AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH IT'S THE LAST CHAPTER

THE LAST CHAPTER

I REPEAT: THE LAST CHAPTER

Okay so I'm going to go ahead and shut up while you guys read, but just so you know ahead of time, two important messages...

1) I have uploaded (or am currently uploading) the first chapter of my new fanfiction! Go and see!

2) I have a special message at the end of this chapter so go ahead and read first!

P.S. CHAPTER SPOILER (sort of)... STAY TUNED FOR ITALY'S POV!
Also, in this chapter, you'll finally find out why i named this story The Last Breath...

Oops, almost forgot my little speech here...

As always, reviews, favourites, follows and feedback is greatly appreciated.

Enjoy! (for the last time...sob!)

-luvlani88

To say the menu was extensive was an understatement. Italy and Romano had clearly spared no expense at including foods and tastes from all over the world. All throughout the dining room, personifications emitted delight at seeing some of their favourite and most comforting meals. Within the hour, everyone had their meals in front of them.
"Oh my god." Antarctica said with wide eyes as she took eager bites from her Moussaka. "This is amazing!" She seemed so happy and fulfilled that America couldn't help but smile at her.
"Tell me about it." Britain murmured as he ate. "I don't think I've ever had a meal this wonderful in my life."
France smirked. "Well, with the way you cook, probably not…" He chuckled.
Britain scowled at him and the other nations laughed.

Dinner lasted for a couple of hours, but it seemed more like mere minutes to the nations. By the end of dinner, almost all of the nations sat back in their chairs with their stomachs full and their smiles wide.
"That was amazing." Japan commented as the waiters took the last of their finished plates away. "A truly wonderful meal."
The others had to agree.
When meal time was finally over, the chefs, cooks and waiters stood in the centre of the room and bowed to the applauding crowd of people. At the front of them stood Italy, who looked remarkable in an ink suit vest and red tie. He smiled as he bowed.
Germany watched him like a hawk. He looked good as new, as if he had never been injured in the first place. It was reliving, knowing that he had healed properly and quickly, now that he was a nation (or at least half a nation) once again. It was only when the the applause died down and the crowd dispersed did Germany notice the slight limp that Italy walked with. Insignificant enough to comment on, but significant enough for someone watching carefully to notice.
"We're gonna go dance." America said, snapping Germany out of his trance as he and Antarctica stood up.
The German blinked in surprise, but managed to mutter an "Okay." before the two disappeared.
Britain and France exchanged knowing looks while China took a sip from his glass to cover a smirk.

Within a few moments, most of the other nations had disappeared as well, persuaded into mingling with the other guests and personifications. Germany looked around, slightly stunned at the sight of so many nations together in one room for so long. It was rare that more than forty nations met, let alone almost everyone. Still, even in the festive and content atmosphere, he could see and feel some of the tension between certain nations. It was only to be expected, but still, Germany felt a sense of disappointment knowing that the stress of the real world wouldn't be forgotten, even during the holidays in a beautiful villa at an amazing party with scrumptious food.
He felt even more discouraged when he realized that despite the cheery atmosphere, he still couldn't stop thinking about Italy.
He knows that we know. He wondered as he toyed with his champagne glass absent-mindedly. And now he knows that Romano knows that we know, and Romano knows that he knows we know, and- He stopped himself with a quick shake of his head. Dummkopf. He scolded himself, but then sighed as he glanced up at the party around him. This, He thought, will be one hell of a night.

"I told you, I don't know how to dance!" Antarctica muttered, pouting as she stared down at her feet, trying her hardest to keep up with America's steady, confident steps.
"And I told you," America smiled. "That I was going to show you how!"
Antarctica sighed with frustration. It was difficult, learning how to dance, especially with everyone else around her doing it so perfectly. "Who came up with these stupid dance moves, anyway?" She mumbled.
She felt America shrug. "I dunno." He admitted. "Probably Britain."

"Long time no see!" Australia grinned as he hugged Britain. The gentleman smiled back. Australia had cleaned up well in a nice black suit, complete with the seemingly ever-present band-aid across his nose. "You okay, mate?" He said as they hugged.
Britain paused.
And then he said, "Yes. I'm fine."
When they pulled away, he held Australia at an arms length. "Good to see you, Australia." And he smiled.

