This story is a kink meme de-anon and was written as a response to the following prompt:

There are countless fics in which Prussia is being constantly raped and beaten up by Russia behind the Berlin Wall. I'd like to request a story in which Germany thinks this is exactly what is going on, perhaps due to America's anti-Soviet propaganda that makes Russia look like a complete monster.

When the Berlin Wall comes down, Germany is determined to give Prussia all the support he needs while dealing with his trauma. However, Prussia was actually never raped, but Germany is convinced that he's in denial and not healing right.

Bonus: it takes a really long time before Germany can find the courage to actually talk about this with Prussia, so Prussia is left wondering why his brother is being so awkward around him

Warning: As the prompt makes clear, this story will involve mentions of rape and violence. There is also some language.

SHADOWS ON THE WALLS

Chapter 1

"These Soviet bastards, they don't know who they're dealing with."

Germany didn't turn to look at America at these words. It was always the same; every time America visited him, he couldn't stop talking about Russia and communism and how he would put an end to this mess right now if he only had free hands. It was nothing but words, of course. They all knew that starting a war with the Soviet Union would be a suicide.

This time, America was particularly stressed and had started his evening with more beer than was usual for him. The missile crisis in Cuba had ended only a few months ago, thankfully without fighting that would have surely led to the destruction of everyone involved.

His glass was nearly knocked over when America suddenly hit his fist on the table.

"Goddammit, he thinks he can do anything he wants just because he's got nukes like us! But just watch, I'll find a way to kick his ass and free everyone!"

"Sure," Germany said, though he wasn't very hopeful about that. A wall had gone up in Berlin almost two years ago. He hadn't seen his brother since then. He had a feeling this wasn't going to end soon.

America downed some more of his beer. "And then everything's gonna be fine again. I'll... I'll bring crates of Coca Cola to everyone as a sign of freedom. Yeah, haha!"

Germany didn't think he and America were particularly good friends. America just liked to come over to show the world that he cared about the situation in Europe and would have their back if the Soviets ever tried to advance towards west. Maybe he also wanted to annoy Russia and rub it to his face how much influence he was having right behind the so called Iron Curtain.

It was doubtful that America's efforts would bear fruit. The situation couldn't be solved with military conflict. Germany didn't even want to try. He had seen enough war for the rest of his eternity. Diplomacy was the way of the future. His boss had told him he was planning to offer the Soviet Union economic aid in exchange for more freedom in the East, and –

"– taking to his bed this time. God, nothing's beneath that psycho."

"What?" Germany asked absent-mindedly, realising that he had again tuned out most of America's ranting.

"Russia, man. He's totally screwing everyone under his power. Torturing, too, probably. He's got to keep them disciplined, you know?"

Before Germany could properly process what America had just said, he continued with new eagerness.

"The way I see it, it's pretty obvious. Russia is so horrible, not to mention butt-ugly, that nobody in their right mind would ever want to let him do them. So he's got to force them. We already know what he's capable of when the countries under Soviet rule try to rebel," he continued.

"So, you're saying he's... uh..."

"Raping them. All of them."

"That's absurd," Germany said. America had drunk too much again.

"No, listen! Russia has been going on and on about this becoming one with him business ever since he went communist," America said. He licked his lips and glanced around, as if he didn't want just anyone to hear. "I don't think he's talking figuratively. I'm sure he's really doing it."

"Do you have proof?" Germany asked. He didn't like how serious his voice had suddenly grown. He wasn't believing this nonsense, right?

"I've got spies there who tell me about the horrible things they've seen. The kind of torture and horrors that you could never imagine – or wait, sorry, you sure could! But my point stands. How do you think he's keeping everyone nice and quiet? Sexual abuse is one of the surest ways to break someone's will, especially if he can convince them that they deserved it and it was their fault," America went on.

He said something more after that, but Germany had stopped listening again. He didn't want to believe a word of this – he wasn't believing a single word, really! – but he suddenly imagined his brother writhing in pain under Russia's large form, feebly trying to fight back and crying for help. He saw Russia's fingers in his brother's hair, then travelling down his pale, bruised skin in a mockery of a lover's touch.

