(A/N) I wrote a lot of charapters last week :3)
Prussia looked out the window of the car as they drove through the far east streets of Berlin, his Berlin. The traces of the war could be still be seen around the rebuilt buildings. They drove past a few more that still lay in rubble on the ground. He closed his eyes, last time he'd seen those buildings, they'd been littered with the mangled corpses of soldiers, and women, and children. He opened his eyes again, keeping his eyes fixed outside. He watched as women washed clothes outside in buckets. No one smiled. They kept their heads down. He watched them back away as soldiers patrolled the streets. Soldier's he'd trained himself. He sighed deeply as they passed the ruins of the church. His favorite building reduced to nothing but dust and stone. They turned onto another street, and his eyes met those of a beautiful young woman. Her eyes were sad, begging him, a Soviet soldier she didn't know, 'why'? He turned away, unable to look into her face.
"Sometimes, coming home is the hardest, da?" Russia spoke softly, sitting beside him in the car.
Gil turned to look at him. He was looking down, not out of the window. There was a sorrow in Ivan's voice he hadn't heard before. He'd only ever heard that kind of pain from a country, an old country, someone who'd seen too much. He nodded to Russia.
"Ja." He sighed deeply again. He almost felt angry with himself for feeling pity for Russia. He was the one who had destroyed his home, and now he dared to point out how much it hurt? But, he couldn't ignore the pain in Russia's voice. He turned to look out the window again. They passed the old brick building, still standing, where he'd dragged his brother's unconscious body as bombs fell all around them. He didn't know how long they'd sat there, leaning against the stone, as he tried to stop the blood gushing from Ludwig's side with complete neglect for his own injuries. He turned away again. He'd lived through more wars than most of the other countries, even the older ones, but that war was something different. The world had gone mad, again. It wasn't a war. It was hell.
He glanced out the window again, the hotel they were staying at coming into view. It was less than two miles from the center of the city. He saw one of his generals waiting for them at the once-grand front door.
The car came to a slow halt at the front of the building, with his side of the car facing the door. He sighed once more, opening his door.
"General." Prussia nodded to the human as he stepped out of the car.
The general stood straight and saluted him. He saluted back.
"How are the men?" Prussia asked, smiling internally to hear the militaristic tone back in his voice.
"They are well, comrade."
That term he wasn't sure about yet. He nodded once to the general, turning to watch Russia step out of the car. The giant country walked up to the general and they exchanged another salute.
"Is the project finished?" Russia asked calmly.
What project? They hadn't told him about any project. He resisted the urge to ask, but he didn't like being uninformed about things, especially when they related to his soldiers.
"Da." The general nodded.
A small dark-haired boy walked out of the hotel, wearing the uniform of an attendant. He approached the general almost timidly.
Prussia smiled a little, the three of them together were an intimidating sight. It felt good to feel powerful again.
The boy looked up at the general, "Your rooms are all ready, sirs." The boy nodded respectfully to them all.
