Days of the Disaster

by Resucitated-Blue

An unexplainable explosion occurs in the meeting room. When all the nations wake up, they soon find themselves in an altered world. America descends into madness, as a fellow nation, his own brother, turns serial killer and sets up an empire. Pre-established RusAme but it's not the sole center focus. Hints of 2p!talia. .. A prequel to my other story "How She Remembers" ..

Author's Notes:

Warning: Self-indulgent story is self-indulgent; Canada takes over the world. I pretty much ignore the seriousness of the history I am referencing. Swearing, Mild Violence.

- This story will have pre-established RusAme.

- Story uses human names to show familial bonds and lost statuses.

- This is a prequel to my other story "How She Remembers", set several years before.

- This is a repost from my AO3 account.

- I don't hold anything against the nations that I kill in this story. Basically, I simply pick a number and stare at a map for certain strategic locations. Days jump for good reasons.

---

Day 1:

It's too warm.

This was the first thought America had when he woke up. He groaned as he pushed himself up in a sitting position. He felt he like had been used as the rope between two tigers playing tug-o-war. His eyes wandered around the room. Huh? What was he doing back in his work room? He was certain that he had been in a World meeting just a second ago...

"Ugh...Tony, what happened?" he asked as he stood up. Tony had been pointing some weird light thing above him.

"You fucking blacked out." The alien replied in its normal crude manner. America shakily pulled himself to the closest chair. He placed his hand on his forehead.

"I-I did? Tony, did you put something in my drinks again?"

The alien's response was quick flip of the bird then the grey figure dashed off into the other room. It came back with an electronic tablet that America was certain he didn't own. The alien shoved the thing into America's face. He grabbed at it, confused.

A beam of light exploded from the device and scanned him.

"Health is in stable conditions. Expression: Confused," a computer voice chimed.

Then as quickly as the alien gave it, he took it away and pressed a few buttons. It swore...or it simply spoke as normal...that was never clear with the extraterrestrial.

"Tony...what's going on?"

If you can't count on the aliens to explain things, then what else do you have left?

"Fucking, I've got a massive spike of radiation in the area but its nothing like your human elements."

The alien didn't go on and continued swearing as it pressed more buttons on the device.

America was left alone in the room, baffled. From the corner of his eye, he caught sight of a picture frame on a shelf in the room. His eyes widened. He pulled it closer to observe it more carefully. The force of his hands threatened to crack the glass.

The frame contained an old newspaper clipping with a photo. He was standing in it grinning proudly beside a woman. This woman disappeared flying across the ocean many years ago. Or she was supposed to. She appeared much older in this picture than he remembered, but she was unmistakable. He stared at the headline.

Amelia Earhart returns from another successful trip.

"Ah!" He cried out as a stinging migraine suddenly throbbed in his brain.

He dropped the framed article clipping and clutched at his head. He closed his eyes and sat down to wait for it pass. The pain lasted for a few more minutes then disappeared. Once he regained control of his mind, he began to wonder why he had been so shocked.

No...that is right. Amelia...yeah...she came back...she didn't disappear...but I remember she did. I remember that she didn't and she did.

His heart beat into a panic. That didn't make sense. How could such opposite events both be true? He rushed out the door. Instantly, as he took a step into the hall he was smacked by an unnerving feeling. The walls were a different shade of color. Was he even in his own house?

"Tony?" He said a little softer.

He poked his head into another room. Like the hall, it was familiar...but...

Not.

---

Day 2:

"What?" America shouted, in disbelief about what the other man was saying.

"See for yourself," the English nation said as he slid the thick history book across the table.

The American skimmed through the pages with a deep frown. All these dates were all wrong. A couple new faces graced the pages and some old expected figures were outright missing. He cautiously avoided looking at the maps. Tony hadn't given him any answers and outright disappeared yesterday afternoon.

Germany crossed his arms and nodded, "So everyone here feels it too. This world is not our own. But-"

"It feels the same, no?" France interjected. His hands pointed around their meeting room to make his case. Everything looked exactly the same, right down to where everything was supposed to be. Yet, it was all just so...wrong. There were now very different reasons for the various, poorly hidden cracks in the wall.

The room's members murmured their agreements awkwardly. There wasn't nearly enough of them to fill up the room. Many of the others nations were trying to get caught up with local issues so only a handful were in attendance.

"Yo, did everyone feel that explosion that came beforehand?"

"Hard not to. Nearly threw out my back trying to get back up again," China replied. "I wonder if those odd people I saw were behind it. Did you guys see them too? They looked like us...but they were so different."

"Yes." England agreed. The green-eyed man shuddered. Something about the encounter appeared to have creeped him out. "Whatever this world is, we better work fast at getting back to our own."

"But…" North Italy whispered, as if unsure of even speaking himself. "What if that is the dream."

England looked at him wide-eyes, "You aren't honestly suggesting-"

Those eyes, weighed down by heavy bags, looked at him. The bruent's voice was pleading yet insistent. "What if they are?" South Italy beside him kept eerily calm, as if he wasn't there at all.

Germany crossed his arms and shook his head, "Italy, we have scars we could have only gotten in our first set of memories. It seems unlikely that they would exist, otherwise."

"But did you get new ones?"

"Italy," Japan neared closer with concern. "what are you trying to say?"

The Italian's body slumped over. His finger traced around the grains of the wooden table. The reply was quiet. "Did you get ones that weren't there before?"

Silence.

France raised an eyebrow, "Veneziano, do you?"

North Italy swallowed and nodded, "There's a cut across my stomach, from...from... Austria...or at least when he was still alive." He looked over to his older brother, "Lovino has one along his arm."

Switzerland looked up, "Was it during a war or outside of war?"

South Italy interjected, "During war. That piano-bastard never saw us coming."

Prussia looked at him with a confused expression, "Well, don't you seem awfully proud?"

Romano frowned and kept his eyes away, "Can't help it if our military record is reversed here. I..." His voice was hesitant, "I...wish it really didn't have to happen."

"And it didn't. Just because we can't find them, doesn't mean they aren't still out there," America cheerily replied. He looked around to the gloomy faces of the room, "Come on, let's get sharing on some ideas. Those scars are probably just our bodies adjusting to this world and we can't allow anymore of that to happen. We won't get anything done by being down."

Russia nodded, "For once, America does not have a dumb suggestion."

America rolled his eyes, "Thanks. Now, seeing as I thought of this, I'll go first. I think we should combine all our resources and create a-"

"NO!" The entire room shouted.

Nearly an hour passed into the meeting, nothing of course, getting done. Germany wanted everyone to research but then it became a question of what exactly. There was nothing to start from. England suggested magic, but then he quickly explained the perils of its usage. That made everyone too nervous to try it. Too risky. So that was out. Giant robots got a big fat no.

America sighed as another one of his plans was shot down. His brother was probably having a lot more fun since his boss gave him an excuse. He wished his new boss did that for him. This new one was a bit too uptight for his tastes.

He glanced back to the open book on the table. He wondered what the world map looked like now. At the very back of his mind, he had the inkling that he wouldn't like what he saw. From the visible beating of the book and its new creases, clearly someone else didn't.

---

Day 7:

It had been death by gunshot.

Shit.

America groaned as he opened his eyes to the room.

Not this again!

A putrid iron smell wafted into his nose. It was right behind him. Clang! His body tossed away the knife in his hand. Desperately he tried to fight turning to the dead body. In these dreams, it was no use. His eyes glanced over the corpse.

Switzerland's chest was riddled with holes.

Calmly, again with his body working completely on its own, he whipped out his gun from inside his jacket and fired at the face.

Bang! Again. Bang! Another.

Quickly, the face became a bloody distorted mess. As he fired his bullets, he internally screamed in anguish. The corners of his lips though, as hard as he fought against it, lifted.

He continued screaming as he woke up. He shakily went over to his phone. He hesitated in bothering him again, maybe he should just call his brother instead. No, Matthew was dealing with problems of his own. Arthur was an ass when it came down to these. Francis would be too appalled.

He called Russia once more, as he had night after night this entire week.

Very few were told about his nightmares. They recounted the events of the murder too well. Down to the angle of the blade. Naturally, they would be called dreams of his guilt. Russia was one of the few who America trusted to still kept believing in him, even as he lost faith in himself.

America shuddered at the thought of the look of horror reflected through those green eyes.

"Are you there, Alfred? Hello?"

America shakily laughed, "Y-yeah...I'm here."

"Which one was it this time?"

America recounted his dream and Russia listened. Most would have been horrified by the graphic details. Even more would be unsure on what to say to him. But with Russia, never.

Russia assured America that if he didn't think he did, he shouldn't succumb to pressure. He told America that if agreed that he was a monster, it would lead to that realization. Hold on to your hope, no matter how dim. One's humanity was important. Regaining it after your lost it was an uphill battle.

He told him this all through one sentence, "You're going to be alright."

America smiled a little. Still, what else could explain the familiarity with the crime scenes? America had to be sure.

"Hey...Ivan?" The American sat up and leaned against his headboard. "Could I bother you for one more favor, babe?"

"Yes, of course."

The very next night, the two would be sleeping beside each other, peacefully. America tossed and turned, as he had night after night. This time, however, there was another person to keep him tied to reality. For now, at least.

---

Day 10:

"I never liked a single shitty one of them anyways," America said as he swallowed another one of his burgers.

They were a little bit cold but apparently a microwave was too much for this world to invent. Imagine, wireless battery charging was an everyday occurrence, but microwaves were the stuff of dreams. What a weird universe.

Then again it would explain a lot. Only such a weird universe would accuse him THE HERO of senseless murder. Yeah, he owned a gun that matched the one on the last two murders. Yeah, it went mysteriously missing back then too. Yeah, the murders were now gaining a count. Each day brought a fearful question, who's next? But America knew damn well he didn't do it! Russia was with him the last two times to prove it to himself. Still, they did not even listen to Russia's testimony. The man could be his insane accomplice. Tough luck for him.

So, before they could even bring down the verdict to ban him from the meetings, he walked out. Screw that! England, France and Canada soon followed his actions in protest. Russia stayed only to stare menacingly at everyone, making sure to give them the message not do anything to America or face his wrath.

Oh, and the wintery nation also tossed the table to the wall afterwards, just to emphasize his point. Aw, wasn't that sweet? America stuffed his face again. Okay, maybe it was a bit much, but this was Russia. That was his thing.

