome's Italy, sending him skidding backwards. "You invaded my body and took over for all these years! You had no right! Now I've come to claim what is mine!" Italy sniffed and got to his feet, wiping his face.

"You don't deserve that body! All you use it for is violence and war!" Italy watched in horror as his weak opponent stood up and was now marching defiantly towards him. "Rome made me to be a good country! And I will be a good country!" Rome's Italy let out a scream unlike any other Italy had ever heard. It was a cry of pure passion. Italy struck his opponent in the heart while he was meanwhile still frozen in awe of what his alternative self had done. An explosion of light erupted from original Italy's chest, swallowing up the other as well.

3

Back on the summit of the mountain, the crystal around Italy's neck suddenly cracked. The boy's eyes opened, his eye lashes wet with tears. The pistol fell from his hand. Italy dropped to his knees. Down below, all the countries watched, silently.

"What's going on up there?!" Lithuania said quietly.

Italy looked down upon his friend. Germany lay slumped in the snow, his arms still hooked around the boy's shoulders, the patch of snow beneath him bleeding slowly red. The boy inhaled sharply and pulled Germany up. His head rolled back lifelessly. Italy's eyes filled with tears.

"Germany?" He shook the man by the shoulders. "Germany I'm back, wake up! Look, I got rid of him!" Italy fumbled with freezing hands and held up the broken stone. "C'mon! Please wake up Germany..." The man did not stir. A dark feeling churned in the boy's stomach. Italy drew Germany in close, embracing him tightly, the warm blood on Italy's shirt now growing cold against his skin. The boy sobbed loudly, his whole body trembling. "I'm so sorry, Germany! I didn't mean to hurt you! I didn't want to! Please forgive me Germany!"His harrowing cries echoed through the wilderness. The snow continued to fall none the less, covering both men in a dusting of white. Italy's tears began to freeze on his cheeks. Suddenly, he felt Germany being pulled away from him. "Huh?" The boy looked on in shock as Germany's limp body was dragged off the ground, apparently by itself, and suspended in the air. A warm light began to glow from the man's core and in a burst of brilliant white, shining golden spirals sprouted from the wound on his shoulder and chest. Italy watched in awe. The spirals coiled themselves around the two holes and in a matter of seconds, they were closed up and fully healed. As the light began to fade, Germany was carefully set back on the snow. Italy hesitated for a moment before rushing to his companion's side. Colour returned to Germany's cheeks and his chest began to rise and fall, slowly. Italy's face lit up as the man opened his eyes.

"Italy?" he faltered quietly. Italy sat frozen in front of him. "Is it really...you?" Italy nodded his head, tears welling up in his amber eyes. Germany smiled in relief and felt his eyes watering as well. He suddenly lunged forward and embraced Italy tightly. The boy sat, frozen for a moment before acknowledging Germany's gesture. Italy rested his head on the man's shoulder and smiled through teary eyes.

"You did well, Italy." a familiar voice sounded before him. Italy looked up.

"Grandpa Rome?" Rome smiled proudly, standing at the edge of the summit's platform. Germany looked over his shoulder. "That was you who just brought Germany back to life, wasn't it!"

Rome nodded.

"Both of you should feel very lucky. You are extremely fortunate to have each other as friends. Never in all my time have I seen such strong feelings for two countries. Germany, you sacrificed yourself not only once, but twice, to save Italy. And Italy, you showed great strength in overcoming your deepest fears and extinguishing the negative energy that tried to take hold of you." Italy nodded. Germany glanced over to him for a moment.

"But Rome," Germany began "I still don't understand. When Italy's original nature began to take over again, why didn't it just wipe out the personality you gave him?"

"Because, all those years ago, I didn't really make him weak. I made him stronger. It is those who crave destruction and violence who are the weak in this world. Italy is stronger now than he ever was before. His love of life and deep affection for those around him made him able to hold on and survive against the wrath of his past energy. He is a powerful ally, Germany. I hope you realise that." Rome smiled and began to fade away.

Down below, the G8 looked on in silence.

"Can you see anything?" France asked.

"No." Britain replied. "I can't see anything. Do you think everything's OK up there?"

"If that potato bastard's hurt my little brother..." Romano started, working himself up.

"Calm down Romano." Japan rested a hand on his shoulder. "Mr. Italy will be just fine. I'm sure of it."

"Look! They're moving!" China thrust an arm towards the mountain peak. All the other nations watched as Italy and Germany helped themselves to standing, paused for a moment and then locked embraces again. Everyone watched in admiration-all except France who stood smiling to himself. He leaned over to Britain.

"I ship it." he whispered.

"Shut it, Frog!" Britain spanked the back of France's head and continued to watch the men on the mountain.

Germany smiled. Italy smiled back, tears still clinging to his innocent eyes. With a gentle touch, the man wiped away the boy's tears with his thumb. Germany grabbed Italy's hand and held it high in the air, triumphantly. The wind blew in their hair and rippled their clothes as they stood defiantly on the summit of the mountain. Italy smiled and and removed the stone from around his neck. Germany followed him to the edge of the platform where he hesitated for a moment, glancing down at the cracked crystal, before hurling it away. They watched it disappear into the white wilderness below. Italy smiled contentedly. Germany wrapped an arm around the boy's shoulder.

"Let's go home, Italy."

The end

A/N: And that's all folks! Thanks so much for sticking with this story, really glad so many people enjoyed it. I intend to write a lot more Hetalia stuff, so if you have any ideas/suggestions for future stories, or equally, alternate endings to this one if you weren't quite satisfied with how I left it, then please let me know! :3