Family Ties: Bonus Bonds
Upon a suggestion by my Nena dear after she listened to me bemoaning the fact I cannot fit in everything that I want to fit in to Family Ties, I present to you; Family Ties: The Director's Cut!
Anything that I had to cut from the story due to ruining tension or otherwise destroying plotlines will be put in here! Also, all the stuff that happened at the same time as the others, but since big shit was going down elsewhere could not be included in the same time frame will be here too. It's a big ol' world and it's a big ol' war, so here's the bits I missed!
Will be un-friend-locked after I'm done writing all of them.
[Post part 20: Mongolia's Problem]
So this was probably the biggest pile of shit he'd been in for a long time.
He was utterly surrounded by opposition. Russia to the north, China to the south, and the Middle East to the west. Kazakhstan had long since opened his doors to any of Russia or China's people that needed to pass between the two countries but needed a closer boarder. Maybe closing most of his boarders had been a bad idea after all.
He wanted to side with the WDF.
That would be the stupidest idea in the whole of history, including that one time Russia asked America exactly how do you make an atom bomb and the idiot just told him.
On the topic of nukes, that was another thing that he'd noticed being pointed at him recently. Or rather, sneakily installed in him on his nearest boarders to India. No doubt Kazakhstan had a matching set.
Wonderful.
This meant that he could tell America and the others that India was going to be attacked when she least expected it, and probably in a not-very-nice way. Unfortunately, he couldn't get anything past China or Russia without them catching a hold of it. This might have been because they wanted to keep it so that the attack would be when the WDF least expected it.
Table, meet face. Face, table. Do get along, I'm sure you'll be seeing a lot more of each other.
He almost missed the days when he and his father had gone out riding horses and slaying anyone that got in their way. It was all so simple then.
The room filled with cold air. He banished the thought of his father as soon as possible. He did not need Russia descending upon him like a righteously hungry bear just because he even thought about the Mongol Empire- cold!
Time to bed. He'd had enough of this bullshit today.
----
[Post chapter 29, Estonia gets in a little more than trouble with Russia.]
It was a funny thing to be shown your work. Most people didn't hang around long enough, or care enough to see the impact they had on the world. But for someone like him, he didn't have much of a choice in the matter of hanging around or caring. He had to care. It was his job to care. And he certainly wouldn't be disappearing into the blue yonder while there was still some kind of use for him.
But oh, did it have to be such a terrible use?
Russia was practically a kid in a candy store, examining the stoic, rigid posture of the man in front of him. Estonia tried to keep his fists from shaking. It had taken. It was a success. It had worked. Too well.
"I command you not to react." The taller Nation said as he held up Scotland's hand, looking from it to the man himself, and then folded it back unnaturally against his arm. Estonia could only wince away from the loud cracking sound, splintering bones under skin. Russia giggled, amused, but no sound came from Scotland. "Ooh, very good, very good! I like this very much, Estonia."
The bespectacled blonde didn't answer. It seemed like Ivan was too distracted to need one. Good. He could handle distracted.
Russia nodded once more. "Hm, da, I like it." he turned a wide smile on the Baltic Nation. "Now do that to everyone I've captured."
"W-what?" Estonia recoiled at the idea, the deadened look in Scotland's eyes condemning him for what he had already done. Wasn't this enough damage? How much more would Russia want after this? "I- no, I can't."
The smile became frozen, less than sincere. "Estonia. This is not negotiable, da?"
Eduard dug deep and found the courage he had once used to defy Russia nearly 100 years ago. "I won't do it." Because who knew who would be next. Probably France, but then he might move on to the others. Latvia.
Hell no, this was enough.
Good thing he had preparations for this.
The pipe materialised in Russia's hands from seemingly nowhere. He tapped it against his palm. "I don't think I have made your situation clear enough for you. Either you do this for me, or I invade you and Latvia. I could destroy you." Oh, and it was hard to forget that when he was looming a half-head taller than you with a rusty metal object in his hands. Estonia squared his shoulders and sucked in breath through his nose.
"You can't do that." he said, keeping his voice steady. Ivan's eyebrows rose in a curious manner.
"Oh?"
