Feliciano paced around the inside of his cell, both his body and mind contracting a sudden inability to stay still. The normally chipper young man's continence had changed significantly since his surrender which had occurred a while before Ludwig was brought in. Captivity didn't suit the Italian, who would much rather be anywhere in the whole wide universe then in the cell. Heck, he would even have enjoyed training over this, he would go willingly if it meant he didn't have to stare at the same grey colorless walls and bars with nothing to interrupt his dismal view. His entire world had taken on a grey color, days and nights running together to become one single soulless entity. Worst of all, he was cut off completely from both his fratello and best friend.

Sometimes, and he hated admitting it to himself, but sometimes Feliciano absolutely hated Ludwig for the hand he had in the war. These moments would pass quickly however, replacing themselves with twinges of pity or even upon occasion, self-hatred. He could have said something, they could have…No. He may have been an airhead, but he wasn't stupid. Willing or not, controlled or not, there was nothing he could have personally done to stop something. Maybe Italy could, but Feliciano Vargas felt powerless to do even the smallest of tasks. A faint smile crossed his lips as he could hear Ludwig's powerful and deep voice in his head berating him for being unable to tie his own shoelaces. As reality settled in again, tears pricked at the back of his eyes.

No. No more crying, he absolutely refused! Crying wouldn't help anyone or anything, and it definitely wouldn't put things right. Showing emotions never helped him through anything, and it usually got him yelled at but it was just so hard not to. After almost an hour of pacing his legs seemed to decide that being legs was too difficult a task and he sat down on his shapeless cot mattress. He squealed as a spider skittered across his feet. Stopping, Feliciano watched the creature climb up the post of the bed, making a web between the post and the wall.

"Hello Mr. Spider!" Feliciano smiled, watching the small creature hard at work. Thread over thread over thread, making something so much stronger than one…than one could even hope to do on its own. One? How about three? What could that number do, what sort of impact could that make? But then again, everyone knew. They knew all too well in fact. The spider kept going, maintaining his hypnotic dance, mesmerizing the brunette. "You look lonely. Are you lonely?" He gently prodded a section of the web, sending the small creature into a frenzied retreat from the marauding fingertip. Giggling at the simple action, he lay back closing his eyes for a greatly needed sleep.

If not for sleep, the Italian would have gone mad long ago because with sleep came forgetfulness. Dreams of long ago times and of a similar and yet oh-so different blond would fill his mind, a blond that the light of the present had shoved aside in favor of focus on the present world-wide crisis, leaving him so far behind. That time though his mind was blank, his body trying to catch up to the stress that he had put himself under through a pure and dark blanket of slumber.

What seemed like an eternity later, his eyes unglued themselves. The hallway outside the cell was far too loud for his taste. Feliciano rolled over, putting his hands over his ears wanting nothing more than to just return to sleep! Not too far from where he lay, the guards argued loudly with one another,

"No way no how! I swear, the guy's going absolutely insane in there!" As if he hadn't made his point, he continued to say in different terms how he doubted Feliciano's sanity.

"Nah!" Another voice retorted, higher pitched and whinier then the first voice, "You gotta understand that this guy's had a couple of screws loose for quite a while."

Feliciano squeezed his eyes shut, willing the conversation to stop. Sometimes, the English or otherwise speaking human guards didn't consider that he could in fact understand them. Speaking in a perfect but very sleepy English, Feliciano decided to have a little fun with the guards.

"Excuse me sirs, my spider friend and I are trying to sleep. Could you keep it quieter out there?" He threw in an extra giggle for good measure, a genuine smile slipping across his face as the men fell into a stunned silence. As Ludwig had often admonished, silence would not in fact, harm Feliciano in any way. As the deadly quiet filled the space around him, Feliciano fell back into a shallow and restless half sleep.

No more than thirty minutes later, there was more overly loud conversation coming from the outside of the room, couldn't these people just keep quiet for one measly second! Stopping, Feliciano realized that this thinking was not very characteristic of his usually easy going self, and more of—of Ludwig. The normal and whiny voiced guards were arguing with someone quite loudly, the third voice quiet and muffled, but sounding slightly melodic and flowing as the person, obviously male, was apparently berating the guards.