He felt his stomach turn, and he suddenly hated himself for having an unnecessarily vivid imagination for such things.

"Wow, you're looking a little sick," America commented. "Too much beer already?"

"Can you stop talking about Russia? It's complete nonsense," Germany said.

"It's unpleasant for sure, but it's the truth, man."

"No, it's not!"

"Hey, what are you getting so bent for? Do you want to defend him or something?"

"Russia isn't doing any of the things you said! My brother wouldn't... he's... he..." Germany started, but the words died in his throat.

There had been a time when Prussia had been the strongest man in the world for him, a time when he could have never imagined that his loud, strong and arrogant older brother could lose to anyone. That anything bad could happen to him. That illusion had been shattered already, and he now knew that Prussia bled like everyone else. Maybe he could also...

"Oh, right! Your brother! Sorry, man. I totally forgot. Uh, so, there are so many countries over there. I can't even locate all of them on a map! So, that probably means it's not your brother's turn often, right? Unless Russia is fixating on him or something, and with that hair and eyes it wouldn't really – oh, hey, where are you going?"

"I need some fresh air," Germany said and stumbled out into the night.

Germany kept telling himself that he didn't believe a word of America's insane conspiracy theories. Everyone knew that America stopped seeing reason whenever Russia was mentioned. He was only imagining things.

And yet... The lingering doubt and fear wouldn't leave him alone. He spent that night awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling and doing his best to avoid imagining the horrors his brother could be going through at the very moment. The scenes became more and more terrifying until Germany couldn't take it anymore.

Swearing under his breath, he got up from bed and went downstairs where the phone was. He picked up the receiver, but then he hesitated. It was stupid to call Prussia at this hour; he was surely in bed.

But maybe he wasn't alone.

Germany gritted his teeth and dialled the number. The phone rang for a long time, but then someone picked it up.

"What?" asked a sour voice.

"Prussia!"

"Oh, hey, West. Didn't I tell you not to call me again until you've officially recognised my country?"

"I know, but... Did I wake you up?"

"Nah, I had some business to take care of."

Germany refrained from asking what that business was. He was sure he didn't want to know what Prussia's boss made him do.

"Are you... are you alright?" he asked instead. At least he sounded alright, Germany supposed, not like he was in pain or scared. Then again, Prussia was really good at hiding his real emotions.

"What's this? Of course I'm alright, all things considered. What's got to you?" Prussia asked.

"But you're up at this time of the night," Germany pointed out.

"Well, so are you."

"I couldn't sleep."

Prussia sighed. "Listen. Do you need me to come and tuck you in like old times? Because that's a little difficult right now. If you've got something to say, just go ahead and say it."

Germany knew that their conversation was being listened and that every word would be reported to the Stasi, possibly to Russia as well. If Russia really was doing something to his brother, it might anger him if someone found out. If Germany said something now, would Russia suspect his brother of trying to get help from west? Would he punish Prussia?

"No, it's nothing. I'm sorry I called you in the middle of the night," he said, feeling defeated and trapped.

"You were lucky this time that I wasn't in bed, but don't make a habit out of it, okay?"

"Yes, well –" Germany started, but he was cut off by a strange noise from the phone. It sounded like something crashing.

"Shit," Prussia said, his voice distant because he wasn't talking to the receiver anymore. "That was my favourite – yeah, yeah, I know. I shouldn't nag. Sorry."

"Prussia, what's that? Is there someone else? Who is it?" Germany asked.

"Sorry, but I've got to go. Something came up."

"Prussia, please! What's going on?"

"It's nothing. I'm going to hang up now."

"Wait, don't! I..." Germany said, but it was too late. There was a click and the line went dead.

It was the middle of the night, and Prussia wasn't alone at his house. That other person was breaking things. Prussia apologized to that person even though he destroyed something that was important to him. That wasn't like him at all. That was... Germany didn't even want to imagine what that was.

Germany sat there for a long time, clutching the receiver and fearing the worst. In the darkness of his house, America's insane babbling started making an awful lot of sense.

