And the train wreck continues... (Train wreck in that this can't end well for Liet and Poland.) *sweatdrop* Enjoy.

---

He came to slowly, with a fantastic headache hammering an ice pick into his brain. Groaning, he blinked away unconsciousness and his room slide into focus.

"Are you awake?"

His heart skipped a beat even as he recognized Estonia's voice. He and Latvia were sitting next to the bed, looking worried and tired and sad. Latvia held out a bowl of soup in offering, and Lithuania sat up, wincing as the ice pick wedged itself in particularly deep.

"Where's Poland? Is he okay?"

Latvia's face crumpled, the concern abruptly buried by a sharp flash of resentment, but it was gone as quickly as it came, replaced by carefully crafted neutrality. "He's in his room."

"Is he hurt?" Liet asked, disregarding the sudden shift. He blinked, and swiftly corrected, "How badly is he hurt?"

Estonia looked away. "I don't know," he said quietly. "Russia's placed him in solitary confinement. We're not allowed to see or talk to him, and he's not allowed to leave his room." He paused for a moment. "I'm not sure he could leave his room, if he wanted to. It sounded… bad."

"I have to go see him," Lithuania said, sitting up far faster than his body could handle; he swayed, the room passing out of focus.

Estonia put a steadying hand on his shoulder. "Russia's in a bad mood. He came home covered in blood; you must have seen that earlier. Besides, you shouldn't walk yet."

Lithuania shook him off as the wave of dizziness passed. "No, I have to see if he's alright—"

"Why is it always Poland?" Latvia shouted suddenly. "He's all you ever think about, the one you talk to, the one you spend time with. Do we not exist anymore? Is Poland more important to you because you use to live together?"

"Latvia—" But the Baltic nation continued right over him.

"I thought we were supposed to be brothers! But we're not, are we? We don't even share the same language or culture! The only thing that ties us together is Russia!"

The name brought a ringing silence to the room. Latvia glared resolutely at the floor, blushing furiously, hands clenched into tight fists. Lithuania had never seen him like this, and wondered how they could have reached this point.

"Latvia, we are brothers. We might be different, but we're still brothers. We share the same roots. But," and here was the difficult part. "Poland's really struggling right now; I have to help him."

"Right," Latvia said bitterly. "Because the rest of us aren't struggling at all." Without another word, he set the soup down on the chair and left the room, shutting the door behind him.

Lithuania turned to Estonia. "Does it really come across that way?" he asked desperately. Estonia was the more logical of the two; surely he would be able to see that Liet was just trying to help out his friend. He wasn't trying to shut them out.

But Estonia wouldn't meet his gaze. "I'll go warm up your soup again; it's gotten cool by now," he said quietly, taking the bowl and following Latvia out.

The click of a door latch never sounded so loud.

--

Estonia returned shortly after with soup. They sat in awkward silence, the sounds of eating thunderously loud. When he finished, Estonia took the bowl and left, leaving Lithuania to his thoughts. He wondered if Russia put him in solitary confinement as well or if they were just upset with him. He would prefer confinement, actually.

Judging from the lack of light outside, night had alright ready fallen; the clock confirmed that it was eight fifteen. He swung his legs off the side of the bed and cautiously stood up; the world tilted threateningly, but righted itself. Slowly making his way to the door, he paused as he passed the mirror, his somber green eyes straying to an angry red cut partially hidden by his hair. It was the first obvious mark of injury he'd acquired since coming to live with Russia again.

He was certain it wouldn't be the last.

Particularly since he was currently planning to go see Poland in direct defiance of Russia's orders. At this hour, Russia would probably be downstairs listening to his horribly depressing music and drinking. Or in his office listening to his horribly depressing music and drinking. Hopefully he was downstairs, as it would greatly decrease Liet's chance of running into him while he tried to break into Poland's room.

He grabbed a paper clip from the desk, his soon-to-be make-shift lock pick, before pressing an ear to the door. All was quiet. Taking a deep breath, he opened the door and crept into the darkened hall. The faint strains of music reached his ears; good, Russia was downstairs. He tip-toed down the hallway, one hand on the wall to steady himself against any potential dizzy spells, and came up to Poland's room. Bending the paperclip out of shape, he set about trying to jimmy the lock, a skill he had never really successfully mastered. Maybe fate would be kind and give him a break.

What felt like an infinite amount of time later but really couldn't have been more than two minutes tops, Lithuania was close to panicking, desperate to hear the lock click open, convinced Russia was going to walk up the stairs any moment and see him. Without thinking he tried the door anyways; it opened smoothly.