After another hard swallow, America considered what he should do now. Without a doubt, those who had stood up for him would also suffer consequences. Their governments were already tensing up. He was pretty sure his boss was pissed off, since he hadn't heard from him in quite a long time. Cutting economic ties was only the beginning.

He looked around the pictures on his walls. More positive things seemed to have happened in this world. For his history, from what it seems, less blood was shed. He slurped up more of his milkshake. What a shame.

When the nations were thrown with something new, it was kinda funny that this was how they reacted. Murder and suspicion. Violence and fear. He wanted to blame it on all those the wars they each had to face. But that was only partly what he believed.

A lot of the personifications had always been full of shit. Do what you need to do. Say what you need to say. How stupid did you have to be to miss noticing it? As a superpower, of course he knew the game's rules well. Sincerity was a hard thing to come by.

Except for hate. That's one thing he believed he could trust in. No one bothered hiding that. Unless that hate turned to love, but that was a different story.

He hated this falseness his fellow nations had. That's why he loved his heroes, his ideals, his dreams. They kept him believing that he actually did have a human heart beating in him. He yearned to be one of them, be a human. He didn't want to live being pointless.

Wait, why am I thinking about this?

America shook his head frantically in an attempt to get himself back on track. What was with him these days? First the nightmares, now the tiresome depressing reflections. Was it the effects of this different world? Or maybe it was the inkling still burning in the back of his mind that he was somehow involved with the crimes.

He rubbed at his head. That can't be it. Ding Dong!

His head snapped up with surprise at the sound. Something cold dripped on his hands and the blond quickly looked down. Milkshake spilled over as he had subconsciously squeezed his cup while thinking. Hurriedly, he grabbed a few paper towels, then rushed to the door. He opened it to discover a box on his door step.

Upon bringing it in, he shook it. Well, it wasn't empty. There was a bad feeling in his gut, something that was telling him to throw the box away, but he was never one to listen to such things. Slowly, he opened it. A minute later, America was hunched over his bathroom sink.

Water ran from his faucet cleaning up his mess. America felt nauseous and that the world was spinning around him while he clutched at it in desperation. His hand was shaking as he tried to keep himself together. His eyes looked up at himself in the mirror. His brows were scrunched in fear, trying to forget what he had discovered.

A photo. His missing gun covered in blood. A computer printed anonymous note.

"I thought you'd miss this! Thanks for letting me borrow it! You know, you really shouldn't leave your weapons just lying around like that. Imagine what England would say!"

Days later, Russia would find him unmoving in front of a flashing television. A mess of empty potato chip bags would litter the area. Even more burger wrappings. A bashed in hole was added to one of the walls. He was tightly hugging his blanket, whispering heroes are strong. No amount of yelling or slapping would move him for hours.

England was dead.

---

Day 12:

The North American twins had always had an unexplainable bond. Among the many things that they could sense, they always knew when the other was near. So when America arrived on his brother's doorstep, there was already a big pile of pancakes waiting for him.

"Bro, thanks for the food" America said with half of it in his mouth.

Canada smiled as he sat across the table,scarfing down his smaller pile, "No problem, Al. It's great to see that you're okay." He frowned a little, "You weren't answering any of my calls...and then after hearing about...you know?"

"Sorry about that." Mentally, America punched himself. What if the killer had taken his dazed state as an opportunity? He had to be more careful. "Well, I'm here now. The hero is gonna protect you! No killer is getting close to you!" He flashed his brother a good ol' thumbs up.

Canada rolled his eyes. "I'm sure. Well, at least our bosses agreed that this a good idea."

"No matter the universe, we'll always be bros!" The other blond exclaimed as he raised his fist across the table. His brother gave it a bump.

"Geographically stuck together whether I like it or not," Canada said with a teasing laugh.

"Same to you, crazy Canuck."

After eating, the two moved to the movie room. America's stuff was already in set up in the guest room. America skimmed through the titles, looking for something new. This universe better have made some decent original movies. If Spielberg wasn't alive here, then there better be a damn good director to stand in his place.

"I hope this will make things easier for people to see that you aren't the murderer at least." Canada said out of the blue just as America was picking out a title.

America nodded and gave a hard swallow, "But at the price of Eng-." His voice choked.

"Hey, Alfred..."Canada said sitting up straight from the couch. America could hear the concern in his voice without looking back.

"No, no. It's okay." He coughed and stood up with a title in hand. "My second set of memories says this one's the bomb. What's yours say?"

Canada scanned the cover and grinned, "Mine says not bad." He stood up, "I'll go make some popcorn. Pop the disc in."

America nodded and walked over to the television. He suddenly froze and widened his eyes in realization. America yelled to his brother upstairs, "Maaaaaattieee! Don't add Maple Syrup in it!"

"My house, my tastes!" Canada shouted back.

"Dammit," America muttered. It always tasted wrong when his twin added that sweet stuff.

Huh! Something fell out of the DVD case he had opened up. It looked like a hidden code that he used to crack in his days of espionage. Curious, he looked around for some sort of pen and paper. Aha, found one! Secret coded answers here he comes.

A good ten minutes later, Canada would come down to an American surrounded by a bunch of crumpled papers.

"Uh, bro. You forgot the movie…" He said as he placed the popcorn on a small table beside the couch.

"Shhh! I've almost got this thing."

"Uh-"

"Shhh!" America said as he finished up. Carry this over. Don't forget this symbol here and align it with that. Okay, there we go. The message reads:

You're still a freaking nerd, aren't you?

"HEY!" The blond looked at his brother who was now doubled over in laughter.

"You actually went for it!"

"Dude, can't help it!"

After America stopped pouting for falling for his brother's antics, he asked, "So...why did you hide codes in there, anyways?"

Canada shrugged, "I was worried that you'd be more upset about England when you came over. I thought about hiding some of these stuff to get your mind off things. I know you, Al. You're never one to deny a challenge. Remember that one time when you locked yourself in your room for days, trying to figure some code out and in the end it turned out to be Russia's grocery list."

"Yeah," America said with a nostalgic sigh, not for the threat of nuclear destruction, but for everything else. "That was Cold War stuff. It didn't happen in this universe. Not that it makes it any better though..."

"But it's a good thing for your relationship, eh?"

"Wow, Mattie! Way to pry!"

"I'm just asking because I'm concerned. With everything's that's been going on..."

"Yeah, yeah. Continue nagging about. Ain't going to say a thing." Canada tossed a couple popcorn pieces at him, "Okay, things have been good lately. Pretty great actually."

"Uh huh. Hey, when you were asking him to testify for you last time? Was he over at your place or something?"

"Yeah...I told you about the nightmares right? He's been...good... about that."

Canada perked up and leaned closer to America with concern, "Are you still being bothered by those?"

"Yeah, I kinda am but you know, Iv-Russia's been there...Mattie, what's with the look?"

Canada shook away the surprise in his face with a smile, "I'm just surprised you tell Russia things like that. You really trust the guy, don't you? More than me?" The last question didn't have any bite in it, more of a tone of curiosity.

"Hey!" His brother protested, "You know that I know that you were too busy with your work here. Didn't want to bother you." America curled himself inwardly into the couch, "Yes...I...guess..I do..."

Canada chuckled.

"What's so funny?"

"You once said you couldn't even trust him to tell you the proper meeting times. Now, you even trust him with stuff like this. I've gotta say, Alfred, your relationship is sugary sweet compared to what it was before."

"Different times, Mattie. I remember at some point I couldn't trust you with matches."

Canada crossed his arms and grinned, "But we're family. Geographically stuck together, remember? It's just kinda funny that you trust him with this killer around. Could have sworn it would get you in paranoid mode again."

America returned his own disbelieving look, "That's dumb. He isn't like that anymore. You wanna hear my theory for this killer?"

"Let me guess, something along the plot lines of the Terminator."

America tossed him a pillow, "Mattie! Nah, I think it's one of the original nations that was meant to be in this universe. You know, the kind of nations that we replaced, the ones with that was meant to have these second set of memories. None of us could possibly be killers."

Canada was quiet for a moment. It took a while for him to reply, "You really like the idealistic options, don't you?"

"Huh?"

Canada shrugged and gave him his earnest smile, "Oh, never mind."

His brother suddenly stood up and put the disc in the DVD player. America was soon distracted by the explosions on screen and quickly forgot what Canada said. He flat out missed the glaring frowns his brother directed at him.

America would stay with his brother for about a week. During those many days, America was always distracted, torn by his growing worries. Never did he pay mind to how Canada kept leaving him codes to break. Or how Canada bounced off questions about weaponry and various equations. Neither did he bother looking up in the locked attic that smelled distinctly of iron.

And that was how the twin slipped right past America, unexplainable bond and all.

But soon enough, America had enough about feeling guilty. He was keeping his brother from work. His own boss was also terrible at hiding the double work that they were doing in his absence. His hero complex called to him again. So, at last he packed to go home.

"This is weird...you know after England I swore I wouldn't let something else happen to you. Why am I leaving?"

"Because I'm going to be fine. You just needed healing, Alfred."

"I...I...guess."

Did I really heal?

He looked at his brother with a serious expression, "You better not die, or I swear-"

Canada rolled his eyes and laughed, "I don't plan to. I'll call you later then."

---

Day 21:

America couldn't sleep. At Canada's, his dreams had been wonderfully empty. He had actually thought that it had been the end of the cycle. Yet, once he returned home, he got what he feared. The replay of England's murder.

When he realized he was breaking into England's house, he did everything in his power to wake up. He fought hard, as if death itself was waiting for him with bated breath at the end of the hall, where he would plunge the syringe in his hand into unsuspecting flesh. He bit his tongue. He screamed. He pleaded and wept. He refused to see what would meet him at the end.

Through tons of screaming internally, he succeeded in breaking the dream. His heavy panting was the only sound in the room. He sat up and clutched at his head.

His blue eyes glanced over to his cellphone at the side table. However, his hand hesitated as he recalled his twin's reassuring words.

No, I'm better now. I can do this. I don't have to call him.

He got up from bed and walked over to the kitchen to get a glass of water. Click! He flicked on the T.V and surfed through the channels. A horror movie marathon looked great right about now.

"AHHHHH!"

"America," his boss hissed as the president covered their ears. It was too early in the morning for this. "What is wrong with you?"

"Oh sorry…" the young blond replied sheepishly. It had been the second time this week he had yelled out of fright. "I-" He yawned, "-was surprised."

The president shook their head, "Did you watch horror movies again last night?"

America laughed, "Y-yeah...It was the classics this time."

