two halves make a whole

by ThinkingRobot

Summary:

Germany celebrates his birthday and later in the year, a second follows.

Very loosely connected to the other works in the series.

Notes:

I asked myself for the entire duration that I was writing this if I really wanted to write and post it. My personal relationship with Germany is a rather complicated one and I know that that is similar for many other Germans as well. Germany has one of the worst histories out of all the world's nations and we do not always achieve to properly account for the past. Some of my readers might know that the right is rising in many countries at the moment; Germany is no exception there and that troubles me deeply.

Furthermore, this fandom has its bad sides and it is not always clear to me if I belong to the bad side or not. I generally try to portray all historical and current political events with respect. Since this is a very lighthearted piece, I find myself at the impasse that I do not reach the level of respect that I like to portray but I also know that if I do portray that respect as I want, this piece would be much less lighthearted than it is currently.

This work is not supposed to be an excuse for Germany's history and current political struggles, the same goes for all the countries mentioned here. It was written because while I struggle to truly love my country, it is still dear to me and I would like to see it thrive (albeit under a more leftist government than the current one). If any of what I've said here or mentioned in the tags makes you uncomfortable, I'd kindly ask you to leave this work and read something that you will enjoy more.

 

On another note, this will get a second part with GDR's birthday (7th Oct.), which will probably send me into a second moral argument with myself, but that's for future me to worry about.

Also, in case you missed the tag: this is written in the Second Person.

Chapter 1: first half - Bundesrepublik Deutschland

Your day starts at 05:00 on the dot. You wake up, have breakfast, dress and get to work. It’s all normal, all usual. The Reichstag is fuller than you expect especially since the scheduled topics normally do not attract such interest. You shrug. It is hardly the first time that you are surprised by the public’s interest in politics that you often find inane.

“Germany! Hello!”, someone greets you from behind. You turn around and see Bremen waving at you.

“Good morning,” you greet back, somewhat confused by the other’s excitement but before you can ask what has gotten the man in such a good mood, he already moves on toward Brandenburg’s office. You stare down the now empty hallway before you continue to your own office. You can ask Bremen later why he acted so odd.

 

When you look out of your office window at about 09:06 is to see the US on the lawn. You do a double take, truly not expecting her to be in your territory, no less by your main government building. She is talking to someone but you cannot see who it is; your window is too high.

Did you miss something? There are so many people in the building, one of your calmest states is glowing with excitement and now America is visiting you. It can’t all be a coincidence but looking over your schedule reveals nothing. There is nothing special about the day that jumps at you, no event planned. Your government isn’t even voting on a new law.

You leave your office behind and hurry down the hallways and floors until you reach the exit. America will surely explain to you what is going on that you have missed. But when you round the building to the part beneath your window, no one is there.

You wonder if you just imagined her standing there, beneath your window talking to nobody. Have you slept enough? Did you forget to eat or drink? Unwilling to just let her appearance make you feel insecure, you search the entire outside area. There are many people outside, too, but no one who matches the exact flag pattern that adorns her skin.

When you look at your wrist watch a bit later, almost half an hour has passed. You sigh and make your way back inside. You already wasted a lot of time chasing a phantom and you refuse to waste even more. Your schedule isn’t as tight as on most other days, but you cannot afford to fall behind.

 

At exactly 12:59, you leave your office again. It is your normal break time but the minute bothers you either way. Your steps aren’t steady as you try to balance four thick folders with three more loose papers – a draft of a new law for the HGV toll that had been in the works for about half a year already, and one minor interpellation from the AfD and Die Linke respectively. You can already see the discussions in your mind’s inner eye and sigh. When you listen closely, you can hear the speech of one of the members of parliament. It’s indistinct beside the overall sound of a voice and you’re not entirely sure what the topic even is. You hope they won’t fight but it’s a sort of useless wish.

The door on your left to Berlin’s office opens and he exits. He spies you immediately, eyes twinkling with amusement.

“Do you mind?”, you say, irritated and badly hiding it. Berlin sobers a little but you know that he does not take your words personally.

