Starting Again
Name of Recipient: shibbyone
Type of Gift: FANFICTION
Rating: G
Title: Starting Again
Summary: Germany and Italy’s reconciliation after the war. Fluffy Hurt/comfort type story.
Author Notes: Um, I hope you like it. I'm not the greatest fanfic writer...but I try. ^_^
Feliciano didn’t come to him every night; it wasn’t always possible for him to slip away unnoticed. But when that small, Italian nation could, he would spend every moment he could with him. Those were the nights Germany waited patiently to happen. There was very little else left for him to look forward to these days. The rest of his time was spent with constant reminders of his defeat, his pain and all that he had lost.
Feliciano - he had thought that he was gone as well. His betrayal had taken a harder toll on Germany that he would have thought possible. He never thought he would see the other nation again, and for quite some time he didn’t. Germany didn’t want to see him either, at first, but after a while the solitude of his position began to be unbearable.
Each day had become the same; nothing to break the spell of silence that had descended over his life. Even when his people came to see him they talked in hushed tones. They insisted that he needed all the rest he could get and thus he spent much of his time alone. The war had left him battered and bruised in both body and mind. He wasn’t even granted the luxury of having his brother there to help him through the lowest point in his existence.
Those that tended to Germany assured him that as his people recovered so would he, but even that seemed like a lost cause. There were just too many restrictions placed upon him and his people. It had only been a year since that final surrender and conditions only seemed to worsen. The push towards agriculture was both destructive and deadly. It just wasn’t possible with the population that was still a part of him. It made all thoughts of hope and healing seemingly impossible.
He wasn’t sure how he had held on as long as he did, but he was glad he had put up the effort, because one night Feliciano did come back. He remembered every moment of that night. And, on nights, such as this, when North Italy did not show up, he would let his mind drift back to that night to keep him strong until the living embodiment of his hope returned.
It was a calm cool night, with only the barest whisper of wind to disturb the silence. Germany wasn’t sleeping. Sleeping, like everything else in his life, had become rather tricky. He spent these long evenings memorizing the ceiling of his room. Its’ plain white surface suffered from neglect and small holes were now scattered across it. He knew each of their locations by heart.
A small noise outside the window was hard to miss in the quiet of the room. Still, Germany dismissed it as nothing important. Even if it was some mad prowler he doubted they could do much worse to him that what he had already lived through. The noise happened again, and this time the nation lying in bed couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t do much about it in his condition though. His injuries had yet to heal completely and movement was difficult at best. All he could do is lie there and wonder what the noise was and wait.
The sounds continued, and gradually got louder until suddenly his window opened up. The darkness in Germany’s room made any details difficult to make out, but he could tell that someone was climbing into the room as quietly as the night itself. The injured nation thought for a moment to call for help, but he doubted he could make enough noise to alert the staff outside. The alarm he felt caused his voice to catch in his throat.
The figure made its way slowly to the bed, but stopped, hesitant. An arm reached out for a moment, but then was withdrawn. The person almost turned back, but an obvious streak of determination made them turn back.
“Germany” the voice said timidly, uncertainty and despondency evident in the single word they said.
Germany froze in place. He knew that voice, could recognize it immediately. It was a voice he could never forget. “F...Feliciano? Is that you? He said. It was hard to hear that voice without feeling a sharp twinge of anger mixed with guilt. They had not spoken a word to each other since the Italian’s betrayal. Their last meeting almost three years ago had been brief and Germany’s anger at that moment had been seemingly insurmountable.
The memory of that fateful day was still seared into his memory. Germany could still recall the grim look on the messenger’s face as he handed him over the message that would inform him of the news that Italy had surrendered. It seemed like it was the beginning of the end for Germany; the first painful step on his way to defeat. It seemed so long ago though with the details fading with time and Germany was almost glad to see the other nation again.
Italy didn’t answer right away. He was either unsure of what to say, or not sure if he should say what he came there to tell Germany.
“G…Germany….I….I had to come see you. Brother didn’t want me to come…h…he said you wouldn’t want to see me anyway, but…but I had to come.”
