Memories, a hetalia - axis powers fanfic

Loosely based on an RP.
Timo - Finland
Bengt - Sweden
Oskar - Ladonia

.-.-.-.-.

Timo woke up only to realize his right hand had been chained to a bedpost, in a room he didn't know, located at a place he'd never been in, and, to make matters worse, he didn't even know what time it was.

In fact, he couldn't quite remember how he'd ended up restrained somewhere completely unknown. Timo… Had been fighting with a vampire, yes, but then something hit his head and…

Oh, so that was what had happened.

Timo had been captured, of all things. To be used for his blood until he became anemic and died.

Niiiiiiice. Once he'd found out there was no way to win and that running away was also not really possible, the creature hunter had been expecting to be killed, drained of his blood until there was not a single drop left in his veins (if the creature was too hungry to be picky) or just slaughtered.

… Fine. If the vampire hadn't even been able to realize he had demon blood in his veins, then perhaps it would be easier than he'd thought to escape.

That is, if he weren't killed before he could find a chance. There was no way the creature wouldn't find his blood anything better than disgusting anyway. Demon blood was (in)famous as the worst kind of blood ever and, even if he did have human blood as well, there were plenty of other – better – options, a village flocked with full-humans not far from where he'd encountered the monster.

Timo sat up as he looked around at his surroundings. It definitely didn't look pretty. There were no windows, at least from what he could see in the darkness, and his weapons were also nowhere to be seen, much less near him (even though that was pretty obvious, it was still upsetting).

All of his previous thoughts, however, were interrupted as someone opened the door, the squeak of the hinges too loud for his ears that hadn't heard anything but his own movements for the last few… Hours, probably, judging from his hunger – enough to bother, insufficient to make him desperate.

The opened door now let a bit more (even if still not enough) light in the room, letting Timo confirm his previous assumptions. There was little more than his bed in that room – a small table at the side of the bed and some stuff he still couldn't quite make out thrown at one corner. God only knew what could have happened to all the weapons he'd been carrying – well, as much as he wanted to escape and needed them to survive the world out there, now that wasn't much of a priority.

But the most important thing was that there was someone at the door, holding a plate with some food and a glass of water. It seemed to be a man, and a very tall one – probably almost a foot taller than Timo himself.

Upon closer inspection, though, the hunter realized it was a vampire – the one whom he had attacked.

Timo knew the best course of action wouldn't be direct confrontation, at least not for now, so he just looked away from the door, not making a sound.

That didn't seem to stop the man from entering the room, walking towards him with the plate and the glass still in his hand.

"Figured you'd be hungry."

Timo didn't answer.

"There's no reason to poison the food I'll give to someone I'll feed from."

Although Timo didn't show any reaction, he cringed inwardly. Yes, that did make sense, but that only meant he really was going to be kept as cattle. Well, he could only hope the man wouldn't kill him once he realized his blood tasted terribly. It was his only chance of escaping.

The vampire waited, and waited, and waited, but Timo didn't move an inch.

"I don't have the whole day. I could just feed from you and leave."

The answer now was a shrug. In all honesty, Timo felt hungry – very much so –, but he just felt like eating would be admitting he needed assistance to keep himself alive – which he did, incidentally, but he had no intention to make that clear anytime soon.

The hunter heard a sigh, and then steps. The creature's hand tugged on the collar of his shirt, pulling it down, and an arm pulled him close to the vampire, as if to keep him in place.

So he had lost patience.

Timo braced himself for the upcoming attack. Although the puncture didn't hurt as much as he'd been expecting – well, he did have high pain tolerance –, having his blood sucked out of him so quickly made it feel like all of his fluids were on fire.

Timo didn't cry out in pain, but passed out before the other could even be finished with him.

.-.-.

When Timo woke up, the plate and the glass the vampire had brought had been left on the table. He wondered if those were meant for him, and tried reaching out for them. His entire body hurt just from raising his arm, but he somehow managed to catch a pear and the glass. In fact, if it weren't for the pain, the table and the food on it would be quite easy to reach.

The hunter wondered briefly if it would be the best course of action to eat, though. He still didn't trust that there was no poison in those items, not to mention it still seemed too early to give in.

However, Timo could also feel he had lost copious amounts of blood, and that not eating would probably take a huge toll on his health. With a sigh, he ate the pear, then with some struggle put his hands on a piece of bread and also ate it, along with other small things, drinking some water before lying down again.

It was only a while later that the door opened once more, letting the taller man in.

