Hello everyone! This is a one-shot about the Polish government plane crash tragedy, if you hadn't gathered that already. I know it's rather belated, but I wanted to put as much time as I needed into it before posting it. I had to rework it like three times... I wanted to get Poland's tone right, but I didn't want to go overboard; speaking like a valley girl in a serious situation is only tolerable, in my opinion, in small amounts before it tuns the situation ironic (keeping him off the angst train took some doing - Feliks just doesn't seem like an angsty character to me for some reason). Plus, keeping Russia in character for this one was... hard. As always, I own no history and no characters and no nothing. Here is the finished product, I hope you enjoy!

A Poppy and a Prayer

Krakow, Present Day

Krakow was a beautiful city, especially in the spring. The flowers were just starting to peek out of their buds, the trees were bursting with green leaves, and the birds were beginning to return. The day was almost perfect, disregarding the grey clouds in the distance. How sad, that this pretty spring day would be witness to a funeral in the wake of such a tragedy.

Poland looked in the mirror and straightened his tie. His green eyes were dulled, nothing there of his usually cheerful and carefree persona. He frowned at his reflection; tying a tie had never been something that he was good at. He never got this dressed up for things, but today was a special case. Poland pulled apart the knot and tugged at the tie draped around his shoulders. In doing so, he brushed the bandage wrapped around his neck.

Poland winced and adjusted the bandage, which was concealing a burn. It was not the only injury he had sustained from the tragedy: his forehead was covered by another bandage wrapped around his head, and band-aids and patches covered other smaller cuts and burns. He wandered over to the couch in the sitting area and fell into the cushions. Holding his face in his hands, he stared out between his fingers and out the window onto the streets of Krakow.

His people were out there. Filling the streets and balconies of buildings, they waved Polish flags and walked onward toward the cathedral where the funeral would take place in a few hours. Poland felt a tug in his gut as he watched his people outside, all out in mourning. He was proud of them. He had many reasons to be proud of them, for persevering through such difficult times in decades past, but as he looked out on them now from his Krakow house his heart swelled with renewed pride for his people turning out to show their respect and send their prayers to their deceased leader.

A knock at the door gently pulled Poland away from his thoughts. Who could it be? He was meeting with Russia for a memorial ceremony in a short while, but was he coming to talk to him privately first? The blonde nation's teeth clenched the slightest bit at the thought; though he and Russia had been getting along better lately, he still did not trust the other nation completely. And considering the context of the funeral taking place today, he did not want to have to interact with him more than he needed to.

Another knock, this time more timid. "…Poland?" a soft voice floated through the door.

Poland breathed a sigh of relief. "Liet," he greeted his friend as he opened the door, "Come in."

Lithuania entered the room, offering a comforting smile as he did so. He was dressed the same as Poland, in a black suit with a small yellow rue in the lapel. The brunette nation cast a glance about the room, then looked back at Poland. "I've never been here before. You have a house in Krakow?"

"It's, like, one of my most important cities," Poland rolled his eyes, "I've gotta have a house here, duh!"

Lithuania shuffled around nervously until Poland remembered common decency and offered him a seat. They sat on the couch side by side and watched the crowd outside. The far off clouds were slowly creeping over the city. Neither nation said anything. Poland tapped his fingers on his knee and kept stealing glances at his friend out of the corner of his eye. What was he here for?

The Baltic nation propped his elbows up on his knees and rested his chin in his palms. He looked at Poland. "Are you… okay?" he asked quietly.

Poland nodded a little too quickly. "Yeah, I'm, like, totally fine." The cheap lie fell out of his mouth before he could stop it. But then again, a cheap lie to cover up sadness was better for a nation, right? He had to be strong, for all his people mourning in Krakow and around the country. "It's fine," he repeated, "Seriously!"

Lithuania gave Poland a look. "Really?"

Poland jumped a little. How could Liet tell he wasn't okay? He was totally composed—he hadn't even cried yet! The blond stood up and paced slowly around the room.

Lithuania simply watched him from the couch. "Do your injuries hurt?"

