Disclaimer - I don't own Hetalia. Story's all mine, though. I also love Ivan with all my heart, and I'm sorry I have to do this to him, but... It's judt a story, and I still love Ivan.

Enjoy!

The Parting Gift

- For the original Mr Sunshine. -

It wasn't a typical romance. Nothing like one she'd read of, anyways. Then again, the books didn't always have it right.

She sent the last of her mails, and shut her laptop. She stretched, and her aching muscles told her how long she had held that position. With a groan, she released her tightened neck and back, and shook herself out, not unlike what her cat did after a long nap.

Her mind automatically went to the thought of coffee. She needed sleep, badly, but she had a few more things to do before she called it a night. But a cup of coffee wouldn't do her any good; it would keep her awake for much longer than she needed to be.

So she settled for a pleasant cup of tea. In the kitchen, she fell into her normal tea routine - water, milk, boil, tea leaves. And as the tea brewed, she leaned against the granite cabinet, gathering her thoughts.

Her mind was like a empty, rolling meadow, her thoughts like the heavy, grey clouds in the overcast sky above. She could see them, but they were on the other side of her consciousness, out of her reach. They growled and rumbled in the frayed edges of her mind, filling her rather empty mind with their noise.

She sighed. The calm before the storm, for the nth time. This was getting repetitive.

The beeping sound of the alarm cut through the noise in her head, and she looked at the kettle. Her tea was ready.

She fell into the routine motions of getting her cup of tea ready, and grasping it in both hands, she walked out of the kitchen, into the dark. She made her way to the dim light that effused into the room through the window, and sat by the window sill.

It wasn't a typical romance, much less the romance she had anticipated for herself. But there she was, feeling much older than she was when she thought of his age, and feeling much younger than she was when she was around him.

A smile played on her mouth, toyed with the edges of her lips, threatening to bloom. She sipped on her tea. Perfect.

'The tea... or Mr Sunshine?'

She took another sip of her tea. Mr Sunshine was a perfect name for him. His smile lit up all the dark corners inside her hollow heart. In fact, her heart began assuming other functions beyond the basic physiology when he entered the room.

Her smile widened. She felt like a teenager.

The water drops raced down the windowpane, and the light that streamed in from the city outside made her feel like she was looking into a kaleidoscope.

She looked up to the other end of the ledge. He'd put that thought into her head, on a rainy night like that one. They'd been sitting in the dark, on the window sill, just like she was then, and she'd drawn out mosaic patterns in the damp glass. He'd looked out the window, and commented on how the frosted glass made the lights outside dance, like a kaleidoscope.

She eased away from the memory, and looked at the rest of the house, swathed in darkness. She wasn't scared of the dark anymore. The nightmares had lessened, even without him next to her as she slept. And it was easier to manage by herself after one, too.

"Here you are."

She turned, her face ready to bloom into a smile. And she saw.

"You really shouldn't leave the door open, Nattie."

Her fingers grew cold. The cup of tea she was holding kept them warm, but the warmth drained away from the rest of her body.

'The door wasn't open for you!' a part of her mind screamed, but the rest of her was frozen.

The glint caught her eye, but she didn't dare break her gaze from his. She could feel her heart pace faster, and the familiar fear she thought she'd have left behind coated her tongue, like a thick, viscid membrane.

Nattie. He made her sick. Sick and dirty.

"I know I'd promised to never come back. But Petals, you don't know how to take care of yourself," he said. She was glad he was standing where he was. If he'd been walking towards her, she wouldn't have been able to tell him to stop - she didn't trust her voice to stay even.

"Running around with that undergraduate boy - Alfred, was it? Really, what are you thinking?"

Oh, the concern in his voice made her want to laugh. The insanity was still there, giving an edge to every emotion that rode on his words.

"He's not the one for you" -

"Oh, and you are?" came the voice out of nowhere. Distractedly, she realized it came from her.

He winced almost dramatically, tsked. "Now, you know I don't like it when you use that tone of yours on me. It isn't very lady-like."

The net of fear grew tighter around her mind. Still, she kept her gaze steady. Whichever part of her was showing confidence, she could rely on, at least for then.

A part of her wished she was holding a cup of chilli powder, and not nice, soothing tea. Still, it was hot enough to do some damage.

And if it came to it, she was ready.

"Why the knife?" she asked, gesturing towards his hand with a nod.

A grin came on his face. She knew that grin. Awake, asleep, she knew that grin too well. "Thought I'd carve up some dinner for you. A nice young boy, perhaps."

Oh.

No.

Oh, no, he didn't.

The fear vanished. The net disappeared. In its place came bubbling, molten anger. "What did you say?" she asked, her voice low.

He frowned. Something was off. She was walking towards him, slowly. She never walked towards him. "What did you" -

"I asked you a question. Answer it."

His eyes narrowed. How dare she? "Watch your tone, Petals" -

"Shut up. Do me a favour, and repeat" -

"What's going on here?"

Her eyes widened. 'No.'