“Should I take some of that?”, he offers. Spite makes you almost decline before you realise how ridiculous you must look, balancing too many overflowing folders at once.

You nod in lieu of a verbal answer and breathe out relieved when Berlin lifts the loose documents as well as two of the folders you have tried balancing against your chest. Your back makes a soft pop when you straighten properly.

“Germany?”, Berlin asks just as you are about to turn away. You notice the way your name sounds clipped, as though Berlin is worried about you and trying to play it down.

You scrunch your nose but turn around. “Yes?”

Berlin frowns, which does not make you any less wary. “Are you alright?”

“Peachy.” You turn around, smiling a tiny bit when you hear Berlin huff. He stays quiet the rest of the way, following you like an obedient dog. He serves you just as he has served your ancestors. You don’t like the thought and shake your head, trudging forward and into an elevator. Berlin presses the button for the basement with his elbow, looking about as uncomfortable with the weight as you felt before.

“What even is all of this?” He gestures vaguely towards the folders that you are still holding against you. It would probably have been an easier task if his hands were free to move around. As it is, he just kind of nods his head and waves the three loose papers he has clutched between his pinkie and ring finger around in an odd sort of circle. His mannerisms are endearing to you and your gloom breaks a bit. Yes, perhaps it was a good idea to finally take your break outside your office.

Despite this, you cannot help but joke in a deadpan voice, “taxes.”

Berlin’s eyes bulge out before the response registers as non-serious, then he rolls his eyes – up and down. You always interpreted that saying as a literal roll of the eyes, which you later found out was not really possible since vision transitions from one point of focus to the next, so eyes manage more of a triangle than an actual circle. And, anyway rolling your eyes is meant more metaphorically, which you find somewhat idiotic. Although, you guess, nodding your eyes while more accurate sounded rather odd.

You digress. “I was transcribing old court cases to digitalise them.”

Berlin’s reaction comes delayed this time, probably because he assumes you are making another joke. Then, he just looks somewhat confused. “Old court cases? What are you doing that for?”

“Fun.”

“Fun?!” Berlin starts to sound almost scandalised, you are grinning fully by now.

“Yes, fun.” The elevator dings to announce your arrival and you leave as soon as the doors start sliding open. Berlin stumbles out behind you, stunned by your answer to such a degree that he forgets how to properly sort his limbs for a good minute.

“Did you really find these cases in the archive? I thought we stored more valuable stuff down here.”

Your grin turns mischievous. “We do.”

“What?”

“I store all the cases I haven’t transcribed at home and once I’m done, I dispose of them here.”

“Germany.” Berlin’s voice cracks into a laugh, which sort of breaks the immersion that he is trying to admonish you. You don’t mind him as you browse the shelf for some dusty space where you can deposit the folders. You grew up with Berlin, he was more of a constant in your life than your actual family, most of whom you rarely saw anyway, so you know just how much he loves jokes and playing tricks on others. And, anyway, you are the one who has to sort through the mess down here half the time anyway. He knows this just as well as you.

You make a soft “a-ha!” once you find a suitable shelf-space and drop your folders down. The dust flies up around them before it slowly settles back on the ground (and your sleeves). Berlin moves to follow your example but you stop him with a hand on his upper arm. He looks at you confused, brows pinching together in a soft imitation of your predecessor’s scorn. “Those are detailing our national debt,” you half-explain before you slip the loose papers from Berlin’s hand and go back to the elevator again.

“You’re ridiculous,” Berlin mutters when you are both in the elevator and on your way up. He is glaring at you but he looks soft and friendly. Kind. You smile at him and a second later his demeanour breaks and he is smiling too.

 

It is 14:03 and your break is already over. You’re not at your desk yet, though. This is unusual. Berlin has somehow managed to trap you in friendly conversation which you realise is happening more and more often nowadays and when you finally noticed – about four minutes and twenty-three seconds ago – you almost jumped out of your seat. Berlin had laughed and you had frowned. Now, you are walking briskly to your office. Not running, because you have been informed a few years back that it looks hilarious with your suit and you disliked the comment. Also, it helps you now, since you manage to halt a few seconds before you would have crashed into Hesse. You’re confused and so you do little more than stare at her until you eventually find your voice.