Germany's intestines felt like they were tied on knots as he observed the other nations at the next world meeting. It was nothing new that the atmosphere around him was tense. Memories of the war and the horrors of the camps were still fresh on everyone's mind, and Germany knew it would be a long time before he could shed that dark cape off his shoulders – if he ever could.

However, this time it wasn't the mistrust and resentment from the others that made him so uneasy. He kept staring at the entrance to the meeting room, hoping in vain that his brother would arrive. Deep down, he knew that Prussia wouldn't be there, but if he hoped enough, maybe there would be an exception this time.

He gritted his teeth when Russia entered the room. He was the same as always, smiling at everyone who made the mistake of looking his way and observing them with amusement glinting in his eyes. Before, Germany had been almost glad for the way Russia's presence made the temperature in the room go down. The threat from east made it easier for him to reconcile with the rest of Europe. They could stand together against a common enemy.

But now he found himself wishing that he could spot a spark of humanity behind Russia's smile. His brother was trapped behind the Wall with this monster.

"Hello, Germany. Is there something you wanted?"

Germany blinked and sputtered as he realised that he had been staring and that Russia had come to stand right before him. Dammit, was he out of his mind? He shouldn't try to attract his attention.

"Where is my brother?" he asked.

Russia let out a long hum, sounding happily surprised. "East doesn't come to world meetings because not many have recognised his country. You should know that. You keep insisting that there's no German Democratic Republic as well," he said.

That was because there wasn't. The border that divided the country in two was like a long wound running down Germany's chest. It was wrong and unnatural; his people were supposed to be one.

"I'm happy I don't have such ungrateful little brothers," Russia said. "He would die without his country, and yet you want to take it away from him so bad. It's no wonder that he..."

"He what?" Germany snarled, unable to control his voice.

"Why don't you ask him yourself? If he even wants to talk to you anymore, that is. He doesn't live in my house, but he visits often and belongs to my family now. I don't think he wants a little brother anymore," Russia said.

"That's not true!" Germany snapped. Prussia would always be his brother, no matter what happened and how many barriers were built between them.

"I visited him not too long ago. He didn't speak very kindly of you," Russia said.

"You visited him?" Germany repeated. Could it be that the person he had heard during the phone call had been Russia? Had he been at Prussia's house in the middle of the night?

Russia smiled. "Yes. I made him some shchi that we ate together. I don't think he liked it very much, but I'm sure he will learn to love my food if I keep being nice to him. East is a little naughty sometimes, but I know how to treat him right so that his behaviour will improve."

Germany felt his breath get caught in his throat at Russia's ominous words and the haunting tone of his voice. So many meanings could hide behind these comments, but his mind was already interpreting them the worst possible way. He opened his mouth, desperate to demand Russia for a concrete answer about what he was doing to his brother, but he couldn't force his voice to work.

What would it help if he knew and his fears were confirmed? He could do nothing to help. He was a failure of a brother.

"If you decided to join me, there would be no need for a wall. Then you could try to reconcile with East," Russia said.

"No. I can't. I –"

Russia gave him a pat on the shoulder and walked past him. "Maybe later, then. It was nice talking to you, Germany. Until next time."

After the meeting was over, Germany went to America and pulled him away from the others.

"I need to talk to you," he said.

"Sure, what is it?"

"I'd rather not talk about it here. Can we go somewhere more secure?"

America's eyes lit up in excitement. "Hey, this sounds cool! We can go into my hotel room. With the way the world is these days, you can never be too careful, so I had my boys search the whole building for bugs and spies. Nobody will hear us there."

"Good."

Once they were in the hotel room, America pulled the curtains over the windows, locked the door and looked under the bed.

"Just in case," he explained. "I hate to say it, but Soviet spies are pretty good at what they do."

"That's sort of what I came here to talk about," Germany said. He moved aside some of the empty soda cans before taking a seat. He crossed his hands on his knees and looked up to America who had climbed on a chair to make sure nothing was hidden in the lamp.

"I guess we're safe," America announced and jumped down to sit on his bed.

"I need your help."

"Sure, I'm always ready to help. What can I do for you?"

Germany swallowed, searching for the right words. The fears on his mind were so horrifying that he didn't know how to voice them. He was about to destroy his brother's privacy and talk about such intimate and painful things that Prussia might never forgive him if he knew.