Lithuania stared. The door wasn't locked at all. And in that moment another horrible fact dawned on him, that Russia didn't need to bother locking doors to keep people out, the very force of his words was enough; the second revelation followed closely on the heels of the first, that if it had been anyone else other than Poland, Russia's word would have indeed been enough. The thought both frightened and saddened him. He slipped quietly into the room, closing the door softly behind him.

The room was dark; Liet could just make out a figure lying in bed, and padded over silently in socked feet.

"Poland?" he whispered.

No reply. Sleeping? Please, let him be sleeping.

"Polska?" he tried in Polish. He flicked on the bedside lamp and gasped.

Bandages wound around his head, stained dark in several places; his lip was split, his cheek badly bruised, and one eye was swollen completely shut. Dark parallel lines stood out sharply against the pale skin of Poland's neck, and Liet realized with horror that Russia must've had him by the throat. The sight was so awful that for a moment he wondered wildly whether or not the huge nation hadn't accidentally or maybe even intentionally killed him, and the fear was so strong he laid a hand on the boy's chest, praying to feel a heartbeat or a breath.

Poland grimaced, eyes fluttering open. "That hurts," he croaked.

Liet yanked his hand back as if burnt. "Oh, Poland, look what he did to you…"

"I don't wanna," the blond wheezed, trying to smile. Lithuania suspected that Poland's windpipe hadn't yet recovered from the abuse. "I feel like total shit."

You look like total shit. He didn't want to consider the damage that must be hidden under the clothes. "He says you're in solitary confinement."

"You're here."

"Poland, you have to promise me you won't pull anymore stupid stunts," Lithuania said.

The frown was certainly effective when coupled with the rest of the injuries. "I told you, I'm like, not going to stop."

"But why, Poland?" Lithuania pleaded uncomprehendingly, frustrated that he couldn't get Poland to see what a horrible idea it was. "Why? You can't win; Russia's bigger and stronger than we are. There's nothing we can do. All you're doing is giving him an excuse to beat you!"

"Do you even know what Russia's doing to me? What Germany's doing?" Poland demanded, his voice harsh from bruising.

The seriousness in his voice made the Baltic pause. "Germany has those work camps; Russia keeps sending people to the kulaks, and the Gulags in Siberia," he ventured. He could feel the ache of those places from his people, quietly ever present in the back of his mind.

Poland giggled, a breathy hysterical sound. "I wish they were work camps, I wish. I thought Germany was worse than Russia, but Russia's like, trying really hard to catch up or something. It hurts; I feel so empty," he said, choking up as he struggled to speak. "Today- hurt- so badly. He's killing people, so many people—"

"Russia's not in the war," Lithuania said, confused, and Poland slammed a fist into the soft mattress.

"Russia doesn't have to be in the fucking war! He doesn't have to be in anything; he's fucking crazy and his boss's is fucking crazy and we'll be crazy too before he's done with us." Poland broke off in a sharp sound, wincing from pain, a hand shifting under the sheets to his ribs.

Liet reached out imploringly, "Poland, you're hurting yourself, don't—", and the blond cut him off.

"Ask him what he did today!" he gasped through the pain. "Ask him what he did today, Liet. Ask him how many of my people he killed. How many—god, I feel so empty; it must have been so many…" Poland squeezed his eye shut, tears trickling down the side of his bruised face. He sniffed, then spasmed slightly, curling inwards momentarily. "Ah, that bastard; I like, can't even cry without it hurting."

The look on his face as he half-heartedly grinned contrasted so sharply with the pain his eyes that Lithuania felt himself tear up as well. He resolved to ask Russia, no matter how idiotic the idea was.

"Try to sleep," Liet murmured, stroking what he could of Poland's hair. "I'll be back when I can get away again."

Poland smiled faintly. "Lately I've been worrying that like, when I go to sleep, I'm totally not going to wake up again."

There was nothing he could say to that. The Baltic nation ducked his head so his friend couldn't see him cry.

--

"Lithuania! I'm glad to see you're awake. Come join us," Russia greeted him with a smile, no apology, no hint of remorse for what he did, as if the event has been wiped clear from his mind. But Lithuania knew that Russia remembered; Russia was not much younger than Liet, but old in his own right, and he remembered his past. His past was what both made and kept him crazy.

Estonia and Latvia didn't turn in their seats to look at him; Liet hoped this was because turning one's back to Russia was incredibly stupid and not because they were still angry. Russia sat on the sofa opposite them, on the other side of the coffee table, and Lithuania sat next to him because he knew Russia liked the seating to be even and would ask him to move anyway.