"You can't destroy me, because I'm useful."
Russia's grin widened. "Oh, but now I have all your technology, I think I'll be just fine."
A tiny smirk twitched up the corner of Eduard's mouth. Slowly, he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a memory stick. "Not all of it." Russia may have been strong, but he was not fast. His grab for the USB device was too slow, and Estonia dropped it on the floor and crushed it underfoot. The concrete ground aided his efforts when he twisted it under his heel, the plastic and metal snapping. Information was so delicate these days.
Humans were quite delicate too, Estonia came to realise as Russia's haymaker collided with the side of his head. The world spun for a moment, and by the time it stopped Russia was upon him again, picking him up by the front of his shirt and slamming him against the wall.
"What was in that?" he growled, the smile vanished from his face. "You will tell me now."
Maybe it was the knock to the head, but Estonia wasn't scared. "Half of the information you need to replicate that result." he replied, feeling his cheek swell. Ow.
"Write it up again."
Estonia spat blood in Russia's face. "No."
----
[Pre-Part 44, New Zealand counts time in her own way.]
When she had first crashed, it had thrown her back out of place so badly that she'd lost the use of her legs for almost a month. This was only the second biggest problem she had. The sensation of feeling slowly crawling back into her legs was all she had to focus on in the dark, empty void of the isolation chamber, as her mind shut down and she started to blur the difference between sleeping and waking. It was how she kept track of the time. If she fell asleep when the feeling was just above her knee and woke to find it now at the top of it, she would guess at having been out for 10 hours at least. Optimistically at least. There was no real way to tell, not without any sort of measure of time.
It wasn't as though they fed her often.
Once she was sure she could feel every one of her toes, however, she was at a bit of a loss. How would she tell the time now? She tried ticking with her tongue, but once she fell asleep it didn't help her when she woke up. Meals were so irregular that she couldn't tell by them either. She paced, but as she grew weaker with hunger and frequently slipped and bumped into the walls this practice became more trouble than it was worth, and she abandoned it.
Thoughts whizzed past just as often as they trailed slowly through her mind, and in those times when she wasn't sure if she was asleep or finally mad, the words appeared in the air with flashes of colour. Sometimes she would blink and she'd see her fields, her sheep, the ocean breeze coming over the hills and cold mountain air coming off the craggy rocks, rough grass under her feet and freedom in the air.
And just as quickly, she was back in the dark, all alone again.
She contemplated escape every other minute. She'd long since found the minuscule crack in the wall that indicated where the door was, but there was nothing else on the inside for her to hold on to, and scratching at the crack only left her with several broken nails. After that, she could only imagine the world outside and if anyone had noticed she was gone.
'What am I, Canada?' she thought, or maybe spoke, she didn't know what came out of her mouth or what was inside her head any more. 'Come on Oz... get off your lazy ass...' something hot rolled down her cheeks, dirty and unwashed though they were. Her eyes stung. She could smell salt. Ah, the sea again, she could smell the Pacific, and the boats on the dockyard, the gulls calling...
New Zealand dreamed so often that they came for her that salvation began to be associated with unreality as well.
----
[Between part 44 and 45: Teaching New Zealand to walk again.]
Australia hummed in thought, tilting his head sideways at his sister's legs. They seemed fine. Malnourished a little (he was going to make China suffer), but steady in every other way. New Zealand said she could feel them, or rather she'd nodded when he'd asked (suffer on the surface of the sun) and when startled suddenly she would kick them, like a reflex. But if she tried to stand on her own, they were about as weak as a new born lamb's (a thousand fire ants biting China forever sounded appropriate about now).
"Come on Kiwi, up you get." he encouraged, pulling her hand. She glared down at the floor like it was her personal enemy, which it was with the amount of times she'd made body contact with it today. Music giving a steady rhythm in the background to chase away the silence, and with all the windows open to let sunlight stream in, she bit her lip and grasped her brother's hand, using her upper body strength to pull herself up. Australia didn't try to help her any more than this, since she'd started smacking his hands away and insisting that she could walk.
A few steps from her chair, and her knees buckled. Brooke caught her around the waist, but she still punched the floor with her fist, making a frustrated sound.