The president groaned, "I told you that you should be getting some sleep. You have a presentation for the world meeting this week."

"Yeah...yeah…" America said as he waved the politician away.

The very next day, America collapsed mid-sentence onto the floor. He was rushed over to his hotel room where he woke up to a long line of scolding. The president took away his access to T.V and internet and ordered that he sleep.

Still, America was stubborn. First, he tried escaping his room. Bodyguards were put up. He then turned to talking to himself in lengthy conversations. That was when they decided it was time to call in Russia. Er...well Russia was actually standing by to help the younger nation, they more or less buckled to his pressuring.

"Hey, what you doing here?" America said in a sing songy voice. He laughed as he felt the exhaustion build up on him, but there was still no way he was sleeping. The blond comfortably sat up and leaned against the headboard.

Ivan didn't return his laughter or his smile. "Alfred, your sleep deprivation is unhealthy for you."

America smiled weakly, "That's sweet of you but I'm fine. I totally have enough energy to get out there."

Whoosh! America ducked forward lazily as Russia swung his metal faucet pipe.

"So...you're still awake enough to dodge," Russia noted. He hummed and thought for a bit. His face was cool and collected, making it more difficult for America to understand what he was really thinking. Without looking back, the Russian addressed the guards. "Could you please leave us alone?"

"But-" the guards started to say.

The silver-haired nation cut them off, "I promise. He will be asleep by the time I leave this room." His voice was flat and America couldn't guess at what he had planned.

Once the bodyguards were gone, the Russian turned to the America with a serious look but spoke in his childish sweet voice. The tone was all the more threatening, "Alfred, you have two choices. You will either choose to sleep or I will whack you to sleep with this pipe."

"You already tried to whack me," the blond pointed out.

"I was trying to miss."

"Well…" America said in a tone of mock contemplation. "I don't want to wake up with a horrible headache...but I don't want to sleep. Any third option?"

Russia gripped his pipe tighter, "You are being a child."

"I am being treated like one," America muttered. He stared straight into the other's eyes, challenging.

After a few minutes, Russia sighed, "Why do you not want to sleep? Is it the nightmares?"

America shook his head, "No! I just don't want to sleep...I um...had a lot of coffee before."

"Alfred, you fainted in the middle of a meeting." He put one of his hands on top one of Alfred's curled fists in his lap. "You are shaking. Something is wrong."

"It's the coffee. I took a little too much this morning."

The wintery nation shot him an incredulous look, "Coffee?"

"Coffee...like I-" he yawned. He then slapped himself, "No, no, no. I can't sleep." He began to pull himself out of the covers of the bed, "I have to-"

Russia's strong hand pushed on his chest and forced him to lay back onto the pillows. "You are not going anywhere, dorogoy." The other hand soothingly patted the American's. "Neither am I. Is it really not the nightmares?"

America wanted to tell him about the nightmares. He wanted to tell him that he was going to have to witness England's murder. He wanted to tell someone about his torment.

"No," America replied more sternly. He took a couple of breaths to steady his shaking, "Just coffee."

He mustn't let the nightmares control him like this. Who was he? America, the fucking greatest hero ever. He could do this.

He didn't need to rely on the big guy. Sure, Russia was like a big massive bear that he could just hide into and be safe. But, America wasn't a scared wimp or anything. He was strong. He. was. strong.

Russia sighed, "If it is just coffee, as you say, then you can relax and wait for the effects of the caffeine to wear out." He pulled the covers over the blond's shoulders. He intertwined his petting hand into America's. "Please sleep, my sunflower."

"I-" America looked at the other man's pleading face. Damn, Russia was too cute. "Fine."

He doesn't need to know. It only needs to be my problem.

The younger nation's body turned away from Russia. He pulled his hands to himself to hide their worsened trembling and closed his eyes. Nothing to be afraid of, he told himself. He could distract himself in those dreams like he always had. America bit his bottom lip as he felt the tendrils of sleep forcefully take him.

The young nation awoke to the quiet soothing whispers of the other's voice. He found his hands had clutched at the others in a death grip. Quickly he let go and sheepishly looked away.

I wonder if he tried to wake me up.

He expected to be yelled at, clearly now, it was a nightmare. Russia had every right to tell him off about lying, about hiding. He could feel the remnants of tears in his eyes from the lost pleas of his dreams.

The other pair of eyes, exhausted in their own right, simply looked at him. They stayed like that, the blond looking away, the other almost expecting something. After a few minutes, the older nation got up without a word.

America wondered why Russia looked so torn when he had left.

---

Day 24:

"Ivan, what are you doing here? You know it's dangerous to use our teleportation powers these days. The killer...he...penned the others that way."

As of late, the killer was on a spree. The methods were increasingly more violent, like the monster behind it was getting more addicted to blood shed. It was clear that there would no stopping. Nations were warned to keep their houses locked at all times and to not come out. No one could understand the killer's motives and everyone suspected each other. And of course, Alfred still struggled to sleep at night.

Teleportation: an ability all nations possessed to make a large distance jump or two, but by making too many or too great of a distance, it knocks them right out.

America let the Russian into his house. The Russian's body swayed a little as he walked inside. America wondered why he had risked such a jump. The tension between them remained tense as Russia kept quiet as he entered the house. His purple eyes darted back in forth, even when the door was locked.

He looked to America, and while going as far to cover part of his mouth, he whispered, "Can we talk in your work room? I need to talk to you in private."

America crossed his arms and gave Russia a confused look, "Well sheesh. It's my house, nothing more private than that!"

"Alfred, it is important."

The American quickly led the way, though he was certain that Russia already knew where it was after his many visits. He closed the door softly and turned to see Russia shut the curtains. Had it not been the worried look on Russia's face, he would have suspected something of a more "interesting" nature than just a talk.

"There are no listening bugs in this room, da?"

America casually pulled out two chairs and placed them closer to each other. He sat in one and crossed his legs and arms. He gave the other a raised eyebrow, "Uh...no. Not since the Cold Wa-er that War we both remember but apparently never happened in this world. So I guess the better answer is...none that I know of?"

It was weird having the two sets of memories, like two sets of lives. It was sometimes hard to tell what actually happened in this world. The murders didn't help with that but America felt that he was getting better at dealing.

Russia took his seat. He fidgeted with his scarf as he began to talk.

"How are you?"

Are the nightmares still bothering you?

"I am fine," America said with a shrug. The double-speaking, he knew it well.

Yes.

Russia coughed to clear his throat. "I think I know why you are getting your bad dreams..."

America leaned in, "Really?"

"Well…" Russia let out the word slowly and deliberately. "I do not think everyone is dealing with the second set...so...amiably."

America nodded slowly. "Yeah, it's tough. But we're nations so we've got to deal with it. What this got to do with the nightmare topic?"

Russia shook his head and bit his lip into a frown. "I have been thinking about it for a while. When I stayed over...I had an inkling of it then. But after the last meeting, you muttered something in your sleep...and I realized it."

He shivered. He looked up at America with apologetic eyes. There were tired bags under them, as if he hadn't slept well when he returned home.

"Are...are you getting the nightmares too?" The American leaned in closer with worry. He was dismissed away.

"I am fine," The Russian replied gently. His hands gripped his scarf tighter. America couldn't help but notice how tight his shoulders looked.

"You don't look fine to me, babe. Come on, spill the beans. No need to dance around the issue with me." He placed his hand on the other's foreman in attempt to show his trust.

"Spill the beans...You and your amusing colloquialisms," Ivan said with a tiny smile.

America pouted, "Shut up! Seriously though, just say whatever you need to say."

It...It is about your brother." Ivan finally spat out. He visibly winced as he said his own words.

America uncrossed his legs, "Yeah, what about him? Did something happen? Did the killer get-?" His voice faded out. His blue eyes stared intently into the other's purple ones for quite some time. The two faced off as Russia struggled to speak amongst the questions.

Russia quickly looked away, "I do not think he is well, Alfred." His voice was now more of a whisper.

"What-"

"Alfred, I think-" He turned back deeply into America's eyes. It was a look that trusted the other to understand. A look pleading for the other to understand. "-he might be the killer."

It took five minutes to process this into America's mind. Another minute for him to burst out in laughter thinking that Ivan was making some stupid bad attempt at a joke. Then finally it took a second to pause and realize Russia was not smiling.

"You can't be serious?" America said with his voice slightly higher in pitch. "Are you?"

Blue eyes stared Ivan. The Russian's face kept its expression. America felt a fire slowly start to build within him.

"Are you fucking serious? Are you fucking serious!?" He raised his voice with each word. He stood up from his seat and towered over the man.

The other raised his hands to calm the other down. His voice came out weaker than it normally would, "Alfred, please calm down! I am not trying to-"

"You're fucking accusing my brother, that's what! Not cool, Vanya. You...you..."

"I would not be doing this without evidence, Alfred!"

"You're not the killer are you!?"

Mattie was right. Things have been too sweet with this relationship. Was Ivan just...just...using me all along?

There was flash of hurt in Russia's eyes and America almost immediately regretted his words. Yet, the cold nation spoke calmly and raised in volume a little in turn, "Alfred, that is a dumb accusation."

America refused to waver. The nightmares were one thing, the murder of England was another. Now, it was going to a question of which loved ones to trust? He needed his control back! He was too vulnerable here. No, he needed his space. He stared into those amethyst eyes as he tried to fight defiantly against them.

"No! You're lying! You have to be!"

"Alfred..."

Russia took a step forward. America could feel his pained stare on him despite turning away. He hadn't want to hurt him so badly. Both of their hearts were beating hard. One of them was ready to break into pieces.

Plop!

The sound attracted both of their attention. Russia's heart had fallen out. The colder nation froze. He looked down only to catch sight of America carefully scoop the organ up. The sounds of his heart beat literally echoed in the room. It calmed down a little as it was cradled in America's hands. The blond stared at its fragility.

No.

Badump! Badump!

That's dumb.

Badump!

I know... he's...he's...Ivan's not like that.

Tenderly, he raised it to Russia's chest level. Cautiously, the Russian unbuttoned his jacket and his shirt underneath. America observed the captured look in the older man's face. Slowly, he placed the heart into the open gap. Instantly, it began to scar up again and Russia let out a relaxed sigh.

The blond sighed as well. America sat back into his chair, crossed his arms and looked back at the man. "You have five minutes to give reasons why I should fucking believe you before I kick your ass out of here."

