The Hungarian girl was awoken from her dreams of discovering yaoi by her ringtone. She growled and reached blindly toward her nightstand, fumbling for her phone to shut it up. She found it, pried her eyes open, and stared at the incoming call screen. It was Germany. Dammit, she thought, as she sat up and hit the answer button.

"Yes?"

"I'm sorry for calling at this hour, but I really need your help."

"With what?" Elizabeta asked incredulously.

There was a pause, "Gilbert was returned from the Soviet Union, and I don't know how to handle him right now. He's different."

"Maybe-"

"No, Elizabeta. He's really different. I wouldn't call you if I didn't think something was wrong with him." Ludwig sounded truly worried, so she sighed and relented.

"I'll get a plane ticket in the morning, okay? I'll be there tomorrow to help out."

"Thank you," he said, sounding genuinely relieved and thankful.

"You're welcome, goodnight Ludwig."

"Goodnight."

Ludwig hopped up from his seat as soon as he heard the doorbell ring. He had been awaiting Elizabeta for the past hour, and was anxious for a second opinion and some help with his brother. Flinging the door open, he was greeted with Elizabeta's travel-tired face. She wore a green, spaghetti-strapped dress that came to her knees and a brown pea coat. After ushering her into the living room, he began explaining.

"He won't talk about it, in fact he denys everything, but you can tell something is wrong with him. He has panic attacks at what seems like the most random times and he wakes up screaming in the middle of the night. He hoards food in his room, not just the snack food either, full meals, and he replaces them as necessary. He gets antsy around exposed pipes, so he'll walk a ten-foot radius around them."

After a pause, the Hungarian girl asked, "Anything else?"

"Well, yes. I walked in on Gilbert washing all the vodka in the house down the drain the other day. He burnt all of the scarves that I own in the fireplace. He boarded up the basement door for no reason. He jumps when a car backfires. He seems afraid of the dark. Whenever anyone mentions Russia, he just walks away looking terrified.

"I'm scared for him. He has new scars that he won't explain, and you know that's strange for him. He usually goes on and on about his scars, like they're trophies. He won't go to a therapist, no matter how much I beg him to. I don't know what to do for him, but you've known him since he was little, and he trusts you with his life. He might open up to you." Ludwig shrugged and looked completely out of his depth.

"Okay, where is-"

There was a loud crash from upstairs, then a yell. Ludwig sighed, "Did I mention that he's grown really clumsy, and every time anything falls and bangs against the floor, he gets scared?"

Elizabeta bit her lip and stood up, "Can you show me to his room?"

Ludwig led her up a flight of stairs and toward the back of the house. He knocked on an old, large, oak door at the end of the hallway, which opened up quickly. Gilbert stood there in a pair of old clothes that looked like he'd been wearing them to bed. His eyes were wide and fearful for a moment, but they brightened into intense happiness and relief once he saw Elizabeta.

"You visiting?" Gilbert asked with a small smile that Ludwig hadn't seen in a while.

"Yes, for a little while. May I come in?" Elizabeta clutched the front of her dress nervously as her old friend bounced a little a few feet in front of her.

"Sure," he answered, grabbing her wrist and pulling her inside as he shut the door behind her.

The room was large and open, almost the size of a ballroom, with high windows that let in a lot of natural light on three sides of the room, and were stained multiple colors near the top. Two crystal chandeliers were suspended high above the room, turned off at the moment, reflecting the natural light back to the walls. The walls were painted white, but they were scuffed within human reach, and the floors were a tiled hardwood. A couple of house plants sat near one of the windows, thriving in the light so much that their vines spilled to the floor, blooming with pink flowers.

His bed, which had no headboard or footboard, was pushed into a far corner, right by a window. It was covered with only white sheets and blankets that were messy from a restless night of sleep. There were four pillows on the king bed, and three lay on the floor around it. A romance book lay open on his bed, covered partly by sheets.