“Hesse? What are you doing here?”

She snorts. “Big day, Germany, as you should know.” She walks past you before you can answer, raising her hand in a backwards wave without looking at you.

As you should know. But that’s the thing, you think, you don’t know.

 

Afterward, your work is not interrupted any more than usual, Brandenburg comes in to inform you of the outcome of the latest discussion in the parliament at one point but other than that, it is just you and your computer slaving away. The days are getting longer now and it is still bright outside when you lift your head from another minor interpellation you read over to check the clock hanging next to the door of your office. It is 17:17 and you decide to leave it at that. You have a small headache and for all of your federal states’ sake you should stop and enjoy your Feierabend. It’s nearly the weekend, after all.

The building is eerily quiet especially for a Thursday, most of the overhead lamps have already been turned off. Since the sun is still shining, it does not change the lighting much but it’s still odd. You check Berlin’s office but no one answers your knocks and when you look inside, it is empty.

All your questions about the weirdness of the day, of seeing people here when they should not be here, of everyone being much cheerier than you are used to, drop the instant you leave the Reichstag. The sun is shining onto the grass pasture, where all of your states as well as most of your allies have gathered and start sing-screeching an off-key German birthday song. You lift your hand to cover your eyes from the sun, feeling your cheeks heat up not only from the day’s remaining warmth. Above them is a large banner that reads “Happy 75^th anniversary and 100^th birthday, BRD!” in German.

You walk down to greet them, already seeing most of the Western European countries waving at you. America reaches you first and pulls you into a tight hug. Considering that you are about as tall as her chest, you feel slightly uncomfortable and worm your way out of the embrace with a muttered excuse that you gotta meet everyone else too. She seems unbothered as she squeezes your arm one last time. Your neighbouring countries are on you next.

Belgium starts talking a mile a minute about the preparations and the surprise and were you surprised, Germany, do you like it? You don’t try to keep up with her, just nod along as you receive a pat on the back from Luxembourg, Czechia and Poland respectively. Netherlands smiles at you while he shakes your hand but vanishes into the crowd not long after. Denmark gives you a balloon that he promptly pops above your head so that confetti rains onto you. You shake most of it out of your hair and glare weakly at him. France pulls you into a hug that is much more comfortable since you are similar heights. Then, he steps back and hands you a wrapped present.

You stare at him dumbfounded until France shakes the present at you with a laugh. “It’s not the first time, I’ve made you a present, idiot. Take it.”

As you gingerly take the present, Austria and Switzerland join you and France. They each hold a present as well.

“You...,” you say without truly knowing how to even end the sentence. You look between the three of them, feeling embarrassed. “This was not necessary,” you end after a short awkward pause.

“Don’t be like that, Germany!”, Austria protests.

Switzerland nods. “All of us are here on our own free will, so stop worrying,” he adds softly, smiling when you take the present from each of their hands as well.

“Open them!” France encourages you with a pat on your shoulder.

Shaken from your stupor, you rip the wrapper on the one France gave you. It’s a folder, almost as big as the ones you have brought down to the archives with Berlin. You look up in surprise. “What’s this?” You shake the folder a little, careful that nothing falls from it in case France has not put as much care into punching holes in every piece of paper as you normally do.

“Well,” France stretches the word, dramatic as ever. “You once asked me about my history and your ancestors.”

“So, this is all about that?”

“Pretty much. Got some primary sources in there from old treaties and contracts and whatnot. The rest are personal notes and some of my best historians' essays. Most of it is in French though.”

You look at France, grinning and a wild sparkle in your eyes. “That’s fantastic! Thank you!”

France laughs and raises his hands in a calming gesture. “You’re welcome, Allemagne.”

Switzerland gives you a push when you fail to continue unpacking your gifts. Austria takes France’s present from your arm, so you have more freedom of movement.

You unwrap Austria’s next. It’s a photo album, mainly of you and your allies, although you glimpse some older ones of your childhood and your predecessors at the end. “I know it’s hardly as elaborate as France’s, but–“

You interrupt Austria by throwing your arms around him. “Shut up, it’s wonderful.”