"It was delicious, si?" Spain smiled as he remembered the tastes of the meal they had eaten. Romano nodded quickly. "Yeah, great." He glanced away from Spain. "I have to go. It appears I have people to talk to." The Italian muttered as a group of important looking Italians approached the personifications. A woman smiled as she hugged him politely, kissing both of his cheeks in typical European fashion, while the rest of them greeted him with affection and excitement in their eyes.
Spain watched the Italian for a moment before shaking his head sadly.
Light music played throughout the dining room and for a moment, Spain considered going to where the actual dance floor was where the music would be more entertaining. Instead, he spotted Germany sitting alone at one of the tables, eyes staring at nothing.
"Hola." Spain smiled as he went over to the German, who glanced up startled out of his daydreaming. "What're you doing?"
Germany paused. "Oh, nothing." He murmured. "...Thinking, I suppose."
"Thinking?"
"Ja."
"About Italy?"
Germany froze and glanced up unintentionally meeting eyes with the Spaniard.
He said nothing.
Spain was silent as he sat down beside the German, and even then they were silent for a few minutes before one of them finally spoke. "What are you planning to do?" Spain said quietly, looking sideways at the German.
Germany's eyes didn't glance over at Spain. He watched the people in the dining room mingle. A laugh here, a clink of glasses over there, it all suddenly seemed pointless. "I don't know." He admitted. "But I can't see him again without thinking about it."
"Maybe we should talk to him?" Spain offered.
"I'm sure that's Romano's job." Germany grumbled.
Spain sighed. "He won't talk to Romano, you know? We should do something."
Germany said nothing. He watched a waiter pour a woman another glass of wine with a flourish and a typical Italian grin. And then his eyes fell on Romano, looking ever so in control in his
"Germany?" Spain muttered. "Are you scared?"
The silence spoke for itself.
"Germany…" Spain tried again and even Germany could hear the strain in his voice as he tried to come up with the right words to say. "It's Italy." He said finally. "Italy Veneziano, the lovable Italian who loves pasta just a bit more than he loves women. None of this means that he won't be friends with us after this party."
"Doesn't it?" Germany muttered.
The Spaniard stuttered. "N-no! It doesn't! He's our friend, Germany. He'll always be our friend. So maybe we know a little more about his history than he wanted us to, but it's not our fault, and it's not his fault and...and it's not anyone's fault! It's just Italy and if we ever want things to go back to normal then we have to do something."
Germany was silent, and Spain thought his monologue had fallen on deaf ears until Germany said, "You think we should...talk to him?"
Spain nodded enthusiastically. "Si, si! That's exactly what I'm thinking! All of us should talk to him. Not all at once but like a meeting.. You know what I mean."
The blonde stared hard at his champagne glass, and then at the centerpiece of sangria and magenta flowers. Spain watched him take a deep breath, close his eyes briefly and exhale. "Okay." He spoke quietly, it was almost painful to hear.
"Si?"
"Ja." Germany didn't meet his bright eyes. Instead he stared at the party in front of him, wondering what in the world he could possibly say.

"What did you say?!" Poland shouted over the thumping bass of the loud music.
Spain shouted even louder. "We're going to talk to Italy! All of us! At midnight!"
"Midnight?!" Prussia shouted. Spain nodded in response as the albino turned to shout the information to Hungary.
It had been a sort of feat to locate the other nations, and so far Spain had only encountered a few, Austria, Switzerland, Latvia, Lithuania and three on the dance floor. Getting to them had been a feat, and Spain suddenly found himself dancing alongside Prussia and Poland in a very club-like atmosphere. "Where?!" Prussia shouted.
"In the piano room! Near the entrance, according to Germany!"
"Who?!"
"Germany!"
"Who?!"
"YOUR BROTHER!"
"Oh." Prussia said in a normal voice. "M'kay." He kept dancing. Spain couldn't help but roll his eyes, but he smiled at the same time.

"Isn't it nice, big brother?" Liechtenstein said with stars in her eyes as she watched the lights from the villa dance across the clear water of the pool.
Switzerland nodded, aloof as ever. "Yeah...Nice."

"È così elegante." An Italian man in a fine tailored suit commented as he watched the teenager step out of the car. Romano couldn't help but smile fondly at Nico as he stepped out of his new car, clad in a dark navy blue suit and tie with a white dress shirt underneath. All in all, he looked like a younger, more human version of his country's personifications, and smiled back at Romano as he approached the group of Italians. The guests greeted him with warm smiles and stars in their eyes as they regarded him, and soon Nico found himself swamped in endless greetings, pats on the back, and kisses planted on his cheeks.
"How was dinner?" He asked the Italian personification who put an arm around the teenager's shoulders. Romano had forced him to skip out on their dinner to have Christmas dinner with his foster family instead.
It's Christmas. He had argued. They're your family. You have to have Christmas dinner with them.
Nico had pouted. But you guys are my family too…
Romano had shook his head with a smile forming on his lips. Just have dinner with them. Then you can spend the rest of the night with us. He was thanked with a giant hug.
"It was good." Romano replied. "Veneziano did a good job." He said curtly, clearly not wanting to continue that trail of conversation.

"So we heard him into this room, do we?" Britain said as he sat down on one of the cream coloured Hampton sofa with a cup of tea in his hands. "It's nice." Looking around, he took in the shortbread and ginger coloured room, eyes landing on the shining grand piano in the center. "Oui." France nodded, trailing a finger delicately across the keys of the instrument. He was solemn.
Britain watched him for a moment before he spoke again. "You're worried, aren't you?"

In the short silence that hung in between them, Britain took a deep breath. France had never been one to be so quiet and shadowy. And now, even in the aftermath, or as he liked to say, the after-aftermath, he was still unlike himself.
Blue eyes glanced up to meet emerald ones, and suddenly Britain was only aware of the music and glamour outside of the room swirling into it, and how distant France suddenly seemed.
Still, France said nothing.
"You don't have to do all the talking, if that's what you're worried about." The gentleman offered. His eyes held the Frenchman's carefully. "I promise you that everyone will have something to say, as usual."
France blinked slowly, as if contemplating how to reply. Finally, he said, "I know. I…" His voice trailed off as he pinched the bridge of his nose.
Britain put down his tea.