"It's about what you said last time," he finally said.

America pursed his lips and scratched his chin. "Huh, what was that again? I think I had a few too many that night, hahaha!"

"You said that Russia is... that he's abusing everyone under his power."

"Well, of course he is! He's forcing everyone to accept his stupid ideology! I thought that was obvious."

"Yes, but you also said that... that he's..." No matter how hard he tried, Germany couldn't bring himself to say it. He looked pleadingly at America, hoping that he would understand what he was getting at.

"Oh, you mean the rape?"

Germany hated the nonchalant way the word rolled off America's tongue. To him, it was perhaps nothing more than another horrifying crime Russia was guilty of, but to Germany it meant nearly the end of the world. America wouldn't dare use that tone if it were Canada in danger.

"Yes. I talked to Russia today. What he said makes me really worried. I've tried to talk to my brother, he won't tell me anything. And I can't just ask Russia," he said.

"Well, of course not. All he does is lie."

Germany drew a deep breath. "I need to know what's going on with my brother. Even if I can't help him now, I must know. I must be prepared for the day when we're reunited so that I can support him. Please, America. Do you have any men who could give me information about what Russia is doing to him?"

America crossed his arms on his chest and frowned in thought. "Hmm, that's not an easy request. I do have a good number of spies on the other side, but they all have important stuff to do. I don't really like the idea of risking their lives for something like that," he said.

"I see," Germany said, lowering his eyes. That was it, then. If America couldn't help him, nobody could.

"Hey, chin up! I didn't say no. I just said it's going to be difficult, but I'll see what I can do. We're already keeping tabs on your brother anyway. I'll tell the boys that his personal life needs to be put under better scrutiny. If you want, he won't be able to go to the bathroom without us knowing," America said.

"I feel terrible doing this," Germany muttered. Wasn't this violation of his brother's privacy almost the same as what Russia was doing?

"Man, no need to feel guilty. I'm sure he's got someone keeping an eye on you, too. He's your brother, but you can't forget that you're on different sides now. He's with the commie bastard; you're with me."

"Right. Yes, that's right," Germany said. That was what his boss told him. They had to be hard if they wanted to see the country whole again. They shouldn't show sympathy.

"Great that you see it my way. I'll talk to my boys when I get back home, and I'll let you know as soon as there's anything interesting."

"Interesting isn't the right word, and I hope you'll never have to tell me anything," Germany said.

"Right, of course."

America kept regularly in touch with Germany, but his reports weren't very satisfactory. He couldn't present any solid evidence of Prussia being abused, but he couldn't prove the opposite either. Germany was left with accounts of how Russia often came to visit Prussia at his house and a handful of dark photos to prove it, nothing else.

"We can't just put bugs in your brother's house or go take pictures there. It's too dangerous and not worth the risk," America explained to him.

"I know," Germany said with a sigh. "I just wish I had something more concrete so that I wouldn't have to keep guessing."

"Have you tried asking him about it?"

"I can't."

"Yeah, that might be for the best. Who knows what the psycho will do if he knows that we know?"

Germany agreed, but that wasn't his main reason. To his great shame, he was utterly unable to even mention the topic on those increasingly rare occasions that he called Prussia – Prussia never called him. He just couldn't do it. He hated how difficult it was for him to tell his own brother that he wanted to be there for him, even if there was a wall between them.

It was only a couple of years later that America was able to present him with solid evidence. It was early February in 1969, and America was on a visit in Bonn. After the official business was over, he suggested that they should find a quiet corner in a secure place and have two pints of Weißbier. It was America's code word for the times when he had information on Prussia; he had insisted on having one.

"Is this place safe?" America asked in a whisper after they had taken seats and received their orders.

Germany nodded, too tense for words. America hadn't looked this serious in a long time.

"Good. I've got something big for you." America reached inside his jacket and pulled out a brown envelope. He slid it to Germany's side of the table.

Germany took the envelope, trying to ignore how heavy it felt and how his fingers insisted on shaking. These couldn't be just more shady photos of Russia entering or leaving Prussia's house. He opened the envelope and took out five pictures.

