A/N: Not dead…

If someone reading this is following any of my existing ongoing fics, please visit my profile to get an excuse for no updates.

And here, enjoy a RusLiet… This takes place during the Russian Civil War.

WARNING: I know nothing about Russia-Lithuania relationships before the World Wars, so there might be Historical Inaccuracy.

Also, I apologise for any formatting fail. My PC was formatted and I lost my OpenOffice. I'm stuck with MSWord and its not the most compatible with FFn, so I have been told.

Toryshka is an affectionate form of Toris in Russian (..I think..?) (Don't you just love Russian nicknames? SO cute.)

Also, an explanation of the way I depicted their relationship can be found at the end of the story if you want it.

Date: 6th March,2011

There might or might not be a second part from Liet's POV, a sequel and a darker version of this. . I'm not too sure if that would spoil this –cries– (But oh yes, while I was typing this up, I came up with another, darker ending, but decided to stick to the original. Should I post that?)

The Swallow's Flight

Ivan hated how the migratory birds took flight each year before winter.

They would always fly off in search of a warmer place, leaving the land alone and bare, to tremble in winter's shadow and under His frozen sighs.

Just like how everyone always abandoned him. Like how even Toris had abandoned him for warmer climates – for the sun that was Amerika.

After all those years spent together, as a family…

He sniffed lightly, feeling sadder and sadder as the moments ticked by. Tears welled up in his lilac eyes, and he brushed them off with the sleeve of his coat, shaking his head to make them go away like a little boy.

Sometimes, like now, following the swallows with his eyes, Ivan thought he only hated the swallows as he envied them so much. He envied them since he could not fly away with them, he envied them because he could not follow them to a warm climate, where sunflowers bloomed all around the place, around the whole year, where sunflower fields stretched to cerulean summer skies and turquoise oceans merged with the sand.

The image reminded him of Germany and Amerika and he sniffed again, wiping his eyes off with his sleeves once again. Was it any wonder Lithuania would choose Amerika over him, or that a sunny person like Italy would be together with Germany? They must remind them of the sandy beach lining the crystal clear tropical waters and sunflower fields merging with the summer horizon.

The image made him want to beat their faces in – well, not Germany's. The man reminded him of sunflowers and summer too, and he was usually civil when he wasn't waging war against him. But Amerika had taken away Lithuania – his Lithuania, and that was simply unforgivable. He couldn't blame Toris for choosing summer over winter, could he?

Well, perhaps it was all his fault, really.

He hated how he couldn't be in a warm place where all the other countries would be waiting for him, laughing and shouting greetings as he ran down the hill amidst the sunflowers – and Ukraine would smile at him and not burst into tears, and Natalya would smile, too, and would say "I love you, Brother!" and he would be able to say "I love you too, sestra." Without having to fear for his life or unmarried state. And Toris, Raivis and Edouard, his best friends – but mostly Toris the one who was always sympathetic to him, the one who always had an ear to lend him, the one he had always admired so, from their very first meeting as mere children on the edge of that bridge, the one he loved more than his own soul, even more his scarf that was presented to him by his elder sister and the proud sunflowers that grew tall in their bid to defy the Winter all combined – would be back with him, and his house would never again be empty or cold or lonely.

(And maybe – just maybe – Toris would hold him through the nightmares? Maybe T. would like to stay with him through the nights with their endless darkness and scary shadows? Maybe he would want to be something more than… mere friends and confidantes?)

The mere thought sent shivers of something unfamiliar but not wholly unpleasant down his spine, making a million butterflies flutter in his stomach and leaving him enveloped in a pleasant warmth.

But while all that would be pleasant – who was he kidding? That would be perfect! More than perfect, even – he only wanted to fly away from this cold place – to escape from Russia, from himself, from his blood stained past, from this cold, bleak, bloody, p-a-i-n-f-u-l reality, to be safe in strong yet gentle, firm yet caring, secure yet soft arms, held by Toryushka and bury his face in the crook of Toris' shoulders crying about WHY and Oh God Dear God The Pain!

But it would be alright. He would gladly suffer through the blinding pain coursing through his veins mixed with the very air he inhaled and poisoning his blood, setting it on fire. He would not even care about sitting in the cold with no friends, in the cold, lonely house with no sunflowers – if only his Toris would come back to him, because then they could keep each other warm, and Ivan would take on the role of his oh so beloved sunflowers, with dearest Toris as his sun, always following him like the sunflowers followed the sun, and Toris could hold him through the pain and tears and blood and blackness..

Ivan shook his head sadly, finally giving in to the tears that had been threatening to fall for quite a while now.

But that would never happen, would it? Toryushka was in a warm place, why would he – or any of Ivan's other friends – come back to cold Russia? They had migrated to survive the harsh Russian winter –

– ah!

Ivan practically jumped up from his seat on the window sill, performing a small dance around the room.

Da! Da! That was it! Why had he not thought of it before?

He nodded, yes, he had understood it. He finally – finally – had it.

The birds always came back for spring!

Spring, da?

So, for spring, you need joy. What could be more joyous than everyone being equal?

He glanced thoughtfully out of the window.

Russia had decided.

EXPLANATIONS: Russia and Toris, in my mind, have a relationship where Toris is the sane, mature one protecting Ivan, since he's such a little, insane kid on the inside.

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