"We're playing Darok," Russia informed him, not even asking if the Baltic would like to join before he dealt Lithuania a hand. Estonia shot him a quick, questioning glance; Liet considered answering him aloud in his native language, the idea of rebellion still on his mind, but quickly rejected the idea on the grounds that Russia was right next to him, in a bad mood—oh god, he was still wearing his bloodstained uniform—and Liet didn't know how much Lithuanian the frigid nation could speak. Telling him about the visit to Poland's room was not high on his list of things to do.

He took the cards silently, glancing at the shot glasses on the table; obviously a drinking game, one that Estonia and Latvia were losing, Latvia especially, judging by their flushed faces. Russia had introduced him to Darok, 'the fool', years ago; the goal was to empty your hand through attacks on the player to your left (which for Lithuania was Latvia, he belatedly realized). In order to beat an attack, a player had to counter each card with one of a higher number within that suit, or any card from the trump suit, determined randomly at the start of each game. If a player failed to defend, then they took the entire discard pile into their hand and couldn't attack on their turn. Other players could assist the attacker at any time by laying down extra attack cards, provided the defender had already played a card of equal or higher strength. The game was unique because the real point wasn't to win so much as it was to not lose, especially when Russia ran it as a drinking game: each time a person emptied their hand, the remaining players had to take a shot each.

Russia flipped the top card of the deck, revealing a four of hearts, the trump suit for the game; the card itself was so disgustingly ironic Lithuania wondered if Russia hadn't set that up on purpose. Then the huge country turned to him and laid down a seven of clubs and a seven of diamonds.

Lithuania countered with a nine of clubs and an eight of diamonds, trying to figure out if Russia was going easy on him or if that was really the best he had. He played a pair of fours to Latvia, who easily countered with a nine and a ten that would have been fine had Russia not added a ten of hearts, which Latvia couldn't defeat. The small country took the discard pile and passed on his attack towards Estonia, his mouth set into a dark little frown.

He knows. Lithuania thought suddenly, fearfully, as Russia grinned triumphantly over the youngest Baltic's loss. He knows we had a fight and now he's trying to drive the wedge deeper by making it look like he and I are teaming up on Latvia. It was an absurd idea, but not absurd enough for him to discount it.

Estonia put down a jack of hearts and a jack of spades; Russia counted with a queen of hearts and a two of hearts. Lithuania added the queen of spades to the attack and the Arctic nation smiled coldly as he took the discard pile and refrained from attacking.

Play continued. Lithuania made a conscious effort to make his attacks on Latvia easily conquerable, but Russia kept complicating things by adding high value hearts to the attack. Estonia got out first, prompting everyone else to take a shot, and the next round Russia attacked Liet, Latvia added a jack of hearts to the assault, which forced Lithuania to fold and accept the discard pile.

Latvia set down three queens, with Russia beat with hearts; Liet almost played the ace of hearts, a trump card Russia couldn't beat, but forcing him to take all those queens would probably come back to haunt him, so he held back. He played a pair of fives to Latvia, trying to catch his eye, hoping to tell him by look if not by words that he wasn't angry, that he wasn't trying to make him lose, but Latvia refused to meet his gaze.

Latvia won the hand and gave Russia four tens to defeat; Russia laid down jacks and queens, emptying his hand and getting out. Now Latvia would be forced to focus all of his attacks on Lithuania if he wanted to win. The smile twisting Russia's lips as he handed Lithuania his shot was so sickeningly sweet he was convinced that the violet-eyed nation was definitely doing this on purpose.

"Since the game is down to only two players, every time someone loses a fight they take a shot," Russia pronounced, modifying the rules.

Oh yes. Definitely doing it on purpose.

The end game was brutal. As much as Lithuania didn't want to appear angry at Latvia, he was not willing to lose, especially now that Russia had added the new shot rule. He used the lower value hearts to counter the powerful attacks, saving the higher cards for his attacks and then threw down the high value hearts in a nigh unbeatable assault. He had to take four more shots before he managed to get out, but that was far better than Latvia's nine.

The blond-haired Baltic bought the losing shot up to his mouth and blanched; the glass hit the ground and shattered as Latvia stumbled away from the table and was sick. Russia howled with laughter, clapping delightedly, having consumed enough vodka to push him over the perpetually tipsy edge into full-out drunk. While Estonia picked the whimpering nation off the floor and led him out of the room, Liet grabbed a rag from the kitchen and cleaned up, almost losing it himself.

"Come sit with me," Russia called as Liet reentered the living room, gesturing next to him on the sofa. The Baltic obeyed and Russia pulled him close, draping an arm over his shoulders; Liet shifted, nervous, but Russia ignored it.

"To your victory," he toasted, knocking back yet more vodka. Lithuania wondered absently how much vodka it'd take to give the huge country alcohol poisoning.

"I didn't win; Estonia got out first," he pointed out.

