"You have to go to the meetings by yourself for a while. Antonio is sick."

"Oh no! Is Brother Spain going to be okay?"

"I'm not sure," a harsh cough had him looking up from his lap to the sick Spaniard in the bed; "it looks pretty bad this time."

"Oh. . ." Romano could practically hear the frown that is most likely taking form on his brother's face. "So you're going to stay with him until he's better?"

"Yeah," He replied, using a cold cloth to wipe away the sweat from his previous caretaker's fever stricken face. "I'm not sure how long though, but tell everyone that neither Antonio nor I will be attending the meetings until further notice."

"Okay. Take care, fratello."

Romano ended the call and tossed his phone onto the bedside table. When he turned his attention back to the sick man he returned to dabbing the cool cloth against his face.

He hated whenever this happened. It was always the same. The Italian would worry when Spain didn't pick up his phone or return any of his messages. So he would travel to the Spaniards home only to find him passed out in his garden, running a high fever. But this time was different. This time it was the way Spain replied to his messages.

'I can't hang out with you today, I'm sorry, Lovi.'

'My boss has given lots of work to do, sorry.'

And many others of the like. The normal Antonio would abandon any and all work just to spend five minutes with his favourite Italian. Romano had been suspicious after the first excuse, but wasn't really concerned until the second week. And now he is furious with himself for not checking in on Spain the first day. The old nation had lost a dangerous amount of weight; so much so that Lovino had no trouble carrying him from the study – where Romano had found him – up the stairs to his bed, and without Spain using what little strength he obviously didn't have to carry some of his own weight.

He noticed Antonio tremble, so he went to the closet for another blanket and gently placed it over the barely conscious man. Changing Spain's clothes hadn't been hard either, the ones he had been wearing were soaked in sweat, so they had to be taken off immediately. The hardest part – that he was still struggling with – was trying to get Antonio to talk. Romano would try asking him what happened, but all he would get in response is a pained groan. Another problem was food. He had tried getting Antonio to eat, and he was happy to see him swallow the soup he had made, but disappointed when it came back up. I'll try once more before calling a doctor. He thought as he helped Spain sit up against the pillows.

"C'mon, Spain," Lovino held a half filled spoon to the man's mouth, "one more time."

Spain shook his head weakly as he panted through his cracked lips, his eyes not once opening. Then he made a sound that may have been a word. Lovino set the bowl and spoon down as he moved closer, hoping he hadn't imagined it.

"H . . . hurts."

Lovino frowned. Sure Spain had finally said something, but saying 'it hurts' is not a good sign. "What hurts?"

"Ev . . . ever . . . everything. . ." As if to prove that fact tears escaped from his closed eyelids and slowly fell down his inflamed cheeks. "It h-hurts . . . so mu . . . much . . . L-L-Lovi. . ."

He felt his heart rupture at the sight of the once unbeatable nation reduced to such a state. Spain was only a few pounds short of a skeleton; his usual golden brown skin was pale and clammy, he was trembling from the fever and the sobs that racked his body.

But Romano refused to give up hope. Spain was always able to bounce back no matter how bad it became. He would smile his signature goofy smile as he delivered news of his return to good health. But it seemed that even he was doubtful of his less than likely recovery. And Lovino was having none of that.

"It's okay, Antonio," he soothed as he ran his hand through the older nation's damp hair, "you're going to be fine."

More tears fell down his face as Antonio shook his head again, and as if that wasn't enough, he was suddenly overcome with a terrible coughing fit.

Romano was right there to hold him close and rub soothing circles on his back until it was over and he was left with a shuddering and sobbing Spaniard. Lovino was having trouble keeping his own tears in check as he whispered what he hoped was reassuring words to the severely sick man. He felt something tugging at his shirt so he looked down to see Antonio trying to grab onto the fabric, but didn't have enough strength to. Romano bit his lip wrapping his arms tightly around Spain and stroked his damp, mated hair as he hummed a Spanish lullaby that Antonio had sung for him in the past.

After Spain had fallen asleep, and Lovino tucked him back into bed, he grabbed his phone and called Spain's boss, demanding answers. What he found out was not good; apparently, there is a threat of a civil war. The people aren't happy with each other and it's tearing the whole country apart. It is the rich versus the poor; on top of it all, the economy is in trouble because of it. In a fit of rage, and the use of colourful Italian, Romano hangs up. He runs his hands through his hair as he tries to hold back an onslaught of tears.

Not again! He groans. He remembers the last civil war and what it had done to Spain as a country and a person. But back then Antonio had been stronger and prepared for the worst, not like now when he is still trying to recover from that. He also had help then, from Romano. He would help again, but his and Feliciano's boss would never agree to it. He cursed both his and Spain's bosses to a long and painful death before returning to Antonio's side.

The personification of Spain was moaning and tossing his head side to side.

"P-p-por. . . Fa . . . vor . . . No. . . . l-luches. . ."

He couldn't hold back anymore, clutching Antonio's hand, Lovino let the tears fall. The one he loved was in pain and he couldn't do anything about it. He sobbed into the blankets, letting his emotions run free, blaming Spain's boss, his people, even Spain before moving on to himself. He blamed his weakness, his inability to do anything for the man that had sacrificed so much to keep him safe.

"Don't."

Romano was surprised he was even able to hear such a quiet voice. The tears had stopped at the sound of Spain's strained voice laced with pain. Lovino's brown eyes locked with Antonio's green before he opened his mouth to speak again.

"Don't . . . blame your . . . yourself." He had to stop to breathe a bit before continuing, wincing at the soreness in his throat, "This i-isn't . . . yo-your . . . fault." Antonio fell into another fit of coughing when he finished talking, his breaths coming out as desperate gasps for air.

"Stop talking you idiot!" Romano commanded, "It obviously hurts so stop!"

But Antonio refused to listen, "I-i-it d-does . . . hu-hurt . . . but n-not as . . . as much . . . a-a-a-as . . . se-see-seeing y-you . . . cr . . . cr . . . cry."

The more Spain talked the harder it was for him to breathe and the more it hurt him. The pain was fully displayed on the Spaniard's face and the way he had his fist clenched tightly over his chest. Romano laid his hand over Antonio's.

"Just shut up and breathe."

This time he did as told and after a few struggling breaths Antonio was back to light panting. The whole ordeal had taken a lot out of him. His pale skin was glistening with sweat, his eyelids had closed, and his fist had relaxed. Grabbing the cool cloth Lovino set to cleaning off the sweat from Antonio's face and chest. When Spain spoke again Romano had to really strain to hear him.

"Ti . . . tired."

"Then sleep, idiota"

And he did just that, within seconds Antonio was asleep. Romano just sat by his side, holding his hand, and watching him sleep. Even though he appeared more relaxed, Antonio's face was still slightly contorted in pain. Lovino placed his other hand on Spain's fever hot cheek and rubbed his thumb against it. He silently prayed to God to save this man, the man he loved with all his heart. A couple tears escaped as the saddened Italian watched over his beloved Spaniard.

Okay, just to clear things up I know next to nothing about the current state of Spain's economy and whatnot, but I had this on the brain and I didn't want to loose it, so I set to writing right away. I'm thinking of including another chapter, but that depends on the reviews I get. I am very self-conscious!