"Are you ignoring a direct order?" As the voice grew louder, he recognized it. Big brother France! But what was he doing down here! It had been quite a long time since they had met aside from brief glimpses on the field of battle where conversational pleasantries were few and far between. Burying his head in the lumpy mattress, Feliciano feigned sleep. A quick clatter clack of keys and the squeal of unoiled hinges was enough of an announcement that Feliciano had a visitor. A weight perched on the side of the cot as a strong hand was placed gently on his shoulder. He could feel the cold from the hand through his thin shirt, making him almost give himself away by shivering.

"I know you're not asleep Feliciano."

The brunette sat up quickly, his deep brown eyes meeting Francis's blue ones. He was puzzled; he thought he was doing a pretty good job at being asleep, apparently not. Rubbing his eyes, he blinked in confusion at the other man.

"Why are you here?"

Francis gave a small smile in response, "What sort of a big brother would I be if I didn't come and see you at least once?"

Grinning, Feliciano gratefully wrapped his arms around the other nation. He hesitated, pulling away quickly when he saw that the other man's arm which was heavily bandaged and held close and immobile to his chest. Panic and dread filled the Italian as he knew the cause of the injury, knew, but hated to think about or say aloud. He settled for asking,

"Did…How…?" Stumbling for the right words to say, he used a few choice Romano words in his head, berating himself for once again being unable to do much of anything correct. Things hadn't changed much.

The other nation's face contorted into a wince, at the question as he knew all too well what the younger man was attempting to ask. "Yes. It was your dear Ludwig who did this." Holding his breath, all he could do was nod. Conversation would betray the large lump forming in his throat. Francis's free hand was on Feliciano's shoulder in a millisecond, "Do not trouble yourself, I will heal. You played no part in it." Still, a subtle anger burned in Francis's normally jovial light blue eyes. The anger may not have been aimed towards him, but it still made Feliciano feel a pang of guilt for something he hadn't even known had happened. "Zat is what happens when an animal is wounded and forced into a corner. Ze people standing in ze way get hurt."

"Does it hurt?" tentatively, he stretched out a hand to lightly brush the bandaged limb.

"No. Not now anyways. I'm lucky, if I were not a nation, it would never have healed well. It was damn near crushed." Blond curls bounced around the other nation's face as he shook his head, "Sorry. I shouldn't have said—"

"No not really," Feliciano actually deadpanned, lying down again sullenly. The tears threatened to come again, stinging against his closed eyes. They seemed to beg for release and he was finally ready to oblige them. He curled up, letting them slide down his face, sniffling pathetically as his nose began to run. "I-I…"

"Shhh…" Feliciano let out a squeak as he was pulled into a firm one arm hug. "You need not worry about a thing right now. I didn't come here to cause stress to you and I am sorry."

"You should hate me!" the mumbled reply came from where his face was pressed into the blue fabric of the other man's military uniform. He clung onto the other man, needing a physical presence to keep him from completely falling apart.

"Non." Came the stern reply, "Hate is what got us into this mess in the first place. There is a difference between hate and what I feel. We all have our hand to play in this tragedy; no one person can take all the blame." Feliciano emerged from the embrace, wiping his eyes on his arm. He gave a nod of thanks before giving an affectionate hug of the sort only enthusiastic Italians could truly give.

"Thank you!" He gave a relieved laugh, "Thank you so much. Can you do one thing for me?"

"And what would that be?"

"Please, could you tell me how Ludwig is?" Watching Francis's face for any sort of reaction, Feliciano waited with baited breath. He was slightly horrified at the reaction he got, a smile. "Is he alright! Please can you tell me?"

The smile remained on the other man's face, "Of course that would be where your mind is right now. Things never change…" Shaking himself out of his dreamy daze, Francis continued, "He will make a full recovery, his health will improve." Everything having to do with the Germanic nation made Feliciano so nervous lately that the strange emphasis that the Frenchman put on health made him wary, it made him shudder.

"And besides that? How is he taking things?" The world went sort of numb as he waited for the answer.

