Red sunlight spilled across the open land, dipping towards the horizon bit by bit. A day winding to its end.

The broken shouting, bewildering chaos, and horrific crackle of all-consuming fire were the sounds that thundered in her ears and seemed to swallow her whole, as she tore through the countryside. Although her body threatened to collapse from lassitude, she madly pushed her fatigued frame to run faster. It did not occur to her that her delicate feet were blistered and bloodied within their confines of dainty ribbon and lace.

Her mind raced. Only the two strongest human emotions could possibly be spurring her on in her condition: fear and desperation. Her aching, exhausted body protested, wanting nothing more than for her to rest—for her to lie down, give up. Despite all endeavors, everything would come crashing down regardless. The end was inevitable.

Everything was falling apart at the seams and nothing she could do would stop it.

She was blinded, the tears that flooded her vision stinging at her normally cold, lackluster eyes. Those cobalt eyes were wide now, wild and disbelieving, watching the life that she had known crumble before her. She swerved to her right, laboring up a steep hill. Somewhere along the way, she had kicked off her blood-stained slippers in her feverish fumbling. Coarse stone scraped along her once pale, soft feet.

Blood thumped in her ears, her vision growing dim with each step. Her body teetered on the verge of consciousness. Yet by the indication of black smoke polluting the faint evening light, she knew she was already there.

It had once been a grand mansion. But now...

The sight before her snapped and broke her. She couldn't breathe, choking on a sob. Half of it was thus far smoldering in flames, the rest soon to follow suit. No one else had stayed behind. No one wished to stay to watch the end.

Katyusha hadn't stayed.

Ivan hadn't stayed.

No one. No one but her.

With stricken eyes, she dazedly took a step towards what was left of home. Her mind lingered on how fitting it would be for her to rush into the burning building, letting the flames take what was left of her, just like what was left of the USSR.

It was only a small, muffled sound behind her that fought her impulse of bolting into the remains of the building. She turned, craning her neck to the sudden noise. Soft green eyes bore into her shaken, wild gaze. He wasn't sad, unlike her. He had suffered enough to finally see this day. If anything, he knew he should have been joyful and relieved at that moment. Yet still he felt a quiet, creeping sorrow. He couldn't have said anything, even if he felt his voice would not fail him. Instead, he very slowly—very tentatively—reached out a hand to her.

And although her dress was filthy and torn, her face raw with tears, and her expression contorted with grief, she ran to him. His arms cradled her quivering thin frame, and her desperate hands grabbed fistfuls of his worn military uniform. Her sobs reverberated through his chest where she buried her head.

Everything was gone, but he was still beside her.