"I've had those for a while now, several months at least, but they got buried under other stuff, and I didn't even notice them until now. But look at them! What else could that be?" America pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, looking grim and yet pleased with himself.

Germany bit his tongue as he looked at the photos. They all showed Prussia, and he looked miserable and angry in all of them. Particularly striking was the picture in which his black eye and bruised face were perfectly captured.

"When and where were these taken?" Germany asked in a hoarse voice, tearing his gaze from Prussia's abused features.

"I'm not sure. Some time last year, I think. There has been no military conflict in which East Germany was attacked or anything, so this can only be personal. And who else would do this but the red bastard?"

Germany nodded. It made perfect sense. It all fit. Russia was nothing but a blood-thirsty monster, waiting for a chance to advance west and devour them all. He had known that for years now, so the extent of his cruelty wasn't a surprise, but it tasted so very bitter.

"I hate to say it, I'm sure he's looking a lot worse under his clothes," America said.

"What do you mean?"

"It's typical for abusers. Leaving visible marks makes people curious." America pointed his finger at Prussia's face in the photo. "Bruises like that can be explained away with a clumsy accident. The real injury is where you can't see it, and it's worse."

"You're right," Germany croaked. He let the photos fall from his hands and covered his eyes with his hand.

"Sorry, man," America said. "It must be hard, but if it makes you feel any better, I'm so going to kick that bastard's ass for you."

"Thank you," Germany said, but he couldn't bring himself to feel grateful. His brother had already suffered so much, and he might never recover from it. How many times more would Russia touch him before all this was over?

He slipped the photos back into the envelope and excused himself. He had to hear Prussia's voice, just to feel assured that he was still alive.

Waiting had never felt as agonizing as when he dialled Prussia's number and listened to the beep of the telephone. It was as if it took hours for his brother to pick up the phone.

"Yes?"

"Prussia, it's me."

"Oh, hi, West. Haven't heard from you in a while."

"I know. Sorry. My boss –"

"Yeah, yeah. I know. I bet he's still more tolerable than mine."

Germany clutched the envelope in his hand. All he needed was one question and an answer, and then he would know the truth. Except that he was sure Prussia would never tell him anything. He probably saw his abuse as a weakness and would keep denying it.

"So, what is it, or is this just a social call? I'm actually a little busy, so –"

"I just wanted to call you."

"Just wanted to call me, huh? What's wrong? Not getting along with your new playmates? Is America giving you a hard time?"

"Something like that," Germany said. He realised he just wanted to keep talking, even if it was nonsense. Especially if it was nonsense, actually. Anything to forget politics and just talk to his brother.

"Well, too bad. I would love to come over there and kick his ass for you like the best big brother I am, but you know we've got tight security at the border. Got to keep capitalist assholes like you out of our paradise and all that," Prussia said.

Germany couldn't help but chuckle, even if it sounded hollow in his hears.

"How have you been?" he asked.

"Just fine. I absolutely love it how there's nothing but crap in the stores because I end up saving money that way, and the Soviet military is always here to keep me company. It couldn't be better."

"I'm sorry."

"So, how are you?"

"I'm fine," Germany said. He didn't really know what else to say. They both knew which of them was better off, and he didn't want to rub that to Prussia's face.

Silence fell between them.

"Well, if that was all –" Prussia started.

"Prussia."

"Yeah?"

Germany drew a deep breath, gathering his courage. "I... miss you. I'm going to get you out of there. Somehow. I promise."

There was silence on the other side, and at first he thought that Prussia was no longer there. Then his brother laughed hoarsely.

"God, West. Don't say such mushy crap when my boys are on the line. They'll think I'm a total wuss!"

"I meant it."

"My boss will scold me and take away my phone if you keep putting revolutionary ideas into my head. If you want to do something for me, just send me a box of bananas, okay?"

"Alright, I'll see what I can do."

Germany didn't know how to feel after the phone call. Prussia had sounded like himself, and it was so tempting to think that everything truly was fine. The problem was that Prussia had used that exact same tone when reporting the damage to him on the last days before Berlin had fallen before the Soviet soldiers.