---

Day 26:

Now that America knew about Canada, Russia feared that he would be made a target soon enough. So, America had the Russian stay at his house and kept his whereabouts a secret from everyone else. At this point, no one actually cared. Everyone was a suspect. Only the unlikely and weak were given some doubt. Seeing how violent and insane the North American nation had become, the two couldn't just come right out and accuse him. No one would believe them anyways. Though they stayed in the same house, America felt that the tension remained between them.

Russia was now no longer speaking to him. Once the man had finished explaining himself and America finally believing him, he clammed right up. Which meant either he was mildly annoyed and mainly tired...or he was pissed. At this point, the younger blond was more on the side of confused, exasperated and what the hell was he supposed to do to fix this?

Then again, America was the one who let his past paranoia get the better of him. But with Russia, he never really knew his limits of control. For now, they were at an odd impasse that neither had been in a long time. They wanted to talk, but they didn't want to be the one to instigate it. The silence kept on.

"Come on, say something!" The younger nation at last said out of the blue, as the two ate quietly at dinner. The sound of his utensils and plates clattering filled the empty space between them, but it wasn't enough.

Russia took a bite of food then dropped his own cutlery with a clatter. His sharp eyes looked at him. He placed his hands on the table, as if to stand up and walk away, but then sighed. Instead, the older man rested his elbows on the table and balanced his head on his hands.

"America, what do you want me to say?"

"Look, Ivan...I didn't mean to say that you were the killer…"

"Really, America? Really?" He rolled his r's with extra emphasis. His face was cool and collected but his purple eyes bore right through the American. America shuddered but kept his eye-contact.

"I…" America started but couldn't find something new to say.

Russia sighed again and hid his head into hands. "I am angry because you thought to accuse me so suddenly, so bluntly, so determinedly while I have been nothing but supportive." The man's voice was softer now, "I believed that you and I were over this paranoid waltz. Am I still the villain to your heroic tale?"

"No…"

The Russian looked back up with steeled eyes. Those eyes tore away at America's heart, as if diving right past every layer. "Then why?"

America gulped and looked away, "I...was kind of...scared…"

"Scared?" Ivan raised his head a little higher and leaned in closer, "Of what?"

"You know that I love heroes and being fearless. Heroes go out and fight dangerous foes, the dangers of the world. Nothing is supposed to bring us down. But man-," his blue eyes met Ivan's purple, "Ivan, you're my Kryptonite."

"Kryptonite?" The Russian tilted his head, "You mean that man with the cape and giant obnoxious 'S' on his chest."

For the first time in the eternity of the last two days, Alfred laughed, "Close, Ivan. That's Superman and he's a Kyrptonian. Kryptonite is the rock that cancels out his powers."

"So…" Ivan said slowly, "I am like a rock?"

America groaned and face-palmed, "No-you-I-"He stopped and looked at the confused Ivan again. He spun his hands in a circle for a bit, trying to get his thoughts together. "I mean you are, like,um, the thing that makes me weak, that I can't use any of my superpowers around."

"Alfred, I still do not understand. You are very strong around me."

America shook his head, "How do I put this..uhh...Like, yeah I can totally fight around but I make myself so vulnerable to you now, you know? And it's so...stupid because why should I be so scared of telling you things? But..it just does. You...see through things where everyone shrugs it off since I'm just being an idiot. You get what bothers me and when you don't, you do everything in your power to try. You just get things."

Russia reached across the table and took one of the Alfred's hands that had been curled into a shaking fist on the table into his own, "Alfred…"

America looked away again but his hand gripped tight around the Russian's as he spoke, "The nightmares...they're bad. They're getting worse. It's harder to hide in them. It all just wants to take me away. But, then I remember I have you. Someone who has been there before and has gotten out of stuff like this." He swallowed hard again, "And I...tie myself to that idea...that if you can then maybe...I could. You're there for me and you're strong about it." He looked back again, "But, these are my problems. I don't want to drag you in here with me. And I guess...another part of me fears that you would leave me if you realized how much work I am. If that happens...then I don't know what I'll do."

Stares.

"Ivan?" America said nervously. The man had been unbearably still. "Ivan?"

And then the Russian pushed their plates out of the way. One of them shattered on the floor. He grabbed the American's shoulders and kissed him feverishly. Both of them had to pull away quickly because of the digging pain of the table's edge. Russia's eyes looked at him with such surprise, amazement, and shock. America was both breathless and speechless.

"Alfred...you…" There were tears starting to spring up in the corner of those mysterious purple eyes, "Do you honestly think that? Is that what frightens you?" He stood up and walked around the table and embraced the American. The shaking in the Russia's voice was evident as he spoke. "Why, in the entirety of this world would I ever do something so stupid as to leave you? Why would I leave the sun that awaited me outside the darkness?"

His kneeled down to meet America's level while the other remained seated. The young blond was torn between saying that was the cheesiest outburst in the world, and tearing up a little himself. He chose to keep silent and let Russia continue.

"I held onto hope for so long that something better awaited me after all that hardship. Do not dare to think that I would let go of you so easily, or that I would let any harm befall that white flame of hope. Alfred, there would be no point. Whatever darkness you face, I will be there. Would you not do the same for me, Mr. Hero?"

"Damn right, I would," America smirked as he replied . Then, it diminished a little, "Am I...really worth it then?"

Ivan took one his hands cupped a side of the American's face. His eyes just stared. In that deep purple violet color, of mystique and royalty, of determination that raced with him to space, Alfred remembered why they were together.

After several minutes of simply staring at each other-silent apologies and acceptances exchanged through gazes alone-Russia kissed him again, more passionate and longer this time without the table in the way. America was only vaguely aware of how he almost slipped out of his chair.

"Always." Russia whispered as he rested their foreheads together. "Alfred, you are the most confusing chess player that I have ever faced, a determined horrible knitter that no matter the atrocity I could never reject what you made for me and the sweetest and brightest of all sunflowers."

America smiled and whispered back, "You're the hottest clumsiest backwards-riding 'cowboy' the world has ever seen. Mr. totally-can't-keep-his-superhero-facts-straight."

"And I could not ever stop loving you." Russia finished. With their short distance, America could see the pink on his cheeks and the small smile that came with those words. He grinned back.

"Right back at you, big guy," America retorted and went for a tight hug, never wanting to push away again. He nuzzled himself into the larger man. The softness of Russia's scarf warmed his face and he felt cocooned within it, free from the nightmares, just this once.

Ivan's arms wrapped around him, tight and strong, saying more than any words could ever mean to Alfred.

---

Day 300:

America kicked the table and the generals in the room looked up at him. Some strategic markers on the table's surface toppled over into the drawn out Mississippi river. The blond took a couple breathes and stormed out into the hallway. The generals didn't bother calling after him. Shame was etched on their faces.

Thirty-five of fifty states were gone. Thirty fucking five states gone! And to whom?

His own-son of a bastard-twin brother, Canada.

When he had first heard the war declaration, he was overcome with shock. As the news headline sunk in, it killed whatever little hopeful doubt he held out for his brother. Soldiers were parachuted into the civilian areas. Massive fires were ignited in the forests. Airstrikes destroyed military buildings near the border. Their friendly neighbors to the north were invading.

Several months back, it looked like a bitter-sweet opportunity. He could kick his brother's ass for the despicable things he had done, but also get some answers for his behaviour. On top of that, it blew Canada's cover. The world's infamous nation-murderer was out of his shadows. America was in the clear and he had their support to attack back. He had the back up he needed. He had the all-hated enemy. He had possessed the will to fight. It was a perfect battle for the hero to win and conquer.

But, in a shocking turn of events, America soon discovered how far they had already infiltrated. Canadian spies. The very term sounded like a joke, a stupid, lame joke. It was like some sort of historically misplaced shit of stuff that went down during the 1812 years. Even back then, he would admit, it was provoked.

Nevertheless, the shit-storm that came with them went down on him faster than he could say anti-virus. All of the nation's electronic networks were flooded with hidden bugs. Major secrets had been leaked. Automated systems for aiming and whatever new tech-reliant weaponry he had were compromised and the need to re-encrypt everything prevented a quick military counter. America was in a defensive position right off the bat.

It also didn't help how easy the enemy could camouflage amongst his citizens. Fuckin' spies were invisible. With an indistinct accent and a border that blended people together, it was hard to see the differences. His people were wary, but who was to tell between a fleeing fellow citizen or a hidden soldier, until it was too late?

Prisoners were taken and shipped off to the northern part of Canada for "rehabilitation". He shuddered to think what that meant. Those soldiers were never heard from again.

Briskly, America walked down the hall. His fists itched to let out some steam. Damn, why did Russia have to go back? Of course, he knew the reason. The older nation was out to convince his government and the rest of Europe to send some fucking soldiers, rather than just supplies, because America's was running out. But damn it all!

So. much. bloodshed.

He'll give his brother one thing. Whoever was in charge of strategies over there was a fucking cold-hearted genius. Or an escaped asylum resident. No wonder Canada's boss had given him so many excuses to opt out of the nation meetings. Fuckers were probably preparing for war from the get-go.

"America, sir!" he heard someone call down the hall. America curled and un-curled his fists before he turned.

Breathe. Calm down.

"What is it?" America asked the young man.

Upon seeing the nation's poorly hidden glare, the young man trembled, "I-it's y-your brother…Canada. He's hacked into the system a-again and wants to talk with you... "

America grimaced, "Skype?"

"Y-yes?"

"Lame-ass motherfucker," he muttered and followed the man back into the meeting room.

"Oh hi, Al!" Canada greeted cheerily through the webcam. He looked back at the generals and other humans in the room, "Can you please let us speak in privacy? Thanks."

The room was quickly emptied of the trembling skeletons of the hardened soldiers that once were. It looked like they had been talking for a while. A sinking feeling settled in his stomach. America kept himself quiet and grabbed a seat. He looked up at the gigantic face projected on to the wall.

Wow, what bloated ego you've gotten, bro.

"Do I know you?" America greeted bluntly, his frown evident. He crossed his arms and leaned back on his chair.

"Ha. Ha. Very funny!" The other smiled, raised a remote pointedly next to his face and pressed a button. There was a very clear scream in the background, a red splat could be seen in the corner of the wall in the camera's frame. The maddened smile on the northern nation widened.

The American blond stood up from his chair, "What the fuck was that!?"

"A nice way to tell you to not joke around with me, Alfred. I don't like it when you're not taking me seriously. I'm sure your citizens wouldn't appreciate it. Unless, you're choosing the asshole route that you always do."

