The England Experiment

PostDramaticStressDisorder

"Take me out of here." Ludwig demanded, gesturing towards  the door. Oliver scurried forwards as Arthur gave another moan and stood up a little.
"Come on, Arthur, stand up and we can get out of here."

Arthur seemed to rise at this, and lurched forwards, but Ludwig grabbed him as he began to fall. Arthur's green eyes looked back, but they still didn't seem to see him.

"Ludwig, they're going to catch us, leave please, you can run, but I have to stay-"

Ludwig tried desperately to get through to him. "No, the SS aren't here, you aren't in the camp again Arthur, no one is going to hurt you."

Arthur gaped at him.

"Have you gone mad, Belschmitt? I know you're not part of the SS, but that doesn't mean that they don't exist. Now you have to get, out-" Arthur's knees buckled under him again, and he coughed. Ludwig hardened his heart as he caught the Brit.

"You're right, I'm sorry. But I'm not leaving you here. So walk until I've gotten you out of the base."

Arthur opened his mouth to protest, but closed it again, biting down on his lip as he stood up. God, Ludwig thought, as they walked from the room and along the corridor. He's acting exactly like he did before.

They were almost at the mirror when Arthur began to slow, stumbling.

"Okay," said Ludwig, "I can carry you from here, but brace yourself." He slipped an arm under Arthur's and across his cut back to hold him up. Arthur let out a scream, but quickly bit it back.

They stepped through the mirror, and began to make it back to Ludwig's house; they were just out of the conference building when Arthur pulled on Ludwig's arm with his free hand.

"L...Ludwig, can we.. s-stop here."

Oliver wasn't there anymore, but Ludwig didn't need him telling the German about Arthur to know what that meant.

He had to keep Arthur awake at all costs. If he went unconscious, it could get critical quickly.

"No, we have to keep moving, we're almost there."

"T-there?" Arthur spoke softly, mumbling.

"Yes, at the house. There, Roderich, Gilbert, Feliciano and Francis will help us."

Arthur was quiet for a moment and Ludwig was about to shake him in case he had slipped away, but he let out a laugh that sounded like a cough.

"Feliciano... he's that b-b... bloody Ita-Italian isn't he?" Ludwig smiled a little.

"Yeah, he's Italy. And the others? Do you remember?"

Arthur paused, but talked, breathy.

"Gilbert is the German... no... that's- that- that's you..."
Ludwig laughed a little as their footsteps crunched on the gravel. Arthur's words were slurred, but Ludwig couldn't help laughing at the commentary.
"Gil-Gilbert is the white fucker, ri-right? Yeah... he's pale..." Arthur then let out a loud gasp. "Prussia!" 

"Yep." Said Ludwig. "And Roderich?"

"Roderick..." Arthur made a tsk sound.  "He's that Austrian priss, the one who does... the-the... music."

"Yes, Austria. He plays many instruments." Arthur then mumbled somthing under his breath. "What?" Ludwig asked, suddenly remembering his job to keep Arthur awake. But Arthur just yelled,

"Why would that Nazi help us?"

Ludwig knew Arthur wouldn't believe the truth, that the war was long over, so he just replied,