Author's note: Hello darlings, this is the first fic I've posted and I hope you like it. Tell me if I've gotten my facts wrong, I would like to be historically accurate. And now enough of my yacking, enjoy!

Hetalia, the characters do not belong to me. Trust me, it's good they don't.

Cold as ice metal was pressed firmly to the back of Ludwig's head, an ever-present threat.

"Surrender Beilshmidt!" the American accented voice commanded angrily. Ludwig closed his eyes and steadied himself for the impact of the bullet with his skull,

"Just pull the trigger, it would be best for all of us." He heard a loud sigh from the American,

"Now you and I both kn-" Ludwig cut the man off by pressing himself to the gun,

"Do it, just end it!" Everything he had ever held dear to him had been torn away and he was left as a shell of his former self. His only friends, his bruder, and the trust of his people were all gone. Deep icy blue eyes widened as the gun was suddenly removed,

"Stand up," Alfred's words were full of pity. Ludwig dusted himself off as he stood and turned around to face his captor.

"I don't need your sympathy," his mouth felt desert dry as he attempted to keep his voice steady. Alfred nearly fired the gun in shock as the German grabbed his wrist and once again pressed the weapon to his head, this time on his right temple. Alfred didn't want to let go of the gun for fear that the distressed Ludwig would do something drastic. Both men were soaked in blood and their usually pristine uniforms were undeniably ruined. Panicking, Ludwig tried one final time,

"I deserve a coward's death." Alfred wrenched his arm out of the German's grip and the gun away as far as possible. Seeing what he thought to be his only option thrown away, Ludwig's legs collapsed out from under him and he landed on his knees. A single sob escaped from his lips as his shoulders shook. Holding out a hand, Alfred placed it on his enemy's shoulder,

"You don't have to do this alone." Suddenly, a gunshot split through the silent air and Ludwig crumpled to the ground, the earth around him turning scarlet. Alfred looked around frantically to try to spot the culprit but couldn't see one. He picked the other man up, as blood cascaded from a wound in Ludwig's chest. The green of the other's uniform was slowly turning a murky red as blood blossomed over the fabric.

"Somebody, I need a medic!" Alfred bellowed, running towards a group of soldiers.

….

Thoughts trickled slowly back into Ludwig's head as well as the realization of intense pain that seemed to radiate from his body but especially from his chest. He could hear faint muttering and half garbled snatches of conversation from what seemed like miles away.

"Angleterre, we owe him nothing," the voice insisted, growing louder.

"His family and friends still deserve to know!" a British voice retorted. Ludwig faded out, the voices becoming murmurs.

"We have them here in holding cells, it wouldn't take too much just to…" The trio argued further, Alfred and Arthur actually siding together,

"Alfred, go get them and bring some guards." The world went dark again for a time until he felt something collide with him. His eyes snapped open, a bleached white room coming into focus slowly. Whatever had collided with him was now clinging to him and shaking.

"Feliciano?" Ludwig croaked, his voice rough with disuse.

"Ludwig!" Feliciano looked up, his face tear streaked. Several abrasions and bruises covered the smaller man's face and the skin around one of his deep brown eyes was black and blue.

"Thank goodness you're alive! You look terrible," another voice said. Gilbert stood by the doorway, similarly injured to Feliciano, then Ludwig spotted the guards.

"I feel terrible, where are we?" Ludwig muttered, wincing because his mouth tasted like a horrible mixture of medication and blood.

"The Allies have us at some sort of prison, but beyond that I don't know." Ruby eyes glinted dully with defeat and anger as he stared down at his little brother. Pain exploded from Ludwig's chest as he attempted to sit up and the world around him grew blurry. A hand pushed his shoulder back into the clammy white sheets and Ludwig was surprised to see Feliciano holding him down. A waterfall of tears leaked from the overdramatic man's eyes as he easily pinned down his best friend,

"I shouldn't be able to do that!" he said hysterically between sobs. Cold air bombarded Ludwig's chest, how had he not noticed how cold it was? Looking down, Ludwig noticed that the sheets had slid off, revealing his bandage wrapped chest.

"What happened?" Ludwig's eyes widened, wondering when in the scuffle the American had retrieved his gun. As Feliciano continued to sob, Gilbert explained coldly,

"Some random American soldier, they don't know who, shot you when you were having—umm, diplomatic talks with Jones."

"Times up," a guard said as countless others swarmed around him.

"We haven't been in here for five minutes!" Gilbert protested, but didn't struggle as his hands were tied behind his back. As they were about to put the restraints on Feliciano, the Italian head butted one of the guards in the stomach. The guard doubled over and collapsed onto the tile floor, gasping for breath like a fish out of water. Before the guards could even think of grabbing him, Feliciano hurried to Ludwig's side.

"Feli?" The German whispered as he looked at his friend in shock. Feliciano's face was a mask of fear and rage as he stood next to the bed holding his arms out protectively in front of Ludwig.

"You protected me all those times, I guess it's time I returned the favor," he replied, grinning his sparkling childish grin. Several of the guards hurried forward and tackled Feliciano to the ground,

"He doesn't deserve your sympathy kid!" a guard hissed, punctuating his statement by punching Feliciano hard in the face. He sneered after he delivered several more blows to the auburn haired man. Like ice on a hot day, Feliciano's brace façade melted away and tears of pain and despair cascading down his cheeks. "Quit your bawling you pansy!" another blow was delivered to Feliciano's head. Ludwig winced,

"Leave him alone, it's me you hate!" although his throat was raw he shouted as loudly as he could.