Russia dismissed the idea with a wave of his hand. "Bah. Either way poor little Latvia lost. That boy really cannot hold his liqueur, can he?" And he laughed again.

Latvia had also consumed over ten shots of vodka in a very short amount of time, but apparently that didn't much matter. An idea seized Liet. "I want a prize for winning," he blurted suddenly.

Surprise flashed across Russia's features, to be replaced by an approving look. "And what do you want as a prize?" he asked, pouring himself another glass.

Lithuania was sorely tempted to say, an end to Poland's solitary confinement, but he knew that wasn't going to happen. Drunk Russia might be slightly more lenient than usual, but he was also more easily angered. Liet was treading thin ice already, and that request would be like running straight for the open patch in the ice sheet.

"I want to know what you did today," he said instead.

Russia's expression became guarded; even drunk, he knew a potential trap when he heard one. "I had work to do in Smolensk; there were rebels hiding out in the forest," he answered with a shrug. "Is unfortunate, but must be done."

Lithuania knew the city of Smolensk—it used to be his, back in the fifteen century. He lost it to Russia in 1514, so in 1611, he and Poland, by then a commonwealth, waged a twenty-month siege to get it back, only for Russia to recapture Smolensk in 1654. He finally let Russia keep the silly place in 1667; it wasn't worth another war to get it back.

God, what had happened to him? To Poland? They used to be able to not only fight but defeat Russia, and not just Russia. They routinely defeated Prussia and held Austria at bay; hell, Belarus and Ukraine used to live with him back then! He supposed Russia was having his sweet revenge now…

"Why so sad, Litva?" Russia queried, nudging him gently.

"My name's Lietuvos," he muttered petulantly.

"Litva," Russia repeated, and the Baltic sighed.

"Just thinking about the rebels," he lied. Poland had said he felt empty; he supposed there probably were a decent number of his people in Smolensk, but he couldn't imagine that they hadn't succumbed to the rigorous Russification policy by now. Lithuania, knowing that it wasn't safe and being too tired to care, rested his head on the taller country's shoulder.

"Don't let it bother you, dorogoy moy. In time these things will stop, and then your friend will not hurt as much, da?" Russia said, petting his hair lightly.

"They were Polish?" Liet murmured, the soft sensation coupled with the alcohol lulling him into a dazed state.

"Da, they were Poland's," Russia agreed. "My orders were very specific. No one died who didn't need to."

Lithuania felt a chill run down his spine despite the well-heated house. No one died who didn't need to. As if it was a comforting thought. "And when do they need to?" he wondered quietly, staring blankly at the bloodstains on Russia's coat. "When they won't listen to you?"

Russia chuckled, a low rumble in his chest. "No, Litva," he said, planting a tender kiss on the top of Liet's head before answering, "When they won't listen to reason."

"Your reason," Liet specified, just loud enough for Russia to hear him.

"Da, I suppose. Soon to be everyone's reason," Russia replied amiably, tilting the smaller country's head back, exposing his neck. Liet's heartbeat quickened, rapid shallow breaths betraying his sudden fear; he kept his gaze fixed on the ceiling, knowing that to make eye contact with Russia now would destroy what little calm he was managing to maintain.

The huge country shifted to face him, leaning forward to ghost a kiss across his bared throat, and Lithuania's breath caught as his eyes fluttered shut.

"Please, Russia," the Baltic pleaded, and yes, he knew begging was pitiful but he couldn't help it, he was so scared. "Please—"

Russia shoved him down hard on the sofa and stood, towering over the trembling country. "Be more specific—please what?—or I won't stop next time," he said coolly, eyes like ice, before turning on his heel and leaving the room without a backwards glance.

Lithuania stared at the spot Russia had been—next time, the promise of a 'next time'—before he slowly laid his head down, terrified sobs racking his body as he tried not to consider what had just happened, and what would probably happen in the future.

---

Ah, Latvia, Estonia, don't resent Liet because he hangs out with Poland. He still cares about you guys!

Darok is a fun card game~ I'm not sure how well the scene came out though.

The 'taking care of rebels in the forest near Smolensk' was mostly a lie on Russia's part. What he's actually talking about it is the Katyn Massacre, when Soviet soldiers were given orders execute all members of the Polish Officers Corps; 22000 people were killed in only a few months' time in 1940 and buried in mass graves out in the woods.

Lithuania remembering when he and Poland were the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth, one of the largest countries in 16th-17th century Europe. They were pretty damn awesome back then. Their Husaria winged cavalry units were pretty kick-ass~ It looked like a legion of angels were descending upon their enemies! XD Trust Poland to come up with something so dramatic.

Russian vocab:

dorogoy moy- my dear (this is the masculine form of the phrase; the feminine version would be doragaya moya)