Timo looked up, wondering if he'd now be slaughtered. The other had probably realized his blood wasn't worth keeping him by now, but letting someone who had tried to kill him go probably wouldn't be something he'd do in his place – and, regardless of whether the other was clever, that didn't seem to require much wits anyway.

But no, it seemed like he hadn't come with any murderous intent… For now. In fact, he'd brought water and more food.

Timo only then looked at the table, realizing he hadn't really left anything on it. Had he really eaten so much? Either way, the hunter raised an eyebrow, not quite understanding what was going on.

"It'd be a downer if you died. I need you. You need to eat properly and stay healthy."

A long silence followed.

"… And for what do you need me anyway?"

"Isn't that obvious? Your blood."

Timo clenched his fists and had to fight the urge to punch the man in his face.

"Isn't demon blood supposed to taste bad?"

"You're half-human."

"There are full-humans not far from here."

At that, the vampire seemed to hesitate.

"… I can't simply let you go. You tried to murder me and are a threat for all of us. I can only keep you or kill you, would you prefer the latter?"

This time, it was Timo's turn to be silent. He had known ever since he'd been captured that there was no way to just negotiate his freedom. Trying to sound nonchalant, the hunter shrugged.

"Did you even bother to ask me first?"

"Did you wonder whether the vampire you tried to murder wanted to be killed before attacking?"

Once again, the vampire was right. Timo tsk-ed. He had to admit: in all honesty, the vampire was doing him a favor by feeding him and offering shelter, even though he was demanding payment for the "rent". Lately the creatures had been behaving weirdly and targeting hunters like Timo specifically, putting him in great danger. The fact that he had no partners whatsoever made everything even worse, and, despite far from ideal, his situation was much better than it could be.

"Fine, then, but if you're not going to treat me as anything but food, could please stop with the nice words and all this fake consideration? It's unsettling."

"What makes you think my consideration is fake?"

"You simply don't care about cattle the same way you do about a comrade."

"I don't have any means to keep more than one human."

I would just keep you safe here if I could, but there is no way to do it. I'm willing to just drink your awfully bad blood as little as I can, so are you willing to stay here and be safe?

Those words echoed in Timo's mind. Oh, so this one knew telepathy.

Nice, now his secrets were at stake. Well, at least Timo had enough ability to know when his mind was being read, despite being unable to avoid it.

Timo made no attempt to answer and his mind wasn't scanned for a yes or a no. Hm, so those really were just pretty words with no meaning.

This time, Timo managed not to lose consciousness before the vampire left the room, but not for a single second more.

.-.-.

Timo didn't feel back pains when he woke up the next time, meaning he probably hadn't had been out for as long as he did before.

Perhaps it was just that his body was getting used to losing blood quickly.

There was more food left on the table, and this time the hunter did not hesitate to finish it all, fully aware that he needed to stay healthy if he wanted to have a chance of escaping once the whole issue was sorted out with the creatures. If it ever were.

Perhaps now was the time to start planning his escape.

.-.-.

As time passed, Timo was able to collect lots of information through the vampire, who unknowingly helped his own captive plan a way of fleeing.

It was a bit weird that, since that single time, he never once tried anything with his telepathy. He could easily just check what exactly Timo was planning or thinking, but never did so.

What kind of reason did he have for that?

Anyway. As far as the hunter could tell, everything was being sorted out in the "world out there". He would be able to survive on his own out there soon.

Also, he had an almost complete mental map of the mansion he'd been trapped in, thanks to the vampire's almost suspicious willingness to give out information when asked and his habits of unwittingly blurting a lot of info. The fact that Timo had been slowly becoming sick – no matter how well he was being fed, his body just couldn't keep up with the amount of blood he constantly lost – also played an important part in urging him to flee.

The taller one seemed to be completely oblivious, still feeding him (and from him) as usual. Timo no longer passed out from being fed from, now used to the pain, and took full advantage of that, carefully studying every small aspect that he could use against his captor – his personality, quirks, habits, apparent weak spots. Eventually, he even found out the vampire was ticklish – a lot ticklish.

Sometimes the vampire would try to talk to him, but Timo still refused to talk, afraid to give out information that could potentially help the other. Still, as mentioned before, the other never once used telepathy against him. Was it just that he knew any attempts would be found out or respect?

Nah, it couldn't be respect. Someone who respected him wouldn't keep him captive of all things.

.-.-.

Ha! Now was the day! Timo had finally made a clear enough map of his surroundings in his mind, and it seemed like it was now safe to be on his own out there.

