Summary: You can't sleep if you don't feel safe. And if you can't sleep, you can't find the energy to fight me, to escape.
Disclaimer: Don't own Hetalia. If I did… Let's just not go there.
A/N I'm on a roll. Well, not really. I was on a roll when I started writing this about a year ago. Then I forgot it and headcanon shifted and now I'm a bit unsatisfied with it, but I couldn't just leave it.
Warnings: Violence, blood, creepy Russia, human names, switching verb tenses, the usual.
Insomnia
Of everything Russia had done to him, sleep deprivation was the worst. At first, it hadn't been noticeable. Oh, Lithuania would toss and turn and be plagued with nightmares, but none of them were particularly horrific, and he reckoned that a solid six hours per night was a miraculous amount of sleep in Russia's house.
Strangely enough, it was Latvia who doomed him. The boy had always been nervous, and living with Russia had made his shaking a chronic condition. Lithuania had once wandered into the kitchen to see Ravis drop and break and entire stack of dishes. Urging the littlest member of the house to safety, Toris began sweeping up the razor shards with a dishtowel.
He didn't even hear Russia until one of the Nation's massive boots began grinding itself into the small of his back. Toris choked back a yell, falling to the ground centimeters from the broken china.
"What's this, Lithuania?" Russia asked, sickly sweet as usual.
"N-nothing sir," Toris replied, moving to stand. "Just slipped."
"Quite." Lithuania had made it to his knees, thinking he'd escaped the Russian's fury, until he once more felt the steel toe of Ivan's boot in his spine. Toris pitched forward, hands moving to protect his eyes. He could feel the shattered dish pieces burying themselves in his arms, his hands, the base of his neck. Unable to stop a scream of pain and alarm, Lithuania scrabbled desperately in an attempt to move out of the needle-sharp porcelain.
But Russia's foot was only digging harder, causing the china to burrow itself so deeply in his hands, he thought they'd scrape bone.
Ivan knelt down next to him, boot pressing and hissed "Don't try to protect them. They wouldn't do it for you."And though he didn't believe him, not for a second, Lithuania didn't sleep at all that night, terror still too fresh in his memory.
For weeks afterwards, Toris only slept for four hours a night.
The second incident hasn't been anyone's fault, really. Lithuania had simply mistimed walking out of the kitchen. Russia's army, Toris gathered, has suffered a bitter defeat and in his frustration, Ivan gripped the smaller Nation by the throat and held him over the fireplace until Lithuania's boots began to smolder and he was sobbing for mercy.
He didn't walk for five days and in that time, slept for exactly two hours and sixteen minutes.
Lithuania blamed no one but himself for the next occurrence. Lack of sleep was making his head spin, and the entire world began to blur. All he could focus on was escape, on the light at the end of the tunnel, on Poland. Stumbling downstairs, Lithuania made it to the icy road before being dragged by the hair to Russia's backyard.
All he could register was that Estonia and Latvia were shivering around a long-dead tree and the fact that Russia was hauling him closer, handcuffing him to a branch that was just far enough above his outstretched arms to force him onto tiptoes.
Lithuania was oddly grateful for the chains holding him upright, because he was fairly certain his legs would collapse otherwise.
Distantly, he heard Russia read something aloud, picking up the number thirty-seven and nothing more.
Thirty seven what? Hours hanging here? Days? Something stung his shoulder blade and a crack echoed slowly back.
Oh. Of course.
Toris could have laughed. This wasn't going to work. He was too deep in his own exhaustion to feel anything.
Two, three, four, five…. If only it wasn't so loud… Six, seven, eight, nine, ten. This was unbelievable. Wasn't Russia scary at one point? Lithuania actually did laugh then, staring incredulously at Ivan.
More words. Nothing he could understand.
Not that he needed to. Russia was irritated and it was quite funny. So funny, he almost kept laughing when a rusted faucet appeared in the other Nation's hand.
Oh.
The whistle of the hollow metal and the crunching, sliding thud of lead on flesh mixed with Toris' gasp of pain in a wave of sound that cut through the fatigue.
Lithuania squeezed his eyes shut, praying that the pipe was only serving to wake him up enough the properly feel the sting of the whip.
Whistle. Crunch.
Not so.
The second strike turned him enough to face Russia and sheer terror flashed through him and the pipe descended again. Toris felt the collision of metal and collarbone and bit through his lip, blood pouring down his chin.