"I'm worried because I know i'll have to be the one to pull him in here." He spoke hesitantly.
Britain steepled his hands as he leaned forwards. "What's the problem with that?"
"That's just it, Angleterre, he won't see a problem with me pulling him away from a group in the middle of a party, because he trusts me. But will he do so after I shove him into a room full of people that know things that we shouldn't? If it was Romano it'd be different, but since they aren't talking to each other now...it falls on me, doesn't it?"
Eyebrows knit together, the personification thought before finally saying, "It doesn't have to be you."
"If not me then who else?"
"Germany?"
"He's too disturbed about it to lead Italie in here. He won't be able to live with himself. Or worse, he'll let something slip while distracted with the thought of doing it."
"Spain?"
"He has to heard Romano in."
"...Japan?"
"Too honourable to be deceiving."
Britain sighed, running out of options. "Finland?"
"You've met him." France snapped. "The guilt will be all over his face!"

The room was silent.

"I'm sorry." France murmured after a moment, not meeting Britain's eyes. "I didn't mean to shout."
Britain said nothing.
"It's just," France continued. "I don't want to have this conversation at all. I don't want to talk about it. I want to just forget the whole thing and move on, but it seems like I'm the only one. Everyone's so eager to confront Italy about it, which is stupid because he already knows that we know, so it shouldn't be any sort of surprise, which is what we're trying to make it out to be." He paced as he continued. "Mon dieu, can't we just leave the poor thing alone? He obviously didn't want us to find out and now we're going to force him to talk about it?! Ridiculous! And now I have to be the jackass who has to lure him into it. Mon dieu!" He realized he had clenched his hands into fists, and loosened them, suddenly feeling very vulnerable and stupid.
He also realized that Britain had stood up.

And suddenly, Britain was hugging him.

France tensed, shocking by the sudden intrusion of personal space as Britain put his arms around him, but he shut his mouth and said nothing.
Instead Britain spoke. "You're not a jackass." He muttered into the Frenchman's shoulder. "An imbecile, yes, but not a jackass."
France searched for words to say but found that he was at a loss.
"Maybe even stupid as well, but you're not at fault." He felt Britain sigh. "It's not your job to do this France but we appreciate that you will. You know how to talk to people. You know how to connect with others, and that's why you're you, and nobody else can do this job like you can because nobody else can be as aggravatingly comforting as you can be when you want to." He muttered.
How long had it been since they had hugged? France could barely remember the last time, it had to have been centuries ago. And somehow Britain still felt so familiar.

Britain pulled away then, holding the personification at arms length as France gaped at him slightly. "Now stop being such a goddamn wanker and go get a pint. You deserve it."

France said nothing. He couldn't find words to use. All he could think about was how calm he suddenly felt and how nice Britain smelled and how wonderful some wine was going to taste on his tongue…
Britain released him from his grasp and he went to the entrance of the room. Before he left, he braced his hands against either side of the entrance, his head lowered. He was silent for a moment.
"Merci...Angleterre…" He managed to whisper.
"Get out of here, you bloody frog."

"No."
"But-"
"I said no."
"Okay but I-"
"No means no."
"Pleaseeee?" Nico begged.
"What part of 'no' don't you understand?!"
Nico jutted his lower lip out slightly, and widened his eyes. Romano sighed. "Just this once. And only one glass!" He scowled.
Nico beamed at him as he took the wine glass out of the personifications hands, and raised it to his lips. "Not bad." He said as he smiled again, licking a drop of red wine off of his lower lip with his tongue. "Kind of odd tasting though."
"It's an acquired taste. You'll get used to it." Romano said automatically, before backtracking. "What am I saying? No, you're never going to get used to it because that's the last glass you'll ever have!"
To this, Nico pouted.
"Roma!"
Romano's head lifted as he heard Spain call his name. The Spaniard was weaving towards him through the groups of guests in the hallway. "Roma!" He made it over to them slightly out of breath.
"What is it?" Romano's lips turned into a scowl.
Spain grabbed his shoulder. "I have to-" He caught sight of Nico, and paused. "I have to talk to you." He repeated in Spanish. "About your brother…"
At the very mention of his other half, Romano's eyes widened, and he gestured for Nico to wait for a moment as Spain pulled him aside, leaving Nico to his now half finished glass of wine. "What about him?" Romano seemed unsure how to respond. While his eyes reflected that of confusion and suspicion, his hands were curled into tight fists.
Spain took a breath before asking, "Have you seen him at all tonight?"
Romano's jaw locked, and he didn't have to answer.
"Listen," Spain said, choosing a different plan of action at the last minute. "Just be in the piano room at midnight."
"Why?" This was more like Romano.
Spain touched his shoulder. "Do you trust me or do you trust me?" He smiled slightly.
Romano rolled his eyes. "Fine." He still had some suspicion in his voice. "Midnight." And then he turned away and went back to Nico.

"What the-" He said as he caught sight of Nico's glass, which was now full once again. "What the hell?" He glared at the teenager, who smiled innocently.
Romano sighed. "Just give me your keys and go drink some water."

