Pain had been anticipated. Death, however, hadn't.

The afternoon sky, normally a lovely calming blue, had become choked with black smoke and blazing embers. Ash and shrapnel rained down as building after building collapsed, shaking the ground and sending splinters and nails flying like bullets. True bullets had long since been abandoned, and now everyone, civilian and soldier, enemy and ally alike were merely scrambling to escape the destruction of the city.

Roderich, however, lay still and silent on the ground. His body had been mercilessly beaten, covered in bruises, burns, and blood, and his will to escape had long since died in his heart. He know focused on keeping his attention from the pain in his body, as well as away from the screams of his people being crushed or smothered by the hell his city had become. A particularly thunderous crash shook his body agonizingly and he choked, spewing an impressive amount of blood from his throat and broken nose. He breathed shakily, unable to hold back his weak, trembling sobs.

From his perspective, he was certain that this was the end of Austria.

His fingernails dug into the ashy ground, teeth clenching, and heart filling with anger in spite of his hopelessness. Hundreds of years of fighting and conquering and making alliances and treaties reduced to this, this demise in a disgusting, blazing chaos. He had nothing left to show for the battles he'd fought and the hardships he'd endured. He'd die alone in this mess, to be buried in ash and debris and never seen again by anyone. Not Ludwig, not Gilbert, not Elisaveta, not Feliciano, not Vash…

Vash.

His vision had blackened by now, and instead of the crumbling civilization he saw a man. A shorter-standing man with blond hair and piercing, narrow green eyes. His gaze was like a single arrow, shot straight through the object of his focus. How long had Roderich wanted to be that object? Ever since the rift between them had worsened and Vash had packed away and left him, hundreds of years ago, he'd been yearning for the Swiss' company. He wanted to laugh and be scolded again, be rescued from a spent battlefield and be carried home like a cripple. He wanted anything to happen that could bring them close again, although he knew deep inside it could never be. He knew Vash despised him, loathed his very existence to be correct. He knew Vash only had eyes, romantic or even familial, for his little sister. He knew Vash would only laugh at the state he was in now, not carry him home again. He'd only laugh…

A chill began to sweep through his body, numbing away the agony in his bones. His breathing began to slow, and his heart beat at a more relaxed pace. Blindly, and now losing his hearing as well, he smiled. He started to laugh. Tears dribbled from his eyes as he laughed, coughing and convulsing every other second, until he had no energy left to do anything at all. His consciousness was fading.

If this was dying, it wasn't so horrible.

"Vash…"

Vaguely, as if underwater, he could hear running footsteps. A mere straggler who'd held out in their home too long, he assumed, until he managed to make out the direction they were headed; straight for him. They were heavy, as if the runner was wearing boots.

Suddenly, the sound ceased, right beside him. He felt someone touching him, moving his arms and pushing against his back, lifting him to a sitting position. He let his head flop backwards; he hadn't the energy to hold it up. He could feel the heartbeat of his companion against his back, as well as their warm breath at his throat. He could feel their arms latching onto him, as if trying to pull him up. He could hear their voice, but no clear words or tones penetrated his ears. He lay limp as a rag doll, allowing whoever had come to attempt rescuing him to position his body any way they saw fit.

Something soft brushed against his nose. Something soft that felt like hair, and a mildly sweet smell filled his nostrils. He recognized the smell. Roderich's mind flew into reverse, remembering the scent as he'd been carried home from a battlefield. He'd remembered asking Vash if he'd washed that day…

Vash. It was him. It was Vash, and he was rescuing him again.

"V-" he couldn't manage the simple, one-syllable name. He sputtered some gibberish and attempted it again without success. More tears, this time of relief and awe, ran down his face through the ash and grime.

The arms around his body tightened as if in response. Moisture from Vash's face ran down his neck, and to his greater surprise, he realized his old ally was crying. The ghost of a smile tugged at the corner's of Roderich's mouth as he rasped a single chuckle.

"Y…ou….c…ca…me…f….or….me…"

He felt lips against his ear, felt them moving as they formed two words. Two simple words he'd been waiting hundreds of years to hear again.

"I'm here."