America swallowed. Shit. "N-no need for that. Let's be cool here." Damnit. He thought he would prepared for this confrontation but shit. Matthew was out of his mind.

"Sit down, Alfred," Matthew gestured.

The other twin sat down reluctantly in his seat. He kept glaring. His hands dug tight into his arms.

"You look like you haven't been getting any sleep."

Alfred narrowed his eyes, "Well, someone keeps killing people off."

Canada's smile lessened but his tone remained absolutely happy. "Sorry about that, Al but it can't be helped. Well, meanwhile, I've had a great day today. I'm sure your later reports will tell you all about it."

America felt his gut do disgusted flips. That wasn't even fake happiness that poured from his brother's mouth. What he heard was outright pure unadulterated joy.

"Nice trick with the maple-syrup masked arsenic." America said, desperate to separate to keep his thoughts distracted. "Wanna gloat and share some secrets like a good evil super-villain?"

Canada shook his head and smiled humbly, "Nope! But honestly, it's really nothing on our part at all. You and your people are just that stupid."

America gritted his teeth. His blue eyes sparked into righteous rage as he hissed out, "You are so lucky nuclear weapons have not been invented in this world."

"You're the one who's lucky, Alfred. You, your boyfriend and the rest of the world. I killed England with a smile. Do you really think I care if this land is scorched and becomes a wasteland?"

America let out a sound of disbelief and lowered his head. "Who the fuck are you, dude?"

Click! Another scream. He snapped his head up again, just to catch the sight of his brother laughing, "And that's the magic word for 'press the button and kill another dozen hostages.' "

"W- h-hostages…" He uncrossed his arms and gripped his chair.

Don't let him get to you. Focus.

"Interested?" The devilish smirk in his brother's face felt so out of place.

Cracks began to appear in the wooden arm of the chair as he tried to speak calmly. He glared at his brother, "Let them go. They're not involved. This is between us."

"They are very relevant, Al. Think of them as bullet points."

He swallowed "Do...Do I know them?"

"Oh yes, you do and so do all the generals that just left this room. I'm sure they'll love to know that you've killed off their families with your bad choice of words." There was a high-pitched scream in the background.

He widened eyes, "NO!" A cold chill ran over America's spine. Thoughts flooded into his mind and echoed all at once. He cleared his throat, but his voice still came off sounding more like a croak, "Spare them please! W-what do you want, Matthew?"

Great Job, me. Way to fucking let go!

The northern nation lowered the remote, and at last let go of that unnerving expression as he thought, "Hmmm...I didn't think you would offer so easily. Huh...what are you willing to give?"

"I'll...I'll...surrender the house."

"House? Oh. That house? Really? The one with all your memorabilia? The one you outbid three history-society auctions for?"

"Yes."

Canada hummed. Mockingly, he tapped a finger to his cheek and smirked, "Why should I want it? This world is simply not ours, as you said, eh? You have no sentimental feelings with it, but it is nice to see you go that route."

He leaned back in his chair, covered his face, and screamed into his hands. Then he looked back, "Damn it, Mattie, why do we have to do this? You're my brother."

Canada's incessant cheery mood left for a moment. His voice turned uncharacteristically direct and firm. "How long did it take you to realize the killer was me?"

"Huh?"

"I won't repeat myself."

"Uhhh…" The blond gulped again. "Russia came by…I guess it should have been so obvious to me when I stayed over, now that you think about it..."

"It took so long to get you out of my house" Canada said as he rolled his eyes. "Why'd it take you so long?"

"I...didn't think we shared nightmares anymore...not since we were children." He looked down and shifted in his seat.

"Not since we were children…" Canada repeated softly.

Alfred looked up at his twin on the wall again. His eyes tried to search his brother's face, tried to find something familiar in those indigo eyes, but his brother had always been a better master at hiding his emotions. Alfred's own blue eyes, on the other, reflected all of his turmoil. Where was the brother who cooked him pancakes? The brother who went on camping trips with him and once asked a moose for directions?The brother who never backed down from an ice-cream eating challenge? His twin?

The American's voice was quiet as he spoke and broke eye-contact, "Why are you doing this?"

A pause.

Matthew then asked, "Have you looked at a map?"

"Duh, that's how I know how many states you've taken."

"Did you know that you only had 49 to begin with here?"

"Forty-ni-What?"

Canada spoke in a deadpan tone, "Alaska was mine, though it isn't called that here, to begin with in this world. Not Russia's. Not your's."

"H-how?"

Canada gave a small smile. A hint of sadness came from his voice, "It's funny how history changed here. Real funny." Suddenly his brother shook his head and pepped up again with another smile, "So, about this deal. I'll let these hostages go, on the condition that you tell me the latest of your encryption codes."

"Don't you already have a hold on my system already?"

"Not at all," He replied. "You still have communication lines that are continuing to work, eh?"

"There is no way I'm-"

The other blond raised the remote higher, "Are you sure?"

I hate him.

Minutes later, America recounted the information, trying to hold back as much as he could. Canada wrote down the notes and prompted more questions than even America could answer. America knew that it would take at least a couple hours before his military could switch with off-grid equipment, maybe dig up something archaic. He could only hope that the fighting would take a short break.

"Is that all?" America asked as he finished up the last bits of his explanation.

Canada nodded, "Yup. I'll let go of the hostages now."

A couple of goats trotted into the camera's frame. One of them bleated. America felt his jaw drop. Canada doubled up into laughter.

"Wait? You actually thought I was killing off humans? Oh, how gullible you are, Alfred. I'm not a monster."

America was about to spit something back but paused when he saw Canada pull out a comb. Without saying anything at all, his twin brushed his hair to one side, just like Alfred's. Their identical features used to be a joke, an asset to pranking, or a friendly face that they knew that they could always trust. Now, to Alfred, it was an eerie reflection and a painful reminder of what once was. Matthew put the comb down, nothing being given away by his happy face. This time he raised a different remote. There was just one button on it.

"You on the other hand..."

It only took a click. BOOM! In the hallway, where all the generals who had left were gathered, fire erupted. BOOM! Another one in the lobby. No one ever got any shout of warning. America couldn't get to any of them in time. All he got was couple wounds from trying to move the building rubble out of the way.

The bottom of America's pants were stained with blood as he was forced to wade through the disarray of body parts. America felt sad that he never learned the secretary's name, as he passed her dismembered head. The building's sprinklers drenched the entirety of the building. The young nation shivered. His blue eyes could see nothing but the earlier image of his brother. His ears listened to the echo of Canada's last words to him.

That grin...it looked so much like his own.

"Alfred, it is always going to be your fault."

Why?

---

Day 442:

Fire reigned down on the city and the ground shook as nearby building foundations gave way. America locked himself up in his office.

Flashes of old memories appeared in Alfred's head. Games. Adventure. Fun.

Memories that his brother happily exploited.

Their childhood games soon determined the look of their battlefields. Twisted versions of their camping trips was reflected by the corpses. That Funhouse ambush had been sickly creative, Alfred was removing glass from his fists for two hours. That quiet incessant laugh refused to stop ringing in his ears.

He slammed his fist onto his desk. A crack ran along the middle but it didn't break in two, as usual. He paced around the room and covered his ears.

The explosions. The screams.

And it's all my fault.

"Shut up!"

Just look at how pathetic I am being.

"Shutupshutupshutup…" He fell down and curled over his knees, "Shutupshutup"

"America! The helicopter is waiting!"

"I'm not leaving! This is my CAPITAL!" He yelled to the door.

Bam! The door was broken down by one of his president's armed guards.

"We have our orders. You are going to go, now."

America put a hand on the desk with the intention to throw it. He still possessed a bit of super-human strength and that would buy him enough time to run. However, as they closed in on him, he couldn't bring himself to fight against his own people, knowing he could hear their screams in both his night and day. He left the wooden desk where it was and followed them out.

I cannot fight. I cannot win. I should just give up already.

"Shut up," he muttered to himself

The armed guards led him out and found himself running alongside them. They surrounded him, forming walls of defense while they marched together to the roof. The journey to helicopter was all a blur of stairs, the soldiers shouting, more abandoned halls. Smoke from nearby fires choked his lungs as he got up on the roof. His face kept forward, too afraid to see what was happening on the ground. He watched the helicopter blades absentmindedly. It was too warm up here.

Beside the pilot of the machine, was his boss. The president looked distressed as they stood there, hands in their pockets. Their spouse stood right beside them. A camera crew was setting themselves up.

America took a step back, only to be pushed forward by a guard behind him.

"Wait, what's going on?"

The president coughed and walked towards him. Time slowed in the moment and America found himself noticing all the little tiny details. Windsor Knot. Everyday suit. Red background caused by the fires. Sirens wailed in the distance, minutes too late. Guns behind him seemed to have lowered.

He could swear that the soldiers were saluting behind him.

"I was told by Canada that this was the best way to prevent pain."

America widened his eyes at the sound his brother's name.

"W-wait!"

His voice was too quiet, the strain of an entire country under attack finally becoming exposed.

His heart hurried.

"Alfred…." was all the human could say to him.

Then the human glanced to the camera crew, who in turn gave them a thumbs up. The politician cleared their throat a couple times, a poor attempt at remaining collected and their voice became more and more shaky as it went on. "As the President of the United States I hereby sentence the personification of this land into exile, revoking all ties with the state."

The blond collapsed on his knees as if the ground beneath him had been pulled out. His heart struggled finding its rhythm again. Desperately, he gasped, clutched at his chest and gritted his teeth. Pleadingly, he looked up to his boss. There was nothing but complete despair on the president's face.

"Cutting you from the formal state will prevent what happens next from killing you."

"What...happens...next?" he breathed out.

Before the other could respond, there was a boom that shook the entire building. With a grimace, the leader yelled at the soldiers, "Get him into the helicopter now!"

All Alfred could remember was being dragged away, arms dangling from two shoulders. As the helicopter took off, he looked through the window. Down on the roof, it was being flooded with enemy soldiers. Shots were fired but they were overwhelmed. From the air, Alfred could see someone new enter and they carried a large pole of some sort.

A flag was then unfurled.

Its pole stabbed right through the body of his ex-boss.

Then, he closed his eyes.

Now, it was too quiet.

---

Day 465:

A finger. Alfred dropped the box. The other hashed up parts, an ear, a tongue, a tooth, fell from the box and spilled onto the floor. He stood frozen.