The plan was simple, not to say even a bit obvious. His captor always kept the keys for the chains with him and a knife for some reason, and thus overpowering him and escaping shouldn't be that much of an issue. Perhaps if he were lucky he'd even manage to kill him.

Anyway, he just had to wait. Excitement at the possibility of being free once again made him a bit nervous, but he was confident that he'd be successful. If he weren't, well, he was probably going to be killed, but he'd rather die now fighting than rot to death in that stinky room.

And there he came! Timo didn't act any differently until the vampire had come close enough, but then quickly and swiftly kicked him at the gut, quickly getting the knife, to be sure the other wouldn't be able to turn tables, and retrieving the keys. The food and water the taller man had brought were dropped on the floor. As his captor still cringed in pain, the hunter unlocked the chains that shackled him.

Overpowering his captor was ridiculously easy. Even a bit dull. Weren't vampires supposed to be strong and agile? Timo, in probably less than one minute and a fight that was certainly less difficult than he'd expected, managed to straddle the taller man and was about to deliver the final blow, a stab to his heart...

When he finally looked properly at the vampire's face. More specifically, his eyes.

And he froze.

Those eyes... No, they couldn't be. The hue was not the same.

But there was no mistaking. Timo could see his own reflection the same way.

The same way he saw himself in his eyes.

No, it was just him seeing things. His own mind was tricking him into hesitating. No! Why was his resolve shaking?

He tried to ignore those thoughts. Oh, how he tried. But he couldn't bring himself to take away life from those eyes. It would be unbearable to see those eyes become lifeless once more, even though they weren't really the same and were already half-dead anyway.

"You can't be..."

Timo dropped the knife and stepped away. He tripped on the food and fell, but still did not take his eyes away from the vampire, stunned and unable to react properly to anything.

.-.-.

Although Bengt had not been expecting to be attacked so suddenly, he honestly didn't think it was anything but normal.

He had been keeping the violet-eyed half-demon captive, of all things, after all. A hunter, a kind typically unused to being tied to one place, even on their own volition.

Since he was an experienced hunter, he was strong and agile, even though he was also probably mentally exhausted and physically worn down. Still, if Bengt really tried, he'd easily overpower the half-human. However, he wasn't willing to fight. How could he? Bengt knew he'd end up killing his captive if he fought for real, and there was no way he would stain his hands any more than being a vampire forced him to.

The fight didn't last a minute. Bengt knew he was going to lose and pay with what was left of his own life…

Until his captive dropped the knife, walked back and fell. Bengt got your slowly, still wary of the hunter, but in all honesty he was harmless. Too stunned to move.

"Oskar..."

Bengt heard the hunter whisper probably more to himself than to let him know of anything.

Still, that alarmed the vampire, who swiftly grabbed the shorter man's shirt collar and shook him, voice hoarse from a largely unused throat and with a hint of desperation.

"What do you know about my son? Tell me! I demand that you tell everything you know right now!"

But the hunter did not answer. Instead, he just stared at Bengt, wide-eyed and paralyzed.

That situation was probably just as confusing for him as it was for the vampire.

As much as Bengt didn't want to invade the hunter's psyche, he needed to know. There were other people named Oskar, but it had to be the same. It had to be his son. That hunter had to know something he didn't.

Bengt whispered a "sorry" as he put a hand on the violet-eyed man and entered his mind.

It was a mumbo-jumbo of blocked memories he had to force to bring back, self-hatred lurking on the back of his mind constantly and some weird noise that never ceased, never left him in peace. Rage at anything and everything made it quite scary to navigate in. Still, the vampire's resolve never wavered, and little by little he found memories and somehow organized them in some kind of order.

Memories of being abandoned by his father and hated by his mother.

Memories of being ostracized and treated by his own kind as a bad omen.

Memories of running away, still as a child, with no idea how the world would be.

Memories of joy at finding out those eyes were found beautiful and unique rather than cursed at other places.

Bengt bit his lip and hesitated, though. The next memories should be related to Oskar, as far as he could tell before reading them. Was he ready to see those?

Well, no use hesitating. Whatever had happened to the boy was in the past and there was no way he could change it. Bengt swallowed hard and proceeded.

Finding a crying little boy at the streets.

Rage at the man who had abandoned such a cute and fragile being.

(Bengt laughed humorlessly. How would he come back after being turned into a vampire?)

Determination to give him all the love and care he hadn't received.

Long hours of labor to give Oskar what to eat, to wear.

