Italy looked at the person resting on the other side of the big window, worry, shock, confusion and horror written all over his face. Not even the medics walking hurriedly around the room could tear his eyes away from the still, so still, body resting on the hospital bed.
Everything in this scene was completely wrong. His fratello was sleeping, no… that's not right, he wasn't sleeping... but he wasn't awake either. The man was unconscious, with tubes coming out of his mouth and some attached to his hands…
"Dio… his hands…" Italy didn't even want to look at them directly. He could only wonder if the medics would put his broken fingers into their natural places while Romano was still out. They had cleaned him the best they could, they tore the clothes glued to his wounds with all the care in the world (Italy didn't think he was capable of watching that, but he just couldn't leave this place), unfortunately the wounds on his back would have to wait because the inner damage was even worse than his brother's body showed. Broken fingers, broken ribs and from what he had seen, a damaged throat. The younger brother trembled, fighting a wave of nausea that hit him.
He didn't know what had happened, the real damage or who had done that to his precious brother and having to wait was simply killing him. Romano didn't look like himself…his brother, his loud, grumpy, shy and surprisingly gentle brother was too still, too broken, too un-Romano like! He wanted to hear Romano complaining, calling him an idiot and throwing things at him. A voice in his head told him that his brother would be lucky to breath without drowning in his own blood, only a miracle would make him talk. It would take him a while to get better and the thought that this wouldn't end here made Italy's heart throb in pain.
He should have know that something was wrong the moment he found the house completely disorganized.
[4 days before]
"Fratelloo~ Look! Look! Japan taught me how to make an obentou! I'll make one for you and Germany and I can teach you so you can make one for brother Spain and…" He stopped on his tracks at the sight of their living room. The place was a mess, broken vases, knocked over chairs, dirt everywhere and… was that tomato soup near the couch? "Romano! I told you I would take care of cleaning the house!" He pouted and tried to organize everything the best he could without really expecting an answer, his brother would always ignore him if he were watching an interesting movie.
"What are you wat- Eh? He's not here…" The younger one looked around the house. "He does this kind of thing and leaves to visit Brother Spain… seriously, fratello." He sighed shaking his head with a small smile.
He didn't expect Romano to come home that night, the fact that he also didn't show up for lunch was also something normal. Those two were probably eating paella right now. Italy giggled and remembered that it had been a while since he'd last visited Spain, so he decided to pay a visit and eat a delicious paella while he was at it.
But Romano wasn't with Spain.
The older nation smiled and said that the older Italian was probably after a señorita and forgot to call his own friends. Romano didn't answer the first phone call.
Nor the 10 calls after that.
After another day without knowing Southern Italy's whereabouts, Italy and Spain decided that panicking couldn't be considered overreacting. They asked Italy's boss about the older Italian but he didn't know anything.
"Brother Spain, I think I need to do something, but I'll need your help." Italy asked after hanging the phone, he had asked almost every nation about his brother and he couldn't be found anywhere. Spain stopped his pacing to nod and suddenly Italy realized that Spain wasn't smiling. He hadn't smiled since Romano's disappearance became a serious problem.
" Anything you ask, Italy."
Italy didn't say anything, he just grabbed the keys of his car not even waiting to see if Spain was behind him. He drove towards the south, ignoring the pained expression on Spain's face. Being here just made them miss even more the older Italian. They parked in front of an impressive looking business building, Italy entered it and took the elevator pushing the button indicating the top floor.
"They didn't seem to mind our presence here." Murmured the Spaniard that couldn't help feeling unease after he saw the kind of security they had here.
"They know that my brother and I have been here before when fratello was trying to teach me how to deal with the 'Evil Muffins'." The younger one murmured, looking as the red numbers passed on a little screen. They didn't laugh at the funny nickname that Romano usually used to badmouth the Mafia. They didn't say anything until they reached the top floor and were received by a pretty secretary that led them towards a man that looked busy typing in front of his computer. It took a few minutes before he looked at them.