Carmine, rust, cornell, maroon, scarlet, crimson, cherry.

Color dashed upon white snow.

Blood.

After a few minutes, Russia burst from the living room. Upon seeing the horrific sight, he yanked the blond away from it. As Alfred's feet dragged along the ground, he could partly make out the Russian curses muttered under the man's breath. At this point, the younger man was beyond care. Now, more than ever, he wanted this horrible nightmare to be over.

Alfred could still feel himself connected to his people but the cut from the state...made him so much weaker.

A foreign flag draped his lands now. The indoctrination was spreading throughout his entire people, brainwashing them all. Rebel groups kept fighting but day-by-day, they were being smothered out. His captured soldiers now turned against them. By the time they flew him out of there, he realized how inevitable their loss had been. He had been a distant shell these past few months, and even now he was still balancing along the edge.

The blond wasn't completely sure when they even got back to the couch, only that he was being wrapped in a tight embrace by Ivan.

"Why is he doing this!?" Alfred shouted into the other man's shirt. "My own brother. My twin!"

"Shhh...Shh...Alfred...you must calm down. This kind of emotional reaction is exactly what he wants."

"He-he...sent their body parts!" He shivered, "And...and his note!" He hiccuped as he tried to calm himself down. Russia continued to softly pat him and pulled him into his lap. The American clung to him, like a child to a massive teddy bear.

"I see no reason to pay mind to his words, and you should not either."

"B-but.."

"Alfred!" Russia grabbed his face and forced the other to look at him. "Alfred! Listen to me! It is his fault, not yours. You are not that monster."

"But M-mattie-he-he said.."

"Ignore him." His face scowled then set Alfred free, "That 'nation' is intentionally hurting his family, intentionally hurting you. There is nothing worth listening to from a rat."

Alfred whispered softly, "A rat that is taking over the world."

"Ah, yes." Russia looked back at him, "But he has not won yet. Only fools dare invade my home. General Winter will take care of them. You are safe here, Alfred." He gave the younger man a soft kiss on his forehead.

"H-how far has he gotten?" Alfred. He hadn't checked the news after a long while.

The older man gave him an uncertain look, "Are you sure?"

Alfred nodded. After months of his defeat, he felt ready to know the situation.

The Russian took in a deep breath, "The Isles are gone…It seems whatever nations he murdered was a way to weaken their military. Scotland has apparently gotten away though, but no one has heard from him. A good chunk of western Europe is also gone, but France and Italy are surprisingly still holding strong on their own. It would appear that their shelter domes are working. Asia has been unaffected, for now. Also, the countries from South America and Africa are cutting all ties from us..."

Alfred gripped his hands into fists again. It could've been worse. His hands felt the pattern of the cushion beneath him dig into his flesh. "H-how about wh-where we are?"

Russia gave another kiss on his cheek causing him to flush a little. Then he patted the other calmly and soothingly, "He has not yet broken through to anything that resembles an eastern front."

Alfred looked away and swallowed, "Good…"

"Do not worry, no one succeeds invading my lands, even in this second set of memories."

Alfred nodded, turned and rested the back of his head on Russia's chest, "I...I...just...he...he's clever Vanya. He's very clever." He swallowed and gave a small frown, "I barely had over a year…I...I'm a fucking failure...my people..."

Russia rested his head on top of Alfred's, "It is not your fault, Alfred. The rat merely used underhanded techniques."

"I should have just pulled out of my gun on that fu-..." his hand gripped the couch harder. "That…" his throat grew tighter. "That... he…"

His voice trailed off as his thoughts grew louder.

I should've just shot him. I should've just shot him. I should've just shot-

He felt Russia's throat vibrate against the back of his head. He couldn't figure out if he was just humming or saying something. A pause. It was repeated. Alfred looked up.

"Uh...sorry…" He said, "What was that, big guy?"

Russia spoke gently, "I was asking why you were destroying my couch."

The blond looked down at the couch. Alfred had succeeded at tearing at the fabric and a little of the stuffing started to spill out. He instinctively released it.

"Sorry…" He muttered.

"Hold on…"the older man shifted both of their positions, "This will keep you from harming my couch any further."

Alfred blushed. He was now lying on top of the man, his arms wrapped around his neck, their legs entangled, "I suppose that's your only reason?"

The Russian looked away, face reddening. He whispered quickly and embarrassedly, "Alfred..."

Alfred let out a small laugh, visibly relaxing in to the other and he noticed Russia's shoulders relax too. A pang of guilt dug at Alfred. The year had been hard on the other nation, as everyone in Europe worked together to strike back to defend themselves, and sheltering the blond was only adding to his work. Not to mention the increase Russia's worry for his own sisters, as Canada made his threats very clear.

"Sorry…" he mumbled absentmindedly.

Russia smiled and wrapped his arms around his waist, "There is nothing to apologize for, my sunflower."

Alfred turned his head and rested his cheek on the other's shoulder. He allowed himself to calm down some more and listened to their heartbeats. One, so much more louder than other now. He cuddled closer.

"Do you think he will really do it?" Alfred asked all of sudden, after few minutes of quietly breathing. Russia hummed in question. "I mean, destroy the world," Alfred explained.

The question of the century, no matter the timeline or the universe.

Who would invent it first?

Who would fire it first?

Who?

There was a sigh, "I do not know."

---

Day 486:

Look at you.

Alfred stared at the mirror in front of him. Bags under his eyes aged his face significantly. Or maybe he really did age because of the cut? He didn't know. What he did know, was that he didn't like seeing it.

Or hear the voice that seemingly came with it.

On most days the voice was faint, like someone was whispering across of the room. Often he could ignore and shift his thoughts elsewhere. Other times, it became hard to ignore and he found himself listening. The voice's goal only seemed to try to get him down. As much as he could, he avoided the mirrors.

Wow, how the heroes fall!

When he talked to Russia about it, the other had guessed that it might be his brother's doing, another way to mess with his mind. But even the voice, with venomous insistence, claimed that it wasn't connected. The voice apparently didn't help out "the system" or "the man", whatever that meant.

"What do you want?" Alfred said tiredly. The emotional roller coaster had already pushed him to his limit today.

Oh, so porkchop wants to listen to me?

The voice always talked to him like that. Was that flirting? An insult? It was weird.

You know what's weird? You, wonderboy!

"Don't call me that…" He muttered and fixed up his hair. Might as well do what he came to do. His hand reached over to the toothbrush.

Honestly, I thought you had more of a fight within you. You're just giving up. Way to be America…

"ShuhUp" He spat into the sink and gripped the edge of the counter. He glared at his reflection, "You try to deal with a total takeover by your own twin, topped with countless of emotional attacks sent to you every. day."

Uh, huh. Life's been tough on you. But guess who else it's been tough on? Everyone else. But does a hero that has been backed into the corner just stay there?

"A hero never has to fight-" Alfred choked. The blond let go of the counter and sighed, "Leave me alone."

So that's it? Gonna quit just like that? Well, this calls for a new title. How about Alfred the giver upper? No-what about the cowardly fool? The failed hero for all? America the land of the quitters-

The young ex-nation's hand froze on the bathroom doorknob. "What. Did. You. Just. Say?"

America the land of the quitt-

He snapped his head to the reflection. For a moment he froze. Was that brown hair-No. No it wasn't...it was his normal hair. "My country does not quit. My people are fighting hard!"

Oh, so it's YOUR country, YOUR people now. You think you're still their representation?

"I…"

Are you, Alfred, still worthy of your connection? Tell me. Because I. Don't. BELIEVE. YOU.

Alfred clenched his fists and grit his teeth. He looked away from his reflection yet he could feel like there were anticipating eyes upon him. The blond took in a deep breath and then returned to look into the mirror with determination. Three words.

"Just watch me."

He stormed out. Russia was surprised by the sudden spark of energy within the other but appeared more happy about it than anything. When Alfred asked for a computer, it was quickly set up. The American stretched before he sat in front of the screen, then he got to work typing at the keys. After a while, he smiled. Looks like he still had his extensive coding knowledge...he could implement some programs to help the others, maybe tinker around and bring the technologies from the other universe into this one. Maybe he could even help with the bomb race.

No way was he standing down any longer.

That's more like it. Keep this up and you might just stop them, maybe save Matthew along the way.

And the voice left as suddenly as it came, leaving America more questions than answers. But the important message stayed. Don't quit.

---

Day 547:

"Ivaaaaan" Alfred called to the other room. He slumped in front a laptop screen with a frown on his face. He bit his bottom lip. Ugh, why couldn't he think of a way around this? He looked at the clock. Damn. Maybe he should go back to sleep...No! Heroes don't give up!

It had been weeks since Alfred had realized why he hadn't been getting nightmares near Canada. At first he always thought it was proximity thing. Turns out it was a matter of distracting his brain. And once he got control of his sleep, the American-because he will always be one no matter what-bounced back from his sombre mood.

The sound of sluggish, very delayed steps came closer to the room. The man leaned against the doorway, yawned then crossed his arms. He looked at the other with an unamused expression.

"Alfred, do you know how late it is?"

It's been this way for weeks babe. Get used to it.

"I know, I know, but c'mere for a second."

Russia groaned and shook his head but went over anyways. Alfred shifted over in front of the table to let Ivan have a better look at the screen. He watched as the other's purple eyes light up a little as he looked over the code.

"Alfred...what is this? I thought you were working on the bugs in that scouter droid."

"Oh! the I.C.U prototype? Took a little break from that." The blond grinned. He clicked on something and a little window appeared the in the corner, "Look here. I found a little something while diggin' in the ol' maple network. For an evil conqueror, he's still the same forgetful ditz. You would think he'd at least take some extra precautions when he adopted my network system for his own. But, I'm glad he didn't."

"Is this doing what I think it is doing?"

"You can bet your bottom dollar that it works." Alfred grinned wider.

"This...is it actually possible?"

"I ran it by Tony, he gave me as much information as he is allowed to say by those dumb space laws. So, the stuff here is accurate. With how groundbreaking this is, I highly doubt he would any of us to know about it, so it must be pretty truthful too."

Russia put his hand to his mouth and hummed, "I see."

"It's just a matter of implementing some coding..and fixing this stupid recursive here. Once that gets done, I can get this program out for a couple test runs. Imagine, we'll be able to control our weapons with our minds alone...maybe more..."

The Russian yawned, "Recursive function? Is that not in the basics of coding?"

"Shush! I'm tired."