(Strange, since when he was a hunter then?)

Telling him a story before bed even though he was probably more tired than Oskar himself.

Scolding Oskar for talking to strangers.

Hugging Oskar and ruffling his hair.

Soothing a crying Oskar, promising that he'd find some work the next day and bring something to eat.

Scavenging trash for food because he had only made enough money for Oskar's share.

Giving Oskar the only blanket at home.

Trying to teach what little maths he knew to Oskar.

Saying goodbye to a then teenage Oskar before going to work.

Proudly talking about Oskar to coworkers.

A loud noise.

A redheaded body lying limp on the ground.

(So this was what had happened to Oskar... Why wasn't he surprised?)

Desperation.

Despair.

Guilt.

Self-hatred.

Rage.

Cursing his own demonic blood.

How ironic it was that Timo was a Biblical name.

(Ah, his name was Timo.)

It would have been better if we'd never met.

Hatred at all supernatural creatures.

Killing one and rather liking it, the pleasure of wiping those scums out of Earth overriding everything else.

(So this was how he became a hunter.)

Deciding it was hypocritical of him to only kill them and pledging to suicide once he was done.

Killing

And finding out it still didn't help his guilt.

Murdering

And accepting that there was no going back for him, no salvation.

Killing

Was it ever going to end?

Murdering

For what was he doing that anyway?

Killing

It didn't matter. He knew nothing else by now.

Murdering

His life didn't matter. Neither did others'.

By the time Bengt finally finished reading those memories, he was puffing.

Well, he knew most hunters had chosen their profession for a specific reason, since few would willingly put their life at risk like that without a very strong wish to get revenge, or something. No kid grew up saying "I'll be a hunter because they are cool". Still, it had been overwhelming to see all those memories with such detail, especially since they involved someone so dear to him.

It was only then that he finally looked at Timo.

His heart skipped a beat (well, only metaphorically) as he saw the serious, resilient man curled up into a ball, crying loudly while tugging on his own hair harshly, begging him to just stop between sobs.

Oh no. He should have realized earlier. Timo was able to tell when his mind was being read.

That meant he had been forced to watch everything Bengt had just seen. Guilt hit the vampire as he remembered the blocked memories he had forced to resurface.

"I… I'm sorry."

Timo probably didn't even hear those words.

.-.-.

Bengt never managed to bring up the courage to lock Timo up again.

Not that it mattered. He wasn't cuffed, the door was unlocked and even the window had been opened, but the hunter probably had not even realized so.

Timo only ate and drank the bare minimum to keep himself alive, probably just because his body demanded so. He always kept staring out there, as if the sky had the answers to all of his questions, or perhaps reliving all those memories he had forced to resurface (he'd never know which one of them was really the case), mainly unresponsive to any attempts of talking to him, though the vampire could not be sure whether he was just choosing to ignore him or genuinely did not notice he was being spoken to.

Bengt grew more and more worried as time passed.

Perhaps, the vampire thought, perhaps there is no other way to help him.

He didn't want to invade his mind once more. The first time had been what had caused this entire situation anyway.

However, he just couldn't let it go on forever. He wanted to help, but knew the hunter would not trust him with healing back to normalcy.

But there was one thing, a single attempt he was willing to make.

He put a hand on the hunter's shoulder, and the shorter man slowly looked up at him.

"What now?"

Bengt gulped as he looked away. He noticed, however, that Timo had started fidgeting.

I know you hate and distrust me, but I… I can't stand seeing you like this. I know a way I can help.

To which Timo raised an eyebrow.

"Help? I don't need your so-called 'help'."

It stung to hear those words, but Bengt kept on.

I'm serious. I can help. Do you want to forget it?

Silence was his first answer.

"Forget what?"

It all seemed obvious to Bengt, but he showed no sarcasm as he slowly answered.

Everything you want. That you came here, met me. That you are a hunter, how you became one. I can make you forget even your childhood, your demonic blood, if that's what you wish.

He then gulped as he added.

You can forget Oskar too.

At those words, Timo immediately stopped fidgeting and grabbed his sheets. Anger became clear in his features.

"Stop with that bullshit. How can you say such a thing and still call yourself a parent?"

Confusion was now the main feature of Bengt's complexion. Timo's fists clenched ad he kept talking:

"How can you expect me to even consider forgetting all the love and time I dedicated to my son simply because I suffered from it? I could have had it a million times worse; I still would not want such a thing! Have you genuinely wished something like that for yourself? How would you feel if you were to be the forgotten one? How do you think Oskar would react to hearing you propose such a thing?"

