Title: Connecting the Dots

Author: Soviet-chan

Rating: M

Pairing: LietPol, and RusLiet noncon

Warnings: Disturbing themes, sexual content, angst, bondage/noncon, opening scene!sexualness

LOOONG Author's Notes: Dear everyone, The whole reason this fic exists is...the "Hurt/Comfort" genre here on FF. It has tickled my fancy for *years* that along with the "romance, action, mystery and fantasy" genres, stereotypically defined in literature, there is also a whole separate "Hurt/Comfort" genre. What even *is* Hurt/Comfort? None of us know and yet we have happily mass-produced angsty fanfiction under this label since the beginning of time! I used it as a writing prompt, in honor of FF's failure to explain it! Like an anonymous good deed, it has always been there for us. For no good reason! About this fanfic...well, I usually don't like rapetruck!Russia and as a RusLiet fan, I really REALLY prefer their relationship consensual. I have really personal roots in this fanfic, I have night terrors from trauma as Liet does and felt this more of an expression of myself than anything else. On a brighter note, it has a happy-ish ending. I really hope you enjoy it! Love, Sovi

The cold marble table was so hard pressing into his chest that the Lithuanian could barely breathe. With effort, he turned his head sideways, still taking in nothing but blackness.

"Lietuva." Ivan's voice cooed, "what is weighing you down, my dear?"

The captive could feel the energy of Ivan' fingertips against his cock. He angrily stiffened, feeling his blood rush away. Across his hipbone they drummed, meeting the table and feather-lightly brushing a lock of hair from his neck. Again, Toris writhed against where he had been bound - the wrists and upper arms, locked against the table; ankles and knees against separate stools.

"Lietuva," Ivan frowned, "You can go, Toris. Don't you want to be free, Toris? Don't you want your independence?"

He could feel something wet dripping onto his back; tears or rain or even snow. No sir, I can't go. You *say* I can go, but here I am attached. Please, sir, unbind me.

No words came out. Toris felt his own tears running down his face, sticky between his cheek and the marble.

"I love you, Toris." The fingers ran all over his back, almost desperately. Then, as Ivan gained control, he could feel them trace across his scars, making threats, racing rivers. He stayed silent.

"You can go, Toris." it was that voice again. Soft like the voice of a confused child, "or have you made yourself comfortable here?"

"LIET!"

Toris felt himself sobbing. He rubbed the fabric of his bedsheet back and forth between his hands, a technique he used when he was trying to ground himself. He was here, he was safe, he was free.

"Liet?"

He spun around, raising an arm in defense. Then he relaxed. The Polish nation looked extremely frightened. Toris sighed.

"Feliks...I'm sorry you had to be there for that."

Feliks looked down, "I have seen them before, you know."

Toris hugged himself under the covers, turning away to hide his frustration. He was still shaking and not in the mood to comfort Feliks after his own nightmare. Of course, he would. Feliks needed to know that he shouldn't be worried.

"Liet…" the other man was shaking even harder than he was. Toris turned back around to look at him. What had he done in his sleep that had scared his partner so much? Feliks looked pale, horrified. Had he said something? Had he screamed?

He reached for Feliks's hand. "What, dear?"

"Nevermind!" Feliks feigned a smile, "We'll just have, like, extra good sex in the morning and forget about it!"

No. That smile was reserved for tricking the rest of the world. Toris could never let it fool him.

"No, Feliks. Whatever I did, it wasn't me. It was my drea-"

"It's all my fault, Liet!" The Pole pushed himself up, so that he was leaning down into his hands.

"Come on Feliks," Toris frowned, reaching out to stroke his hair, "It's okay...just go back to sleep."

"I was touching your scars." Feliks's mumble was practically inaudible. His eyes flashed guiltily through his fingertips, meeting objects as they became less obscured in the dawning light.

"You - what!?"

The guilt was suddenly swallowed by accusation, "Um...I heard this, like, new theory that physical touch when you're sleeping prevents wrinkles. Thank me la-"

"...why?" the word barely came out as Toris stood up, throwing the covers off of himself and pulling a chord from his lamp, showering the room in an artificial hospital-like glow. He looked back at the nation he loved and cared about, more than anything. The only man he would comfort after his own nightmare. Why the hell would he do something like that? Something that Toris had asked him never to do? Their eyes locked as the Pole slowing brought his chin to rest on his hands. Sadly, he looked away.

"Feliks?" Toris narrowed his eyes, in concern, sitting back down on the bed, "What- what happened to your face?" He moved closer. "Oh my god, Feliks! Did I…?"

It was clear now, in the yellowish lamplight. A moderate pink lump at his cheekbone, already bruising into a deep purple black-eye. There were several scratch marks across his neck and face. Toris sank down into the mattress.

"You wouldn't wake up, Liet. I was so worried about you. I was trying to calm you down and...I know you didn't mean it!"

The Lithuanian looked at his own hands, cursing them; how they worked their own will. Eyes still on eachother, they both began to cry. A sign of weakness that the world would never see, but it didn't need to. Feliks continued to lessen the space between them until they became one entity - one against the world.

After lying there like that for a bit, Toris broke away, slightly. "Feliks," he murmured into the other man's ear. He gently ran his fingers through his partner's hair, "why did you touch my scars?"

Half awake, no defensive battle-flag hung from Feliks's child-like gaze. An almost satisfied smile curved across his lips, light shimmering out of his bruised eye-socket.

"Connecting the dots…"

Toris laughed a little, surprised. "Hm?"

"Connecting the dots in my head…" Feliks snuggled into him, "We've been broken so many times that from the outside, we, like, seem...like a glued together photograph. But everyone notices the picture, not the pasty stuff that's connecting it. It's so beautiful...I was just noticing it."

Toris smiled, contently. And Feliks convinced the world that he was shallow! He embraced him under the covers. His brain would definitely eat at that statement for days. He nudged his philosopher lightly. "Can...can you say that again, love?"

Feliks opened his eyes and looked at him indignantly, "Are you serious? No!"

But it was okay, as Toris kissed the word off of his lips. Feliks was here and nothing else mattered. Everything would be alright. He was comforted.