The Runaway Reawakens
Note: I Own Nothing
Summary: Italy remembers the events of "The Death of Holy Rome and Italy's Memories" as well as how he gained independence.
Chapter 1: Memories of Centuries Past
It was a beautiful summer's day in 1942. The sun heated the earth as farmers worked their fields, a light breeze making young trees branches sway, and a peaceful quiet settling over a small town in the German countryside.
"Italy~!" A young man's angry roar filled the morning air, causing some residents of the small village to wince. Looks I spoke too soon about the town being quiet.
Many of the residents of the town simply sighed and shook their heads. Germany and Italy were at it again. They knew very little about the two men; only that they were apparently nicknamed after their countries of birth and that both were enlisted in the military. Everyday, they—Germany—tried to train on a large estate owned by the government nearby. But everyday, Italy ran away, and both young men ended up running around town, screaming and yelling and making a general ruckus.
The elderly folk of the village found it a nuisance, while the farmers found it distracting. The wives and mothers thought it troublesome. The children, however, adored Germany and Italy. They thought it fun to watch them run around, and sometimes they would join in their selves. Some children would help Germany chase after Italy, while others helped Italy hide or get away. It was like a big fun game of hide-and-go-seek that many enjoyed. Some for different reasons from others.
"Mr. Italy!" Little Trudy Bocker shouted as Italy raced by her house. Italy halted his steps and hurriedly rushed over to Greta, who stood in the doorway of the home. "What is it, Greta?" Italy asked quickly and nervously in German. He really had to get out of there quick or else Germany would catch up to him. But still, as an Italian, he could not be rude to a young lady—even if she was only 12. "Go hide in the shed behind my house," Trudy suggested. "Mr. Germany will never find you there." She informed him. Suddenly, Italy smiled brightly and hugged Trudy thankfully. "Grazie, Trudy—you saved me!" He cheered with glee, and with that, rushed to outback to hide in the aforementioned shed. He did not see the little blush on Trudy's cheeks as he rushed away to hide.
A few moments later, Germany passed Trudy's house, screaming for Italy to come out right now or he wouldn't get any pasta for a month. Italy must not have heard that because he did not come out and Germany passed Trudy's house without much incident. That is, until Trudy's elder sister came outside as well.
"Oh Mr. Germany!" Sixteen year-old Pippi called. Down the road, Germany turned around with an eyebrow raised. Trudy glared at her sister. "Mr. Italy is hiding in the shed in our back yard! Come see!" Pippi shouted, waving Germany over. Trudy nearly gagged. Mien Gott, Pippi was such a flirt!
Germany immediately raced back down the road into the back yard, saying thank you to Pippi as he passed. As screams and yells erupted from their back yard, the two sisters glared at one another. "Tart." Trudy snapped. "Wannabe." Pippi shot back. Trudy barked a laugh. "Like I'd want to be you." She spat. Pippi huffed and flipped her hair over her shoulder. "Jealous, little sister?" She asked rhetorically. Trudy rolled her eyes.
A moment later, Germany dragged a crying and begging Italy out of the back yard by the collar of his uniform. "Um, thank you, Pippi." Germany said awkwardly, yet politely as he left. Pippi blushed with faux-modesty. "Anything to be of service, Mr. Germany." She said with a little blush and suggestive smile. Germany apparently didn't get or care about her blatantly flirting, however, as he left then, dragging Italy behind him, with only a curt goodbye to the sisters.
"Ugh, men!" Pippi growled in frustration when Germany was out of ear-shot. "Tell me about it." Trudy agreed.
"You can't just run off every time I ask you to do a push up, Italy! That is unacceptable behavior for a soldier—no that is unacceptable behavior for a nation! You are older than me for goodness' sake—where's your pride? Where is your honor? Stop crying—you mustn't act like such a whiny cry baby every time some raises their voice to you! Didn't you hear me; I said stop crying! I have no idea what to do with you—you—you're hopeless! I swear—how'd you even survive this long? How did you even gain independence?" Germany ranted. He and Italy stood in his office; Italy tied to a chair, Germany standing before him, lecturing the Italian angrily. Italy was whimpering in the chair; he would have been full-on crying if he wasn't so scared to do so after Germany told him not to.
Germany had him fixed with a hard glare and he seemed to radiate annoyance. Italy really didn't want to be on his bad side at the moment. Instead he whimpered as quietly as he could and tried to not cry or scream. But Germany was not pleased by Italy keeping his mouth shut for once, however. "Answer me, Italy!" He barked. Italy flinched.