The desperation in Feliciano’s voice rendered Germany speechless for quite some time. So long that Italy began to retreat again, thinking his presence was not welcomed.
“Italy! No! Y…you can stay…but…why? Why would you want to come visit me?” he called out to him, despite his misgivings.
Italy hesitated again. “B…because Germany is hurt…and no one wants to help…and….and…” He stopped a moment before continuing, his voice markedly softer. “And because I…I was one of those who hurt you.”
Again Germany was rendered silent. The emotion behind that statement hit him like a brick wall. He still had not forgiven Italy completely yet. Before he wouldn’t have entertained any kind of excuse, but now he felt he could at least try.
“Feliciano, come over here so I can see you better…” he said quietly, waiving the smaller nation towards him.
Italy didn’t need a second invitation; he stepped forward and soon he was standing next to Germany’s bed. Even in the dim light it was evident by his tear stained face that the nation had been crying. Usually Germany thought that the other nation’s ability to feel so strongly about people and things was an endearing quality. Right now he’d give it up if it meant taking away that look in his eyes. That look spoke of deep pain and regret.
They stood there within arm’s reach of each other for quite some time. It must have been no mean feat for Italy to sneak away without the permission of his brother or his people. Despite this, Italy, who usually found it difficult to do so, was silent. It seemed that all the things he wanted to say to Germany, every word of it was trapped in him
The air was so heavy with all the unsaid words that Germany knew he had to do something or its oppressive nature would smother the both of them. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and placed a hand on the closer of Italy’s arms. He hoped it came across as reassuring gesture, and didn’t cause the smaller nation to flee from his presence.
It turned out to be the perfect action to bring Italy back to life. He fell halfway across the bed and wrapped both arms around Germany, burying his head in his shoulder. Feliciano began weeping uncontrollably.
Germany was not sure what to do at first, but decided that he should just follow his instincts. With the awkwardness that he could never quite shake, he embraced Italy back, pulling him closer and letting him cry as long as the smaller nation felt necessary.
Italy cried until he had no more energy to do so. For a moment there was complete silence as he pulled himself together. Germany looked down at him, but Italy seemed incapable of looking back at him.
“Germany, do you hate me? I…I didn’t want to betray you, but…But I had no choice. Brother said that if we didn’t all that my people had worked for would go away. It would be like it was before brother and I finally united. I didn’t want that to happen. I didn’t want to lose either, but …I had to go with my people. No matter how much it hurt. Y…you understand right?”
The nation lying on the bed had been silent the entire time Italy spoke. An answer was not quick in coming. Germany knew that if he had asked him before, when the wounds that betrayal caused were still fresh and bleeding, his answer would have been very different. He would not have even let the other nation into the same room.
Now, as he held the other nation in his arms, he realized how much he had changed since that day. Now he knew all too well about having to live with your decisions and having to pick your battles when trying to reclaim what little you could from the life you once knew. He knew that nations had to make hard decisions like the one Feliciano had made. The well being of their people often won out over their own personal concerns. He knew now what life without Italy was like and the empty spot in his life that the other nation left behind that felt almost unbearable.
“Italy, I…I cannot hate you. I have had enough of hate…I don’t think I want anything to do with that emotion every again.” Germany said, hoping that his new tendency towards self-loathing wasn’t part of that equation.
The other nation finally looked up at Germany. “D…does that mean that you…you forgive me?” He asked, a bit surprised and still a little bit frightened. He knew it couldn’t be that simple.
Germany thought long and hard about how to respond to this new question. He couldn’t lie to Feliciano, especially about something so important. Part of him still didn’t want to forgive Italy. That part of him still believed that his betrayal was one of the steps which led to him losing the war. But most of him had long ago accepted the defeat gracefully and knew that to hold a grudge against Italy now would destroy the little he had still left.
“Italy…Forgiveness is a process, but once you set yourself on that path then it will come, sooner or later. I…I’ve decided to set myself on that path for you. How far along that path isn’t always easy to determine, but it is a journey I most want to complete. My life just wouldn’t be complete without you.” Germany said quietly, his face flushed with embarrassment.