"I am tired too." He replied flatly, as suddenly remembering that he had been woken up. Russia glanced at the door. "Can we do this in the morning?"

"Come on, you know I can't sleep knowing there's this one bug still here."

Ivan huffed and began scanning the code over again. Then, abruptly, he stopped scrolling. He blinked and frowned, "Alfred...how long have you been working on this?"

"Um…"

His tone was filled with concern but he did not look away from the code where he stopped, "After I help you fix this one, you are going to bed, da?"

"Fiiiiiine."

Ivan shook his head again and pointed out the line, "This right here, you have an impossible condition. There is no way to enter that branch of code to quit the loop."

"Oh! OH! Damn, I am tired." He went on changing the notation. He added a comment to remind himself tomorrow of what else he needed to do.

"Exactly why…" Russia yawned again, "you should go to sleep. What are you doing in the rat's network, anyways?"

Alfred got up from his chair and stretched, "I wanted to give France an extra leg in the bomb race, since I can't really participate and you've got to send off your resources to help-" He let out a yawn. "-to help the others."

"The race can wait until morning."

The blond nodded and trailed after the other into the hallway, "Still weird what I found there. My brother has set up a lot of things in Old Alaska. I wonder if that's where he's testing them...strange choice. Hey, he mentioned that you never had Old Alaska...is that true?"

"My explorers never reached it...they...kept going missing...You do know it has a different name?"

Yeah, but I don't care to learn it.

"I guess that part of the sea is the new Bermuda Triangle for this universe, ...oh well," He said with a shrug.

Alfred was knocked out as soon his head hit the pillow.

Later that night, he would have a strange dream. Silence engulfed him. Ahead of him, he saw a lone mirror stand, surrounded by a raging blizzard. Alfred did not dare approach it. However, judging from the footprints trailing the ground, it would seem that someone else already had. He squinted in the distance but he couldn't see anyone out there.

For a snowstorm, it was too warm.

---

Day 678:

Cheers and clinking glass filled with champagne resounded in the room. A group of musicians-a rarity now to most events-played over and over again the few classical pieces they knew. Alfred fidgeted in his suit and kept fiddling with his tie. Ivan gave him a sideways glance and the older nation's lips curled into a small smirk.

"Uncomfortable, dorogoy?"

"This thing is so damn stuffy . Why do I have to wear it? You'd think with the world under war that the first to go is all these formal events."

"Hmmm…" The Russian sipped a little from his glass. "Well, France will be France. Ah, here he comes."

Dressed in a a white suit, which sought even more attention from the room, the long-haired blond approached them. He strolled casually and smiled widely at them. That expression easily hid away the past year that the other man had experienced. It was a surprise to see someone from the front lines of the assault look so happy. Or maybe it wasn't, given the reason for the celebration.

"America! Russia!" France shouted cheerily, clearly a little buzzed already, "You two certainly look dashing. Enjoying yourselves, hm?"

"I would enjoy it a little more if I didn't have to wear this thing."

"Ah," France put his hand dramatically to his heart, "your bluntness wounds me, America. It is such a nice fit on you though. I have to say you are becoming more and more like Anglete-Ah, sorry."

Alfred shrugged but looked away. To ease his mind he quickly searched for another topic, "How's the security system on the domes working for you?"

"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful. I can't believe how fast you churn out these programs and technologies out, my friend. It's madness. Are you even taking any time to sleep?"

Again, the blond shrugged. France tsked and sighed as he shook his head. He gave a look to the Russian who made a point to avoid his eyes and took another sip of his drink.

"Anyways," the Frenchman went on. "I must thank you immensely for all the help you've given. It is great to see you back on your feet."

Alfred grinned, "No problem, dude. The hero can't stay down for long!"

The Frenchman gave a short nod, "Indeed." He glanced at Ivan, "I do believe Japan has a few messages to pass to you from China. Something about the old railroads?"

The Russian lit up. Alfred knew that they were trying to get an exchange of resources and extend communication between the continents. It would do well that Russia was not the only one providing materials, as well as the few talks about gaining refuge in more amiable lands, away from the fighting. Stubborn China was, of course, stubborn.

"I will see to it. If you will excuse me..." And with that the other walked over across the room.

"So…" Alfred spoke again, "Why'd you need to get rid of Ivan?"

"Hm?"

"I'm not stupid, France."

The nation in question waved down a server with a tray of drinks. Casually, he grabbed another and sipped it lightly, "You are getting rather paranoid. I did not 'get rid' of him. I directed him to a better suited conversation."

"Round-about way of saying you have something grave to discuss about the bomb."

"How did you-"

"Again, not stupid."

"Sharp mind, dire times." France muttered then gave his hair a flick. His voice was slow and grave as he spoke, "Alright, America, I'll cut to the point. How...did you ever choose to drop it?"

The younger nation shrugged. His voice was quick and controlled. "I dunno. Ask my boss."

"You know what I mean, mon ami."

Alfred put his hands in his pockets, "What's got you asking? Are you getting cold feet about dropping it? Sentimental memories about raising him getting you down?"

"Answer the question."

Alfred frowned and then brought out his hands, "I don't know what to tell you. It was done. My boss thought about all the loss of life it was preventing. I thought around the same vein." The American shifted uncomfortably around on his feet and one his hands had snaked behind his neck, rubbing at it.

France grimaced, "I see…"

The younger nation watched the other sag their shoulders for a moment. Something silver caught his eye, "Dude, is that a grey hair?"

"Huh, what-" the other went to grab at the offending strand. "Not another one," He hissed. He yanked it out, winced at the pain then dropped it. He watched it fall a little then looked at the American with a smile. Much sadder though.

"Is that even healthy?" the younger nation awkwardly asked.

"Who knows, who cares?" He snapped back bitterly. Alfred bit his cheek and flinched back.

"Look man, I wish I could tell you something better. I mean, I would-no…" He let out his hand to rest on the other's shoulder to give a few pats. "I guess I could say that it will get better France…This will make this better. You have to believe that."

"Better?" the other relaxed himself a bit. "I sincerely hope you are right." A sudden pop of another bottle caught the bearded man's attention. "Oh no…" He turned back to Alfred. "I have to go...the minister shouldn't be going into the wine."

"Keep your head and humanity, France!" Alfred shouted, still wanting to give the other some sort of advice, as the older nation moved away.

The other paused in his walk. He looked back and laughed, "I still forget how young you are. Yes, I will keep that in mind." France gave a coy wink.

Alfred was left alone for awhile. He clicked his tongue as he looked around. Only a handful a nations had decided to show up. Most of them were Europe. Scratch that. Almost all of them were European nations. Save for Japan and Hong Kong, he was the odd one out who wasn't in the pre-made cliques here.

Another click and he spotted a small snack table. Overly fancy maybe, but it would pass the time a bit. Suddenly, a blur of brown, black and white caught his eye to the window. By reflex, he adjusted his glasses then after a few minutes of waiting, looked away. Must be another passing bird.

The rest of the event was an okay drag. Like the social magnet Alfred was, he had managed to squeeze himself into a nice conversation with a few of the other political leaders. Alfred laughed loudly among them and almost forgot where he was. As uptight as the party was, at least the invited were grounded.

He learned about how well the domes were keeping up the people's spirits and how well his technology was helping them. Their hope was definitely contagious. After a little of coaxing, he even found himself agreeing to seeing if he could fix a couple bugs. Still, not the most interesting way to spend his time and all of their topics were still connected with the war.

Soon enough, like a saving grace, the sound of someone hitting a glass caught the room's attention. France stood by his new leader. Both stood stiffly at the front. It was time.

"I would like to thank you all for coming," France's leader announced. "As you have all been waiting for, the main event."

A few murmurs passed around. Alfred gulped as someone came in the room with a ceremonial cushion. Alfred's eyes widened as the remote was taken from the cushion and given to the nation.

"As the nation of this land, and with a nation the one to cause all of this mess, I have requested with the hon-...privle-...duty." France stopped at that word, satisfied Across the room the sound rang, as something a little too true. He went on, "-of pressing this button. Once this is over, I believe we can finally get that much closer to ending this war. Perhaps…" Those old dark blue eyes met alfred's young ones, "...perhaps regain all our heads and humanity."

No cheers followed and the room remained entranced on France's hands. Alfred only knew that he was holding his breath when Ivan relaxed him by holding his hand.

The evident click was as anti-climatic as it was supposed to be. People gave an obligatory clap and slowly returned to their small chats. Although that had been the primary reason that they had gathered, it was not something cheer about. Rather, everyone clapped because the project had taken a lot of effort, money and time complete. Felt good to be done.

Alfred was just about to call a server for the first drink of the day, finally able to relax himself, when he had heard the sound of honking geese outside.

Blood had never frozen so fast and the world had never been so slow.

Champagne spilled all over the floor. The sounds of sirens blared into the room. Alfred felt his eyes snap down to the falling weight beside him. Russia's amethyst eyes glared immediately at the button. France was hunched over in pain as well, with many ministers surrounding him. More honking from the geese and Alfred found himself looking up at the one flying near the window.

There was a small laugh, "Look at that Kumahiro, they forgot to invite us again."

"Hmm...how does that make you feel?"

The sound of the two was muffled by the glass however they were clearly loud enough to get through. Strapped on the goose's back was a question remained in the air as everyone waited nervously. Alfred looked over to a butter knife at the snack table.

"Indifferent, to be honest. I've never been too fond of these social events."

"THEN DON'T GO AND CRASH THEM!" Alfred tossed the knife at the bird and it shattered the window in the way. The goose honked as it flapped out of the way.

"Touchy, touchy, Al." His brother taunted.

Apparently, that was the bird's signal. It flew away before Alfred could raise another butter knife and shoot it down to the ground. Once the annoyance was gone, he looked back worriedly to Ivan. He kneeled next to the man and managed to coax him to sit up.

Ivan grunted as he clutched at his gut, "Shot it down."

"Huh?"

"Shot down the nuclear heads before it got to me…Stupid Rat."

"Defensive firing system kicked in alright then."

"Yes…but not at all...missed a few…" The fallen man hissed.

"Shit, is it bad?"

"Fire bombs only. Not as bad as France is having it…Rat must have changed the coordinates..." He paused for a moment, "We are inside a dome, yes?"

"Ah-" Alfred turned to the host nation with sudden understanding. "The rest of the land…"

Russia grunted, "We will all have trouble going back, I believe."

