Rated T for: blood (and gore I guess), mentions of torture, character death, and yaoi. Have fun. ^^

Frozen

I shivered. The cold seriously wasn't helping my injuries. And, of course, all of these injuries were inflicted by the coldest person in the world. Russia.

I kept walking, trudging through the snow as best one could with gaping, oozing, cuts covering their bruised body and only one eye to see with. I wasn't wearing much, either. Just a thin jacket I found over the shredded T-shirt I had woken up in, and my jeans, torn and ripped to match my shirt. I wouldn't survive long out here in this kind of attire, even if I wasn't already weak from blood loss. But I had to keep moving. It wouldn't be long until Russia found me missing, if he hadn't already. I'd rather die than go back to him. Much rather. In fact, I would die right here to avoid him, if I wasn't afraid he would find me before I could complete that wish.

I kept moving, hoping I would die or someone besides Russia would find me. I hoped for the latter, but as I continued to trudge through endless 2 foot-tall snowbanks, my hope was dissipating. Rescue was unlikely at most, and that likelihood was quickly diminishing. I sank to my knees, the cold and loneliness crushing my body. The cold was welcome now, though. It ended my suffering, numbing the pain and torture brought upon me. I slumped over, my eyes sliding shut. Maybe cold wasn't so bad...

Crunch. My mind dully registered a foreign noise disrupting my sleep. Well no matter, I was almost asleep anyway... Another crunch, more, each one following the next. Then I realized. Footsteps. Russia. Pain. My eyes shot open, and I screamed in fresh pain as snow flooded my damaged eye socket. The footsteps stopped. I scrambled to get up, but my frozen limbs only allowed me to move a few inches. Crunch. Another footstep, the ground itself screaming in pain with each step of the devil. Faster this time, the bearer running. I clawed at the ground, trying to get even an inch between me and Russia. But I had hope. If he was running, then I must be nearly dead. Maybe I could sap the last of my body's life before he got to me...

All too soon, I could feel myself being lifted. I tried to trash out of his grasp, but only managed to slightly shift myself. I felt myself being carried, fast.

But something was different about this time, I noticed. The way he carried me. Carefully, yet quickly, like carrying a wounded comrade to safety. Avoiding wounds instead of digging his nails into them. He was warm, too, familiar. But the main thing was, he said nothing. No insults, no jokes about how I'll never escape. And in place of that was tears. I couldn't see them, my eyes had shut in fear and my right eye was useless anyway, but I could feel them. His scent drifted to me, and I immediately knew who it was. I tried to open my eyes, to see my savior, but my eyes were stuck shut with the blood trickling from my right eye. I whimpered. I just wanted to see him before I died, why couldn't I even have that pleasure? I knew I was past saving anyway, so why couldn't he just leave me? He was going to get killed because of me. No, tortured. Death would be lucky. I groaned, trying to warn him.

"Ar...thur."

"It's ok, Alfred, you're going to live," he said, choking on tears.

"He's... coming... you're... danger..."

"I know, Alfred, I came here aware of that danger. So you wouldn't die." He sniffled, already beginning to pant from the strain of carrying me and running.

"I'm going to die. And you're going to get caught and tortured." My voice rasped painfully against my throat, but I continued anyway. "Put me down. Leave me."

He choked back a sob. "No. You're going to live. You have to. Because I... I love you."

"I love you too, Artie," I managed to choke out through my fading consciousness.

Just before I lost it, I felt a pair of lips against mine. I smiled, my last wish finally fulfilled.