The other nation didn’t speak right away; his understanding smile and nod were all that he needed for Germany to know that he had accepted what he had said. Italy laid his head back down on his shoulder.
“What happens now? My people don’t want me here, my brother doesn’t want me here, and the other nations like England and France don’t want me here…” He said despondently.
“What do you want Italy? That’s what’s most important.” Germany told him gently.
“I…I want to be with you…I want to make sure you get better and be there when you learn to smile again.” Italy said, wrapping his arms around Germany once again. It was if they belonged there.
Germany could not help but return the gesture. He didn’t want to let Italy go. He didn’t want anyone else telling them that they could not see each other. He didn’t care what they thought. They all wanted nothing to do with him. Italy was different. He was the only one who cared enough to come back to him. That thought alone made his eyes fill with tears.
“Then you must do what you feel is right. I know it isn’t the easy choice. Neither of us has had any easy choices lately. But, we must make the decisions we feel are right or we will regret it.”
“T…then I will come visit Germany whenever I can, for as long as I can…and…and maybe one day I wouldn’t have to sneak away to see you. Maybe one day I will be able to see Germany whenever I want…and…no one will mind.”
Germany could not help but think that “one day” was too far away. Tonight Italy had done more to mend his broken spirit than anything in all the long months since the end of the war. He knew his fate lay in the hands of this nation.
They spent the rest of the night like that, finding comfort in each other’s arms. When the first light of morning threatened Italy reluctantly let Germany go and said goodbye. He stopped before climbing out the window and turned back to Germany.
“I…I’ll be back soon Germany…and don’t worry. It will get better, even if it doesn’t always seem that way.” He told him with a warm smile.
And with that Italy left Germany. It was a bittersweet ending to that night, but he couldn’t help but think that he felt happier than he had in a very long time.
With every successive visit Germany’s conflicted feelings became weaker and weaker and the delight he had for his visits grew. Feliciano would always tell him that everything would be alright, that things wouldn’t always be so bad. Even though he didn’t think it was possible, somehow, because it was Feliciano, it would happen.
Type of Gift: FANFICTION
Rating: G
Title: Starting Again
Summary: Germany and Italy’s reconciliation after the war. Fluffy Hurt/comfort type story.
Author Notes: Um, I hope you like it. I'm not the greatest fanfic writer...but I try. ^_^
Feliciano didn’t come to him every night; it wasn’t always possible for him to slip away unnoticed. But when that small, Italian nation could, he would spend every moment he could with him. Those were the nights Germany waited patiently to happen. There was very little else left for him to look forward to these days. The rest of his time was spent with constant reminders of his defeat, his pain and all that he had lost.
Feliciano - he had thought that he was gone as well. His betrayal had taken a harder toll on Germany that he would have thought possible. He never thought he would see the other nation again, and for quite some time he didn’t. Germany didn’t want to see him either, at first, but after a while the solitude of his position began to be unbearable.
Each day had become the same; nothing to break the spell of silence that had descended over his life. Even when his people came to see him they talked in hushed tones. They insisted that he needed all the rest he could get and thus he spent much of his time alone. The war had left him battered and bruised in both body and mind. He wasn’t even granted the luxury of having his brother there to help him through the lowest point in his existence.
Those that tended to Germany assured him that as his people recovered so would he, but even that seemed like a lost cause. There were just too many restrictions placed upon him and his people. It had only been a year since that final surrender and conditions only seemed to worsen. The push towards agriculture was both destructive and deadly. It just wasn’t possible with the population that was still a part of him. It made all thoughts of hope and healing seemingly impossible.
He wasn’t sure how he had held on as long as he did, but he was glad he had put up the effort, because one night Feliciano did come back. He remembered every moment of that night. And, on nights, such as this, when North Italy did not show up, he would let his mind drift back to that night to keep him strong until the living embodiment of his hope returned.
It was a calm cool night, with only the barest whisper of wind to disturb the silence. Germany wasn’t sleeping. Sleeping, like everything else in his life, had become rather tricky. He spent these long evenings memorizing the ceiling of his room. Its’ plain white surface suffered from neglect and small holes were now scattered across it. He knew each of their locations by heart.