He supposed all he could do was wait, trust America and hope that the day when he could embrace his brother again would dawn soon.

When Germany saw his brother again, it was September 1973. They were both joining the UN, which felt like a breath of fresh air for Germany. Maybe things could get better for them now. Maybe they could see each other more often. Maybe Prussia wouldn't be so tightly under Russia's influence anymore.

He felt his heart clench when he first caught sight of his brother. Prussia was standing by Russia's side, too close to Germany's liking. He looked paler than usual, but perhaps that was just Germany's memory playing tricks on him or the contrast created by the black coat Prussia was wearing.

Russia noticed Germany before Prussia did. The sunny smile on his face brightened even more, and he gave Prussia and nudge on the back.

"I think your brother wants to talk to you," he said.

"So, he's my brother again. Last time you told me he had abandoned me. Make up your mind."

"His current boss is more agreeable than the previous one."

"Yeah, he's not half bad."

Germany gritted his teeth as he listened to the conversation and watched Prussia fiddle with the scarf wrapped around his neck. It was a perfect match to the scarf Russia was wearing.

Suddenly, he had no idea what he could say to his brother after over ten years of not having seen him. So much had happened, and they hadn't been there for each other through it. He would have liked to just forget words altogether and bury Prussia in his arms, but he didn't dare get so personal when Russia was looming over his brother like that.

The past years had hardened Germany's suspicion and worry into pure hatred towards the Soviet nation. America had provided him with a steady trickle of suspicious evidence, but even without that, he would have been certain that Russia was hurting his brother. Whenever they met, Russia directed amused, mocking words and glances at him. He was taunting him, Germany knew, rubbing it to his face that Germany could do nothing to stop him.

"Hiya, West. What's up? You're looking good," Prussia said.

"But we already knew that from the photos that our friends keep sending us," Russia said.

Germany shot a glare at Russia, hating his choice of pronouns. "Can I talk to my brother alone?" he asked.

"I don't think that's necessary," Russia said.

Prussia said nothing to disagree with him. Germany hated that even more than Russia's earlier words.

"I'm glad to see you," Germany said, trying to smile.

"Yeah, and thanks for recognising my country," Prussia said.

"Too bad it took so many years," Russia pointed out.

Germany frowned. Prussia hadn't been there when they had signed the Basic Treaty. He couldn't understand why his brother would skip such a historical event that finally let them recognise each other not just as brothers but as nations as well. He could only assume that Russia had forbidden him from coming.

"I'm sure everything will get better now. We should start seeing each other again. You should visit –"

"My, those are dangerous ideas, Germany. You promised me you'd accept the current borders in Europe," Russia cut in.

"I know," Germany growled. "I just want to see my brother. I'm not planning to join our countries." Not now, at least. That was still his ultimate goal, but he and his boss knew that they could never reach it if they remained stubbornly hostile towards East Germany.

"Sorry, but I'm not coming to visit you when my people can't cross the border. You're going to have to visit me," Prussia said.

Germany frowned at the resentfulness that was lurking behind Prussia's tone. All he wanted was to give his brother some freedom and relief from his torment, some good food and products he couldn't get in his own country. Why did it suddenly feel like he was the villain here?

"It was nice that you two could catch up, but I think it's time for us to go," Russia announced. He wrapped an arm around Prussia's shoulders and started leading him away.

"We barely got to say hello!" Germany snapped.

Prussia didn't resist, which was another stab at Germany's heart. Prussia's cocky words during their phone calls had somewhat eased the ache inside him, but seeing his brother act so meek and obedient showed him just how badly Prussia was hurt.

Next time, Germany swore. At the next world meeting, he'd get America to distract Russia, and then he would corner his brother and finally talk to him alone.

Except that Prussia wasn't at the next meeting. Or the one after that or the one after that. When Germany called him about it, he simply said that he had had something more important to do. Germany made the mistake of asking if Russia wasn't letting him come, which resulted in Prussia hanging up on him without a word for the next two weeks.

It was obvious he wasn't going to get the answer out of his brother. That only left one person to talk to, and this time Germany was determined to do it. He was finally getting closer to his brother due to his boss's Ostpolitik, and he wasn't going to let Russia ruin it for them.