"Signore Vargas." The man's voice was dripping with irony. "What business do you have with this company?"
"I want to know what happened to my brother." Murmured the younger nation, a thread of desperation laced in his voice.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Signore Vargas. My job is to coordinate this party*." The man looked at Spain and smiled. The Spaniard didn't like that smile at all, it was too fake and he could tell that this man was used to lying. His thoughts were cut when Italy's hand hit the wooden table with enough force to scare the man making him almost jump from his chair.
"Cut the crap, Two Faces! Brother told me that you're one of the new big Bosses around and I want to know what happened to him!" Italy glared at the man and suddenly he looked too much like his brother. "El mio fratello is missing and no one can find him! I only know one organization that could have done that."
The man was silent for a while, then he gestured for his secretary to leave them alone. After her departure Two Faces looked back to them. "I assure you that I don't know what you're talking about. We haven't done anything to him. You know that we would never kill him. Are you sure he's not after una ragazza or something?"
Spain chose that moment to interfere, maybe because he proposed the same thing… and now he regretted not taking the situation seriously from the beginning.
"We wouldn't be here if it were the case." Two Faces was going to complain when he saw the look on the Spaniard's face. He was in front of a man that was capable of doing anything to get what he wanted and right now, he wanted information.
"He's la mia famiglia… and in a sense… yours too." The young Italian begged and Two Faces felt the same thing that made him allow Romano's curse words in his presence.
"I'll find him."
They did find him two days later inside an abandoned warehouse almost outside Rome. But the sight that greeted them would probably give Italy nightmares for the rest of his existence.
Romano was on the floor, near the darkest and coldest part of the warehouse, his right leg tied to a rusty pipe, the rope was dirty with blood and mud, just like Romano's body. The Italian had only his white shirt on and even it was ripped open, his legs were wide open and he kept scratching the inside of his tights like he was trying to rip his own skin off… which he probably managed to do, if the wounds and blood were any indication. He had blood on his hands, wrists, mouth, ankles, neck, anus and you didn't need to be an expert to know that the slashes on his chest (and probably his back by the way he was trying to not rest it against the wall) would leave a few scars. Strangely enough, his face was intact. He didn't hear them calling his name, be he did sense their approach.
They were used to seeing him scared, but the pure horror on his face when he saw them… it was indescribable. Even so, nothing came out of his mouth. Spain tried to approach him slowly, murmuring softly in Spanish, but it seemed that it only made Romano more frantic. The older Italian turned his body and the sound of something breaking and the sight of his bloody back made them all stop. Romano slammed his hands on the wall and started scratching it, breaking a few of his own fingers, ripping the skin of his fingertips and breaking his nails in a desperate attempt to run away.
Italy ran to his brother being careful to not hurt him even more, trying to hold him in his arms, but Romano couldn't see him anymore, he was past rationality or even pain.
Finally, finally someone injected a drug powerful enough that it immediately knocked him over.
After that, it was all a blur of medics. Feliciano stopped those memories when he saw Spain invade the room, cradling Romano's face carefully in his hands. The Spaniard looked so broken that it was like watching a man that had lost his ground trying to walk, Italy tried to block that too, but the bittersweet scene trapped his attention.
"Shh… Estoy aqui Romano. I'm here now. When you wake up, I'll bring you the best tomato of my plantation and I'll let you complain all you want. Just… please stay with me. Por favor, por favor, por favor." Spain rested his forehead softly against Romano's, murmuring softly in Spanish.
The responsible medic asked Spain and Italy to leave the room so that they could talk without disturbing the older Italian. It was a little difficult to separate them from the patient, but he managed to get them both inside his office.
"I don't know how to begin… he…whoever did that to him didn't want to kill him but…" The medic sighed and decided that looking at Italy's broken eyes would make it impossible to explain what he needed to say. "He was tortured, his ankles and wrists were probably tied with rope, some of the marks on his back and on his chest were made using a knife and others using a belt. He was punched and kicked multiple times, he has 3 broken ribs, several bite marks on his body and… he was sexually abused. His thighs ar-"
"He did that. On his tights and fingers I mean…H-he was scratching his thighs and the wall and…" Spain's voice was tight and wrong. The Spaniard gripped the fabric of his pants trying to will his shaking hands to stay still.