"I-I don't know," Italy stammered. "What do you mean you don't know? How do you not know how you've survived almost a millennium?" Germany asked, not annoyed or harshly, but quizzically. Italy shook his head and explained, "I don't remember much from when I was little. I remember my time with Grandpa Rome, and bits and pieces of the Renaissance, but before the Great War, it's almost a total blank." Italy explained sheepishly. But then he let out a laugh, causing Germany to give him an annoyed and slightly perturbed look. "I guess I'm just lucky is all!" Italy said with his usual brightness.
Germany sighed heavily. "Italy, that isn't exactly good luck not to remember—You know what? Never mind. Just get out and go make some pasta or something." He said with exasperation and closed eyes. A moment or so passed before Italy reluctantly asked, "Aren't you going to untie me, Germany?" Germany jolted out of his brief daze and with a flush of embarrassment, began to untie Italy. "Oh yeah, I forgot that part. Sorry." He apologized. Italy simply laughed. "Germany's so cute when he's absent-minded."
Later, as Italy was preparing dinner, Germany's elder brother, Prussia decided to pester Germany as he worked in his office.
"Come on; let's go out for a drink!" Prussia prodded. "No, I have work to do." German protested as he signed yet another document. "You are such a bore," Prussia whined, plopping down to sit on his brother's desk with a loud thump. Germany briefly scowled up at his elder brother before returning his attention to his paperwork. "How could Brandy and I raise such a wet blanket?" Prussia asked no one in particular. Germany ignored him as best he could. "The aristocrat must have had something to do with it." Prussia commented idly, though his voice held a tinge of annoyance. Germany, again, ignored him as best he could.
Prussia hoped off Germany's desk then and sauntered over to a large window behind Germany's desk that over looked the training field of the estate. When this room had been his office, he used to look out this very window and watch Brandenburg play with Germany when he was younger. But now this was Germany's office and Brandenburg was long gone and everything had changed. Prussia felt a tinge of sadness at that thought.
"We really should go and have a beer, West. That's what brothers do. They go drinking together and have fun and junk." Prussia suggested, this time less annoyingly and more genuinely. Germany turned his chair to look at Prussia with minor surprise, and then gave a hesitant nod of his head. "Ja, that…that would be nice." Germany agreed. "We'll go after I'm done with all my paperwork." He added, turning back to sit properly in his chair. Prussia whipped around and loudly whined, "Oh come on! I want to go now!"
Germany sighed and simply shook his head at his elder brother.
After dinner, the two brothers journeyed into town and made their way to the local pub. It was an old place—it had been around since Germany had only just appeared—and family owned. Every man in town seemed to flock there at night to unwind after a hard day's work and Prussia and Germany were no exception. They entered the pub and took two empty seats at the bar.
As they waited for the barkeep to come around, they talked.
"Your boss is a nut," Prussia commented. "He's working you ragged it seems." The Prussian whined. Really, this had been the first time in weeks that Germany has any free time to just sit back and relax a little.
Germany sighed and nodded his head, agreeing with his brother. "He was practically foaming at the mouth at our last meeting. He kept ranting on and on about proving how great I am to the rest of the world and cleansing Europe of the Jews—whatever that means. What good will deporting them do anyway?" Germany asked. Prussia shrugged. "The Jews have never had it easy. I remember when I was the Teutonic Knights how the other knights would talk about the Holy Wars in Israel; heavy stuff, West. This isn't the first time people didn't want the Jews around and it won't be the last, trust me." Prussia said. "But still," Germany insisted. "I don't get how getting rid of them will help me or anyone else in Europe. When we started sending them away, we lost countless tax-paying citizens, as well as doctors, lawyers, engineers, scientist. I don't see how it can do any good. And what of those children—" "West," Prussia cut him off. "You shouldn't talk about that sort of thing in public," He said, gesturing with his head to a couple men down the bar giving them quizzical looks. "It's dangerous to speak out against anything the government does nowadays." Prussia stated. Germany gave his brother a confused look, but nonetheless nodded his head and shut his mouth on the topic.
When they were served their beers, Germany opened a new topic of discussion.
"Brother, do you remember your childhood?" Germany asked. Prussia raised an eyebrow at Germany, but then simply shrugged and replied, "Some things better than others, but for the most part, yes. I remember my Vater, Germania, and my Mutti, Ancient Baltia—I also remember back when Hungary and I were just kids! Did you know that she used to think penises grew—" "Brother!" Germany interrupted Prussia enthusiastic story-telling with a deep-red blush. Prussia laughed at him, of course. "You are too chaste, West!" He said in-between cackles. Germany scowled at him as he sipped his beer. "What made you ask anyway?" Prussia asked as his laughter died down and he sipped his own beer.