Her nightmare turned around. She imagined him grinning as he looked at the newcomer, 'her undergraduate boy'. "Ah, yes, we were just" -

"Hey!"

Out of habit, Ivan turned, and screamed as hot liquid flew into his face, scalding him.

She always did like her tea extra hot.

She kneed him in the groin, and kicked him to the ground.

She pinned his hand with her feet, and put her full weight into it. He screamed, his grip on the knife lost. She picked it up, sat down on top of him, and with one swift motion, plunged the knife into his other hand, until the tip drove into the wooden flooring beneath.

The scream that emerged from him was ghastly, and it bounced off the walls of the house. Funnily enough, it was music to her ears.

"Natalya!"

She froze.

"Not like this. Please, not like this. He doesn't deserve it."

She closed her eyes. She wanted to kill him. She could. It was a matter of pulling the knife out of his hand, and plunging it into his throat. Holding his gaze as he choked on his own blood. Watching his life ebb out of him. She could see it. Right in front of her eyes, she could see it.

He squirmed under her. She brought her heel down on one of his fingers, hard enough to hear a crack. Another scream.

"Please, Alia. Please."

He wasn't asking her to spare Ivan's life. He was asking her to not destroy herself again, this time irrevocably, over him.

She opened her eyes. Damn it. Damn Alfred and his voice of logic and reason. She felt his presence behind her. She looked up, and into his eyes.

Love. All she could see in them, through the dark, was love.

Damn him. She loved him, too.

She sighed, but it was for her ears only. She turned back down, and grabbed Ivan's face, her nails digging into his cheeks painfully. "Look at me."

He did. The fear in his eyes was almost fascinating to look at, and the thought that she'd put it in there gave her a high that no drug could achieve.

"Never come back."

She didn't have to ask him if she had made herself clear.

She let her nails dig in further, felt them puncturing the skin. Those would leave marks. Small ones, only visible to his eyes. And they would make him angry.

But she couldn't let him get angry at the thought of her. No. She had to make him afraid. So afraid, that he would never think of her, or hurting those close to her. Ever again.

He had to be afraid.

She looked at the knife, contemplating her next move. She could leave it in there - it would ensure he didn't move.

She looked back up. How much she loved Alfred. How much he meant to her. He just had to say the word, and she'd kill for him.

But he didn't want her to kill for him. He wanted her to live.

"Darling?"

"Yes."

"Give me my cup."

He didn't ask any questions, and within a few moments, her cup was in her hands.

She liked this cup. Nice cup, made of heavy glass. It was perfect.

"I won't kill him. But I need you to go out, and close the door behind you. And come in only when he's left."

Alfred didn't say anything. He just looked at her.

"I want you to trust me."

He still didn't say anything.

"He can never hurt you again. He can never hurt me again. I need to make sure. Darling, I need you to trust me."

He sighed. She knew how much it hurt him. But he didn't understand how much his safety, his happiness meant to him.

He leaned forward, and kissed her on her forehead. For a long moment, she forgot. Where she was, what she was doing there. For that moment, it was just him and her.

The moment passed. He straightened, and looked at her in the eye. He didn't have to tell her anything - everything he wanted to say was in his eyes. He turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Alfred was safe. He was safe.

The relief she felt was unfathomable.

He was safe.

And now, she would make sure he stayed safe.

She turned around, and looked at the monster underneath her.

It took a monster to know a monster. So she let hers come out to play.

She smashed the cup next to his hand, and watched as it broke into smithereens. The sound was like a gunshot, and it reverberated in the empty hallway.

She looked at the jagged edges of the glass still attached to the handle her fingers were wrapped around. It would do nicely.

She looked back at him. Oh, he was terrified. She almost laughed. Almost.

"I promised him I'd let you live. But, before I let you go, I want to... Give you something to remember me by. A parting gift, as it were. Just like all the scars you gave me."

Fear bloomed in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but only spittle emerged as she ran the jagged end of glass from his temple to his chin.

She smiled at him, the sweetest smile she'd ever given him, sweeter than the one that had lit up her face a lifetime ago. "I think you'll like this one."

At the sound of his scream, the walls shivered, more alive than the woman whose steady hands carved out her parting gift.

A/N - Hello, everyone! Yes, I'm back from the dead (for the time being, at least). It's been a while since I wrote any original fiction, but after what was probably a three year old writer's block, I'm slowly getting back on my feet. Still need to heavily rely on a thesaurus to find the right words ( app is a lifesaver), but I'm making my way back up.

This started out as an original fiction, which I'd started writing in December. I wrote a paragraph, on my phone, left it, found it again today, and... Kinda went mad. ^-^'. Ehehehehe. And I realized it fit perfectly in the Natalys-Alfred-Ivan triangle.

For everyone who doesn't know, I love Ivan, and I ardently ship RoChu because it's a match made in heaven, for me. I kinda needed a villain for this piece, and... Well... Sorry to all the NatxIvan fans out there. I'm really sorry! *bows multiple times*

Well, I hope you enjoyed it! Do leave reviews - I'll take all the love (and brickbats) I can get!

With all my love,

R. K. Iris.