"Ciao." Italy smiled at the Frenchman, who forced a smile in response. "Enjoying the party?" France had found him outside by the pool with a glass of wine in his hand, chatting happily in rapid Italian with some important-looking people. They were all beaming at him.
"Oui. It's wonderful." France touched his shoulder, felt the heat radiating from his shoulder and inwardly shuddered. "Can I steal you away for a bit? Something's come up."
Italy blinked, and for a moment France felt like he could see right through him. And then he said, "Sure." and turned to say something to the other Italians who nodded and said goodbye with a flurry of Italian words and cheek-kisses.
"Sorry for being so sudden." France apologized as they walked away, back to the warmth of the party.
Italy shook his head and beamed. "It's fine! I haven't seen you much, anyways. What's going on?"
France felt himself freeze. What was he to say? The dozens of excuses he had come up with in his mind melted away. He opened his mouth, when he was interrupted.

"I'm sorry we had to pull you away on such short notice." Vatican said, materializing out of no where. "But something's come up, and the other nations have called for an impromptu world meeting, if you don't mind."
Italy blinked again, his large amber eyes reflecting the glow of the lights of the party. "A world meeting?" He repeated, suddenly seeming panicked, an odd sort of emotion for the Italian. "Why? What's happening?"
France could only imagine the panic he was probably facing, suddenly being told that something serious had happened only days after escaping being tortured by a purely evil-being. He shuddered inside, and said a silent prayer for his friend.

Fortunately, Vatican was calm. "We will explain once we're in private." He leaned in closer. "Too many people. We don't want them finding out anything they shouldn't know."
France wanted to laugh bitterly at the irony of Vatican's words.
Italy nodded quickly. "O-okay." He said. "Where are we meeting?"

"Hey, America!" Poland shouted slightly over the buzz of the party, weaving in between the groups of people in the hallway towards the American, whose back he could see. "It's, like, almost midnight-" He stopped when he got closer.
Clearly Antarctica and America were busy.
And clearly it, like, wasn't the time to interrupt.

"Okay then…" Poland muttered. He thought for a moment, before backtracking a few steps back in the hallway. "America! Hey!" He shouted again, and waked forwards.
This time, America's head lifted and both of them turned to see the personification hurrying towards him. Poland bit his lip to cover up his smile as he regarded their flushed faces.
"It's almost, like, midnight."

Germany's stomach twisted into knots as he watched Italy walk down the hall with France slightly behind him. What the Italian couldn't see, was France's solemn face and trudging steps and how contrasting they seemed compared to his own.
The German gave him a nod as he approached. "Italy." He said, barely trusting his own voice.
"Ciao, Germany." The Italian grinned. "Why are we having a world meeting?"
Germany felt himself crumble into a pile of lies inside. Looking at Italy's smile suddenly made him sick. "Come in." He managed. "We'll explain." And then he turned on his heel and walked back to the piano room, reopening the french doors and gesturing for Italy to go in.
In the room, nations were scattered about in their suits and dresses, mostly looking somewhat uncomfortable for a world meeting. Austria sat at the piano, his fingers gliding over the keys to play a soft tune. The nations glanced up from watching the personifications fingers to Italy, who stared back at them in surprise. The music slowed to a stop.
Most of them glanced away.

"Ciao!" He smiled at them all anyways. "I haven't had a chance to wish you all Happy Holidays..! Enjoying the party?"
It was Japan who spoke up first. "Italy-kun," He began. "There is something important we will have to discuss."
Italy's cheerful expression deteriorated into a concerned pout, the only somewhat unhappy emotion that Germany had ever really seen.
Again, his stomach twisted into knots.
The Italian blinked. "What's going on?" He asked as he looked around the room.
"Here." Greece murmured, suddenly standing up. "Sit." He gestured to the seat he had been slumped in. Italy shook his head with a smile. "You're my guest, Greece, I can't-"
"Italy." Germany found himself saying, his jaw suddenly feeling very tight. Italy glanced up at him, and it tightened even more. "Sit." He commanded, looking away from the Italian's gentle eyes.
Italy seemed to paused for a moment, before sitting down without a word.
Germany continued. "There's something we need to dis-" He was cut off by the french doors opening up again, and Spain pushing Romano into the room.
"Get off of me! What the fu-" The Italian was raving at been thrown into the room by an uncomfortable looking Spaniard. He stopped himself as he glanced around the room, and when his eyes finally landed on his younger brother, he scowled. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me." He snapped. "You're really going to do this right now?"
"Yes, yes we are." Spain confirmed, pushing him a little further into the room. "We all need to talk. All of us."
"He's not talking to me." Romano said just as his brother said, "I'm not talking to him."

Austria pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose with a sigh and said flatly, "You don't have to talk to each other. Just listen to what we say, yeah?"
From beside Italy, Turkey stood up and helped Spain to pull Romano down into a sitting position on the couch beside his brother. They barely glanced at each other.
Romano huffed with annoyance. "Fine...What's this about?"
China raised an eyebrow over his cup filled with sake, a drink he had decided to entertain himself with for the evening. "You already know what this is about, aru." He murmured.
Romano was silent.
Beside him, Italy's eyes flickered shut, and he took a slow, deep breath. When his eyes opened again, they were tired. "I-"

"Just shut up and listen." Germany snapped, startling himself and the other nations.