"Hey, that was a little further than last time!" he cheered brightly. "You're progressing a little more each time!"
She gave him a sulky sort of stare that said "don't coddle me", but he could feel her shaking and a trembling hand was holding on to his arm while the other shook in a tightly closed fist.
"Alright, maybe that's enough for now." he admitted, helping her back to her spot on the sofa and turning up the music volume a little. A short whistle through his teeth, and a small sheep trotted into the room. Delight lit up New Zealand's face, though she caught him looking and quickly hid it, stroking the sheep's wool instead. "I'm gonna make a phone call to America alright? I'll be back in a second, promise."
He turned to leave, and Katherine made a desperate noise, between a gasp and a squeak, a sudden inhalation, looking back, he saw her reaching for him, the sheep not enough. Picking the animal up and placing it in her arms, he ran as fast as he could out of the room, nabbed the wireless phone off the kitchen table, and ran back in under 15 seconds.
15 seconds too long for New Zealand, who was clinging to the sheep's wool like her last lifeline, shaking visibly and hyperventilating. Her brother held her until she stopped, slowly calming and breathing easy. He let out a long sigh.
"I won't leave ya, Kiwi." he muttered. "Not even if they tried to drag me."
----
[During Part 60: Germany, Italy, Israel and Diaspora: a recipe for the most awkward traveling group ever.]
"Ve... Germany, my back hurts." Feliciano whined for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes. It was just another moan in his cycle of complaints. Others included; "My feet hurt", "I'm tired", "can we have food yet?" and "siesta time was an hour ago." Germany pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. Or a gag to shut the idiot up with.
"We've only been walking for twenty miles, Italy, it's not that far." the blonde grumbled in return, wiping the sweat off his brow. Whose bright idea was it to send the EU's (for he'd insisted they keep that name) relief straight to the Middle East before the countries there had officially pulled out? Someone had clearly been messing with his paperwork.
Italy swayed in the heat. "But it's hot and I'm sweaty and hungry and why can't we ride in the trucks?" he pouted, pointing at the slow moving trucks they were walking beside. They were barely above the pace of a brisk walk, due to various precautions that needed to be taken to avoid being spotted by anyone on the wrong side.
"Because the soldiers who aren't semi-immortal get priority." snapped an irritated Israel, jogging up behind them and looking no worse for the sun. "Grow a backbone, it's winter. Not that hot."
Italy drooped some more with a weary "ve...", and Germany tried to keep from face-palming. He did not want to be stuck here with Israel and Italy. The former didn't particularly like him, and the latter sometimes liked him far too much in public.
He wasn't going to say it could get worse. It could. And he wasn't going to think it so karma couldn't do that to him. He was very certain to avoid the subject in his mind. The dark, painful, guilt ridden subject.
Very. Very. Certain.
"Jacob!"
Oh verdammt.
"Oh hey, it's Sarah! Ciao, Sarah~!" Italy waved cheerfully, completely unaware of the tense atmosphere that had manifested around Germany. The cheerful Nation darted around trucks to where Diaspora had slowed her car to keep pace with the convoy. The open top jeep was enough for him to jump onto and cling, grinning brightly. "Come sta?"
"Benissimo, Feliciano." she replied with a smile, and Germany fought down the urge to run away. That would be bad for morale. Ach, damn morale, he'd not dared to show his face to Diaspora for nearly 80 years. The closest he came was every year, when he left flowers by her door on remembrance day. All he could do was pull his cap down to hide his face in shame, and keep walking-
"Ludwig, Ludwig, come and say hi!" Veneciano waved, and this time Ludwig really did face palm. Another 80 years hadn't improved Italy's ability to read the damn atmosphere.
"Oi, if you ignore my mother I'm gonna give you another hole in the head." Israel warned, holding his pistol in a casual yet simultaneously threatening way, before jogging over to keep pace with the car itself.
Strength, Germany, come on. Prussia managed it. But his brother was an idiot.
Verdammt.
Quietly, he moved between the slowly trundling vehicles, swinging from the back of one of the trucks, and came to walk beside where Italy was freely chatting away with Diaspora. Israel was eying him like a watchful hawk and it didn't serve to make Germany feel any more comfortable with this situation.
