OK let me briefly explain a few aspects of this story to clear some things up. :]

Firstly and most importantly I want you guys to know this story is completely and utterly FICTIONAL. The actions of the characters/ personified countries/ countries, is totally based on my whimsy and fluff. It does not ring 100% true in any sense. I say this as a disclaimer so that you guys don't think I'm trying to base these events on world affairs, which was a question from a reviewer. Although some events in this story may briefly relate to past true events (AKA Cold War) they are themselves untrue. This is why fan fiction is so delicious because it is whimsy. Although I would like to think that America and Russia in the real world will be total bros someday, this would greatly warm my heart as a fangirl.

As for some review questions regarding the conversation between America and England, all will become clearer as the story progresses. I like keeping things vague and slowly bringing them into focus. All of your reviews have been a delight and I would love to answer all of them but I really wanna get to writing more of this story which is what you guys are here for anyway. And yes I am aware that is an excuse but hey I would like to get this written and done before 4am!

Without further delay, grab a snack or some Vodka and settle in because here is Chapter 4!


"Ru…Russia?"

Why was Russia suddenly there? Hot ashes fell like snow as strong fingers brushed past and through Alfred's once golden hair, dusting them out. The sky looked like a giant open soar but it kept getting obscured from America's vision as his head fell heavily back and forth, cradled in strong arms and a hard but warm chest. Everything hurt but at the same time he felt safe which hardly seemed likely or even possible. Nightmares don't offer any relief, so why should this one be any different. Someone kept whispering his name in a voice that sounded as broken and just as bitter as the one howling inside Alfred's skull. The words that occupied his name flitted between polar emotions, dark raging furry and a hollowing sadness. It should have felt absurd to America that he wanted to comfort who was comforting him. However Alfred did feel bad and even guilty for making the other cry. He impossibly wished for a moment to compose himself. To make himself look not quiet so pathetic, so damaged. America wanted to reassure the other that everything would be ok. These the same words that were being whispered over and over again feverishly into his own ear. The worst part was when Alfred felt hot drops of water roll down his temple, cooling rapidly as it traveled down his chin. America felt guilty because he knew what those drops were. He had made the other cry.

Why was Russia suddenly there? Honestly America hardly cared.

All that was important was that Ivan was there for Alfred. That someone was there. The only thing left sane amongst the hell that his country was in was that simple fact, Alfred was not alone. America had not been left to die and forgotten because there was still someone left to get angry for him. Someone was there to hold him, to cry for him, for his country and for his people. Most of which were scared, dead or dieing. All of which Alfred had failed. He should have known. Known that this was coming that invasion was eminent. America had been foolish in believing a simple party would make everything better. Believing that if they had just come Alfred could see him and it would be better. America wanted him to know that the new alliances did not matter as long as they could remain on fair terms. Alfred had been childish.

Alfred had been wrong.

Russia clutched America to him. He could only translate a few words he spoke to Alfred from Russian to English. The other nation did not seem to care, America kept his face pressed into Ivan's chest breathing shallowly in and back out. Ivan busied himself with sweeping his hands over Alfred; gently pressing in to feel for broken bones and broken skin. There were a few breaks especially in America's arms and torso. This would help Russia decide on where to concentrate his children to aid America's people. The worst was not so much the broken bones but the split flesh and bruising. There was far to many abrasions to keep track of and Russia kept losing count. With a frustrated sigh Ivan finally stopped and just focused on trying to control his emotions. He hadn't realized he was crying until Alfred made a pained sound, muffled by his scarf. Russia cupped the back of Alfred's neck, supporting his head as pulled America's face away so he could hear him better.

"What was tha-?" Russia's voice caught as America opened his eyes slowly, their natural vibrant blue dull and glassy. Alfred's pupils were pinhead thin, surrounded by a bloody red hue that rivaled that of the burning sky. Russia tried to speak again but his throat suddenly hurt so much that it closed up, cutting off his ability to talk. America blinked slowly his eyes sluggishly opening and closing. Each time Alfred's eyelids shut Ivan would briefly panic until they opened back up again.

"I said…Sorry." America rasped. Ivan's eyes fell down to stare at the pale lips that had cracked open and were bleeding from America's brief words. Ivan was suddenly angry at himself.