Poland stubbornly kept his gaze downward. "No." Another lie; the burn on his neck stung like crazy. He shoved his hands in his pockets and took each step slowly, deliberately. The entire scene felt like it was playing out in slow motion. Finally, Poland came to a stop in the middle of the rug. "…I, like, told him not to go," he mumbled. "Iceland called me last week—interrupted my beauty sleep—and told me something'd happened at his house that, like, totally messed up all the weather for everyone."

Lithuania nodded. "He called me, too," he said, "Something about his stove blowing up. The smoke's been so bad and spread so far it's hard to travel to visit some nations. I couldn't even visit Sweden and Finland like I'd promised, it was so bad."

"I warned him, my boss, that it was a totally bad idea to visit Russia," Poland muttered. He still didn't look at Lithuania.

"But he still went?"

Poland threw Lithuania a stern look. "What do you think?" Lithuania fell silent. Poland walked back over to the mirror and attempted once again to fix his tie. He ended up with a messy knot and a searing pain in his neck from the fabric chafing his burn. "Ow," he drawled, pressing a hand to the injury.

Lithuania got up and trotted over to his friend. "Poland, what's wrong? What hurts?"

Poland looked in the mirror at Lithuania, his eyes still narrowed from the stinging. "It's, like, not that big a deal," he said, attacking the tie again.

Lithuania grabbed the blond nation's shoulders and spun him around. He slipped the tie off his neck and untangled it. "Look, Poland," he said, "If something's bothering you, you can tell me. Got it?"

Poland crossed his arms and turned up his nose. "Totally don't know what you're talking about, Liet."

"Here. For starters, let me help a little." Lithuania draped the tie around Poland's neck again and carefully tied it into place. When he was done he stepped back and asked, "Anything else?"

Poland looked down at the tie and tugged at it, wonder creeping back into his green eyes. He walked across the room and into a bathroom at the end of a short hallway. "Be back in a sec!" he called over his shoulder.

Lithuania shoved his hands in his pockets and strolled around the living room. The crowd outside really was a powerful scene. So many people were out there! Lithuania knew that his friend had not always gotten along with his boss—in fact, the nation had said he could be downright stubborn—but now that he was here visiting his friend, Lithuania saw in the sad eyes Poland was trying to hide a real mourning for his leader.

Poland promptly returned from the bathroom. "I gotta go meet Russia now, Liet," he said, "Bye-bye, see you… at the cathedral." Lithuania noticed he had changed the bandages and band-aids on his face, but made no comment. He followed his friend out the door and began to make his way to the cathedral, worrying the whole way. "Poland… please be careful around Russia…"

Katyn, 1940

"Russia! How could you do this?!" Poland shouted as he stormed into the frightening nation's office. All the other nations in Russia's house were terrified of him, except Poland. What was there to fear when his home was already partitioned three ways, his people were massacred, and his home had disappeared off the map once again?! His boss was living with England right now, for crying out loud! "This is so not fair! It's awful!"

Russia leaned back in his big chair at his desk and stared sweetly up at the furious nation. "What happened, Poland?" he asked, voice soft and misleadingly innocent.

"You know very well what happened!" Poland slammed his fist down on the desk and leaned forward to meet Russia's gaze. "You—you, like, killed all those people! My people! They're all dead, and it's because of you!"

Russia cocked his head to the side. "I… killed someone?"

"Yes, you totally killed someone! A lotta someones!"

The terrifying, silvery blonde nation shook his head. "Nope, can't remember a thing," he said, "Must've been someone else."

"But you, like, did it here! Those woods… twenty-two thousand people!" Poland flailed a hand about and pointed out the window to the far off trees. His eyes were mad; Russia was denying something he was so obviously guilty of! How was this possible?!

Russia shrugged and stood up. He was very tall, much taller than Poland. "Sorry, Poland, but I don't know what you're talking about. Please go away."

Poland grabbed the phone on Russia's desk and started dialing. "I-I'll call America! I'll, like, tell him what you did—"

Poland fell backwards and the phone fell to the ground with a thud. He rubbed the back of his head and looked up in disbelief at the nation who had just knocked him over. Russia stared down at him, all sweetness totally gone. Now he was serious. "Poland, nothing happened. You are not calling anyone to tell them anything. Got it?" Poland tried to get back on his feet, but Russia pushed him over again. "Got it?" he repeated.