'What did I do to you recently, God?'
"And then Germany came back and was all mumbling about how Belarus was dead and I was sad because although Belarus was really scary, she was still a pretty girl. As long as you stood really far away from her knife." Italy rambled, Diaspora nodding along with him. "I tried to make him pasta to cheer him up but that didn't work and he's still all grumpy all the time, well, more than usual."
"He likes strudel when he's upset." smiled Sarah, shooting him a look. "With a dollop of cream."
"Really?" Italy seemed stunned, looking round at Germany.
Germany was too busy actually looking at Diaspora for the first time in so long. She'd aged. Just a little, maybe a year or two. Her hair was longer than he remembered it, her headscarf hanging loosely around her shoulders where it'd been blown off by the wind. She was healthy and smiling and batting at Israel's arm, telling him to stop playing with his gun.
It was a hard image to reconcile.
"He's also awful at talking to people when he's not shouting orders." she laughed at him, and Germany closed his mouth, aware suddenly that it'd been hanging open. Italy laughed along.
"Oh, oh, I know that! It's like he goes all red when we-"
"Italy!" Germany managed on reflex, mouth slamming shut again as soon as it'd escaped him. But Diaspora was laughing. Laughing and smiling and completely fine.
And Germany could breathe a little more.
----
[During/Post chapter 60-61: Hong Kong's plan goes a little better than he'd first thought.]
"Macau, are you completely sure this is going to work?" Hong Kong asked for what might have been the fifth time that day, though the other island Nation assured him it was more like the fifth time that minute. "All of the radars are turned off or otherwise incapacitated?"
"I'm absolutely sure." Macau said, smacking Hong Kong lightly on the back and then not-so-subtly pinching his ass. Hong Kong's eye twitched but he did nothing; this was part of the deal after all. "Australia and Japan will get through here just fine, take their prisoners, and go home without being touched." He shrugged, holding his hands in the air with a smirk. "And I will say to Russia 'don't look at me, blame Taiwan for losing them' and Taiwan will say 'don't ask me, it was Hong Kong who filed the paper work' and you will say-"
"'Don't look at me, it was China-xiangsheng's orders.'" the shorter boy rattled off, brows furrowed as he watched his sister flit about the prisoners, trying her best to use her rusty Japanese skills to comfort them, and her even worse English skills to inform the others. It seemed like as soon as they'd removed the silencing gag that all the words she'd kept inside were overflowing a mile a minute.
"Exactly." the smirk spread wider. "This was way easier than I thought it would be. What did you say to China to get him to do this?"
Hong Kong shrugged. "Nothing really. It wasn't difficult."
A snicker. "You're way more manipulative and evil than people think you are."
"Thanks, I try." Daniel responded dryly, moving forward to ask Taiwan if everything was alright with the prisoners, when he froze.
Something surged inside of him, hot and cold and sweet and horrible at the same time. Strong as a lion, weak as a kitten, shivered raced up and down through his body and yet he couldn't move. The world whited out in front of him like he'd stood up too fast, but he didn't fall over. He just stood there and felt the electric waves of power course through him, until they finally stopped, as sudden as they had begun.
He knew.
There was no verbal communication, no distant voice echoing, nothing concrete in front of him to tell him. He just knew. He was more than Hong Kong now.
Much more.
He jerked when Taiwan touched his arm, eyes wide and unsure. "Li Shui? Li Shui! What's happened? I felt something change!" she searched his face, and seemed to find something there, because she recoiled her hand. "No. No, you didn't. He didn't."
He couldn't say anything. The words in his mouth got jumbled between Cantonese, Mandarin and English. Macau grabbed his shoulders, shaking him out of it.
"Talk, Li Shui!" he urged, looking just as worried.
A tense moment passed. "Gege's... not China any more." he finally managed, Mandarin flowing easily. "They signed it, the hand over. He's not China. He's..."
Taiwan covered her mouth with her hands, tears welling up. "Oh laoshi."
Macau stalked off muttering Portuguese swear words under his breath, flipping out his phone to call someone. Hong Kong was too busy trying to deal with the influx of power and emotions and people to go after him.