"Why? Why would you have any…" A shuddering breath went ragged and wet through Russia's chest, up and then finally out his mouth and nose. " Reason to be sorry?"

Instead of speaking again America lifted a blooded gloved hand, torn so that a few bits of flesh peeked through, to Russia's cheek. With fingers a centimeter away from the bottom of Russia's jaw, America waited. A moment passed before Alfred brought his hand back away to show Ivan the moisture that had fallen onto his index finger. The droplet rapidly traveled down the underside of Alfred's finger before disappearing into a torn hole in his glove. Russia followed it and watched it grow red with America's blood before it vanished. It wasn't until the droplet was gone that Russia realized it was his own and that he was crying.

"I'm sorry." Alfred said again, weaker this time. Russia began shaking as hard as Alfred.

"Ridiculous…that's just so…." He leaned his forehead against Alfred's watching the American's eyes droop sleepily.

Alfred wanted so badly to stay awake. He was afraid that if he closed his eyes too long that Ivan would suddenly be gone just as suddenly as he had appeared. Talking had been so hard though and Alfred was just so tired. Russia was all around him, blocking everything out. Alfred kept his arms around Ivan as much as he could given that their forheads were pressed together. Alfred watched Russia watch him. Words that bleed in and back out from English to Russian kept spilling past Ivan's lips but Alfred didn't mind. He did not have to understand the words to know they were beautiful. Alfred finally let his eyes slip closed knowing that what ever happened that at least Ivan was there.

At least Russia cared.


Two Years Before Invasion/Present Time...


Alfred had it all and now he had nothing.

It was gone.

All of it.

He hadn't noticed the decline until it was too late, too far gone to get it back. England had told him once that it is not outside forces that bring down a powerful country but rather the country itself. That it rots from the inside out, like a ripe peach left out on the kitchen counter too long. The year Alfred totally lost everything had been 2033. This was not to say that the few years leading up to America's total fall from power had been a glass of cider, but that had been the year that truly marked his country's failure. At least that was what the news anchors had said. Despite the lesson to be learned time and time again about building an economy on a castle of cards, his children never learned. The only difference was that this time there were no cards left to rebuild again.

His country was hardly even his or his people's anymore, they owed too much money to the rest of the world for anything to be called their own. There was no one to blame really, because to many had played a hand in it all. His children had been forced to resign themselves to terrible inflation and an unemployment rate that put all other great depressions to shame.

"What shall we call this then?" Alfred murmured looking out his apartment's living room window, eyes following the fat snowflakes falling outside. "The Great, Great Depression?" His attempt at a small joke to lighten the room fell on deaf walls and his own tired ears. Alfred wondered if any of the other nations had ever wanted to get all of this over with, to resign.

Throw in the towel.

Call it quits.

Bowing out.

"There is no bowing out for us." America tightened his hands into fists. Letting out a long breath Alfred leaned his feverish forehead against the cool windowpane. He and his country had been ill for years.

America nearly fell over when a sharp and thundering knock came at his front door.

"Je…Jesus!"

The blond nation fisted the fabric covering his heart as he used his other hand to brace himself on the glass windowpane. These actions did nothing to help the sharp adrenaline that gnawed away at his stomach or his heart fluttering in his chest. To say America's nerves were fried was a gross understatement. Blue eyes snapped to his digital clock on the coffee table near by. England had always said having it there undermined the room's décor. For this reason alone Alfred had not moved the clock since he bought it.

"Who…who the hell?"

It was nearly midnight and last time America checked he was not Cinderella. He slowly edged toward his front door. Alfred's front entrance, if it could be called even that, was about as well lit as the rest of his room. The blond was sensitive to light from the fever-induced headache that never seemed to go away. Logically when ever America was in control of the light source in a room it was always kept very low, this unfortunately did not help his new fear of his front door because it was so dark and dare he say eery?

To make matters worst and more unsettling Alfred had not heard any footsteps approaching his home's front entrance, he usually did. 'I must have really been in deep thought….' He mused. 'I don't recall expecting anyone….if there was an emergency in my country my boss would have called first…he wouldn't just show up.' Alfred shivered, his toes twitching nervously in his woolen socks. He hated winter even if it was New Years Eve it was still cold as shit.