Poland sat on the carpet and stared dumbly up at Russia. He had so much power, everyone was afraid of him. But all he did was bully and torture the Baltics and Poland. The worst part was that he got away with most of it. Russia stared down at the dumbstruck nation for a full minute, then walked over to the door and opened it into the hallway. "Goodbye, Poland," he said, the sickly sweet tone back. Poland left without a word.

Krakow, Present Day

The memorial ceremony was mercifully brief. Poland ducked his head and tried to slip out of the reception unnoticed, but that was obviously a bad idea. He had one foot out the door when he felt a tap on his shoulder. The nation knew who it was before he even turned around, and that was even without the tall shadow being cast over him. "Hi, Russia," he greeted the other nation hastily, briefly shaking his hand and glancing up at him. It was very strange to see him in a black suit instead of his usual bulky coat, even if his white scarf was still wrapped around his neck for accessory.

Russia let that disconcerting smile play across his face again, but this one seemed softer than what Poland remembered. The nation almost seemed sorry, but Poland knew to tread carefully. Russia bowed his head and said, "I'm sorry for your loss, Poland." He held out a gift: a vase full of bright yellow sunflowers.

Poland knew this was coming, but it still tripped him up. Russia apologizing and expressing condolences… what was the world coming to? Better things, Poland hoped. He nodded and looked around the small reception. "Thanks," he returned quietly, taking the gift, "You've helped out a lot since this happened. The flowers are, like, really pretty."

"I did what I could," the other nation said, "After all, it happened by my house, it's the least I can do." All these kind words from Russia were very hard to accept as genuine, especially since Poland had been putting up with his sweetly worded lies and threats for years before. But the blonde nation had to admit that Russia was helping him out when he most needed it, and he was grateful for that. The silvery blonde nation continued: "It's all the more tragic considering you were on your way to visit me in memorial for the people my old boss had killed."

Poland froze up. Was Russia really saying what he thought he was? What had happened when Poland was still living in Russia's house had remained unaddressed for years, only discovered when Germany had been scouting around in Russia's woods years later. Everyone else knew about it now, but Poland had never heard the intimidating nation reference it so directly. Poland hugged the vase and smelled the huge flowers in an effort to keep calm. It worked. "Yeah, it's an awful coincidence," he mused, "Who'd've thought something like this would happen so close to such a totally sad war crime?"

"Excuse me?" Russia cocked his head to the side and smiled again, "War crime?"

Poland shuddered under the tall nation's threatening smile. But even if the other nation was sweeping this wrinkle in their past under the rug, Poland was not going to let this go so easily. Even so, he didn't dare meet the other country's eyes as he said, "That's totally a war crime, Russia. Like, you know that."

Silence. Poland tried to keep his eyes fixed on the floor, but he was too curious and looked up to see what the reaction to his words was. Russia's eye was twitching. He tugged on his white scarf and looked down at Poland, squeezing the fabric tighter and tighter. Poland leaned back on his heels ever the slightest bit. He'd pushed a hair too far, and with Russia, a hair too far was crossing the line by a mile. Poland bowed out before he could make the situation worse. "Thanks for coming, Russia," he said hastily, "I'll, like, see you at the ceremony."

Russia smiled again only a bit too sweetly. "Ah, I'll see you there, Poland."

Poland waited until the nation was out of earshot, then turned on his heel and dashed out of the building as fast as his legs could carry him.

.

Clouds had overtaken the sky and turned the scene a solemn grey. Poland took a deep breath and laid a bouquet of red poppies on each of the coffins. He returned to his place alongside the other nations in attendance and bowed his head in prayer as the bishop began the requiem mass. He shuddered; as beautiful as the morning had been, the overcast skies had brought rain and cold just in time for the funeral. Finishing the opening prayer, the purple robed bishop continued with the blessings. Poland stole a quick glance down the row of attending nations. Russia stood with eyes closed, head still bowed in prayer. The blonde nation exhaled a breath he had not known he was holding. He really was grateful to Russia for helping him in his time of need. Maybe this was the beginning of a better relationship between them? He thought of the sunflowers sitting under his seat and thought yes, this was the beginning of a new chapter for them.