Ah, no, not Hong Kong.
The Republic of China.
Damn it.
----
Anything that I had to cut from the story due to ruining tension or otherwise destroying plotlines will be put in here! Also, all the stuff that happened at the same time as the others, but since big shit was going down elsewhere could not be included in the same time frame will be here too. It's a big ol' world and it's a big ol' war, so here's the bits I missed!
Will be un-friend-locked after I'm done writing all of them.
[Post part 20: Mongolia's Problem]
So this was probably the biggest pile of shit he'd been in for a long time.
He was utterly surrounded by opposition. Russia to the north, China to the south, and the Middle East to the west. Kazakhstan had long since opened his doors to any of Russia or China's people that needed to pass between the two countries but needed a closer boarder. Maybe closing most of his boarders had been a bad idea after all.
He wanted to side with the WDF.
That would be the stupidest idea in the whole of history, including that one time Russia asked America exactly how do you make an atom bomb and the idiot just told him.
On the topic of nukes, that was another thing that he'd noticed being pointed at him recently. Or rather, sneakily installed in him on his nearest boarders to India. No doubt Kazakhstan had a matching set.
Wonderful.
This meant that he could tell America and the others that India was going to be attacked when she least expected it, and probably in a not-very-nice way. Unfortunately, he couldn't get anything past China or Russia without them catching a hold of it. This might have been because they wanted to keep it so that the attack would be when the WDF least expected it.
Table, meet face. Face, table. Do get along, I'm sure you'll be seeing a lot more of each other.
He almost missed the days when he and his father had gone out riding horses and slaying anyone that got in their way. It was all so simple then.
The room filled with cold air. He banished the thought of his father as soon as possible. He did not need Russia descending upon him like a righteously hungry bear just because he even thought about the Mongol Empire- cold!
Time to bed. He'd had enough of this bullshit today.
----
[Post chapter 29, Estonia gets in a little more than trouble with Russia.]
It was a funny thing to be shown your work. Most people didn't hang around long enough, or care enough to see the impact they had on the world. But for someone like him, he didn't have much of a choice in the matter of hanging around or caring. He had to care. It was his job to care. And he certainly wouldn't be disappearing into the blue yonder while there was still some kind of use for him.
But oh, did it have to be such a terrible use?
Russia was practically a kid in a candy store, examining the stoic, rigid posture of the man in front of him. Estonia tried to keep his fists from shaking. It had taken. It was a success. It had worked. Too well.
"I command you not to react." The taller Nation said as he held up Scotland's hand, looking from it to the man himself, and then folded it back unnaturally against his arm. Estonia could only wince away from the loud cracking sound, splintering bones under skin. Russia giggled, amused, but no sound came from Scotland. "Ooh, very good, very good! I like this very much, Estonia."
The bespectacled blonde didn't answer. It seemed like Ivan was too distracted to need one. Good. He could handle distracted.
Russia nodded once more. "Hm, da, I like it." he turned a wide smile on the Baltic Nation. "Now do that to everyone I've captured."
"W-what?" Estonia recoiled at the idea, the deadened look in Scotland's eyes condemning him for what he had already done. Wasn't this enough damage? How much more would Russia want after this? "I- no, I can't."
The smile became frozen, less than sincere. "Estonia. This is not negotiable, da?"
Eduard dug deep and found the courage he had once used to defy Russia nearly 100 years ago. "I won't do it." Because who knew who would be next. Probably France, but then he might move on to the others. Latvia.
Hell no, this was enough.
Good thing he had preparations for this.
The pipe materialised in Russia's hands from seemingly nowhere. He tapped it against his palm. "I don't think I have made your situation clear enough for you. Either you do this for me, or I invade you and Latvia. I could destroy you." Oh, and it was hard to forget that when he was looming a half-head taller than you with a rusty metal object in his hands. Estonia squared his shoulders and sucked in breath through his nose.
"You can't do that." he said, keeping his voice steady. Ivan's eyebrows rose in a curious manner.
"Oh?"
"You can't destroy me, because I'm useful."
Russia's grin widened. "Oh, but now I have all your technology, I think I'll be just fine."