America jumped again when the knock repeated louder then before, this time he did fall over. Cursing he jumped back up with his cheeks pinker then that of the fever induced hue. It sounded as if a bear was knocking on his door. 'A freak'in bear! Jesus what if it's… a ghost bear?' Alfred stopped completely then, eyes widening in horror and he regarded the door with a new respect. It would make sense. No one would have seen that coming, a ghost bear that only came around on New Years Eve. The apparition would be able to wreak total and unthinkable horrors because everyone was unaware or drunk, maybe even both. America grabbed the digital clock from its four-year home on the coffee table, raising it above his head for a makeshift weapon.

"Think you could sneak up on me, didn't you ghost bear?" Alfred whispered edging once again toward his front door. "I may be sick but I won't go down without a fight!" America's voice broke growing in impressive volume until it was almost a yell. With a great burst of bravery and bravado he wrenched open his front door with a 'mighty' growl.

"AH HAAA!"

Russia had never seen a more adorable sight. There in front of him was Alfred, right arm raised clutching what looked to be a digital time telling clock. America's other arm was poised in a mid-karate chop his pink fingers trembling from either cold or excitement. The blond nation was almost totally facing Russia, America's slim legs, clad in Superman PJ pants, where spread out and firmly planted in what Ivan figured was suppose to be a 'heroic' fighting position. Russia forced himself not to linger too long on the American's flushed bare chest or abdomen, it only took a brief glance to note Alfred had lost weight.

Too much weight.

However it was America's face that was the most interesting and endearing. Alfred's cheeks were a feverish ruddy pink that spread up to the tips of his ears and kissed his nose. This along with the obvious weight loss confirmed Russia's suspicion that Alfred was getting worst. America's eyes were bright vivid blue, somewhat hidden under his messy mop of golden hair. Ivan wondered if Alfred would yell at him if he ran his fingers through it, if only to tame it a bit. Finally Russia's purple eyes took in Alfred's still wide open mouth that was half way between snarling and yelling, probably both.

'Even broken, he is beautiful.'

Alfred blinked.

Russia blinked.

"What…If I may ask, are you doing America?" It took everything in Russia not to smile; he did not want to hurt Alfred's already battered pride.

Alfred did not move at first. He kept staring at Russia as if he were expecting him to be some impossible spectacle. 'Or a creature from one of his Hollywood horror movies….' Russia lifted an eyebrow, once again looking the shorter man over. 'Which is probably not to far from the truth….' Russia waited patiently for a few awkward moments before trying again.

"I would truly hate to believe this is the way you greet all visitors who come to your…" Russia paused and leaned to the side to look past America's bare shoulder.

"Home…."

The small jibe snapped Alfred back into awareness. America straightened up and lowered his raised clock baring hand, his blue eyes regarding Russia with a mixture of irritation, embarrassment and interest. This odd talent was reserved for Alfred and his children alone. The unconscious ability to openly display intense emotions so avidly and sincerely was to many countries off-putting or intimidating. Russia on the other hand would purposely agitate America to watch these emotions flare up and play out. It was best when Alfred expressed them through his eyes though. Such a vivid blue that sharpened and burned as bright as the American's emotions themselves. Russia did not care if he was being greedy, his purple eyes locking with Alfred's flashing one's, he wanted to see and remember them all. Alfred said something then but Russia missed it, apologizing Ivan asked if America could please repeat himself.

"I said, no I don't greet people this way usually! But most of my visitors don't come a-call'in at midnight!" Alfred huffed cocking his head to a side watching Russia.

"It is not yet midnight Alfred. I would know this because I planned it that way."

Russia used a large shoulder to nudge past America and into the apartment. Alfred sighed and let him. The apartment was small but comfortable. The walls were painted a rich creamy yellow that reminded Ivan of autumn sunflowers. The lights were lowered for obvious reasons but Russia did not mind. Better the lights are too dim than too bright. The front door in which he just came lead directly into a small living area all of which contained a black coffee table that sat in front of a small couch. A sizable TV occupied the space directly across from the couch and coffee table, it was switch off though. The far wall was made up of large windows that stretched up to the ceiling and down to the floor. Their chocolate brown curtains had been pulled away to reveal the winking lights of Washington DC. In the left corner of the room was a small Christmas tree that reminded Ivan of a cartoon America had him watch once, Charlie Brown or something like that. It was like Alfred to choose a small sickly tree and try to nurse it back to health; by the looks of it he had not achieved this goal.