"Russia, I want to talk to you," he said when they were having a break.

"But of course."

"Why is my brother not here? What did you do to him to make him stay home?" Germany asked.

"I didn't do anything. It was his own decision not to come."

"I don't believe that. You've been telling me for years that I should recognise his country. Well, I have. He has his own country. That means he should be able to do what he wants!"

"Then maybe he doesn't want to come. Maybe he's happier when he doesn't have to see you."

Germany clenched his fists so hard that it hurt. That couldn't be true. It simply wasn't.

"You're lying," he growled.

Russia smiled. "It's for the good of my family that everyone stays in line and doesn't do anything stupid. I've had to enforce that rule a little too strictly a few times, but it was for the best, even if they didn't realise it at the time. However, I haven't asked East to do anything for me this time," he said. He paused for a moment. "In fact, you must have noticed that his politicians are here to represent him. It's just that East didn't want to come personally."

And that could only mean one thing. Russia had forbidden Prussia from coming but not because of politics. It was personal; the monster was trying to keep his brother submissive and under his power no matter what he had to do. To top it, he had the gall to smile so innocently while practically admitting it to this face!

"You... you bastard!" Germany snarled. He was sure he felt something snap in his head, and after that there was only sharp pain in his knuckles and gasps from elsewhere in the room.

"That wasn't very nice," Russia said, rubbing his jaw. His smile hadn't wavered, but his eyes had turned dark and cold, bringing back unpleasant memories. "Perhaps you want to go to war with me?"

"I –"

"Germany, what in God's name are you doing?"

"Have you gone completely mad?"

Germany felt two pairs of arms grab him and pull him away from Russia. When he turned to look, he saw it was England and France, for once as a unified front and in complete agreement.

"Let me go!"

"Are you trying to start an international conflict, you blasted fool?"

"And with him of all people!"

"But I..." Germany stuttered, but then he realised what he had done. This wouldn't do anything to help Prussia. It would just cause them both problems.

"I don't think Germany wants to do that after how the last one turned out. I'll forget about this if he offers me a nice apology," Russia said.

Germany gritted his teeth as he felt both England and France's fingers dig warningly into his arms. He had no choice, he knew.

"I'm sorry. I've been a little stressed out lately," he said. Please don't take this out on Prussia, he thought.

"That's alright. It must be hard for you to be separated from your brother like this," Russia said.

It was then that the hopelessness of the situation properly dawned on Germany. For as long as the country was divided in two, there was nothing he could do to help Prussia. Even if he visited him every chance he got, there would still be countless occasions when he'd be alone with Russia. And he couldn't lift a finger against the Soviet nation.

When he returned to his country, Germany immediately travelled to Berlin. He spent most of his time in Bonn because of work, but he would have much rather lived in West Berlin. There he felt the closest to his brother, and the Wall symbolised their separation better than anything else.

It was the middle of the night when he arrived. He didn't bother taking a moment to catch his breath but walked straight to the Wall that ran around his half of the city. Germany rested his forehead against its surface and closed his eyes, his chest aching at the thought that it was only this chunk of concrete that separated him from his brother.

If only he could tear it down! He wanted nothing more than to open the border and welcome Prussia to his home where he was safe.

Germany straightened his back and reached inside his coat to take out the envelope with the pictures America had given him a few years ago. He didn't need to take a look at them; the images were forever burnt on his mind. The only reason he carried them with him was that the uncomfortable weight in his chest pocket gave him determination when his worry for his brother threatened to grow too overbearing.

"One day there will be no Wall, Prussia," he said. He wished he could yell these words over to the other side, but he knew Prussia wouldn't be there to hear him. The death strip and the armed guards prevented anyone from approaching the Wall on the eastern side. Germany liked to think that Prussia might have defied the odds in the past, but now when Russia had moulded him into what he wanted? No.

Gritting his teeth, Germany shoved the photos into his pocket and turned his back on the Wall. No matter how long he had to wait, he would be there when Prussia crossed the border and needed him. He'd help him heal and forget all that Russia had ever done to him.