It would take months for them to return safely to the Russia's home. However, there was no time to rest. The Russian was plunged into counter-attack efforts and recovery measures. Alfred immediately went on to dedicating himself further to his calculations and his programs. At first the young nation had been against it, but he opened himself up to weapon commissions.

He relied on coffee less and less. Even more sleep was lost. Plans were drawn up for an underground room away from the house as he furthered away from simply coding. He continued to research about technological mind transfers, desperate to catch some break before his twin.

He would not lose to this. Canadian geese army? Now, his brother was rubbing it into his face. Alfred wanted to have his trump card too.

---

Day 894:

Alfred didn't mind that he hadn't seen the sun in a week, or the fact that he was forgetting what the blue sky even looked like. Sacrifices had to be made for his work to at last produce a finished product.

Satisfied with his current work, he leaned back in his chair and rolled around for a bit. He wheeled himself over to another table across the room where he had piled all of his snacks, sweets and water-bottles. He munched and gulped as he could, like a ravenous starving animal that needed to settle the pains in his stomach, before going back across the room again.

He grabbed the towel he kept to the side to wipe away any crumbs on his fingers. Alfred flinched. That wasn't his towel. He looked over to the steaming mound of food and the hot plate which his hands had grazed.

"Still down here?"

The blue-eyed young nation froze, as if suddenly frightened by the thought of company. In a fast snap, he turned back to his work, "Ivan...you should be resting."

He could hear the weak smile on Russia's face in the other man's voice, "'I brought food. I have not seen you in days so I needed to check that you were still alive."

"Thanks." Again he refused to turn.

Their conversations here always ended in a hostile fight. Always. Nothing soured his mood more and today he wanted to be proud. Ivan just couldn't understand that he couldn't 'take a break'. Taking a break led to more shouts within his head, an echoing honking of a despicable creature.

"Alfred..." Ivan began.

Do not engage. Do not engage.

Instead of listening, Alfred turned on his little project and watched with happy anticipation as it started up. How long the other kept at it, the blond didn't know. Snippets of "please" and "miss you" barely got into his ears. "No goose" popped out of nowhere but he shook it off. Red light tinted the metal of his glasses. So much work brought into fruition.

The other man took the hint that he wasn't being heard and stopped. But he didn't leave. Alfred could feel his face tingle a little as he felt that was being stared at. However, his little device managed to keep this in the back of his mind. In its final phase of powering up, a couple of large metal thin rods opened up. A small motor somewhere in it buzzed.

At last!

In all respects, his design was beautiful. Elegance all wrapped up in efficiency. Nothing loose, everything polished. A coil of lights wrapped around the device in a spiral, allowing him to observe that every part was working.

All it needed now, was a brain to test it with.

Assuming that it worked, this device would be able to drain out exact memories from a person, store it and then play it out on the screen. He had tested a smaller scale prototype on a few rats that had snuck into his lab. The projection was as simple as watching a video. Any memories taken would be locked and inaccessible within the subject's brain.

Or so the rat maze tests have proven. Anyhow, it would reduce the amount work it took to get information from their captured soldiers. And...well if carried out right, would prevent their men from revealing secrets.

Alfred had yet to test it on actual human subjects. He wondered if it could erase the human defense mechanism of self-preservation, as Matthew's brainwashing methods had. Perhaps.

Perhaps it could also get rid of what haunted him most these days. He no longer had nightmares. Memories of what it was like walking through radioactive France, and all the neighbouring countries were enough, more than enough.

Possibility. He stared at device and then his hands reached out to put it on. He would set it for that time period, those dates. His hand pressed a couple buttons on the keypad that stuck out. His head began to feel a buzz and he sat down to settle himself. His eyes began to blur. Only a matter of time.

The blond let out a shout as he jolted from his seat, straight up then collapsed on the floor. There was a ding. Ivan ran to him, pulled the device off and picked him up from the concrete floor. Alfred didn't understand the words Ivan spoke. The voice though...sounded worried and frightened.

However, he was more focused on was the electrifying feeling that had ran right through him, now slowly fading off. What a rush! As his consciousness grew dimmer, he stared at the device. He couldn't remember what he had just pulled out of his mind. Good, that meant it worked. The American whooped a victory to himself.

Now...I can fix the world.

...

…

…

….

---

Day-

MEMORY REPLAY HAS BEEN PAUSED.

MEMORY REPLAY HAS BEEN PAUSED.

MEMORY REPLAY HAS BEEN PAUSED.

MEMORY REPLAY HAS BEEN PAUSED.

The message flashed across the screen. The silver-haired nation pressed a button on the device in front of him. Instantly it fizzled out its screen to static, but it didn't shut the device down completely.

The Russian had to take a break to recollect himself. Russia lamented that he had lost him the day he agreed to build the lab. He had been listening to the yanked memories Alfred had decided to yank from his mind, starting from Day 1 since they were transferred to this universe. Upon hearing the Alfred's thoughts alone, spoken in Alfred's sane voice, sent a massive spark to him. He throat tightened at the thought of its absence in reality.

So much had happened since the day the machine had displayed. Spain had lost their grasp of their lands, and the nation himself had probably fled to live like a human. Many nations today were doing that. With a foothold in Europe, the Rat had wasted no time marching straight ahead. The domes Italy and France cowered in were arbitrarily destroyed, most likely to keep a frightened population there. He marched towards the east a bit, stopping at India.

And finally, making sure to have his army wear good winter coats, the Rat invaded Russia's lands. He and Alfred talked even less those days, only seeing each other when it came to another technology presentation. If they had enough time and resources to mass produce the inventions, then they would have been able to defend themselves. If only, if only. Instead, they were trapped and hid away in Alfred's lab.

He looked around the broken up and destroyed lab that had been Alfred's obsession. This place had been the beginning of B.D, Brain Downloading. Russia ,preferred calling the method Brain Draining and Brain Damaging, as it was both.

He looked to the machine again and sighed. The Russian had long made his decision to listen to its end.

Just...not this second.

Alfred's technology was revolutionary. He eyed the twitching body on the floor. Shame, that the nation no longer knows that. Ivan predicted the young blond would be knocked out for a couple more hours, secretly hoping his blow to the head was harder than he thought it was. As the playback said, there would be pleasure receding in that brain, another mechanism of the forgetting method.

"Brain Drug," He muttered to himself, further thinking into the method's acronym again.

He mused that at least the other nation wouldn't be mad when he woke up. Mad, as in angry. Sanity was an entirely different question.

"Ah-" He gasped as he felt his chest constrict. His head snapped to Alfred. Perhaps he was waking up earlier than expected...Ivan un-paused the video. The Older nation had to hurry; he had to find out what was so important that the younger nation had to rip out the Russian's heart.

And try-emphasis on try-to implant a chip of his memories inside.

They were supposed to wait for Russia's reinforcements to get here. There was enough food stocked in here to last them a year and there were two pairs of radiation suits to keep them safe. Question was, they wondered if those supposed reinforcements were still alive. Russia's government was not like Alfred's. A nation died with its nation. There would be no exile for him.

It's alive! The playback shouted and he turned his attention back to the machine. Slightly amused, mostly sad, the older man watched Alfred invent his first weaponized droid, powered by the blond's own signs of his growing obsession to destroy his brother and fix everything,even to the cost of his mind, as if Alfred was guilty of causing it.

Russia hoped that he would find some clue as to reverse the effects that the device had on the other. There had to be way!

Stomping. Close by, heavy boots on men carrying even heavier weapons pounded above. They weren't speaking Russian. Russia cursed. He paused Alfred's memories once more. The rat's men had found them. Like wild prey, they had been cornered. He held his breath and wished for them to leave. If he kept quiet for long enough then...

"Gah!" He involuntarily shouted out and clamped his hands over his mouth. Alfred had grasped his heart harder at the feel of it slowing from earlier.

"They're down here!"Someone shouted above and their feet started pounding at the entrance. Crack! The blockade wouldn't hold for long

...

Suddenly.

Too Warm…

Gauging.

Shots drilled into their bodies rapidly. ...BANG! BANG!

Emptied guns clunk and sank to the floor. Pipe...WHACK!CRACK!

Feint to the left and another to the right.

Cover...Trigger.

Fear. Red.

Beaten.

Victory.

Guilt.

...

Stains formed where Russia's wounds dripped.

Humans, the Russian thought with disgust and further hatred for his current enemy grew. Broken bodies on the floor was what was left of them. His gun had run out of bullets. Bludgeoning had to have followed in order to save himself. Pitiful fools.

He looked to the paused device. Now, there would be no time for the end. Reinforcements for the rat's soldiers would be headed their way. Since he couldn't skip ahead or rewind back to something he did like hearing (flattery was always nice), he turned off the machine and unplugged the chip.

It was only a matter of time until more of them came. Nations no longer had their extra abilities so teleportation was out of the question. The bombs had caused too much destruction. For a moment, he thought about his sisters. Russia could only hope that they were safe.

His head slowly turned back to Alfred.

Badump! Badump!

Russia, though the owner of the organ, never could get used to the sound out in the wide and open. His eyes slowly shifted over to Alfred's face. The man was calm, calmer than he had been ever since these days had started. Ivan could always tell when the other was lying, even in his own thoughts. Alfred had been in a worse state than he let himself believe.

But there was one truth. Trust.

Alfred trusted him to keep him sane, to stay by his side, to be there.

And maybe that was it. His purple eyes examined the chip he was holding, just to admire what the little chip held. He wondered how much Alfred had retained. How much of that excitement and enthusiasm was saved into this chip?

But, to even keep a smidgen of that in this tiny collection of data...

"Brilliant", he whispered to it.

There was a groan. Ivan's head snapped back to Alfred. The blond's eyes were still closed but his body shifted a little, careful about the heart in his hands. Ah, maybe Alfred heard him. Then, Ivan's breath hitched when he heard the other whisper back.

"Beautiful."

He walked over to the curled up young nation.

Protect.

Ivan turned his around to hear who had spoken those words. No one.

Protect.

His heart beat to the syllables.

Protect...him.

Ivan found himself gasping as he stared at the increased glow around the chip as it came closer to flesh other than his hands...to his heart. A sad smile of understanding. He sighed. To keep him safe, to keep him close. There was a plan in doing so, had to be a plan. With slow deliberate steps, learning that Alfred gripped at him every time his heart dared speed up, he found a sterile knife on the table.

"I give in to you a little too much, dorogoy." He leaned down to kiss the man's forehead.

Schlick!

His blood, the chip, both were so so cold.

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A/N: Thank you for reading :)