Summary: A sequel to TreesandCheese's story, Becoming a Memory. In a future world where the United States has taken over the Americas and, in response, countries are dropping like flies, Russia finds a new nation who may be able to change what has been fact for almost one hundred years - Canada's death. But will secrets and emotion destroy this country's chance of normalcy?

Genres: (Not in any specific order) Romance, humour, mystery, tragedy, hurt/comfort, family, friendship, action.

Warnings: Violence, dark themes, profanity, France being France (because that's what he does).

Important Author's Note! I'm going to be rewriting the first couple of chapters because they're rough around the edges... So, yeah... And not all of this story is going to be dark, don't worry. Fluff is in the near future (like, chapter four-ish).

In Dedication to

TreesandCheese, the author of the original story

Dragonflame666 for being the first to say they'd read it

Artificial Starlight for inspiring me to get an account

and for writing Giving In.

Becoming a Reality

Chapter One:

"Don't grieve. Anything you lose comes round in another form."

-Rumi

Ivan hated the feeling that was slowly boiling in his gut. Canada was dead, for good this time. America had taken him over and, like many other countries, had disappeared in his captor's masses. How could Alfred have shown no remorse whatsoever for what he had done? He hadn't even cared. Russia prayed that if there really was a god, that he'd banish Alfred to the depths of hell for good.

Ivan allowed himself to wander aimlessly throughout the coniferous forest that surrounded his home. He was engulfed by the pine fumes but ignored them easily, his mind wandering elsewhere. He was fantasizing about wringing the American's neck, putting him through the pain Ivan had gone through when Matthew bravely faced his death, when a sudden movement caught his eye.

He followed the shady character until it disappeared, leaving him in a snow-covered clearing. He looked up at the tall pines piercing the grey, lifeless sky. It was going to snow again soon, he had better get back home. However, as the tall Russian looked back down, a small girl stood in front of him. Raven hair framed an emotionless, pale face, lifeless grey eyes, as melancholic as the skies above them, stared at him.

"Who are you?" She asked him, her young voice contrasting the seriousness of her tone.

She had to ask him that. In that way. Like Kumajirou, "I should be asking you that, devushka. You are on my land, da?"

"Not anymore, this clearing is mine and mine alone,"

"Where are your parents?" He asked, guessing she was just wondering in the forest and got lost.

"What are 'parents?'" She asked indifferently. Did she just ask..?

"Your family, the ones that raise you, give you life,"

"I get life from the animals in this clearing. The trees raised me,"

"How old are you?" Ivan asked the strange girl. Not once had she shown any emotion. Could she feel? Or was she like him?

"I don't know."

"Your name?"

"I don't know." He looked at her, then walked over to a tree, snapping off its branch. She cried out in pain and fell to the ground, clutching at her arm. She's a country, he thought to himself, puzzled. In my backyard?

He picked her small frame up with ease and began to trek back home. Something inside Ivan told him to take care of her.

Ivan was unsure of what to do with Anastasie, that was her name. She had grown so fast but nothing changed in the clearing that affected her all those years ago. It hadn't grown bigger, it hadn't gotten smaller and still no one lived in it. Yet, she now looked like your average teenager, albeit gloomy.

Russia walked into the spacious kitchen to find her already sitting at the counter, eyes unlooking towards the early morning spring scene outside.

"You didn't eat your cereal, Ana," the Russian blandly stated, slight concern in his voice.

She glanced back at her soggy Chudos, "Oh," she started to get up to dump out the mush, but Ivan gestured for her to sit down, taking the bowl himself.

"Eggs?"

"Sure," this was talkative for her. Some days she only replied in slight nods. He walked over to the fridge and took out a carton of eggs, he turned around to find Anastasie had placed a pan on the stove. She was so quiet that not even Ivan heard her and he usually heard everything. She put her hand out expectantly towards him, almost as if she expected she had telekinesis and the eggs would fly into her palms. He handed them over and she placed the grey, cardboard package beside the black stainless steel stove. She walked over to the closet set in the wall beside the fridge and reached inside, taking out a flowered apron. She tied back her long, silky black hair and began to mix different ingredients.

