Author's Notes: Hello and thank you for reading ^^; This is a continuation of my Reaper-verse. I hope you enjoy.

Disclaimer: Hetalia and its characters are property of Himaruya

~X~

Late night was one of the few things that brought Gil comfort. There was no one to cast judgmental glares, or make snide comments about the way he spoke, or the way he looked. It was a time of peace.

Gilbert crawled out of his bedroom window, relishing the way the frost-coated grass crunched beneath his feet. It may be three in the morning, but Gil deigned it the perfect time to go out for a wander.

As he walked away from the more suburban area of the small town, he queued up one of the few softer pieces on his mp3 players: a requiem and the only piece ever composed by Roderich Edelstein.

When Gilbert was younger, and before he had moved away from Germany, he had idolized the musician. Hell, in a sense he still did. Even six years since the man's death, Gilbert still had a poster of him, as well as copies of the music he had once played. His grandpa Fritz used to tease him about how Gil must have had a ridiculous crush on the pianist from Vienna.

He pondered these things as he passed by the shops, closed now at this hour. It was odd how this one piece could bring up such a recollection. Gilbert used to associate his grandfather with music that was much livelier, more passionate.

This one was mournful, aching. Not like his grandpa.

For almost two hours, Gilbert walked the quiet streets. The only company he had was the occasional car driving past, or a gang of teenage hooligans that people often mistook Gil for.

He had nearly returned to his home at quarter to five, when the peaceful night around him shattered. The plaintive sound of piano was overtaken by the screeching of metal, and shrieking of brakes.

He looked up just in time to see a black Chevy crashing into the car parked in front of his neighbor's house.

Automatically, Gilbert flinched, covering his ears from the horrendous sound. It only lasted a moment before an eerie silence once again fell over the night. "Mein Gott," he breathed, taking a hesitant step closer to the wreck. He pulled the headphones from his ears as he approached.

He could hear faint moaning from the Chevy, and his heart stopped. Someone was alive in there.

"Hello?" he called. "Are you ok in there?" He brushed his silver hair from his eyes, vainly hoping that it would improve his vision.

'Of course not, idiot,' he mentally scolded himself. 'Did you hear that crash? It's a miracle they aren't dead.'

He reached into his pocket to pull out his cell phone, but a sudden movement caught his eye.

Dumbstruck, Gilbert watched as a man walk up to the car. It was difficult to make out his features in the darkness, but Gil could see he was lanky with dark hair and glasses. In his hand, the man held a thin blade.

Gil's breath caught in his throat. A Reaper.

He released his phone, and took several quick steps back. Grandpa Fritz had always told him to stay far away from the Angels of Death. But at the same time, something about this one had him almost captivated. There was a familiarity about this Reaper's posture as he stood in front of the driver's door.

In a single quick movement, the man pierced through the window and silenced the driver forever.

Gil had to clamp a hand over his mouth to stop himself from screaming at him. Still, a strangled sound came from his throat at the pure barbarism of the act.

That seemed to garner the Reaper's attention. His gaze snapped across the street to meet the teens.

That's when Gilbert realized why he thought the man looked familiar. It was the face he saw every day on his wall.

The sharply angled face with large, vulnerable eyes belonged to the deceased pianist from Austria. Roderich Edelstein.

Gilbert was sure he was a dead man. Slowly, he backed even further away, thinking that he would make a run for it.

But then, the Reaper turned, and walked away without a word. He didn't seem to even acknowledge Gil's presence as he slumped to the sidewalk.

~X~

For the rest of the day, Gil was tormented by his own mind. All his life, he had assumed the Grim Reapers were simply soulless creatures that wandered the Earth, collecting souls. But what if that wasn't the case? If that was truly Edelstein, that opened up a whole new world of possibilities.

There was a chance at living after you die.

If that was true, then was death really something to be afraid of? It could be that dying just opened up a different part of life. You wouldn't simply not exist after dying. You could still think, still walk around. You could still be alive.

It was this line of thinking that was going through his head as he entered the school cafeteria.

"Franny, Tonio," he said as he took his usual seat across from them.

Francis nodded in that almost disinterested way of his, as Antonio cheerfully greeted the albino.

He grinned widely, unable to hide his new revelation. "Guys, I'm no longer afraid to die."

Everything seemed to stop in that instant as two sets of eyes snapped to his.

"Pardon?" Francis asked calmly. "I'm sure I must have misheard you, Gilbert. Or is it that you're actually as idiotic as you look?"

Gil shrugged, still smiling. He couldn't tell them his real thoughts, but maybe he could share part of it. "No, I… I just realized that there's no way to stop dying. So why should I bother being afraid of it?" he lied easily.

He almost missed the way Antonio's gaze darkened.

"Because it's kinda useless, ja? We have enough to be worrying about. So why should we bother with the inevitable?" The made up reason sounded almost plausible, he realized. It was odd, considering how Gil was usually a terrible liar.

Next thing he knew, Gil's head was snapped to the side as Antonio's fist made impact on his cheek.

