Memory Loss [3] [Hetalia: Germany x Reader]

"…wake up," a nagging voice persisted to butt into your dreams. You rubbed your eyes and sat up slowly, in a comfortable plush bed with fluffy pillows. It seemed like you were in a hospital ward, with duplicates of the bed you were in neat rows all around you. You looked at whoever was talking.

"[Name], aru," Wang Yao said slowly, smiling slightly. "Dui bu qi. I must apologize for what my accomplices have done to you." He stood up and adjusted the IV that was plugged into your arm, as it dripped slowly into your veins. You gritted your teeth and felt the wound on the back of your head.

"My friend, you already have met Ivan," Wang sighed, adjusting his glorious silk robes slightly. "Unfortunately, he hit you with that awful pipe of his. It left a small gash on the back of your head, but not to worry! I've cleaned it up with ancient Chinese herbal medicines which are sure to cure you, aru!" He seemed awfully proud of himself for doing such a thing.

"Shut up," you snapped. "It's not like you helped with anything else. I'm grateful you took the time to heal me, but your so-called 'friends' have blackmailed me. Now, if you'll excuse me—"

"[Name], do not get up," Wang commanded, brows furrowing. "The IV is still in your hand!"

"That, I can deal with." And upon your own words, you tore the IV out of your hand and held a hand to it numbly. You jumped out of the bed in the clothes you were originally dressed in as Wang shouted at you to stop and come back, but as if you would listen. You ran out the nearest exit, through mazelike hallways and corridors. You could've sworn you'd gone down five flights of stairs already, but there were no windows to tell how high you were.

You knew Ludwig was in grave danger. As the guilt crashed down on your shoulders again, you crumpled against the wall, your head throbbing. You swore; maybe it was an aftereffect from the meds that Wang gave you. You slid down to a sitting position, holding your head painfully.

"Ugh…"

--

You were sitting on your couch at home, curled up into the crook of someone's arm. You nuzzled further into their warmth, shivering as a howling wind battered the living room's spacious window. The guy said something quietly, and you nodded happily as you smiled.

"…I was wondering, [Name]."

"About what?" You realized you said the person's name after you asked the question, but it seemed so fuzzy you couldn't tell what the name was.

"I wanted to ask…" He pulls out a small black box, encased in a thin layer of velvet. Your heart started pounding rapidly as your breath caught, but just then, a black wave swept over your eyes as if someone had put a blanket over your head. You stumbled around in the darkness, until your foot reached an empty space and you began to fall.
--

Stupid vision comes in at this point, just when you begin to fall down the concrete stairs. You could hear footsteps coming up the other flight just as you rolled a somersault down the last step, lying there paralyzed from shock. The footsteps got closer, and you wanted to get up instantly, but that pain in your back prevented you from doing so; at the last minute, you sat up and was about to get up when the person blocked your way.

"Mon amour, who is this little girl?" Francis Bonnefoy cooed, offering you a gloved hand. "When Ivan, Alfred and Wang Yao said that there was an enemy on the loose in the building, I was afraid it was going to be that dreadful German! But you?"

You smacked away his hand, and snarled, "Don't talk about Germany like that!"

"Dear, dear," he went on, taken aback by your behavior. "Mon amour, I won't hurt you." You nearly trusted his smooth talk, but then shook your head "no" and stood up, limping on your side slightly. You bit on your lip in pain, but tried to hide the fact you were actually hurt.

"How can I believe," you growled, "that you would help me? I've been tricked enough by your dirty little friends already, and you think that I'll believe you after all that crap happens to me? I don't think so!" You made the stupid move of lunging towards him with your free hand outstretched, but collapsed at the last moment with a cry, your wounds finally getting to you. Francis caught you in both his arms and sighed, "Cheri, it's alright… Unlike my 'dirty little friends,' Yao and I don't think the Allied are that close together anymore."

You opened your eyes, surprised. You asked, "Why?"

"The Cold War," he responded, letting you lean on his shoulder. You hated relying on him, but you had to. You waited for Francis to continue and explain, but he didn't; his face had darkened with a fateful expression, and he just said, "Come with me. I'll give an all-clear to the rest of them, and we can come to my office and chat."

--

You watched intently as Francis circled some cities and areas in a bold, red permanent marker. You recoiled from the fumes of the marker, but your eyes widened as you saw the countries outlined.

"See, these are the Cold War hotspots," Francis chided. "You should know the background of this turmoil, non?"

You cocked your head slightly, remembering a shadow of your past. "I sorta remember… America and Russia were pretty much in a race to see who could create the most powerful nuclear arms?"

Francis nodded approvingly at your knowledge. "Good, good! So you do know a little bit." He pointed to the rest of the countries that were circled or bolded in red.

"See, as America and Russia continued their ridiculous race," Francis said, "other countries get sucked into it, providing the ugly result of the Iron Curtain. Certain people think that they are better than others and cut themselves off."

"Ah…"

"Mon amour, I can tell you are leaning romantically on Germany," Francis said in a singsong voice. "Ah, young love! You see, Germany needs you at this point. He's practically alone, nearly snapped in half because of the turmoil between him and his brother!"

You bristled at Francis' words, but another pinpoint in your memory came back to you. "Prussia and Germany are brothers, and in the Cold War, they became West and East Germany—a house divided, a family separated."

"Correct. But I suggest," Francis said, eyes half lidded, "that you go back to him immediately. He wants you, he needs you. Go back—shoo, go now."

You crossed your arms and stood up impatiently. "I'd rather you not say it like that, Francis, but before I go, I'm going to have to request one more favor from you."

One of his eyebrows went up. "Oui?"

"I need you to tell me what this flashback means…"