Ivan glanced back around when he heard the front door close and click. He had not been aware that he had wondered over to look out the windows until the noise brought him back from his musings. Alfred was standing ten feet away still near the frontdoor. The golden blonde nation looking confused but interested. America was never not happy to have visitors even if they knocked like ghost bears.

'Why is he here?' Alfred wondered his fingers brushed the back of his neck nervously, not quiet itching more just to feel his own warmth. 'What does he want?'

Alfred was more expecting to be greeted by a ghost bear than Russia at his front door. Not that they were on bad terms, if anything the relations between their two countries of late rivaled that of the closeness between his and England's. The simple fact was that it was unexpected and because of it Alfred was on his guard. He never forgot the Cold War and probably never would. America knew what Russia was capable of just as he knew that he himself was no longer capable to rival Ivan or really anyone else now for that matter. Alfred had not liked the way several of the other nations had been eyeing him at the past few meetings, eyes gleaming as they greedily took in his weakening state. Alfred was all too aware that he was a target or perhaps that was just his own paranoia speaking. So dispute his and Russia's improved relations it did not change what had happened in the past or the things they had said to each other. Words that he knew Russia had truly meant.

'You cannot escape it America… I will turn this world, your world red.' Russia had America cornered, his large chest pinned the shorter man to the conference room's wall. Alfred had his gun pressed into Ivan's jaw. Ivan took no notice, too focused on his own large fingers wrapped around Alfred's neck. Not tight enough to hurt, never to truly hurt but to hold Alfred still and in place.

'I won't let you.' Alfred 's gun shook, Ivan smiled and leaned in further. The Russian's cool leather fingers began moving in slow smooth circles on the back of Alfred's nape.

'Oh? Do you know what I could do to your little country? What I plan to do to you?' Russia bared his gleaming white teeth at Alfred; the color seemed strange and foreign some how. The fingers continued their lazy pattern on America's skin. Alfred wondered if they were tracing words that would bleed into him, become him.

'I… I won't…'

'But you will Amerika. You will because…' Russia paused and knelt his forehead into America's his eyes locking with Alfred's. The violet was pulling him in and drowning him. 'I will make you.' The fingers gently pressed in.

Alfred snapped back to the present when he felt a cool palm rest against his forehead, its brother on his hot cheek. Ivan was suddenly very close to him and it unnerved Alfred for the second time that night that he hadn't heard Russia approach. America looked up at Ivan and was all at once very aware of his attire or there lack of. Ivan's purple eyes looked down at him in amusement and warmth, a stark contrast to the way they had looked at him in that particular memory.

"You are far to warm Alfred."

America pulled away and stepped around Russia, Ivan slowly lowered his hands to his sides. 'Hadn't Russia been wearing gloves when he came in?' However the Russian's hands had been bare then when they had touched him. Alfred had to put a little distance between them, his weakened mind a product from a weakened body. He was in no mood to deal with fragile situations that he himself might create bringing up the past. 'The past is the past…what matters is the present. In the present Russia and I are….friends.'

"Why are you here?" The question was worded a bit harshly and Alfred instantly wished he could take it back and rephrase it.

"Because its New Years, yes?" Ivan smiled and produced a bottle of Champaign from seemingly nowhere.

"Well that's hardly a substantial answer…."

"It is satisfactory for a hardly adequate question." Russia fired back and Alfred laughed, the mood lightened considerably.

The Russian loosened his cream colored scarf and unbuttoning his heavy winter coat. A slap to his forehead and Alfred darted forward to take the beige coat from Ivan. All the while the American was kicking himself for being a terrible host. Hanging the coat up before returning, America found Ivan had sat down on his couch. The Russian's posture, as always was perfect, his broad back straight and big feet flat pointing forward. The festive bottle had been placed before him on the coffee table. Ivan's head turned so that he could watch America disappear into the living room's joining kitchenette. Russia guessed the blond was questing to retrieve something to drink the Champaign out of. He was proved right when the sickly country returned shortly with a Mickey Mouse mug and a margarita glass. Russia raised his eyebrows at him.

"Take your pick, it's all that is clean cup wise right now."