A small noise outside the window was hard to miss in the quiet of the room. Still, Germany dismissed it as nothing important. Even if it was some mad prowler he doubted they could do much worse to him that what he had already lived through. The noise happened again, and this time the nation lying in bed couldn’t ignore it. He couldn’t do much about it in his condition though. His injuries had yet to heal completely and movement was difficult at best. All he could do is lie there and wonder what the noise was and wait.
The sounds continued, and gradually got louder until suddenly his window opened up. The darkness in Germany’s room made any details difficult to make out, but he could tell that someone was climbing into the room as quietly as the night itself. The injured nation thought for a moment to call for help, but he doubted he could make enough noise to alert the staff outside. The alarm he felt caused his voice to catch in his throat.
The figure made its way slowly to the bed, but stopped, hesitant. An arm reached out for a moment, but then was withdrawn. The person almost turned back, but an obvious streak of determination made them turn back.
“Germany” the voice said timidly, uncertainty and despondency evident in the single word they said.
Germany froze in place. He knew that voice, could recognize it immediately. It was a voice he could never forget. “F...Feliciano? Is that you? He said. It was hard to hear that voice without feeling a sharp twinge of anger mixed with guilt. They had not spoken a word to each other since the Italian’s betrayal. Their last meeting almost three years ago had been brief and Germany’s anger at that moment had been seemingly insurmountable.
The memory of that fateful day was still seared into his memory. Germany could still recall the grim look on the messenger’s face as he handed him over the message that would inform him of the news that Italy had surrendered. It seemed like it was the beginning of the end for Germany; the first painful step on his way to defeat. It seemed so long ago though with the details fading with time and Germany was almost glad to see the other nation again.
Italy didn’t answer right away. He was either unsure of what to say, or not sure if he should say what he came there to tell Germany.
“G…Germany….I….I had to come see you. Brother didn’t want me to come…h…he said you wouldn’t want to see me anyway, but…but I had to come.”
The desperation in Feliciano’s voice rendered Germany speechless for quite some time. So long that Italy began to retreat again, thinking his presence was not welcomed.
“Italy! No! Y…you can stay…but…why? Why would you want to come visit me?” he called out to him, despite his misgivings.
Italy hesitated again. “B…because Germany is hurt…and no one wants to help…and….and…” He stopped a moment before continuing, his voice markedly softer. “And because I…I was one of those who hurt you.”
Again Germany was rendered silent. The emotion behind that statement hit him like a brick wall. He still had not forgiven Italy completely yet. Before he wouldn’t have entertained any kind of excuse, but now he felt he could at least try.
“Feliciano, come over here so I can see you better…” he said quietly, waiving the smaller nation towards him.
Italy didn’t need a second invitation; he stepped forward and soon he was standing next to Germany’s bed. Even in the dim light it was evident by his tear stained face that the nation had been crying. Usually Germany thought that the other nation’s ability to feel so strongly about people and things was an endearing quality. Right now he’d give it up if it meant taking away that look in his eyes. That look spoke of deep pain and regret.
They stood there within arm’s reach of each other for quite some time. It must have been no mean feat for Italy to sneak away without the permission of his brother or his people. Despite this, Italy, who usually found it difficult to do so, was silent. It seemed that all the things he wanted to say to Germany, every word of it was trapped in him
The air was so heavy with all the unsaid words that Germany knew he had to do something or its oppressive nature would smother the both of them. Slowly, hesitantly, he reached out and placed a hand on the closer of Italy’s arms. He hoped it came across as reassuring gesture, and didn’t cause the smaller nation to flee from his presence.
It turned out to be the perfect action to bring Italy back to life. He fell halfway across the bed and wrapped both arms around Germany, burying his head in his shoulder. Feliciano began weeping uncontrollably.
Germany was not sure what to do at first, but decided that he should just follow his instincts. With the awkwardness that he could never quite shake, he embraced Italy back, pulling him closer and letting him cry as long as the smaller nation felt necessary.