Austria returns your embrace. You separate when France coughs. “C’mon, Germany, your other guests are getting restless. They must think that we’re hogging your time.”

“Nonsense, France, they can wait.” Despite your words you step away from Austria and open Switzerland’s package.

It’s a cheese wheel. You let out a barking laugh.

“You need some better cheese,” Switzerland deadpans.

You shake your head but cannot stop smiling. “Thank you, you three. This means a lot.”

“Here,” Austria tugs you away from the dense crowd, “I’ll help you bring the stuff away.”

 

When you and Austria return from your car about ten minutes later, Turkey has started a dance and roped about half your guests into it. Austria laughs when he sees it and pushes you into the middle of the dance, where Turkey hooks her arm around yours and makes you dance with the rest of them.

Your cheeks are hurting from laughter when the song and dance ends.

You greet the South Americans that have come, joke with some of the Eastern Europeans, dance some more with a bunch of NATO members and then, finally converse with your states. Hesse is just recounting your meeting with her earlier today when you join them.

“Did you actually forget what day it is?”, Thuringia asks you.

You rub your neck and laugh a little. “Yes, I did. I only realised when I came up and saw the banner.”

“My god, Germany, you gotta get away from that work of yours!” Rhineland-Palatinate slaps you on the back and you swat at his hand.

“At least he didn’t pull an all-nighter today of all days,” Mecklenburg-Western Pomerania interjects with a wink in your direction.

Saarland guffaws. “Could you imagine? All of us waiting outside and he’s rotting in his little office.”

“My office isn’t that small,” you protest, but it’s futile, they’ve already broken out in a fit of giggles. “Not even on my birthday I’m saved from your ridicule,” you complain while holding back your own laughter.

“This is for your own good,” North Rhine-Westphalia jokes, “can’t have your ego being too big, after all.”

“Unbelievable. All of you.”

“Sorry, boss,” Bavaria drawls, amusement burns in his eyes, “it’s just too fun.”

You are about to retort when you see your two childhood friends waving at you. “’scuse me.”

Your states aren’t bothered when you push through them to get to your friends. Faintly you hear that Berlin now starts to tell them about your little hobby of transcribing court cases, and the laughter that follows.

When you are in arm’s distance, Italy pulls you in and kisses your cheek as she greets you. Japan slings an arm around you both.

“Rome couldn’t come on such short notice sadly. You should have told us about this party!” Italy has to yell over the music that someone has turned louder now that Turkey has introduced the idea of dancing to the celebration.

You shake your head minutely. “I didn’t know about it either.”

Japan chuckles and you flinch away from the loud sound directly by your ear. “I was already asking myself why you wrote so impersonally. But it was Berlin sending the invites, right?”

“Probably,” you answer with a shrug, “I’m not even entirely sure who put this all together.”

 

Later, when all have said their congratulations and the guests don’t feel the need to hover around you anymore, you step to the side, where someone has hastily put together a large buffet. You watch with a small smile as your friends and associates interact. The music has been turned down again, although you can still see many people dancing on the grass. You sigh quietly as you realise that the pasture will most likely get damaged and you'll have to pay for it.

Oh well.

Berlin sidles up to you. You wait for him to start the conversation. “I know you don’t like surprises,” he shuffles on the spot and offers an apologetic smile. Then, he averts his eyes from you and watches the rest of the party as well. “But I hope you can forgive me for this.”

“Thank you, Berlin,” you say softly, emotion finally catching up with you and making your voice weaker than you intended, “this was a nice surprise.”

Your capital beams at you. “Well, you deserve it,” he continues with renewed enthusiasm, “happy birthday.”

You incline your head in thanks. Berlin stays next to you for a while longer and keeps you company, before he grabs a lye pretzel, rejoins the crowd and strikes up a conversation with London and Hamburg.

Your solitude is interrupted not long after, when America sees you again and pulls you into the crowd. She leaves you with no other choice than to enjoy your evening.