Again, the two were silent.

Cuba broke the silence. "We know about the drugs."
"Dude!" America gaped at him.
The Caribbean nation shrugged. "What? We've gotta get straight to the point."
Before America could argue anymore, Antarctica spoke up. "Veneziano," She said, saying the Italian name so well that Germany felt a momentary pang of jealousy in his gut. "Part of this is my fault, okay? I didn't know that they weren't supposed to know. I'm sorry."

Before Italy could speak, Romano cut in.
"I didn't want anyone to know in the first place! Why the hell did you bastards go searching through our things anyways? What, did you decide to go Mission Impossible 3 just because you were in Rome?"

Britain shook his head. "No, it just sort of, erm, happened, to be honest." He said carefully. "And suddenly we were finding out things about Ita- about you two that you clearly didn't need us knowing."

"Look." France said sharply, getting the attention of everyone in the room. "The fact of the matter is, we know something that we should not know, oui?" He pinched the bridge of his nose. "Now, the question is, what are we going to do about it?"

"We, like, forget about it." Poland offered.

France shook his head. "I'm sorry, Italy, but this isn't exactly something that I'll be able to forget. I'm sure you feel the same."

All eyes turned back to the younger Italian, who had remained uncharacteristically silent for the duration of the impromptu "meeting". He said nothing, only nodded, staring hard at nothing and not meeting the eyes of anyone.
Germany felt himself flinch as he looked at Italy. Why did he seem so lost at that moment? What was he thinking? The German decided that he wasn't sure if he really needed to know. He already knew too much about the Italian, and he had learned not to go prying for more. Speaking of Italians...Germany glanced at Romano, who definitely seemed more like himself than ever before. His jaw was tight and his features were twisted into a scowl, his eyes seeming to smolder with intense fire beneath them. It was Romano, one-hundred-percent.

"Well what now then?" Prussia snapped Germany out his trance. "You guys know that we know, so what do we do now?"

It occurred to Germany that if Romano was in the mafia (or was still in the mafia, depending on whether or not those rumours were true), he would have had them all killed quietly and quickly, and have their bodies disposed of discreetly in some unknown location so that they could rot without any interruption by a possible witness.
For some reason, that seemed like a better option than facing the Italian's glare.

"Well," Russia said, it's not up to us, da?" He smiled innocently at the two Italians, of which Romano glanced up while his brother simply raised his eyebrows.
"Yeah." Turkey agreed. "It's up to you guys."

The older Italian looked towards his younger brother, who didn't react. Italy stared silently at something in front of him, unmoving. Romano shuddered, and then said, "It's not up to me."
The personifications paused, waiting for him to elaborate.
"It's not my choice." He said softly, suddenly seeming very uncharacteristically genuine and careful. "It's yours." He nudged his younger brother gently with his shoulder. "I can't make the decision for you. It's you who'll be affected by it most, anyways." He watched his brother's face carefully, leaning towards him in the hopes of some sort of response.

His hopes crumbled when Italy turned his head away from his slightly. "I don't know." The Italian barely whispered, lowering his head. "I don't know what to do now."

"Romano," Spain interrupted. "Haven't you ever made a plan in case something like this were to happen? It must've crossed your mind at one point, right?"
The Italian shrugged. "I've made plans in the case of a human finding out."
"What was the solution?"
"Kill them."
"Ah." Spain seemed somewhat unsurprised by this. "Well you can't kill us, so we'll have to find another solution."

Austria cleared his throat. "And quickly, I might add." He said, glancing at his watch. "People will wonder if we're away from the party for too long." He seemed impatient as he tapped his foot slightly. Or maybe it was nerves.
"We could just forget about it, you know." America said with a wave of his hand. "After a few decades or so, something new will pop up and we won't even remember any of this happened."
Britain scoffed. "Doubtful."
"Well I don't see you coming up with any bright ideas."
France sighed. "Enough, both of you. We can't forget about it because if we let it slip, some citizens might pick up on it and then we'll never be able to forget."
Under her breath, Hungary murmured, "Wonder who's big mouth will spill the secret first…"
France scowled at her. "If you're implying that I won't be able to keep my mouth shut, you're clearly mistaken."
"If anyone's gonna blab first," Belarus joined in. "It'll probably be Poland."
The blonde glanced up. "Hey!" He frowned. "I'm, like, totally trustworthy! Just ask Liet!" He nodded to Lithuania, who gave him a weak yet unconvincing smile.