Wordlessly Russia took the margarita glass from America thinking that at least it was a glass meant to drink alcohol from. Alfred plopped down beside Russia, bouncing slightly from the couch cushions. Making sure to sit far enough away to be cautious but close enough so that Russia wouldn't notice. Tricks he had picked up from their messy past. It was silent for a few moments neither of them making a move towards the Champaign. Russia was intently studying his margarita glass, turning it this way and that watching the dim amber light dance around the rim and wink at him.

"Seriously though what's up?" Alfred finally shifted in his seat to look at Russia over his glasses.

"Currently…" Purple eyes slid up and Russia's head tilted back. Alfred caught sight of the horrendous scars that littered Ivan's pale, translucent neck. "The ceiling, Alfred."

"Don't be a smart ass! You know what I mean!" Russia's head slowly eased back down, once again obstructing his scars with his scarf and chin. Ivan caught Alfred staring but gave no reaction, Russia put on his best poker face.

"I'm sure I do not know what you are implying."

"Ok fine! Why are you here? Why now?" Alfred's headache was getting worst. "What do you want?"

"Is it costmary to be suspicious of all your guests Alfred? Many would call that being devastatingly rude.

A throb in Alfred's temple had the blond leaning over cradling his head in both hands, why did everything with Russia have to be a game? He didn't feel good. America didn't want to play any more games, he never had. Staring at the backs of his eyelids, America watched the hazy painful colors of white and orange. He counted the shapes they made while they flared and faded, dancing horribly through his head. The colors brought with them sinking feelings of guilt and exhaustion. The couch creaked and Alfred could suddenly feel a generous amount of Russia. The larger nation's arms were winding through and around him in a half sitting embrace. One of Ivan's massive arms settled about Alfred's middle and his other the small of America's back. Ivan's hands angled slightly upward to mould into America's left side and ribs, long fingers spread out and gently pressed in. Alfred's eyes snapped open at the abrupt closeness; Russia's chin came to rest lightly on top of his messy golden crown and when Ivan finally spoke Alfred could literally feel him talk.

"I'm sorry. I am…I am here to see you because I…" Alfred both heard and felt Russia swallow. "I was worried about…for you…and I just wanted…" It was silent then for what must have been a long time. They both sat mostly still, Ivan's fingers would cinch up and then back down flat along America's flank. It seemed to Alfred as if Russia were testing to see how thin he had become, how much he had lost both physically and mentally. This thought angered Alfred; it made the colors behind his eyes turn dark brown and then bright neon red.

"Just wanted to see how far I have fallen?" America whispered bitterly into his hands.

"Alfred…That's not w-"

"That's not what?" Alfred dropped his hands from his eyes and placed them on to the arm Russia had wrapped around his waist. He pressed his fingers into Ivan's forearm willing Russia to let him go, he didn't.

"Then you are here to gloat?"

Alfred knew that he was being unreasonable and crossing boundaries that they both had carefully put up but he was just so tired of dealing with the other nations. Watching them watch him with smug satisfaction knowing his country was falling to pieces, that he was falling to pieces. The cutting words that were both spoken and unspoken left weaving through Alfred's raw and frail mind. Nightmares inspired by them were too sharp to get past and too many to ignore. America knew Russia was the most powerful nation in the world now. It made sense to him, given past discrepancies that Ivan would want to rub it in his face. Not as obviously and blatantly as the others but in his own discreet mind fuck of a way. In that sense it was worst then how the other nations treated him and it bothered Alfred to think about it. To say Russia totally surprised him by visiting had been a lie. He had been expecting Ivan's visit for sometime now. A visit where Russia would laugh at him with his eyes, drinking in how pathetic America was now. How fucked up his country had become. Well and behold his prediction had come true and it bothered him how badly it hurt to think he was right. Poetic even that the visit was at the end of such a miserable year, Russia had even brought Champaign to celebrate it. The arms around him tightened and America wanted to scream.

"Alfred you must listen to m-"

"I won't! I don't have to! This is-!" America gestured wildly around himself. Russia's hands stayed in place despite Alfred's jerky movements, his large warm fingers fretting along America's bare sides and back. "-My house! I know why you're here!"