"That's normal. Victims of rape and torture get desperate enough to hurt themselves while trying to get free of whatever is hurting them. He probably screamed so much that his throat is raw. That or someone made him swallow-" He stopped whatever he was going to say when he saw the look on their faces. "From what the people who brought him told me, he was in shock when you found him, correct? I think he'll need psychological help and you'll have to be very patient. He will probably get afraid of physical closeness, but I've seen victims that went back to normal even after experiences like that." The doctor sighed, trying to say something, anything to ease their pain. "He might not be able to think straight for a few days after waking up, which is normal, and he'll stay unconscious for at least one week. But I assure you that his life isn't in danger and we didn't find any permanent damage… maybe a few scars."
"Thank you doctor." Italy replied hugging him. The man gave a sad smile and hugged the younger Vargas back. The two nations left the office and headed towards the room where Romano was staying, Italy kissed his cheek and waited while Spain kissed the unconscious man in the forehead while reassuring him that he would be back. Spain looked at Italy with a calmness that seemed rather creepy considering how passionate Spain was about pretty much everything.
"You know what we have to do know, right?" He asked turning his face away from Romano and walking towards the door.
Italy nodded, a crooked smile of a demon showed on his angelic face.
Discovering the culprit was easier than they had thought, the Mafia was apparently very pissed off because an outsider did this kind of dirty job right under their noses. Now, they only needed a little help.
The blonde sighed when he saw Italy on his doorstep. The boy smiled brightly when he was greeted by an angry face.
"What are you doing here Italy? In the middle of the night! I thought you were searching for your brother."
"But Geeermany~ I need your help! Could you help me, please? Per favore?" The Italian gave his best puppy-lost-in-the-rain look and Germany sighed. He was already used to this kind of thing.
"Fine, just let me get a coat and I'll go with you." He turned around and was already starting to walk back when he felt something hit the back of his head.
The last thing he saw was Italy's sweet smile disappearing in the darkness.
When Germany woke up, he was tied to a chair and his whole body ached. He quickly looked around trying to see where he was, he couldn't see much but the smell of blood, dirt and alcohol was strangely familiar.
"What the hell is going on here? I demand an explanation!" Germany tried to move, but the ropes were so tight that they bit at his wrists. He opened his mouth to say something else, but a lamp was turned on in the wall in front of him, it was turned down so all he could see was a rusty pipe, a few ropes and a bloodied wall. He immediately shut his mouth, suddenly feeling the cold air of the night creeping in and freezing his bones.
"Eh~? So you're awake? I didn't think it would take an entire hour… tsk, tsk, tsk, Germany, you're getting rusty!" The sweet Italian voice was immediately recognized, but not the darker tone under it. Two lights were turned on above Germany, blinding him for a moment.
"What the hell do you think you're doing, Italy? Stop this joke immediately."
Tap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Leather shoes squeaked on the wet floor and a sharp form wearing a black suit appeared. It was a real contrast with the bright light above them, Italy was wearing a black suit, white shirt, red silky tie. The black hat and the red flower on his lapel completed the outfit, but unfortunately the shadow cast by the hat hid Italy's face.
"I won't repeat my-" Germany was cut by a firm slap on the right side of his face. And it wasn't a weak, girly slap either. He didn't know if the shock was from being hit like that or being hit like that by Italy of all people.
"Bad Germany~" The Italian chided while waving his finger in front of Germany's face. "I thought you would understand this quickly without me having to explain. Here's the thing: you will shut your fucking mouth or I'll cut your dick and thrust it inside to shut you, capisce?" Italy lifted his head a little so Germany could see his sweet smile and his eyes half lidded. But that smile wasn't right, it was nowhere near as innocent as Italy's usual smiles.