Italy cried until he had no more energy to do so. For a moment there was complete silence as he pulled himself together. Germany looked down at him, but Italy seemed incapable of looking back at him.
“Germany, do you hate me? I…I didn’t want to betray you, but…But I had no choice. Brother said that if we didn’t all that my people had worked for would go away. It would be like it was before brother and I finally united. I didn’t want that to happen. I didn’t want to lose either, but …I had to go with my people. No matter how much it hurt. Y…you understand right?”
The nation lying on the bed had been silent the entire time Italy spoke. An answer was not quick in coming. Germany knew that if he had asked him before, when the wounds that betrayal caused were still fresh and bleeding, his answer would have been very different. He would not have even let the other nation into the same room.
Now, as he held the other nation in his arms, he realized how much he had changed since that day. Now he knew all too well about having to live with your decisions and having to pick your battles when trying to reclaim what little you could from the life you once knew. He knew that nations had to make hard decisions like the one Feliciano had made. The well being of their people often won out over their own personal concerns. He knew now what life without Italy was like and the empty spot in his life that the other nation left behind that felt almost unbearable.
“Italy, I…I cannot hate you. I have had enough of hate…I don’t think I want anything to do with that emotion every again.” Germany said, hoping that his new tendency towards self-loathing wasn’t part of that equation.
The other nation finally looked up at Germany. “D…does that mean that you…you forgive me?” He asked, a bit surprised and still a little bit frightened. He knew it couldn’t be that simple.
Germany thought long and hard about how to respond to this new question. He couldn’t lie to Feliciano, especially about something so important. Part of him still didn’t want to forgive Italy. That part of him still believed that his betrayal was one of the steps which led to him losing the war. But most of him had long ago accepted the defeat gracefully and knew that to hold a grudge against Italy now would destroy the little he had still left.
“Italy…Forgiveness is a process, but once you set yourself on that path then it will come, sooner or later. I…I’ve decided to set myself on that path for you. How far along that path isn’t always easy to determine, but it is a journey I most want to complete. My life just wouldn’t be complete without you.” Germany said quietly, his face flushed with embarrassment.
The other nation didn’t speak right away; his understanding smile and nod were all that he needed for Germany to know that he had accepted what he had said. Italy laid his head back down on his shoulder.
“What happens now? My people don’t want me here, my brother doesn’t want me here, and the other nations like England and France don’t want me here…” He said despondently.
“What do you want Italy? That’s what’s most important.” Germany told him gently.
“I…I want to be with you…I want to make sure you get better and be there when you learn to smile again.” Italy said, wrapping his arms around Germany once again. It was if they belonged there.
Germany could not help but return the gesture. He didn’t want to let Italy go. He didn’t want anyone else telling them that they could not see each other. He didn’t care what they thought. They all wanted nothing to do with him. Italy was different. He was the only one who cared enough to come back to him. That thought alone made his eyes fill with tears.
“Then you must do what you feel is right. I know it isn’t the easy choice. Neither of us has had any easy choices lately. But, we must make the decisions we feel are right or we will regret it.”
“T…then I will come visit Germany whenever I can, for as long as I can…and…and maybe one day I wouldn’t have to sneak away to see you. Maybe one day I will be able to see Germany whenever I want…and…no one will mind.”
Germany could not help but think that “one day” was too far away. Tonight Italy had done more to mend his broken spirit than anything in all the long months since the end of the war. He knew his fate lay in the hands of this nation.
They spent the rest of the night like that, finding comfort in each other’s arms. When the first light of morning threatened Italy reluctantly let Germany go and said goodbye. He stopped before climbing out the window and turned back to Germany.
“I…I’ll be back soon Germany…and don’t worry. It will get better, even if it doesn’t always seem that way.” He told him with a warm smile.
And with that Italy left Germany. It was a bittersweet ending to that night, but he couldn’t help but think that he felt happier than he had in a very long time.
With every successive visit Germany’s conflicted feelings became weaker and weaker and the delight he had for his visits grew. Feliciano would always tell him that everything would be alright, that things wouldn’t always be so bad. Even though he didn’t think it was possible, somehow, because it was Feliciano, it would happen.