Ivan frowned at the sight. She reminded him of Matvey, if that was possible. They were polar opposites in personality-or lack of personality-and appearance. The Canadian's hair was thick, blond and wavy, his eyes a warm violet and his skin creamy honey. Anastasie's hair was jet black and pin-straight, her eyes a cold grey and her skin was nearly as pale as the snow that Ivan had found her in. But, here he was staring at her back as she cooked up omelets, moving back and forth from the fridge to the stove, picking out different ingredients for them.

Russia stalked out of the room and into his study. He picked up the phone and hesitated momentarily. He had to tell someone about her. It had been fifty years since he found her and he was starting to think he had raised her wrong and that was why she was like that. Ivan needed to ask someone their opinion and it would probably be good for Anastasie. She had only ever met him, being cooped up in this house the whole time.

He began to call France, the name she chose for herself was French, wasn't it? But upon reconsideration, he decided that it would be best if the second person she ever met wasn't a rapist. Him, yes, him. He would do perfectly. Ivan began punching in the numbers on the phone, waiting as the dial tone sounded.

"Hello?" A British voice asked on the other end of the line, "Who is this?"

"Ah, England, I was wondering if you'd come visiting?"

"Oh! Russia! I'm sorry, I'm a little preoccupied and-"

"So, I'll see you at three, da?" He asked, a grin creeping on his face as he used his high, childish voice. Ivan hadn't been able to do that in so long, he had no reason.

"Haha... Okay,"

"Who's that, Arthur?" A French voice mumbled, "oh, don't tell me you're cheating on me. I'll have to punish you,"

"Clear off, you bloody frog!"

"Ohonhonhonhon~"

"Don't touch me there, you wanker!" The dial tone sounded once again. Now, all Russia would have to do was wait. And tell Anastasie.

He turned around to find her standing in the doorway, "breakfast is ready." Something really was up with her.

He returned to the kitchen, following after the slim, black form in front of him. The food set down in front of him looked great. When did she get to practice? She only ever makes herself cereal or eats what I make, Ivan thought to himself, curious.

"Who is coming over?" He felt her eyes on him and he lifted his head.

"Pardon?"

"In the study you ordered a Englishman being molested by a Frenchman to come over at three," she said with a straight face.

He looked at her, dumbfounded. She hadn't spoken this much since ever.

"Oh, um... Well, it's another Country, Ana,"

"England?" Russia nodded and Ana turned back to her omelet.

A/N: Hello! This is my first ever fanfiction! It's based off the one-shot, "Becoming a Memory," by TreesandCheese and is dedicated to them, Dragonflame666, who was the first to say they'd read my fanfiction, and Artificial Starlight for inspiring me to make an account and for writing Giving In. Check that story out for me, okay? Also, review, review, review! If you find any errors, I'd be very happy if you'd point them out. On that note, I did not spell colour, neighbour, or anything else with a random u in it wrong (unless of course you're British or Canadian, then you can tell me I put a u somewhere it shouldn't be).

Translations:

Da (Russian): Yes

Ohonhonhonhon (French): I am a creepy-ass rapist (just kidding, it's not actually a word in any language)

Devuska (Russian): girl

Also, if any translations are wrong, please inform me. I use phonetics because I, personally, like knowing how to pronounce foreign languages.

Disclaimer! I seriously do not own any copyrighted products or characters used in this piece (except for Anastasie). They all belong to their respective owners. The storyline isn't even fully mine, as it's based off another fanfiction (which I got permission to use, FYI)! And Chudos are a real brand of Russian cereal. That I do not own. In any way, shape or form.

Chapter Two Teaser: "I knew you'd be here," the man said, concentrating his gaze on her. His hair was covered in a black tuque, the rim of his jacket's hood edged in fur. Heavy boots adorned his feet. Anastasie registered to not let them connect by any means necessary. She smiled her sweetest smile, eyes narrowing in malice. She did not like him.