I shove through the frantic mob, pushing between excited families to get closer to the wall. Miraculously, I reach the ever growing hole and shove through the mob, worming out on the other side. "Westen! WESTEN!"

I call for him above the roar of the crowd, pushing now against the tide of bodies towards the familiar voice. "Osten! Osten, wo bist du?"

He sounds desperate. I hope the Allies were better to him than that creep Russia was to me, even poor Lithuania came out of this better off than I did. "Heir! Westen, heir bin ich!"

I see him get up on something above the crowd, probably a crate of some kind, and I start to move faster. 44 years stuck in Russia's hell hole of a 'family', and I'm finally out. Behind me the wall is falling more quickly now; families, friends, lovers. People long separated coming back together.

I find him standing alone, and to my shock he actually smiles. Genuinely smiles. "Welcome home, bruder."

I hug him tightly, and he hugs me back. They say German men never cry. But I'm Prussian.

The Wall has fallen.

Geman translations:

Westen! WESTEN!=West! WEST!

Osten! Osten, wo bist du?=East! East, where are you?

Heir! Westen, heir bin ich!=Here! West, I'm here!

bruder=brother

I do not own Hetalia, and this idea was admittedly taken from my sister's open idea list. But I'm personally a bit proud of my drabble, so if you could kindly review, I will not slit your throat while you sleep. Da?