The wind carries a whisper that you and your guests miss. Happy birthday, West.

Notes:

If I have mentioned anything that is offensively wrong or there is a spelling/grammar mistake, feel free to tell me.

Nowadays, the Reichstag only refers to the government building. The part of the German government that meets in the building is called the Bundestag.

There's actually a new HGV toll that'll take effect on 1st June of this year! Sadly, there are no parliamentary sessions this week, which makes some details of this work inaccurate, but I cannot be bothered to change them.

Out of all of the established parties in Germany (of which there are six) the AfD (Alternative für Deutschland, literally Alternative for Germany) is the most right-wing and Die Linke (literally The Left) the most left-wing.

Feierabend is a delightful German word that refers to the end of a workday. It's made up of two words. Feier, meaning something like celebration, and Abend, meaning evening. I had to include it, it's so adorable

It is completely irrelevant what song they are singing when Germany leaves the building but I imagine it to be "Wie schön, dass du geboren bist." (how wonderful that you were born), because I imagine it would sound hilarious. You can think of every other German birthday song, though, as they'd probably all sound funny.

Germany has nine limitrophes, all mentioned here, and sixteen federal states, of which I mentioned eleven.

Useless headcanon that I might not even use in future works: up to the 19th century, countries typically greeted each other with the other's name in their native tongue (e.g. France would call Britain "Grand Bretagne" even if they talk in English). The tradition fell out of fashion and now it's only something that nations do with people they are close to or in special moments.

In my AU, West and East Germany fused on Oct. 3rd and turned into modern-day Germany. That means that while Germany resembles the FRG more closely and carries his name, he is technically both of them and neither the GDR nor the original FRG are truly alive anymore. Pretty much no one knows this in the universe, they all assume that East died and West just took the mantle of Germany as himself.

Side notes done? Good, I hope you enjoyed! I'll always be happy about kudos and comments!!

I haven't uploaded something in so long that I am genuinely nervous about it lmao

And of course, happy birthday Germany!

Chapter 2: second half - Deutsche Demokratische Republik

7 th October, 1989

“East Germany—”

She whirled around, a fury marring her features that seemed to twist her face into an ugly mask of what she usually looked like. “That is not my name.”

Saxony flinched back. When he started up again, his voice was small and unsure. “German Democratic—”

“For Christ’s sake! Just call me Germany, yes?”

“Right, yes, Germany, could I expend your time for a moment?” Saxony pushed his shoulders back, as though that was enough to grant him the strength to look into her eyes.

Germany’s eyes narrowed at the state, her arms crossing across her chest as she stared him down. “Fine, but make it short, I already have enough to do today.”

Saxony nodded quickly, the short blonde locks of his hair bobbing up and down with the exaggerated motion. “It’s just,” he started, his mouth working around the words as though they were giving him trouble, “Berlin called. He might not make it to the parade. And you are both expected to be on the balcony when Gorbachev holds his speech. Also, the altercations in Dresden are getting worse again.”

She dismissed the last comment. These damned fights at the main station of Saxony’s state capital had been going on for more than a quarter century and she really did not have the time at the moment. “Berlin might not make it,” Germany repeated, her voice strained as she stared intensely at the man in front of her. Saxony swallowed, the noise echoing through the hallway of the building. “And why is that?”

In the last few years, it had been getting harder and harder to get a hold on Berlin. Of course, it was not his fault that the allies had decided to split his city in half and he therefore had to report to two countries at any given time (Germany was ignoring here, obviously, that calling her cousin a country was rather inaccurate in her eyes—he certainly wasn’t a representation for their people).

“I’m sorry, Germany,” the man said, “I have not been told what his reason may be.”

She groaned. “What, so you weren’t even the one to talk to him?”

He shook his head, a regretful expression replacing the pitiful one he had worn before. “No. The call went to your secretary but not further. She said it was not a long conversation, but I’m sure she has a transcript, if you want me to bring you the—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Germany replied abruptly. Before Saxony had a chance to move or even make another sound, she had stepped around him and gone in the direction of her secretary’s office. Whatever reason Berlin had given—if he had given any that is—for this failure, she’d smooth it out. She was good at that.

