Vietnam was running, her desperate, pounding footsteps echoing lightly through the dense forest. Her soldier uniform was worn, caked with mud in some places, and stained with blood in others. Her own blood, or someone else's, she couldn't quite remember…

The only thing she did remember was that she had to run

Run, hide, crawl in a hole and die…please…let her die, she couldn't take this any longer

The Vietnam War? You've heard of it, haven't you? Of course you have.

But you've only heard of it. You don't know what it really was. You don't know how painful, desperately painful, it was. A teen, newly independent, ripped in half before she was even aware of who she was.

Strangers entered her land from all sides, tugging her in multiple directions. Russia and China on one side, America on the other. Neither one would let go, meaning she would either be ripped in half, or ripped into uneven halves…

For now, she would have to run. Run from the soldiers who burned her villages; run from the napalm bombs and the merciless tanks. She ran from herself, because she didn't know who she was anymore

Halfway through the forest, she barreled into Alfred, who caught her gently.

The American, the "hero" who insisted he could save everyone. He was foolish, but something about his determination made Vietnam smile. Well, half of her smiled, and the other half of her was just annoyed. Which half was which, she still wasn't sure

"Alfred?" she raised an eyebrow in surprise, "What are you doing here?"

His eyes were cold, almost gloating. Dark, shaded eyes that showed only one emotion: triumph

"You can't play this game forever, you know" he murmured, his arms tightening around her

"I-It's not a game!" Vietnam insisted, her tone pleading, "No one is backing down…" Her voice was weak, weary. The war was at a point where the original purpose didn't matter. Ivan and Yao didn't want to recruit her, they wanted to crush Alfred. And Alfred didn't want to save her; he just wanted to wipe out communism…

Neither side in the Vietnam War was really fighting for Vietnam…they were fighting for themselves, and they would rip her in half to get what they wanted.

He shrugged, "Whatever you want to call it, one side is going to win eventually"

Her tone turned defensive, "How is that supposed to happen? You won't let go, and they won't let go either! What do I do now?"

He gripped her tightly, tilting her chin so she looked right into his frozen blue eyes. "Let me take care of it" he purred, his eyes piercing her wide brown orbs. "I see it, you know. I see you're terrified of me" He stroked her hair, "You should be"

His slender fingers cupped her chin, yanking so their lips were an inch apart. His lips pressed lightly against her for a brief second before breaking away. "I see it in your eyes, taste it on your lips, feel it in your hair."

She stared at him, frozen

"You've got the leech in you, the communism in you." His voice dropped to a whisper, "I'll get it out though, save you before that happens"

She turned away, trying to untangle herself from his grip

"Don't be like that, sweet" he insisted, "I'm being kinder to you than you deserve…I should be breaking every bone in your body, wringing your neck until the red that you cherish so much drips from your throat."

Vietnam was silent…she couldn't talk, couldn't breathe, couldn't see…she was lost and hurt. Her head was pounding as two halves battled

"Look at me" he insisted, his fingers found her wrist and began twisting, popping the bone out of it's joint. He smiled in satisfaction when he heard her hiss and saw her eyes wince

"Better for you to be hurt than be one of those" he nodded

He let her go, taking a quick step back. "Are you going to join me or not? Look at me, Viet, look at what you could be. Look at the freedom, the power. Don't you want to survive? I can help you better than anyone."

His fingers tangled in her hair, yanking roughly as he forced her to look into his eyes again. "Look at me" he repeated, "And don't you dare look at anyone else"

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

Vietnam snapped awake, her body trembling with adrenaline. Another nightmare…was it the second one this week, or the third? She couldn't remember; she didn't want to remember

She shifted and sat up, her arms wrapped securely around her knees. She stared at the wall, blankly, recalling the few words Alfred had spoken to her that day…It had been thirty years since the war ended, and they were slowly talking again.

Vietnam had avoided him, staying with Ivan and Yao, and speaking to him only when strictly necessary. She didn't look into his eyes, didn't want to see or remember.

At one point, he had caught her arm, turning her slightly so she had to look at him. His eyes were warm, a soft baby blue she had rarely seen. They were somber, apologetic. She flinched when he tapped her shoulder, and the flash of guilt and hurt in his eyes told her what he wanted to say

Please…don't look at me like that…I'm sorry