"That may be true you Na-," before the sneering guard could finish his statement, Feliciano actually elbowed the guard in the face. The man's nose made a magnificent crunch and blood sluggishly trickled between his hands which were now clamped around his nose. Silence blanketed the once pristine medical room before it was broken again by Feliciano,

"Don't you dare ever call him that," the usually timid man snarled. Gilbert actually grinned as the pair was led away,

"The kid finally grew a pair," then in a more reserved tone he said, "Rest up bruder, we're all going to need it."

…

Several days had passed since Ludwig had seen either his sibling or his friend. The guards were more cautious when it came with dealing with all of their prisoners since the unexpected rebellion of Feliciano. Rumors traveled like wildfire around Ludwig but actual news traveled slowly. He knew more lies and speculation then he did actual truth. He had asked of course, when doctors had come in to tend to the wound in his chest, but they simply ignored him.

Ludwig was starting to wonder if the Allies planned to keep him in the dark about what events had transpired forever when Alfred F. Jones once again came sauntering back into his life. The man's usually jovial blue eyes had a hard edge to them as he stared down the bedridden ex-soldier,

"How are you holding up?" he asked quietly.

"As well as to be expected I guess. Though, I would be better if I knew what was going on," Ludwig responded coldly. Alfred simply nodded in response, standing in the doorway stiffly. People at the base seemed to treat the German prisoner like a bomb that would go off without warning and Ludwig was tired of it. "I know I don't deserve to know, but I wish to know what happened to my people!" he insisted, his deadened eyes staring the American down.

Alfred let out a world weary sigh, and shut the door behind him. He didn't have permission to share too many details of the end of the war with the prisoner, his higher ups were terrified that the nation still had some sort of power or control over what happened. The once again sterile room was not created for comfort, nor was it created for any form of visitation so there wasn't any provided seating or furniture besides the one bed, currently occupied. Not bothering to ask for permission, Alfred settled down on the edge of the mattress and began to share the small amount of approved information,

"Germany, you- you're people have surrendered. The fighting in Europe has ceased though the war still continues in the Pacific against the remainder of your Axis." He used Ludwig's nation name, a formality that was normally reserved for people from that country or a courtesy by the country's leaders. Ludwig had surmised as much from the nervous mumblings of people who passed by his door, the conversation seeping through the door. Still, there was something else that the Alfred wished to say, though he was waiting to say it. Keeping his eyes on Ludwig's face he continued, "Your leader is dead, he killed himself."

To Alfred's surprised, the German remained impassive. He would have guessed that he would show some sort of regret or sadness at the death of his leader but the man didn't seem to care one way or another. Ludwig simply nodded in response,

"It doesn't surprise me."

"And you are alright with this?" Alfred probed.

"My—leader as you say was a vile man, I held no sentimental attachment to him."

As conversations of that nature traditionally do, it lulled into nothingness. Neither of the men bothered to make eye contact as silence reined the supreme and dominating ruler of their conversation. They may have sat there like that, still and impassive if the hoard of medical personnel hadn't swarmed down on their patent. A tall, stern looking doctor shooed Alfred out the door as they began to change bandages and perform a routine checkup on the prisoner.

The American shifted awkwardly, waiting to be let in so he could ask more questions. Before he could do so, Arthur strode down the hallway with his usual pompous swagger.

"I thought we agreed that we would leave him alone for the time being," he reprimanded. Alfred looked between the door to the room and his surrogate brother quickly.

"I decided it was more important for him to know at least a little about what's going on. He is still human."

Arthur let out a mirthless laugh, "Human? Alfred, you're ability to see the best in people never ceases to amaze me."

"I guess you could say it's my big downfall." Alfred turned on his heels and entered the room again, this time with Arthur breathing down his neck.

"I swear Alfred, if you compromise our plan by doing something stupid so help me…" Arthur stopped midsentence as they both noticed at once that the German appeared to be sleeping. Quietly, they both exited the room and closed the door softly. They continued to argue as they continued down the hallway, receiving a few scathing glares and getting shushed by quite a few nurses. Arthur stormed off down the hall, leaving Alfred to be glared at by the medical staff. The nation pulled the tall stern looking doctor aside, the man's eyes flashing with annoyance. Once they were far enough away from the group as to not be overheard, Alfred asked urgently,

"So how is he?"

"He is doing as well as can be expected after being shot in the chest. The bullet narrowly missed his heart, but I do believe he will make a full recovery. The patient is recovering at a fast rate and should be able to be moved any day now. I want him out of my care and away from my staff!"

Alfred sighed heavily, and shook his head, there was no use trying to defend the German to these people. He still hadn't forgiven Ludwig himself, though he didn't deserve to be treated as he had been. Even Gilbert seemed angry at Ludwig, though that could simply be the byproduct of being imprisoned. Though, it was less like having a prisoner, and more like having an extremely annoying house guest who couldn't go away. Within a few days, guards were paying their friends to take their shifts so they could avoid dealing with the mouthy nation.

Feliciano hadn't dealt well with his captivity, the man's sensitive nature lead to ridicule at the hands of the guards and soldiers stationed at the base. He refused to eat any of the food brought to him and eventually had to be forced to eat. While Gilbert remained resilient and annoying, Feliciano seemed to be wilting day by day. The pair hadn't been allowed back to the hospital portion to visit after the fiasco that was their previous visit. The guards complained that late at night, Feliciano could be heard sobbing and wailing. He just wasn't sure what to do anymore, his morals and his duties clashing and for someone he had hated so much not too long ago.

AN: So what did ye think? Should I continue this or shall I kill it with fire? This was written spur of the moment and I don't really have an ending in mind per say...Reviews and constructive criticism are desired and tell me if I've said something stupid.