A tiny smirk twitched up the corner of Eduard's mouth. Slowly, he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a memory stick. "Not all of it." Russia may have been strong, but he was not fast. His grab for the USB device was too slow, and Estonia dropped it on the floor and crushed it underfoot. The concrete ground aided his efforts when he twisted it under his heel, the plastic and metal snapping. Information was so delicate these days.
Humans were quite delicate too, Estonia came to realise as Russia's haymaker collided with the side of his head. The world spun for a moment, and by the time it stopped Russia was upon him again, picking him up by the front of his shirt and slamming him against the wall.
"What was in that?" he growled, the smile vanished from his face. "You will tell me now."
Maybe it was the knock to the head, but Estonia wasn't scared. "Half of the information you need to replicate that result." he replied, feeling his cheek swell. Ow.
"Write it up again."
Estonia spat blood in Russia's face. "No."
----
[Pre-Part 44, New Zealand counts time in her own way.]
When she had first crashed, it had thrown her back out of place so badly that she'd lost the use of her legs for almost a month. This was only the second biggest problem she had. The sensation of feeling slowly crawling back into her legs was all she had to focus on in the dark, empty void of the isolation chamber, as her mind shut down and she started to blur the difference between sleeping and waking. It was how she kept track of the time. If she fell asleep when the feeling was just above her knee and woke to find it now at the top of it, she would guess at having been out for 10 hours at least. Optimistically at least. There was no real way to tell, not without any sort of measure of time.
It wasn't as though they fed her often.
Once she was sure she could feel every one of her toes, however, she was at a bit of a loss. How would she tell the time now? She tried ticking with her tongue, but once she fell asleep it didn't help her when she woke up. Meals were so irregular that she couldn't tell by them either. She paced, but as she grew weaker with hunger and frequently slipped and bumped into the walls this practice became more trouble than it was worth, and she abandoned it.
Thoughts whizzed past just as often as they trailed slowly through her mind, and in those times when she wasn't sure if she was asleep or finally mad, the words appeared in the air with flashes of colour. Sometimes she would blink and she'd see her fields, her sheep, the ocean breeze coming over the hills and cold mountain air coming off the craggy rocks, rough grass under her feet and freedom in the air.
And just as quickly, she was back in the dark, all alone again.
She contemplated escape every other minute. She'd long since found the minuscule crack in the wall that indicated where the door was, but there was nothing else on the inside for her to hold on to, and scratching at the crack only left her with several broken nails. After that, she could only imagine the world outside and if anyone had noticed she was gone.
'What am I, Canada?' she thought, or maybe spoke, she didn't know what came out of her mouth or what was inside her head any more. 'Come on Oz... get off your lazy ass...' something hot rolled down her cheeks, dirty and unwashed though they were. Her eyes stung. She could smell salt. Ah, the sea again, she could smell the Pacific, and the boats on the dockyard, the gulls calling...
New Zealand dreamed so often that they came for her that salvation began to be associated with unreality as well.
----
[Between part 44 and 45: Teaching New Zealand to walk again.]
Australia hummed in thought, tilting his head sideways at his sister's legs. They seemed fine. Malnourished a little (he was going to make China suffer), but steady in every other way. New Zealand said she could feel them, or rather she'd nodded when he'd asked (suffer on the surface of the sun) and when startled suddenly she would kick them, like a reflex. But if she tried to stand on her own, they were about as weak as a new born lamb's (a thousand fire ants biting China forever sounded appropriate about now).
"Come on Kiwi, up you get." he encouraged, pulling her hand. She glared down at the floor like it was her personal enemy, which it was with the amount of times she'd made body contact with it today. Music giving a steady rhythm in the background to chase away the silence, and with all the windows open to let sunlight stream in, she bit her lip and grasped her brother's hand, using her upper body strength to pull herself up. Australia didn't try to help her any more than this, since she'd started smacking his hands away and insisting that she could walk.
A few steps from her chair, and her knees buckled. Brooke caught her around the waist, but she still punched the floor with her fist, making a frustrated sound.
"Hey, that was a little further than last time!" he cheered brightly. "You're progressing a little more each time!"