Germany was quite for a few moments before stating his concerns regarding what Italy told him earlier. "After I dragged Italy back after he ran away from training, I asked him how he has survived as long as he has with zero fighting capabilities or common sense. He said he didn't know because couldn't remember his life very clearly prior to the Great War. Is that normal? Do other nations not remember their lives from before becoming independent?" He asked worriedly. Prussia looked disturbed by this for several moments as he mulled it over. "None that I can think of," Prussia replied after a long silence. "I mean, you and I both remember our lives clearly, right?" He asked. Germany nodded. "That's why I found it so odd when he said that," Germany said. "I mean I don't remember everything from when I was little, but I at least remember the wars and training and unusual episodes in my day-to-day life." He added.
"It couldn't be because he's so old," Prussia suggested. "He's not that much younger than me. Like many of the countries here in Europe, Italy and I were both born in the beginning of the first millennium, but I don't think any of them have experienced the same memory loss as Italy." Prussia continued. The air around the brother's became solemn for a moment or so before Prussia barked an obnoxious laugh and suggested, "Maybe all the pasta he eats has replaced parts of his brain and that's why he can't remember!" He laughed. "Brother, that's cruel." Germany chastised, though he had a hard time fighting down a smile at the joke.
"Barkeep! Two more beers, please!" Prussia called.
"Comin' up!" The barkeep shouted over the loud hum of the pub.
When the German brothers returned home to the estate that night, everyone was already in bed. They drunkenly parted ways at the top of the stair case as Germany headed to his bedroom—where Italy was probably waiting for him—while Prussia made his way to his own room down the hall…but not before making a pit stop at Hungary's room.
"Hungary, Hungary, wake up." Prussia whispered harshly, shaking Hungary's sleeping form just a little too roughly. "Hmm, P-Prussia…What are you doing?" She muttered sleepily as her eye cracked open and she scowled up at him. "West and I just got back from the pub," He slurred. "I noticed," She grumbled, sitting up slowly. She wrinkled her nose at the stench of alcohol coating Prussia' breath. "What the hell do you want, though?" She asked quizzically. "We talked about Italy and how he doesn't remember anything from his past," Prussia explained with a slur here and there. God, Hungary wanted to hit him. "So? We both know why." She said. "Yeah," Prussia agreed. "But West doesn't; I think we should tell him." Prussia said.
Hungary smacked him on the back of his head. "We can't do that!" She nearly shouted; it instead came out as a harsh whisper. "Ow! Why not?" Prussia griped as he tried to sooth his injured scalp. "Because then he'll tell Italy and we can't let Italy remember or even know what happened!" Hungary answered with a growl. "Why? What's the worst that could happen?" Prussia slurred. "It could happen all over again! Italy could do it all again if he remembered!" Hungary growled. Her green eyes flashed with anger. She took a deep breath through her nose and her shoulders sagged. "It could all happen again…" Hungary repeated, a pained look coming into her eyes, sadness corrupting her tone of voice. Prussia saw this and developed the same look on his own face.
A solemn silence settled over both nations.
"We can't ever let him remember all that happened…not again." Hungary stated, breaking the silence. "Not after last time." She added with a grim look. Prussia nodded. "Sorry about that by the way." He apologized with a slur. Hungary sighed and shook her head. "Forget about it; Italy sure did." She responded with a breathless, humorless laugh as she layed back down. Prussia copied her motions to lie beside her on the bed.
"What the hell do you think your doing?" Hungary growled. "Sleeping." Prussia slurred drowsily as his eyes closed. "Not in my bed, you aren't!" Hungary snapped, kicking Prussia off her bed, sending him to the cold, hard, wooden floor. "Ow! Bitch, what was that for?" Prussia shouted from the floor, not bothering to get up. "You are not sleeping in my bed, Prussia." Hungary said firmly, rolling over in bed, away from Prussia. "Oh come on! My bedroom's all the way down the hall!" Prussia whined, still refusing to get up off the floor unless it was to crawl back into Hungary's nice, big, warm bed. "No way! You can sleep on the floor for all I care!" Hungary said, rejecting his whines and pleas. Prussia groaned and curled into a ball on the floor. "Fine then!" He slurred angrily, shutting his eyes tightly. "I'll just sleep here." He said.
Several moments of silence passed before Hungary got up with a growl of frustration, grabbed an extra blanket from her closet and a pillow off her bed, and tossed them to Prussia on the floor. "I'm not taking care of you if you get sick from sleeping on the cold floor, asshole!" She snapped as she crawled back into bed. "Thanks for the blanket, tranny!" Prussia slurred from the floor quietly. "You're welcome, you ass." Hungary said with a yawn. They both drifted off to sleep minutes later.
A/N: So I have decided to go back through each chapter of this story and edit it slightly. Nothing drastic, just fixing some typos and fixing timeline or historical errors. Sorry if any of those errors ruined the experience of reading this story for you.