His turning had gained momentum, and while he was no longer facing Russia, his arms were twisted around each other at such an angle that a strike in the right place would dislocate his shoulders.
The throbbing of his collarbone dulled the next two hits considerably and Toris managed a shaky "Russia, please…" in his own language.
"What was that?"
Lithuania had neither time nor inclination to prepare a proper Russian answer and instead spat blood from his torn lip into the snow at the bigger man's feet. Shocked by his own defiance, Toris dug his toes into the bloody slush, trying to move closer to the protection of the tree. His efforts were in vain, and just as he'd feared, his right shoulder snapped under the precision of lead.
Abandoning all pride, Lithuania screamed until he couldn't breathe. Tears spilled down his cheeks, stinging his lips, and still Ivan persisted. The knob of the faucet marked every bone of his spine with flowers of agony and Toris only sobbed harder, resigned to his fate.
Blood was pooling at his feet when Russia finally unlocked the handcuffs, allowing the shuddering Nation to fall to his knees with a stomach-turning splash.
Running his fingers gently through Lithuania's sweat-drenched hair, Russia murmured apologizes and kissed Toris' clenched eyelids, gloved hands trailing down to his injured arm. The brunette whimpered in fear but remained utterly motionless as Ivan explored the damage. Pulling Lithuania to his chest, Russia gripped his shoulder and wrenched it back into place, Toris' howl of pain muffled by his think scarf. Laying a final kiss on a dangerously pale forehead, the Russian stood and walked into the house, leaving Lithuania kneeling in the snow, face burning with humiliation.
Estonia and Latvia rushed to his side, hauling him upright and forward into the entrance hall of the manor. Toris slumped between them, exhausted and semi-conscious. Stumbling forward, the two Nations deposited him into an armchair where he stayed completely immobile.
"Just rest for a minute," Estonia instructed through chattering teeth, fading out of Lithuania's line of sight.
"R-right…" he mumbled, trying not to focus on the weight of cold and fatigue settling into his limbs. Shuddering with effort, he dragged himself away from the stiff fabric of the chair, wincing at the pull of cloth against his skin. Glancing dazedly around the house, Toris lurched into the hall, flopping into his bed with a choked groan.
Sleep...
Just the blessed death of unconsciousness, just please, just half a minute, I need to sleep...
Swollen eyelids closed momentarily, complete darkness a never ending vacuum, spiraling, tunneling, falling, falling, forever, forever, forever...
Lithuania startled awake with a gasp, staring into the gloom of the doorframe in unfeeling terror. Two shapes lingered on the threshold, creeping forward with a steady, malicious purpose.
"Liet...?" echoed forward nervously, and Toris wasn't sure if he should laugh in relief or cry in desperation. "S-surprised you aren't asleep," Latvia continued, sitting gingerly on the edge of the bed.
"Can't..." he mumbled to the ceiling, wearily following Estonia's hands to where they settled on his shoulders, trying not to shrink back in pain.
Latvia's brow furrowed in confusion, but he nodded and curled against the back of his brother's knees, pressing the safety of warmth into sweaty skin. Toris jumped slightly in surprise, but exhaled shakily, allowing his eyes to close fully. Estonia's too-dry hands skimmed over the raw flesh of his back, cleaning with a gentle caution that allowed his breathing to steady into something mimicking sleep.
A horrified shiver pulled Lithuania from his sleep, and he lurched upwards with a hiss. The younger Baltics stirred, glancing towards the hallway with a calm laziness that flickered into complete terror.
"You two left the dishes on the table, didn't you?"
Ivan's tone was pleasant, of course it was, but the subtle, jealous threat was scarcely hidden in his too-sharp smile. Estonia and Latvia leapt to their feet in terrified apology, stumbling over each other in their haste to the kitchen.
Ravis' soft weight against his legs was replaced suddenly and harshly by a cold and unyielding one, making Lithuania squirm forward with a whine.
Toris could hear the springs of the mattress creaking under the force of his shaking, and noiseless sobs wrapped themselves around his stomach. His throat burned from the effort of screaming and keeping silent, hot, frustrated tears twining into his hair.
"Don't worry, Litva," Russia hummed, stroking his hair roughly, a parody of comfort.
"You can sleep now. You're safe. I won't leave you."
Fin