And just like that, argument broke out. In all fairness, it did seem more like a usual world meeting, and in some weird way, it felt more normal. The shouting was incredible, as the nations flopped back and forth between languages, a whole palette of different accents, languages, and dialects being thrown across the room.
Throughout the chaos, only two nations remained silent, three if you counted Greece's laziness. The albino watched the Italian carefully, his crimson eyes absorbing every detail. Italy leaned forwards on his elbows and closed his eyes for a minute, raising a hand to touch his right temple. He gazed around the room with an unreadable expression, until his eyes locked with Prussia's red ones. They stared at each other for a long time, in which Prussia could see emotions in the Italian's eyes that he couldn't begin to fathom.
The albino simply nodded at him.
Italy stared at him for a moment, before closing his eyes and nodding as well. He ducked his head again, resting his forehead against his steepled hands.
He covered his face with his hands.
Prussia watched him silently, ignoring the constant arguing around him. He watched as, after a few moments, Romano stiffened, turned away with whoever he had been arguing with, and glanced over at his younger brother. Immediately, his pissed-off expression turned into one of surprise and concern. The albino's expression didn't change as he watched Romano gingerly place a hand on his brother's shoulder, careful enough to be gentle but heavy enough to get his attention. Italy didn't react to his brother's touch. Instead, his hands slowly curled into fists.

"SHUT UP!" He suddenly screamed.

The room was silenced, the nations stopping in mid-argue to stare in shock at the Italian. "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" Italy repeated, shaking his head roughly, as he tangled his hands in his hair. "Ve, you're all giving me a headache!" He no longer seemed like Italy.
He seemed angry, if anything.
China murmured, "Italy-"
"Just shut up and fucking listen to me!" He snapped, and the personification was silent with a surprised expression on his face.
"Listen carefully," the Italian's eyes were narrowed, and he was scowling.
In that moment, he was no longer Italy. He seemed more like Romano than anybody, which was made even more odd by Romano's shocked and concerned expression.
"I don't care anymore." Italy said sharply. "I don't care that you all know. I just can't be bothered to worry about it anymore, alright? What's done is done. Now you all know and now you can all run off and tell every reporter in the world and have every country look at me with pity for the next century or two-"
"We're not going to run off and tell everybody…" Spain murmured.
"Yes you will!" Italy exclaimed. "That's what we nations do, isn't it? We're just so eager to hurt each other! You might not tell a citizen, but what's to stop you from telling the rest of the personifications?!"
"Fratello…" Romano tried to place a hand on his shoulder again.
Italy slapped his hand away from him, leaving him stunned. "Don't. Touch. Me." He growled in his native tongue. "And don't call me that."
Romano felt like he couldn't breathe. He sat back in stunned silence.

"Italy." Austria snapped. "I'm sorry that this all happened, but you forget about the others. Some of us were ambushed, and then we all got ambushed again in Venice. You're not the only victim here."
Italy stared at him in stunned silence. A moment went by before Austria regretted his choice of words. "Victim?!" Italy repeated, his eyes narrowing at the Austrian.
"Figure of speech." Austria defended himself. "But when it comes down to it," He continued before the Italian could interrupt. "It's not like you've been completely honest with us, anyways. And not just about...about this, I mean."

Italy paused, raising an eyebrow.
"You have a lot to answer to." Austria continued. "And it's time we got an explanation."
Surprisingly, Italy sat back in his chair, as if daring Austria to hit him with whatever he could. Germany realized that he didn't like this side of Italy. Not one bit.

"Why'd you tell us to walk to Vatican City?" Turkey began. "Like, that's got to be the stupidest thing ever, and we got ambushed because of it!"
Italy frowned. "You guys walked," he said incredulously. "to Vatican City?"
"Yes! Because you told us to!"
Italy gave him a what-the-hell-are-you-talking-about look, that seemed absolutely foreign on his face, and made him look much older than he should've been. "I didn't tell you to walk. I told you to fly. In a plane. In the air."
"Well then how come your letter said differently?" Austria pressed.

Italy seemed at a loss for words, until Antarctica said. "It's, um, it was Atlantis, I think."

The nations turned to her upon hearing the name of their defeated enemy. "I think...I mean i'm pretty sure it was like a trial run...To see...to see how well she would be able to...manipulate you." She stammered. "She made you think you were writing 'take a plane' or 'fly' or something, when you were really writing 'walk to Vatican City', and you didn't notice." She bit her lip, looking down at her hands.
America placed a hand on her shoulder almost automatically.

Italy shook his head, as if he was disbelieving of this fact. His eyes were wider than when he began speaking. Romano looked as if he was going to try to reach for him again, but didn't.

"Well at least that question's answered…" America muttered weakly.
Italy, on the other hand, didn't look so relieved. The light reflected off of the whites of his eyes as he stared silently at something in front of him, his upper chest expanding and contracting as he breathed. "Fratello…" Romano murmured, staring at him with the same intensity that his brother was.
Italy ignored him and shook his head. "Anything else I should know?" His voice had taken a turn from angry and sharp to soft and child-like. He sounded like he was afraid of something, and Romano felt his chest get heavier.
Austria stared at him for a long time. "No." He said finally. "That is all."

There was a heavy silence hanging in the room after that, and Germany suddenly felt as if he was suffocating in it.

"Well then," Itay said suddenly, standing up with surprising quickness. "If that's all, I think I have to get back to-"
"Italy." He had made it to the other side of the room before Finland stopped him, nearly begging. When the Italian didn't turn around, he said, "Talk to us. Please?"
Italy was silent.