"You do not! If you did you would not be acting this unreasonable!" Ivan growled, the vibrations rumbling through him and into America. Alfred was panting heavily in anger, panic and the exertion of trying to get away. Ivan slid both hands to Alfred's bare front his palms pressing into America, which in turn pressed the struggling blond to him.

"Let me go!" Alfred squirmed violently in Russia's hold. He finally broke loose and almost tripped over the coffee table when he bumped its corner, stumbling away. The bottle fell over and rolled off the table with a dull 'thunk' but went completely unnoticed. Russia stood abruptly closely following America's jittery movements with his own fluid ones. His black leather shoes clicked across the floor drowning out America's sock muffled steps.

"Stop! Stop!" Alfred commanded as he rapidly backed away, well aware of how sacred he sounded.

The words fell on deaf ears. Ivan gave no notice or reaction to them, continuing predatorily toward the smaller man. Alfred watched Ivan's massive shoulders dip and roll with each thundering step toward him. America did not think Russia would hurt him but he knew how powerful countries treated weaker ones from his own personal experience with England. Russia seemed so big and imposing now, at one time Alfred swore he was almost as tall as Ivan. It hardly seemed that way now. Russia's eyes were studying his own frightened ones intensely; Alfred shivered when he saw them darken. He let out a startled gasp when his bare back collided with the freezing window that was his living room's far wall. America hardly noticed the pain it induced to his aching body so blind he was with panic, with the need to get away. Shaking hands rose in front of Alfred, fingers splayed in an attempt to keep Russia at bay. America's heart lurched in his thin chest when Russia's own much larger one made contact with his fingertips. Alfred had not noticed before but underneath the winter coat Ivan had taken off was a dark chocolate colored turtleneck. The fabric was thick and soft to the touch.

"You will listen to me Alfred." Russia placed both hands on the window behind America, caging him in.

Defiantly America lifted his chin, eyes' locking with Russia's, the effect was lost when his lower lip jumped and trembled. Russia paused and just looked at him for what seemed like forever. His violet eyes tracing along Alfred's paling face before stopping to watch his trembling lips, Russia's pupils dilated. Alfred was unpleasantly reminded of the flash back he had earlier. Russia leaned into him. America's hands flattening against the larger man's sweater covered chest and the Alfred tried not to be surprised to find the other breathing as harshly as he was.

"Don…don't…" Alfred still did not look away even as Ivan's face grew impossibly closer. "St…stop." Ivan's warm breath ghosted over Alfred's lips and cheeks, weaving through his messy hair. Moving his hands from the window Russia placed them lightly on Alfred's shoulders before stepping closer. Ivan slowly slid them down Alfred's naked back, tracing the dipping curve of America's spine with his fingertips.

"No." Russia whispered his pupils growing further until his eyes looked black.

"I…I won't let you…" The words from so long ago spilled over and past America's lips. Russia's nose touched his own, the traveling hands pausing. Alfred saw the recognition of the words past meaning register in Ivan's eyes. America's hands fisted in Ivan's turtleneck, Russia smiled at him.

"Then I will make you."

"Ivan…sto-"Russia covered Alfred's lips with his own.


Present Time


Ivan lifted America up, bringing the blonde man tightly to his chest. Russia then began moving forward carefully through the ruble of America's capitol. Alfred had fallen asleep. At first when America's eyes had not reopened Russia had almost lost it but after hastily pulling off a glove and fitting two fingers to Alfred's neck Ivan had found a pulse. It had been weak but it was there and that was all that mattered to Ivan now. Russia leaned his head back and closed his eyes still walking. There was a pins and needles sensation nipping and pulling at the back of his skull and a pain were his heart once beat. It was the sensation of his children growing nearer, angrier as the approached American shores. They rattled around the Russian warplanes like a hive of angry hornets. Their many outraged voices seemed to be carried on the wind that swept past Russia, tearing at his scarf tails and coat.


AUTHOR NOTES

To answer one more reviewer's question… this story is based on a WIP comic I have up on my DA (Deviant art . com) I am still posting the pages on there and it is further along storyline wise then this fanfic atm. If you guys want to check it out just search my user name, which is Nenema. I am about to post the next page up as a matter of fact!

I have truly adored writing this story and doing the comic hugely because of the support/ reviews/ favs I get from you! Thank you so much for reading and supporting me as I plug along! Hope you all have an awesome day /night.