The way she had to walk was rather short, and her knock was immediately answered by a soft-spoken voice. Without much preamble, Germany pushed the door open and entered. “Berlin called?” she asked before Alina had a chance to speak up and disrupt her focus.

“He did, ma’am,” Alina nodded. There was a warm smile on her lips that usually helped to soften Germany’s more persistent bad moods. However, that hadn’t been true for the last few weeks and it wasn’t true for today either.

“What did he say?”

“Not much, ma’am. He said that things are hectic and that it might get later than he had expected. Berlin sounded stressed, as though he was in a rush.”

Germany’s eyes narrowed and she held out her hand, palm up, as a silent order for Alina to give her the phone. After a moment’s worth of hesitation, Alina followed the command and handed Germany the receiver. She dialled the number before giving a precise nod in the country’s direction.

“You are trying to reach a person in the Western bloc,” a man answered. His voice was strict, most likely military or at least former military. Of course, switchboard operators had become quite the rarity, though there was still a need with the ongoing conflict between Soviet and America. Usually, you could simply call whoever you wanted to talk to, even if someone in her territory wanted to talk to someone from her cousin’s.

Trust, but verify , she supposed. “I am,” Germany agreed without much preamble. Her voice was more than known through her nation, and she did not doubt that the operator had recognised the number. If he hadn’t... Well, there were always ways to deal with such neglect of one’s duties.

There was a short, tense silence, before the man made a noise of understanding and then the clack of the phone line being changed.

Once more, Germany was forced to wait a few moments, then a very familiar voice answered. “Alina? How can I—”

“Not Alina.”

A beat, then a sigh. “GDR,” he identified her with something that sounded like resignation to her. “Look, it is not—”

“I don’t want to hear it. Will you make it in time?” Germany interrupted again, her voice holding that harshness that she had never truly liked about herself. “Tell me the truth,” she added before giving Berlin the chance to give a proper answer.

Berlin sighed. There was some ruffling in the background, a sound like something had fallen to the floor and then a murmured swear from the man at the phone. “I will,” he responded with a conviction that had Germany’s eyebrows shooting up. “All the refugees from Prague and Warsaw just had the Federal Republic sweating, and he needed some advice.”

“That cannot be the only reason why you think you might be late,” Germany pointed out without a single drop of empathy in her voice. It hurt; Berlin had raised her as well but she was under enough pressure as it was and she really did not need her capital slacking off, certainly not on this day.

Another sigh that managed to somehow sound even more tired than the first one already had. “Something is happening,” he answered without truly answering the question. “I’ll be there in latest an hour, I can promise you that.”

Germany shook her head, even though she knew he had no way of seeing that. “Don’t promise, just be here.” She put the receiver down before either of them had chance to say their goodbye.

Alina gave her a curt nod that Germany returned with a tight smile before turning around and leaving the room. It was not that she did not trust Berlin. Really, she had to considering that he was her capital, not her cousin’s. However, he did not make it easier with his frequent association with the Federal Republic and his allies.

Despite that, she knew he had spoken the truth. He would be at the parade and stand beside her when Gorbachev held his speech. All she had to prepare were more personal matters. Her apartment was nearby. It was similar to how most of her citizens lived; a decision she had made in opposition to the humans in her government.

What they did not understand—either because they were stupid or simply ignorant, Germany did not know—was that she was more than those who ruled the lands she owned. She was not the government, and she certainly was no man no matter what her birth certificate said. Her care extended the building those people sat in to create laws and regulations, extended the expensive suits and cigars, the lawlessness that the upper classes assumed even though they wanted to pretend they were on the same level as the lower classes.

Germany pushed her door open, sighing softly when the noise from the street outside was suppressed slightly. She changed her simpler beige clothes for a military uniform that would make her fit in with the theme of the day. Then, she used a white band to tie her black hair up into a modest bun that exposed her neckline.

It felt familiar between her fingertips. Weimar Republic had given it to her when she had decided to grow out her hair. A remnant of her grandfather’s wedding. She had always loved it but it had become a... lucky charm when its original owner had died almost exactly four decades ago.