A pile of books, consisting of atlases, adventure novels, history books, and a couple comics, had been knocked to the ground from their original place on one of the many tables that dotted openly in the room. The tables each held different kinds of things, making it halfway organized. One held books, another clocks, another games, one held piles of used sketchbooks and different pencils, and one held stuffed animals. There were many, and they all were spaced evenly apart.

There were two refrigerators, chocked full of food, a gas stove and oven, a small counter, and a microwave. A sink with a deep basin held dirty dishes. The kitchenette had a variety of knives sitting out, along with an unused pot on a burner that wasn't turned on. The trash can was almost full of food packaging,

In another corner there was an armchair that looked like it had been given a lot of use, right next to the window there. His viola and the bow lay in the seat, it looked like he'd been in the middle of restringing it. Another, smaller yet more cushioned, armchair sat a few feet away, across from the first.

A television sat against a wall, a cabinet containing almost a hundred movies stood next to it. A considerable pile of large, plush cushions sat in front of it for seating. On the wall around the television was a massive collage of movie posters and tv show advertisements.

Elizabeta looked around with wide eyes, her mouth hanging open slightly. It was a nice place, a place for a full and interested mind to get away from thoughts he'd rather not think of. A place for diversions and a purposely messy person. A perfect place for Gilbert to be, and a place that Elizabeta could easily see herself slip into, just to be with Gilbert and watch his delight in the simple things like they did when they were children. But it was also a perfectly constructed, disguised, prison. It was meant to keep him in place.

Gilbert shifted his hand from around her wrist to enclosing her slender hand, leading her to the armchairs. He moved the viola and sat down in that chair while Elizabeta settled in the other. His expression changed from happiness to suspicion as he asked, "So, did he send you here to interrogate me?"

She couldn't help but giggle, which brought back a little of that childish light in her friend's eyes, before saying, "Well, yes, he did. I did want to visit you though, it's been forever since we've seen each other. A lot has happened, you know."

The red-eyed man cocked his head, "Like what?"

"The war ended, and that's a pretty big thing. I got divorced, too."

"You and that prissy bastard aren't together anymore?" Gilbert asked, a huge smile on his face.

She shook her head, "It was only a political marriage anyway. I had no choice in the matter and I never loved him"

He nodded slowly, "A lot has happened with me, too. I just-" Gilbert choked on his words, his eyes full of pain, and shook his head.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, Gil."

"But that's why Luddy sent you in here," Gilbert replied, looking distressed.

Elizabeta stood and walked over to her friend, taking his hand as she placed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Yes, but I don't want you to hurt. If it hurts to think about, then we'll talk about something else. To hell with him," She said smiling down at Gilbert.

The man was quiet for a moment before he tenses and looks at her determinedly, "I need to tell someone though. You're the only one I want to know, okay?"

Elizabeta sat down on the floor, still holding his hand, and nodded. "I'll keep it a secret, I promise."

Gilbert bit his lip and closed his eyes, all was silent for a moment before he spoke in a soft voice, "When I was...taken...I was locked in a secret room down in Russia's basement. I didn't get out until they let me go, so I was down there for a very long time. I don't know how often I got food, since I couldn't tell time down there, but, you know, it was enough time between meals to make it hurt to be alive. Water came every time Ivan visited to torture me..."

Silence was resumed as Elizabeta's hand was gripped tight and her friend shivered. Gilbert said, "I was beaten, among...among other things. I couldn't get away, and the only person I saw for years was that sonovabitch." His voice cracked as he continued, "So when some things remind me it...it terrifies me. It's embarrassing, because I've changed so much that people can tell."

Elizabeta kissed his knuckles softly and looked up at him with a determined look in her eye. "I'll always be here to protect you, Gil, just like when we were young. I'll beat the shit out of Russia if he comes within a hundred miles of you. You are too awesome to not love," She said, her friend's body relaxing as she spoke.

After a pause, a grin sprung to Gilbert's face, "Was that a confession?"

Elizabeta elbowed his leg, bursting into laughter, "Maybe it was, so what?"

"Then I'd have to say: 'I love you, too, Elizabeta.' 'Cause you're awesome too," Gilbert laughed.

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