Poland's gaze shifted to Lithuania, whom he caught staring back at him. He flicked his eyes away to watch the service again, embarrassed. Liet really was unnecessarily worried about him. He was doing just fine—he and Russia were investigating the crash, his people were going to choose a new leader soon, everything was mending itself. So Liet had no reason to be such a worrywart. Seriously. Poland glanced back; Lithuania was still staring at him. Poland coughed and returned his attention to the service.

The mass continued on in this fashion, with Poland occasionally stealing looks at Lithuania and looking away when he realized his friend was looking back. It was starting to get creepy, why in God's name was he staring at him?! He was fine, he was totally fine.

A row of soldiers lined up and performed their three-gun salute, a final prayer was made to close, and the coffins were carried into the cathedral to be laid to rest. Poland's gut wrenched a little as his boss and his wife were carried away; he had been resistant to the idea of burying them there. He was still uneasy about it. That cathedral was the resting place of kings and heroes and, he hated to speak ill of the dead, but he couldn't shake the nagging feeling that his late boss was a bit out of place there. He shook his head and tried to bury the thought away. What kind of rude person was he, complaining about a resting place at the person's own funeral?

After the service had ended, Poland milled about and stared at the cobblestones of the historic square. He hoped the other nations would leave him alone for a bit, and thankfully they did just that. Except for one, though Poland could never expect him to just stand by as his friend mourned.

"Poland?" Lithuania approached him quietly. He tapped him on the shoulder.

Poland looked up. "What? Liet, why were you, like, staring at me the whole mass?"

Now it was Lithuania's turn to stare at the ground. He shuffled around nervously. "Um… I was worried."

"You're always worried, Liet, it's totally not healthy."

Lithuania shut his eyes tight and shook his head. His cheeks were turning a light shade of pink. "But this time I have a reason to be worried about you, Poland! You're sad! Something terrible just happened to you, and I want you to be okay!"

Poland looked away and folded his arms across his chest. "Didn't I already tell you I'm, like, really okay? Russia's helping me out—"

"Even if Russia's helping you, that doesn't make it so you're not upset."

Poland was quiet for a moment. Then his shoulders slumped. "Okay, I'm sad. I'm in mourning. He was my boss, and he's gone. Like, what nation wouldn't be tripped up by that? But that totally doesn't mean I can break down and—"

He never got the chance to finish, because Lithuania suddenly took a step forward and hugged him. Poland froze midsentence, not sure of what to do. Then he was fighting back what he sincerely hoped was not a blush. "L-Liet—what're you—"

"You said you were upset, so I'm giving you a hug."

"I-I see that, but why—"

"Friends help each other out when they're in trouble, right?" Lithuania pulled away from the hug to look Poland in the eye. His big blue puppy dog eyes were sympathetic and kind, so much that it was all Poland could do to not look away. Lithuania looked over at Russia, who was talking with his sister Ukraine. "I don't have the money Russia does, and I don't have the resources to help you with the investigation, but…" he looked back at Poland and pulled him into a hug again, "I can still do this. I can still be there to comfort you and I can be right here for you to talk to if you need it. That's what friends are for, right?"

Poland stuttered out nonsense for a moment, trying to find the right thing to say. What was he supposed to do in this situation? Carefully, hesitantly, he lifted his arms up and wrapped them around Lithuania and squeezed, returning the hug. He rested his head on Liet's shoulder, watching the crowds of people disperse and the square slowly fill up with misty rain. He hugged his friend tighter. "Right," he agreed softly.

I liked this fic, to be honest. Poland/Lithuania fluff is my favorite! I included the flashback of Katyn for two reasons: one, the government was on the way to the commemoration of the Katyn Massacre that happened in 1940 when the plane crashed, and two, to show one of the major events that has divided the two countries for decades and build backstory and foundation for why Poland was so awkward around Russia in this story. To be safe, I do not mean to offend anyone with this story. My heart goes out to the Polish people for this loss - I'm actually a Polish citizen myself. I'm so happy to see Poland recovering from this, it really was a shock. As with my other fics, any feedback is welcome!