She glanced at a dirty mirror that hung next to the entrance to the apartment. Germany smiled softly when she met her own gaze in the reflection. She might not feel quite as happy as she should, given the nature of the day but she looked good and the clothes were comfortable.

An hour later, Germany stood on the stage, Berlin by her side. He had a small sunflower clipped into his hair. The nation was sure that it had some sort of significance but she had never dared to ask. It was not all that important when he looked as strict as he should.

Berlin turned his head, grinning at her. She turned away, seeing out of the corner of her eye that his smile broke slightly into an expression that looked more exhausted than excited. Germany wished more than anything that she could reach out and show her support but this was neither the time nor the place for such an intimate show of affection.

Gorbachev stepped on stage under thunderous applause from the crowd. The soldiers standing before them saluted, the flag bearers raising their banners into the air as a silent cheer. He cleared his throat before beginning to speak. His voice carried across the streets in a way that Germany knew would not be any different if he had no microphone to emphasise his authority.

She listened to the man speak, as she had done a hundred times. It was rare for her to step into the spotlight, even though she was quite similar to her grandfather in that she loved the attention—at least that was what Prussia had told her on the rare occasion that he talked of his past. Gorbachev was a good speaker, though, and he had helped her especially now during the end of what she hoped would just be the Cold War and not her life as well.

The wall would hold, or so her politicians had been claiming for years and years. It was no different today, even with Gorbachev’s efforts to align their values more with those of the Western Bloc. She wondered how he attempted to solve the issue of ‘two’ Germanies. It was not in her schedule to die, and she was sure that her cousin thought very similar to her in that one single aspect.

Her country had existed for forty years now, and she for sixty. For those states and many of the states around her, these numbers were small, nearly negligible, in comparison. However, she had survived longer than the man who had brought her into the world, and she sure would not leave behind the same legacy as he had.

And really, that was all that mattered in the moment. All that should matter, anyway. However, as the speech ended and a marching band started playing a military march for the soldiers to parade to, Germany could not simply ignore the significance of the day on a less personal level.

Her and her cousin’s people were one in the same, no matter what she tried to convince herself. Born German, raised German, carrying the same history and heritage on both sides of the wall. Why did they even still hate each other? She could not find the reason for it anymore, was finding it harder and harder with each day to justify her opinions to herself.

Berlin had not challenged her views in a long time; the war, no matter how cold it was, had exhausted all of them. Not in the same way a regular war would exhaust its participants, but similar nonetheless. She had no intention of dying and yet...

East Germany could not help but crave death.

That evening, Germany found a blank envelope on her doorstep. She picked it up and turned it around but the other side was just as blank as the front.

With a huff, she unlocked the door to her apartment, threw her jacket onto the back of one of the chairs in her small kitchen and then, she ripped open the paper and angled out an unassuming card. Someone had coloured the front. A rather sloppy attempt to get an even coat of dark red across the whole canvass.

It was clear that no mail carrier had placed it here. As much as it vexed Germany, and as much as she had protested, her mail was just as unsafe as that of her people. It must have been Berlin, then, who had given this to her.

Another pang of regret echoed through her heart as Germany realised, she hadn’t spent nearly as much time with the man in the last few months as she would have liked. However, there was no point dwelling on that now. Flipping the card open revealed three words in that scrawny script that should no longer be familiar to her but was nonetheless. Happy Birthday, East.

Notes:

The long awaited second part that made me sweat writing it (It was not fun, sorry GDR)

I don't have many words for this; the historical parts of this are somewhat accurate - switchboard operators did not really work during that time but the speech from Gorbachev and the parade in East Berlin happened on that day

I do want to delve a little deeper into this time of German history (especially with West and East Germany) but not when I have a deadline because that seriously destroyed the quality of my writing (or at least my fun during the writing process)

This part was beta-read by the lovely CYASTARS. Thank you very much for all the help and support!!

And, of course, happy 75th birthday to GDR

Notes:

I have never had so many character tags and I probably never will have so many again.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 12 of Every Sin