"I'm unsure mon ami. He hadn't said much of anything at all; he doesn't really show any emotion or reaction to anything, mostly just stares blankly into space." Feliciano watched the other man actually shudder, "His eyes, I've never seen such defeat, such…"

"I see." Feliciano cast his eyes downwards, scuffing the floor with one grey ill-fitting shoe. "Can I see him?" The only response he received was an unreadable shrug and a soft sigh, filled with exhaustion and exasperation.

…..

One could say that Alfred F. Jones was kind of ticked off, kind of testy, kind of on edge. That person would be very wrong. Alfred fumed silently and uncharacteristically as Ivan stood at the head of the meeting table, his arms full of papers and his words full of plans of personal grandeur. He had been listening to the constant prattle for quite some time and he was getting sick of it. He just wanted to blow up, to throw caution to the wind and rage. He couldn't stand the Russian at the best of times but at least then he was able to hide it!

"Listen Ivan, we don't have to make a decision right this second. Ludwig does not at all need observing, he isn't going anywhere anytime soon!" Arthur interjected, interrupting a long winded explanation that only made the remaining people in the room testy.

"Do you have a better plan?" Ivan smiled at the group, eyeing them as if they were pieces of meat. "My friends, do you plan to start another Treaty of Versailles? That worked so well the last time. Are you going to have him pay back the war debt to keep him down?"

"That isn't what this is about right now Ivan. This meeting was about if we should move him down to the cells or keep him in the hospital and if he should be able to visit more with his friends." Francis stood behind Arthur, backing him.

Ivan walked up to the Frenchman, taking his uniform collar in his large powerful hands. "Why the protest? Shouldn't we decide this sooner rather than later?"

Alfred was about to stand up and put space between the two men when a green blur came out of seemingly nowhere, smacking into Ivan and knocking him over. "Keep your hands off of him you bloody git!" Finally, intervening sounded like a very good idea. While Arthur was definitely spirited, Ivan had size and strength on his side. Pulling the pair apart, he held back the irate Brit, keeping him from trying to exact his revenge.

"Let me go Alfred!" Man could he struggle for being smaller then Alfred… "Let me go! I'm going to wipe that smug grin off his face!"

Everyone was in awe at the unexpected reaction, "Mon ami, I am fine." Within a few seconds, Francis was helping keep Arthur back with his good arm. "He did no damage, I'm not delicate."

All the fight seemed to go out of Arthur, his face contorting from a mask of rage to one of exhaustion and slight embarrassment. "I-I just got sick of him talking is all. Don't take it personal frog!"

"Of course." Though Alfred caught a smile cross the Frenchman's face as the man walked out of the room briskly, his head held high. "Of course Angleterre. Why on earth would you worry about little old me?"

Silence filled the room, as Ivan also left muttering under his breath with the same eerie smile masked on his face. "I don't see how you can show them any sort of sympathy America, you interest me. After all those who died on both sides, I don't understand you."

"From what I've understood from the doctors, he wouldn't be injured more if we moved him but it would be best for his interest if we didn't. I also don't think it would be a bad thing to allow another controlled visit. I doubt the frog would have much of a problem actually."

"Hey Artie?"

"Yes Alfred? Please refrain from your little…nick names please."

"Yeah…whatever. Umm, are you doing okay?" He had been watching his foster brother closely lately to watch for any sort of reactions, positive or negative to the German's presence. Alfred could not in good conscience argue anything either way to the Brit after all that had happened to him. "You feeling alright after…ya know…"

"The blitz?" Sinking into a chair tiredly, the pair locked eyes, green on blue. "I'm alive; we're hanging in there for the most part. So many dead though, I can't say it doesn't hurt. I can't say I'm not mad as hell and that I don't want him to pay for the lives of my people. At the same time, I can't say I don't feel some sympathy for him. War is…complicated."

"As an understatement?"

"Yes, as an understatement."

Alfred moved forward, bringing the nation into a crushing hug. "Hey, we'll get outta this. Hang in there okay?"

"Don't worry Al, I plan to." Alfred turned, preparing to leave the room. "Alfred?"

"Yeah Iggy?"

An exasperated sigh emanated from where the Brit was sitting, "Thank you. Thank you for…for being a great…" He couldn't finish it, apparently though Alfred knew what was intended to have been said.

"Yeah, same to you. I've got a pretty awesome grumpy older brother."