She gave him a sulky sort of stare that said "don't coddle me", but he could feel her shaking and a trembling hand was holding on to his arm while the other shook in a tightly closed fist.
"Alright, maybe that's enough for now." he admitted, helping her back to her spot on the sofa and turning up the music volume a little. A short whistle through his teeth, and a small sheep trotted into the room. Delight lit up New Zealand's face, though she caught him looking and quickly hid it, stroking the sheep's wool instead. "I'm gonna make a phone call to America alright? I'll be back in a second, promise."
He turned to leave, and Katherine made a desperate noise, between a gasp and a squeak, a sudden inhalation, looking back, he saw her reaching for him, the sheep not enough. Picking the animal up and placing it in her arms, he ran as fast as he could out of the room, nabbed the wireless phone off the kitchen table, and ran back in under 15 seconds.
15 seconds too long for New Zealand, who was clinging to the sheep's wool like her last lifeline, shaking visibly and hyperventilating. Her brother held her until she stopped, slowly calming and breathing easy. He let out a long sigh.
"I won't leave ya, Kiwi." he muttered. "Not even if they tried to drag me."
----
[During Part 60: Germany, Italy, Israel and Diaspora: a recipe for the most awkward traveling group ever.]
"Ve... Germany, my back hurts." Feliciano whined for the fifth time in the past twenty minutes. It was just another moan in his cycle of complaints. Others included; "My feet hurt", "I'm tired", "can we have food yet?" and "siesta time was an hour ago." Germany pinched the bridge of his nose and prayed for patience. Or a gag to shut the idiot up with.
"We've only been walking for twenty miles, Italy, it's not that far." the blonde grumbled in return, wiping the sweat off his brow. Whose bright idea was it to send the EU's (for he'd insisted they keep that name) relief straight to the Middle East before the countries there had officially pulled out? Someone had clearly been messing with his paperwork.
Italy swayed in the heat. "But it's hot and I'm sweaty and hungry and why can't we ride in the trucks?" he pouted, pointing at the slow moving trucks they were walking beside. They were barely above the pace of a brisk walk, due to various precautions that needed to be taken to avoid being spotted by anyone on the wrong side.
"Because the soldiers who aren't semi-immortal get priority." snapped an irritated Israel, jogging up behind them and looking no worse for the sun. "Grow a backbone, it's winter. Not that hot."
Italy drooped some more with a weary "ve...", and Germany tried to keep from face-palming. He did not want to be stuck here with Israel and Italy. The former didn't particularly like him, and the latter sometimes liked him far too much in public.
He wasn't going to say it could get worse. It could. And he wasn't going to think it so karma couldn't do that to him. He was very certain to avoid the subject in his mind. The dark, painful, guilt ridden subject.
Very. Very. Certain.
"Jacob!"
Oh verdammt.
"Oh hey, it's Sarah! Ciao, Sarah~!" Italy waved cheerfully, completely unaware of the tense atmosphere that had manifested around Germany. The cheerful Nation darted around trucks to where Diaspora had slowed her car to keep pace with the convoy. The open top jeep was enough for him to jump onto and cling, grinning brightly. "Come sta?"
"Benissimo, Feliciano." she replied with a smile, and Germany fought down the urge to run away. That would be bad for morale. Ach, damn morale, he'd not dared to show his face to Diaspora for nearly 80 years. The closest he came was every year, when he left flowers by her door on remembrance day. All he could do was pull his cap down to hide his face in shame, and keep walking-
"Ludwig, Ludwig, come and say hi!" Veneciano waved, and this time Ludwig really did face palm. Another 80 years hadn't improved Italy's ability to read the damn atmosphere.
"Oi, if you ignore my mother I'm gonna give you another hole in the head." Israel warned, holding his pistol in a casual yet simultaneously threatening way, before jogging over to keep pace with the car itself.
Strength, Germany, come on. Prussia managed it. But his brother was an idiot.
Verdammt.
Quietly, he moved between the slowly trundling vehicles, swinging from the back of one of the trucks, and came to walk beside where Italy was freely chatting away with Diaspora. Israel was eying him like a watchful hawk and it didn't serve to make Germany feel any more comfortable with this situation.
'What did I do to you recently, God?'
