1

Romano awoke facing the ceiling. His sheets were twisted and strewn across his small, numb body like a toga. He couldn't feel anything; all his muscles were lifeless and limp. Behind him, he could hear a muffled shifting on the floorboards. Experimentally, he attempted to sit up, righting himself without any sudden pain. All the sickness and agony he had felt before was gone. It was as if it had never even existed. The same muffled shifting from behind caught his attention and Romano quickly whipped round to find a tiny figure sprawling on its side. The boy stood up silently, his chest rising and falling steadily faster. He stepped hesitantly towards the other. A small child with sickly pale skin and equally pale, limp hair lay before Romano. The child turned a trembling head and met the boy with dull, diluted amber eyes. Romano stood frozen, holding his breath. Slowly, he bent down and scooped up the tiny child, his hands tingling with the contact of cold, bare skin.

"Grandpa Rome! Grandpa Rome!" Romano cried, calling as loud as he could, a slight falter in his voice.

2

Romano found himself round the same table as before. Britain smiled with sympathy and pride and moved over to the boy, resting a comforting hand on his small shoulder.

"It's OK, Italy." he began, crouching before Romano. "Everything's been taken care of. You won't have to see him ever again. He'll be gone in a few days. Now you can relax! You'll never have to feel that horrid pain. Isn't that good?" Britain's cheerful smile suddenly dropped from his face. "Italy, what is it?"

"Where is the child, Mr. Britain?"

"In special containment. Why?"

"I want you to take me to him."

Britain led the boy down a narrow, dimly lit corridor. Upon reaching the furthest most room, the man pulled a key from his pocket and unlocked the door. A flood of yellow light revealed the tiny, lifeless child, curled up in the centre of the room. Romano hesitated for a moment before running over.

"Italy, what are you doing?" Romano scanned the child with concern, his eyes darting back and forth over its body.

"What's happening to him?" the boy piped up. The child below him was beginning to almost fade away, his outline feathered, as if his existence was no more than a hologram.

"He's disappearing. Apparently he's dying faster than we predicted."

"D-dying?" Romano whispered. The child craned his neck and met the other's gaze with the same diluted amber eyes. Romano felt his body wrench-this time it was his heart, not his stomach. He had to do something.

"C'mon Italy. Let's go. I'd rather not look at what's left of the poor thing-it makes me ill." Romano stood up. Britain nodded and turned away, only to hear the door slam shut behind him. He whipped round to the sound of the latch snapping together from the other side of the door. "Italy? Italy what are you doing!" Britain rapped quickly on the door. No response. Romano stood beside the child.

"You don't deserve to die. You're my brother now. You're my responsibility. You're going to live. I'm going to give you some of me so you can survive on your own, OK?"

"Italy, what's going on in there, why did you lock the door!" Britain called from outside. "Christ." he muttered, passing a hand to his head. Suddenly, he realised there was a glowing on the floor beneath him. He looked to the source, only to find the light was in fact coming from the other side of the door. Britain gasped sharply and banged furiously on the door. "Italy! What the hell are you doing! Let me in!" Romano stood, his head back and arms wide open, as brilliant white light poured from the boy's chest. The light coiled itself around the lifeless smaller child and raised his limp body from the floor. As the light grew brighter, Romano suddenly felt a rush of pain-like that of before. He cried out, his voice absorbed by the void of light around him. With one last explosion of brilliant white, Romano flopped to the ground. As he lay unconscious on the floor, his hair slowly grew darker, like ink bleeding from the roots of his scalp. He did not see the other boy's hair darken to an auburn colour, nor his skin turn to a healthy colour. The child that had been so close to death, suddenly sat up and looked around, his eyes a blazing shade of amber. He looked to the door at the sound of Britain's desperate cries and got up. The boy turned the latch of the door and Britain's silhouette tumbled suddenly through the entrance.

"Italy...what the hell was that for! Why did you lock me out and what were you even doing! What was that light!" The child blinked in confusion. Britain composed himself and smiled. "No matter, I suppose. Come on. Let's get you home." Britain extended his hand. The boy smiled and took it, waddling out after the man. Romano lifted his head slowly, all the energy drained from his body. His eyes widened at the sound of the lock turning in the door.

"Hey, wait! Come back! Britain! I'm still in here! Wait!" he cried, stumbling to his feet. His legs gave way and the boy dropped to the ground. His face crumpled and tears began to well in his eyes, as he stared at the infinite darkness ahead of him. He opened his mouth to call for help again but the words died on his lips. Instead, he spoke a word he'd never once been conscious of saying.

"B-bastard."

Romano lay on the floor for what seemed like years before the dim flicker of a lantern spilled under the crack of the door. Romano shot up. Someone was here. Someone could get him out! He mustered all his strength and called out as loud as he could.

"Help! Help me! I'm in here!" The sound of the lantern swinging in a sudden halt, reassured the boy the person had heard him.

"Hello?" a soft voice returned, outside the door. Romano began to cry with joy.

"Si! In here! In here!" he spluttered pathetically as the relieving sound of a key being turned in the latch greeted him. The door opened slowly, revealing the somewhat familiar face of the man Britain introduced the previous week as Spain. His emerald eyes glistened with concern.

"A child?" Romano struggled to his feet and flung himself around the man, overcome with emotions. "What's this? Hey, what were you doing in there all by yourself?" Romano drew himself away, in shock.

"Jerk! Don't you recognise me! I'm Italy!"

"Italy? No, it can't be...Italy just walked out of here with Britain about half an hour ago." Romano felt his heart crushing.

"But...but...I am!" Spain smiled and scooped up the boy.

"I like you. You're funny and muy bonito!"

"I'm not cute, jerk!" Romano couldn't believe what he was saying. He never cursed in all his life-he was only six, where had he even heard these words? He figured, giving his newly found brother all his best qualities, left him only with bitterness and envy.

"Tell you what, why don't I look after you for a bit, vale? You can stay with me for the night and we can take you home in the morning. Sound good?" Romano nodded miserably. "I'm Spain by the way. And who might you be?" The boy paused.

"My name's Romano."

The end