Bengt would have retorted and claimed there was no use trying to think of what Oskar would think, if he really did what he wanted, but could not bring himself to actually say it.

Timo was right. He'd want to keep his memories, no matter how painful, because he loved Oskar. He'd laughed and cried and gotten lost, because of him. If there really was any meaning left to his life, even if all that awaited him was pain, it was probably something related to Oskar anyway. How would he explain the last years of his own life to himself without such relevant memories?

The hunter shrugged his shoulder off the vampire's hand. He was clearly not willing to talk.

Bengt could only hope that he improved naturally over time.

.-.-.

Of course he didn't. Timo, in fact, only became worse.

Ribs were now visible even under the shabby shirt he'd been wearing for ages. Dark circles became a hue closer to black and a millimeter larger every time Bengt checked on him. The food sometimes went a whole week untouched and his eyes seemed to only become more distant.

If things didn't take a turn for the better, the hunter would probably starve to death, as he could sense the energy and life he constantly lost. Perhaps his soul was already dead anyway, as he never seemed to be paying any attention to reality.

That thought haunted Bengt for months.

He'd been trying to find a way to help his captive, but it was kind of difficult to help a largely lifeless shell on a bed.

There was only one way.

Bengt knew Timo had explicitly opposed to that, but the vampire couldn't bring himself to watch him fade into death.

He was selfish, he knew that, to think he'd rather see Timo live false happiness than suffer with true sorrow, what Timo wanted now be damned.

In what was the first time in months, Bengt didn't leave right after leaving the food.

Instead, he sat on the bed, on which Timo lay facing the opposite direction (he had been in that position for days, as far as Bengt could tell). The vampire put a hand on his captive's head, feeling him tense up – the first reaction to the environment the hunter had had in weeks – and murmuring an apology as he once more invaded that mind, for what he hoped was the last time.

"No, don't, I can't I can't I can't, I beg you, I don't, it's all I have left, don't take it away from me!"

The hunter seemed to immediately understand what he intended to do. Bengt kept mumbling sorry, it's for your own good, and many other words in a futile attempt to calm him down as he accessed several memories...

Only to make them disappear.

Timo screeched as his very core was invaded, each time he was forced to see those memories once more and not remember what he'd been thinking about only a moment later, feeling utterly confused and threatened – the only certainty was that his mind was being manipulated. If it had been a few months earlier, Bengt would probably not be able to keep him down. But now, Timo was malnourished and too mentally destroyed to even fight back properly.

Bengt cringed inwardly at each image of a smiling, crying, pouting Oskar he made go away. They'd be engraved in his own memory just as much as they were nowhere to be found within Timo's mind anymore. The hunter cried, begged him to stop, but could not help as he forgot, and forgot, and forgot.

Eventually, all the screaming got him tired and made him pass out. By then, he no longer knew he had demonic blood, who Oskar had been or that he was a hunter. Even his own name had been erased from his memory.

Bengt carefully chose the false memories he'd put in their place. They would be Timo's truth. He'd be living on a lie, it better be a good lie. Guilt almost made him stop more than once, but now there was no going back and the vampire was painfully aware of such a fact.

All that he could do was make those false memories as realistic and simultaneously happy as he could. Berwald added what he could remember Timo had thought he'd wanted his life to be if he got to choose, and also mixed them with how he'd like his own life to have been.

Timo was left under a tree at a place where people were certain to pass soon, but Bengt made sure he was not seen.

He glimpsed at partially opened violet eyes and saw there was no reflection (no wonder, he was a vampire) before leaving. No going back now.

I'm sorry.

A lonely tear fell on the shorter man's face as he was left alone to be found and hopefully cared by someone with the good heart Bengt was aware he didn't have.

.-.-.

Tapio woke up in a cottage.

"Ah, so you're awake."

He looked up at his lover, who greeted him with a broad smile.

"Yeah."

He quickly got up and stretched.

"You know, honey, I had this really weird dream last night. I was a creature hunter. A creature hunter! Me! As if I could really hurt a fly!"

.-.-.-.-.

So this whole thing started when I decided I wanted to do something regarding Lima Syndrome rather than its more famous "sibling", Stockholm Syndrome.
I had been planning this story for a good time, and thought Surströmmiakki would be a good motivator.
In the end, I still procrastinated and rushed (you can see that by comparing how much I changed from the original I sent the event), but it was worth it.