"Now… Look at that wall over there, do you recognize it?" Italy asked while pointing at the illuminated wall.
"I don't know what you're talking about." He growled in frustration and shot Italy a dirty look. The Italian sighed and pulled a gun from his suit. Germany paled a little, but didn't say anything.
"What to do? What to do?" He asked himself while caressing the gun, then he smiled.. No, smirked. Italy grabbed the gun and used the handle to hit Germany's right knee. The man muffled his groan and bit his lip trying to hold it. He wasn't going to be tortured by Italy! "See, when you give me a wrong answer I'll hit you with this in the same place, each time stronger than the other. And if you give me the correct answer I'll give you something nice. Shall we try again?" Italy nodded to himself, playing with the gun in his hand.
"Wasn't that the place where you kept Romano for almost four days?" His voice was lower, deeper and more serious.
"I told you I don-" The hit took him by surprise this time. He groaned and gritted his teeth to keep more sounds from coming. Italy didn't wait.
"Wasn't that the place where you tortured him?" The question was almost urgent and Germany didn't even have time to deny or admit. Italy hit him again in the same place and he heard a strange sound coming from his knee.
"Wasn't that the place where you fucked my brother, making him cry and scream to fulfill your twisted pleasure?" Italy's voice was louder, demanding, angry. This time Germany screamed.
Italy laughed excitedly.
Germany howled in pain when the Italian put the tip of his gun on his injured knee and shot all too happily. He tried to move his hands, to do anything to ease the pain on his knee, but the ropes held firm and his movements earned another hit from the handle of Italy's gun. The blood dirtied Italy's delicate hand, but the Italian didn't care one bit.
Germany gasped, feeling his whole body shake with pain.
"Now~" Italy began with another sweet smile, he used Germany's injured knee as support for his left foot. The blond flinched trying to hold the best he could. "You're going to tell me why."
"That idio-" It was a punch this time and the force of it made the chair rock, attempt to fall and then return to the standing position. Germany could feel the taste of his own blood on his mouth.
"Nah-ha, if I were you, I would choose my words carefully."
"W-we met when I was going to visit you, we fought verbally and he hit me."
"I see…that's why you beat him, brought him to this place and tortured him until he couldn't tell anyone who had done that." Italy's eyes were as cold and hard as a piece of marble. Blank and shaped with a madness like those strange statues of serpents eating men that he saw during his visits.
"…" He didn't say anything for a few minutes, the sound of his breaths the only thing breaking the silence of the empty warehouse.
"Bullshit." Murmured Italy, his hands grabbing Germany's throat. "You went to my house, knowing that I wouldn't be there, raped him and when you saw what you had done, you brought him here to do whatever you wanted and then destroy him enough to make him never say anything." Italy squeezed until Germany was shocking and hitting his own head against the back of the tall chair. "You did that because you never forgave my brother for betraying you during WWII."
At this, Germany's eyes flashed open and Italy knew he had hit the mark. The Italian released his hold and gave the blond enough time to regain his breath.
"People couldn't identify you, but they saw what you did… and I saw in what state my brother was. Romano couldn't speak!" Italy snapped and started punching Germany with a brutality that he never thought he had. "You said you would protect us! But you made him cry!" Italy breathed heavily, looking at his bloodied knuckles. He would teach him, he would show exactly what happened when someone decided to mess with his family.
Germany tried to breath without sounding too pitiful, his nose was probably broken and there was blood covering his right eye, but he could still see Italy grabbing something from his pocket. The Italian was singing quietly, taking the little knife from it's sheath and letting it shine with the bright light.
"Mio fratello ha avuto paura / My brother was afraid" He slowly made a cut on Germany's throat.
"Ma qual è la cura?/But what is the cure?" Another on his left shoulder. Germany groaned and tried to move, bruising his wrists even more.
"La cura qual è ?/What is the cure?" He stabbed the blonde's hand and heard him screaming things in German that Italy didn't know the meaning. He didn't care right now, he would just keep singing.