Germany surprised himself by saying his name. "Italy." He said, the sound of his own voice startling him. "What's done is done. It's in the past now." He began. "But, but mein gott, Italy! You could've told us! We could've helped! We...we would've helped…!" He paused, and then stepped closer to the Italian. "I could've helped."
When he was given no indication of a response, he said, "But I understand."
At this, the Italian's head lifted slightly.
"I understand," Germany continued. "Why you wouldn't want to tell us. If anyone, any human found out, the next several decades would be hell for you and for Romano. And the more I think about it," He said. "The more I realize that we weren't worthy of knowing. All this," He gestured around the room and outside towards the party. "This is your world, not ours. This is your life, and your home, and we're just guests. Well, more like intruders. Either way we don't belong here, in this whole world that you and Romano have created. It's not our place, it's yours."
Still the Italian was silent, although Germany knew he was listening.
"And yes, maybe everything you've created, every perfectly constructed piece has been a lie on some part, but you have every right to lie. You've had every right to lie. After watching your grand...After what you've seen, after all that's happened, partially because of us, you have every right to put forth whatever you want. You and Romano have always had that right, and now that we've...broken down this lie, it doesn't mean we're going to tell the rest of the world. It doesn't mean you're not still Italy."

At this, a slight chuckle was heard from the Italian, and Germany's heart stopped for a moment. "I'm serious." He said, frowning slightly. "I don't care what's happened to you, what Atlantis has done to you, you're still North Italy. Nobody else." And he suddenly found his hand resting on the Italian's shoulder, feeling the slight warmth somehow reaching the surface through his suit jacket.
And in that moment, Germany felt something pass between them that he couldn't explain. Maybe it was just a draft, or maybe a breath, but in that one moment, he wanted to pull Italy into his arms and yell and scream and tell him to smile and forget everything that happened. "She's gone." He said instead. "Italy, she's gone. Atlantis is gone. Dead. She won't come back. Ever. You don't have to go through that again-" His voice cut off as he suddenly felt Italy tense. "You're safe." He said carefully, looking away, suddenly hearing Italy's screams in his head. "Atlantis' torture is in the past. And so is every piece of history that you didn't want us to find. Do you hear me?"

There was a long silence, and with each passing moment, Germany felt even more disappointed with himself. What he could only classify as dread flowed through him.

"Si." Italy whispered finally. "I hear you."

The German felt an unexplainable gust of renewal in his lungs.
With a quiet laugh, Italy turned around to face him. And while the German had expected something completely different, he was greeted with a soft but genuine smile from the Italian.
"Are you sure?" He tested as he held out his hand towards his friend.
Italy squeezed his hand and nodded. "Is pasta heaven on earth?"
Germany laughed, and he had never felt so full, and yet somehow beautifully empty at the same time.

All of sudden, Vatican coughed. "Sorry to interrupt, but I think this would be a good time for me to gift to you my Christmas present."
The nations looked confused. "Christmas present?" Italy repeated carefully.
"Si." Vatican smiled and produced a folded paper from his inner jacket pocket. "For you." He said in Italian as he stepped forwards handed the paper to Italy.
The Italian read it over quickly before an even bigger smile grew on his lips. "Vaticani." He breathed, and reached for the personification, drawing him into a hug. "Thank you." He whispered as he embraced him. Vatican seemed slightly stunned at first, but embraced him in return. "Glad to have you back, Veneziano." He murmured.
When they pulled apart, Ukraine finally asked, "What is it?"

Italy looked around the room before speaking. "It's a contract. Here," He handed the paper to Germany. "Read it."
The German took it from his friend and scanned the paper quickly. His eyebrow raised and then a smile formed. "It's a contract for us all to sign. A confidentiality agreement."
It was enough to make almost everyone else smile. "Vatican." France murmured. "What a thoughtful gift."
"Will you all sign it?" Vatican asked carefully.

And he smiled as he was met with a chorus of nods, smiles, and the word 'yes'.

"Thank you." It wasn't Vatican who spoke, it was Italy. He looked down at the paper, smiling with a glistening of tears beginning to form in his eyes. "Thank you all."

Minutes later, the nations joined the party once again, all of them with a new purity in their eyes.

"America." Britain said suddenly, and America turned around from his conversation with Antarctica and Brazil to see the gentleman walking towards him. "Yo. What's up?" He nodded.
"I wanted to say thank you."
The words stunned the American into silence, and his expression was enough of a sight to make the former empire chuckle. "For sending France to my rescue back in Venice." He explained, his eyes darting away and an annoyed blush overcoming his face. "He told me about it. So thank you. I owe you a favour."
America was silent for a moment, but before Britain considered speaking again to break the silence, he said, "Can I cash in that favour?"
Britain blinked. "Um, sure?"
With that, America whipped his hand hard across the gentleman's face, stunning both Britain and on-lookers.
"What the bloody hell?!" Britain exclaimed, picking himself up from the floor. "What was that for?!" He held his stinging cheek as it turned slightly red.
"Dude." America stared straight at him. "You ran off with some evil doppelganger without telling us first." He said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Plus, I really hate that suit you're wearing."