"Don't you dare talk about dying as if it's easy, Gilbert," he hissed. "Don't you fucking dare talk about something you know nothing about."

Gilbert stared at him, wide-eyed. That was the last reaction he had expected from the Spaniard. "Toni…"

"Shut up, Gilbert." Quickly, Antonio stood up, and walked away from the table. "Just shut up for once in your life."

Francis sighed once Antonio was out of earshot. "You can be rather stupid; you realize that, right?"

"I'm just telling the truth," Gil contested. He pressed a hand against his sore cheek. There would probably be a bruise later.

"To someone who lost their best friend not even a year ago," Francis finished. "I'm not going to argue your theory, idiotic as it may be, but I will say that you should carefully consider who you confide your theories to."

That brought Gil a moment's pause. He had forgotten that Antonio's friend Lovino had been killed that recently. "I'm still right," he muttered.

Francis shrugged. "We're seventeen," he reminded Gil. "We're always 'right'."

Gilbert glared at him, but kept his mouth shut. He had been stupid to think that they would accept his view.

~X~

It had been almost nine years since Gil saw the Reaper Edelstein. After all that time, it was hard to hold on to his conviction that the dead came back as Angels of Death.

He still saw them, though. Every few months, Gilbert would see a person walking down the street with a weapon that no one else could see. Now, though, he kept to his grandpa's teachings: never look at them, never speak to them, and never approach them.

Most of the time, he just pretended that he couldn't see them. He went about his daily life as if the didn't even exist. Or, he tried to.

"Excuse me, sir," he heard someone say.

Gilbert looked over, and found himself face to face with a woman. Her long, brown hair tumbled around her shoulders, framing a face centered on emerald eyes.

Automatically, his eyes flashed down to her hands, and saw her clutching a short, heavy looking sword.

His defenses instantly went up. "What?" he asked flatly.

She smiled, ignoring his obvious hostility. "I need to find AD 219. Could you direct me there?"

Gil's crimson gaze hardened slightly. That was Professor Tyler's room. He was one of the oldest faculty members on campus, and one of Gil's favorites. "Follow this path until you see the administration building. It's the second floor, on the left. Can't be too hard to find."

She quickly glanced over his shoulder, before thanking him.

As she walked away, Gilbert openly glared at her. That Reaper had some nerve, asking the living for assistance.

Still, he was reminded of his principles. Those who are set to die will die. It didn't really matter if Gilbert liked the professor. It wouldn't help if Gil misdirected the Reaper. You couldn't cheat death.

He adjusted his bag, and left the campus. He had an artist to visit.

~X~

"Gilbert, cher, to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?" Francis greeted as his customer left.

Gil looked around the dingy alley. It almost seemed sad to him that Francis chose the life of a street artist. "You believe in ghosts, right?" he asked. The albino needed a reminder that he wasn't the only one who believed in life after death.

Francis chuckled. "I believe in a lot of things," he said. "Why do you ask?"

Gilbert almost smiled. Francis had seriously mellowed out as he aged. He had also grown up to be one of those ridiculously evasive types. "You told me you saw them, once. Back in high school." It was one of those things that Francis said when he 'wasn't' drunk on wine. One of those things Gilbert had to promise to never tell Antonio.

Francis held up his hands in a surrendering gesture. "I see Earth-bound spirits. There's a difference. I'm surprised you even remember that, much less believe me. Aren't you one of those 'proof in science' types?"

Gil shrugged. "Whatever. How can you tell if they are, though?"

The Frenchman eyed him oddly as he packed up his pencils. "There's no shadow," he said simply. "Other than that, they look normal, if ridiculously pale."

"They don't have a shadow?" he repeated. Gilbert had never really looked down to see if the Reapers had shadows. He only looked far enough to see if they had a weapon.

Francis hummed. "Never. I met one a few days ago," he confided. "An Englishman. Very angry, very confused."

That made Gil laugh. "You're one to talk about being confused," he teased. "How many majors did you go through before finally dropping out of college?"

"Seven," he sniffed. "No need to bring up things from the past like that. It's been over half a decade. Speaking of the past, why do you bring up spirits now, of all times?"

Gil adjusted the strap of his bag. "I, uh, saw something I couldn't quite explain," he lied. "Look, I have to go. We'll talk later?"

"You know we will," Francis confirmed. "As you know that I don't believe that answer."

He tossed a grin over his shoulder as he walked away. "You never do."

"Hey, Gilbert?" Francis called before Gil could completely get away.

He paused, turning around to look at the blond.

"Don't think this means I agree with your theory on death. I still think anything like becoming a spirit is a long shot at best, and that it's a terrible idea to try."

The albino shrugged. "I wasn't planning anything," he admitted. "Just because I'm not afraid of death doesn't mean that I want to die. I'm perfectly happy to live."

Francis sighed. "All the same…"

Gilbert rolled his eyes as he walked away. Perceptive as Francis could be, he didn't always get the pieces together in the right way.