"Ricordi, ricordi, ricordi, ricordi/ Memories, memories, memories, memories" Each time he repeated the word the knife shined and then darkened with Germany's blood.
"Ricordi che fanno paura/ Scary memories" He gave one of his sweet smiles and pointed the knife towards Germany's mouth. "And if I'm not mistaken… they found bite marks on him… maybe I should do something to fix that too, right, Germany?" Italy traced the corner of the German's mouth with the dirty knife and the blond paled visibly at this, not even daring to move this time.
They heard something metallic hitting the floor and Italy's smile grew. It was time.
"Stop this shit! If you want to kill me, do it already!" Germany growled, tired of all this. Yes, he'd done that. He really went to visit Italy, but he ended up fighting with Romano and being humiliated by the older brother. He was tired of that, of those stupid nicknames and offenses. He thought that loosing the war was a good thing in the end, but Romano betrayal angered him. Germany was supposed to be together with Italy… all of it. But the older brother always refused… and he finally snapped.
"You're a country! Besides, I can't kill you silly~ because I loooo~ve Germany!" Italy walked backwards until he disappeared in the shadows.
"But I know someone who doesn't~"
"And he's very, very angry at you Germany."
Germany knew exactly who would be this angry at him without even seeing the tanned body, the chocolate brown hair and the furious green eyes.
Before he could continue, the red metallic handle of Spain's axe came flying right at Germany's face, hitting him on the side with enough force to make the chair fall with it's captive. For a full minute all he could see was white pain and shit, shit, fucking shit it hurt! Before the pain could become a little more bearable he felt a hand grab his sticky hair (blood and sweat probably) and smash it against the floor once, twice and then a third time. He couldn't think straight and he wanted to throw up, but his throat was tight and he didn't know how the hell he was even breathing.
"S-Spain." He croaked, squeezing his eyes shut to will himself to not throw up.
"I've been taking care of that boy since he was little. I fought against France, Turkey and half of the world to keep him safe with me." Spain, the passionate country, simply stated these facts calmly. He cut the rope that was tying Germany to the chair and watched the bloodied body slump weakly on the floor. "I sold my gold for him, killed for him. If there's one thing that is precious to me, it's that boy. And you broke him." Spain's feet collided cruelly with Germany's back making him vomit blood. He did it again, kicking Germany's side making sure to crack at least a few ribs.
The Spaniard seated himself on the blond's back and grabbed one of his arms. Germany cried in pain, he couldn't breath... but it only got worse when Spain started breaking his fingers, one after the other. The screams were getting louder and louder, maybe he was begging or cursing, they couldn't really understand the words with his head pressed against the dirty floor, breathing the scent of his own blood mixed with dust and dirty water.
Crack crack crack crack crack
"Broken ribs, broken fingers… you broke everything."
crack crack crack crack crack.
"And you raped him, you son of a bitch!" Spain's boot hit Germany's face with a painful 'crunch'.
"Your body will get better, just like Romano's… but what about his mind? You better pray to whatever God you believe in and ask them to get my Roma back to normal or I swear that it'll be war and I'll fucking destroy everything that is connected to you until you disappear from history." Spain grabbed his hair and pulled his head up, making him face those furious green eyes. "And don't think I'll leave you like this, I'll make sure that you won't forget this." Spain raised himself and walked calmly to a spot that Germany couldn't see. The sudden raw silence weighing on his gut.
In the distance he could hear Italy's voice singing 'Ma qual è la cura?', the sound of metal scratching the floor made him lift his head a little to see Spain approaching with his battle axe, the blade shinning in it's desire for blood.
He tried to scream in pure horror from the look of the two men standing near him, only to realize that he couldn't. He was choking on his own blood.
Spain smirked, bringing down the axe.
Oh gawd, Please forgive me... I warped por Italy's personality... A-And... Oh god ;3; The people back on Hetalia_Kink said that I'm getting a penthouse in Hell, and Satan's going to lick my boots...
A-At least I didn't castrate Ludwig like I was planning on? OTL