"You think he'll be okay?" Germany asked Hungary as they danced. She glanced up. "Who, Italy?" When he nodded, she said, "I think so."
"How do you know?" The German asked, watching the Italian as he laughed with some other nations and a few citizens, seeming completely unchanged.
"Oh," Hungary smiled. "I just do."
In the back of his mind, Germany wondered if the Italy he was seeing was the Italy that he made himself to be, with medication and all.
And in the same part of his mind, he realized that it didn't matter.
This was Italy, nothing more, nothing less. And Germany could accept that.

He danced until dawn, finally pleased.

*Italy's POV*
I heard (or felt) Fratello step out on to the balcony behind me. His shadow, in the warm glow of light from inside was so Romano, curl and all.
"Come inside." He said. "It's cold out here."
I didn't say anything. I didn't need to.
He came beside me and leaned against the railing like me. I could feel the warmth from him, and smell the familiar scent. He smelled like home.

"I'm sorry." He said after a long time. "I'm really sorry, Fratellino."

My fist began to tighten around my wine glass, and I set it down on the ground beside me.

"You have every right to be mad. And you can go ahead and hate me all you want."
Damn him.
He nearly jumped out of his skin when I said, "I don't hate you."
Fratello stared at me with surprise. "You don't?"
How could he really think that?! "Of course not!"

"But you're angry at me."
"I was." I admitted. "But when I think about it...I think I was just mad at myself. And everything around me. You know?"
His gaze fell to my face, and I could feel his smile. "I know. Thank you."
A silence fell between us. And in those few moments I thought really hard about everything. About the others, about Fratello, about...about Atlantis and Trident and Antarctica and North Pole, and as if reading my mind, my brother said, "Can I ask you something?"
I nodded.
"You don't have to answer."
I glanced up at him, watched the glow of the party inside reflect off of his eyes. I waited.
"Where did Atlantis capture you?"
My stomach twisted into knots immediately. But I took a deep breath and answered him the best that I could, "I don't remember."
I could remember every detail.
It was just outside of the door to the Vatican. I could see him standing by the window in his office when everything went dark.
But I wouldn't be able to tell him that. Not yet. I was just learning to live again, to breathe, and I didn't want to ruin anything. Not yet.
"Fratellino…" He murmured. "I'm so glad you're home." He pressed a hand on top of my own and everything in me almost shattered completely.
I felt my chest tighten and my vision was suddenly blurry.
He spoke again. "I know." He said, pressing his hand on my shoulder. "You were scared. I know. I was scared too."
Scared. I was more than scared, I was terrified. Even thinking about what had happened brought on a slurry of memories that I didn't want to sit through. I would have years to sort through them, but until I could do it, I couldn't think about it. I didn't want to.

I was crying. Partially because of the memory of the pain and partially because Fratello felt so warm. "Look where we got, huh?" He said with a smile as a sob escaped me. "We're all safe, Nico's okay, we're celebrating the holidays together, and we've gotten like twenty nations to keep the secret from the citizens. Not bad huh?" He put his arm around me, and I buried my face into his jacket.
"Ti amo." I managed. "I love you."
"I love you more." He pulled me to him and I was surrounded by warmth and familiarity. My brother held me tightly, and I knew he wouldn't ever let me go.
And I was glad. I didn't want to be let go of, I wanted to be here, with my friends and family and my sanity. That was all I needed.
Inside, I felt my chest flood with air, something new and rejuvenating that made me smile as Romano kissed my cheek. He was crying too.
But he was smiling.
And so was I.

Because the old shell of a person that I was, the old me, the older personnification, he was gone.
He had taken his last breath.

And finally I could breathe.

Nico watched the two personifications from inside, wineglass in hand. He watched them crying, watched them hug, and then watched his reflection in the glass door as it lay between the two.
A smile crept to his lips and touched all parts of his face.
Including his new blue eyes.

PHEW IT'S OVER (cries)!
(dat ending though. Surprised? Yeah? Okay me too I didn't expect to do that but whatever, it's the last chapter and I can do what I want. Nico's mine.)

So anyways, this is my little end of chapter/end of story message to my dearest readers, all of whom I love very much.
Okay so here's a quick little story...
Like two and a half years ago, I wrote the first chapter of my story in my bedroom on my computer in the dark. I was twelve (sigh) and I didn't think it was going to go anywhere. I was just trying fanfiction out, and Hetalia was (and still is) my favourite anime.
Within hours I got my first review.
And after that I realized that I was writing for an audience (you guys!) and although I put this story down for like six months at one point, the plot always kind of stuck with me.
Now, here I am! 50 chapters later (omg that was so many never again am I dragging a story out for so long), over 200 reviews, and a whole new appreciation for fanfiction (and for readers!)

All in all, I just want to say thank you. I also want you guys to know that I appreciate every single second you spent reading this story and following this really confusing (but hopefully exciting!) plot and its characters. I also want you to know that I've read and re-read every single review that you guys have given me.
A special thanks to my loyal readers who have left reviews on almost every chapter (you know who you are!). I love you guys and please don't forget about me! I'll start writing some more ASAP, and i'll be using your feedback and criticism to make my writing even better.

So thank you, my lovelies, and I hope to see your usernames on some reviews on some other stories!

Ahem, so with that, let me end off with my signature, for the very last time (on this story, anyways)

As always, reviews, feedback, follows and favourites are greatly appreciated.

Hope you enjoyed!

-luvlani88