"And then Germany came back and was all mumbling about how Belarus was dead and I was sad because although Belarus was really scary, she was still a pretty girl. As long as you stood really far away from her knife." Italy rambled, Diaspora nodding along with him. "I tried to make him pasta to cheer him up but that didn't work and he's still all grumpy all the time, well, more than usual."
"He likes strudel when he's upset." smiled Sarah, shooting him a look. "With a dollop of cream."
"Really?" Italy seemed stunned, looking round at Germany.
Germany was too busy actually looking at Diaspora for the first time in so long. She'd aged. Just a little, maybe a year or two. Her hair was longer than he remembered it, her headscarf hanging loosely around her shoulders where it'd been blown off by the wind. She was healthy and smiling and batting at Israel's arm, telling him to stop playing with his gun.
It was a hard image to reconcile.
"He's also awful at talking to people when he's not shouting orders." she laughed at him, and Germany closed his mouth, aware suddenly that it'd been hanging open. Italy laughed along.
"Oh, oh, I know that! It's like he goes all red when we-"
"Italy!" Germany managed on reflex, mouth slamming shut again as soon as it'd escaped him. But Diaspora was laughing. Laughing and smiling and completely fine.
And Germany could breathe a little more.
----
[During/Post chapter 60-61: Hong Kong's plan goes a little better than he'd first thought.]
"Macau, are you completely sure this is going to work?" Hong Kong asked for what might have been the fifth time that day, though the other island Nation assured him it was more like the fifth time that minute. "All of the radars are turned off or otherwise incapacitated?"
"I'm absolutely sure." Macau said, smacking Hong Kong lightly on the back and then not-so-subtly pinching his ass. Hong Kong's eye twitched but he did nothing; this was part of the deal after all. "Australia and Japan will get through here just fine, take their prisoners, and go home without being touched." He shrugged, holding his hands in the air with a smirk. "And I will say to Russia 'don't look at me, blame Taiwan for losing them' and Taiwan will say 'don't ask me, it was Hong Kong who filed the paper work' and you will say-"
"'Don't look at me, it was China-xiangsheng's orders.'" the shorter boy rattled off, brows furrowed as he watched his sister flit about the prisoners, trying her best to use her rusty Japanese skills to comfort them, and her even worse English skills to inform the others. It seemed like as soon as they'd removed the silencing gag that all the words she'd kept inside were overflowing a mile a minute.
"Exactly." the smirk spread wider. "This was way easier than I thought it would be. What did you say to China to get him to do this?"
Hong Kong shrugged. "Nothing really. It wasn't difficult."
A snicker. "You're way more manipulative and evil than people think you are."
"Thanks, I try." Daniel responded dryly, moving forward to ask Taiwan if everything was alright with the prisoners, when he froze.
Something surged inside of him, hot and cold and sweet and horrible at the same time. Strong as a lion, weak as a kitten, shivered raced up and down through his body and yet he couldn't move. The world whited out in front of him like he'd stood up too fast, but he didn't fall over. He just stood there and felt the electric waves of power course through him, until they finally stopped, as sudden as they had begun.
He knew.
There was no verbal communication, no distant voice echoing, nothing concrete in front of him to tell him. He just knew. He was more than Hong Kong now.
Much more.
He jerked when Taiwan touched his arm, eyes wide and unsure. "Li Shui? Li Shui! What's happened? I felt something change!" she searched his face, and seemed to find something there, because she recoiled her hand. "No. No, you didn't. He didn't."
He couldn't say anything. The words in his mouth got jumbled between Cantonese, Mandarin and English. Macau grabbed his shoulders, shaking him out of it.
"Talk, Li Shui!" he urged, looking just as worried.
A tense moment passed. "Gege's... not China any more." he finally managed, Mandarin flowing easily. "They signed it, the hand over. He's not China. He's..."
Taiwan covered her mouth with her hands, tears welling up. "Oh laoshi."
Macau stalked off muttering Portuguese swear words under his breath, flipping out his phone to call someone. Hong Kong was too busy trying to deal with the influx of power and emotions and people to go after him.
Ah, no, not Hong Kong.
The Republic of China.
Damn it.
----