Title: Lingering Memories
Part: World War II Era (1927-1945)
Pairing: Russia/China, implied Sweden/Finland, implied Germany/Italy, implied Russia/US
Rating: R

Summary: History isn't something full of flowers and love; History is violent, History is what we try to hide. War doesn't change the world – we change it; war doesn't take away what we treasure most – we do. Love isn't something that we search for, but something that finds us, and saves us.

Notes: This was a long fic exchange for a good friend a long time ago. Up til now I realized I never finished writing the Cold War section, and to be honest I don't know if I will.

During the course of this writing, I read something about the end of the world, and I decided that Russia/China would be perfect for that concept. So yes, this fic revolves around the idea that in the last century, there had been (at least) 10 times the world could have ended – some of them were forcibly molded to fit the theme, so I apologize in advance for a few plot holes, and ineffective bad writing used to cover it up. I took an extremely serious stance with this plot – my apologies for doing so with such a happy picture.

I've kept as true to history as possible but I had to re-invent some things so take any historical reference with a pinch of salt.

World War II Era (1937-1945)

"I recognized his black curly hair. His helmet was blown off. All that remained was his upper torso, nude, lying across the concertina wire with his guts strewn over the wire. He must have gotten a direct hit."

3. 1939-1940; the Winter War between Finland and Russia

"I hate you," he said.

No, you don't. We stood apart, him staring at me, trying to maintain his calm, whereas I could see that he was on the brink of shooting me. My eyes dropped briefly towards his holstered pistol, and I wondered what it would be like, for Yao to unsheathe it, and pull the trigger at my body. There was nothing that I could explain that he didn't already know; I signed the alliance with Germany, we invaded Poland, and now I had turned back to Finland.

When I saw the fear in Tino's eyes, despite the brave front he put up, it only served as fuel to know that I was going to break him. It was as though the idea that I could conquer the whole world was taking over my brain, and I understood why Germany did it. Why he followed the ideology of Adolf Hitler.

Except, it wasn't about greed. If only I could explain it to him, I was sure he would understand. Yao was the only person who could probably understand me.

"You don't understand, do you?" I said, a small smile on my face.

Yao took a step further away from me. "I don't know you who are anymore."

We were- no, I was surrounded by countries that were so much stronger than me. There was Britain, there was France, there was Germany, and in the west, there was America. I could no longer sit back and leave the fate of my country in their hands; I had to show them that Russia was not someone to be trifled with.

And then, there was China.

I raised my eyes towards him, and I smiled sadly at him. "You have no idea what you've done to me, do you?"

From the moment I laid eyes on Wang Yao, he had consumed my life, and I had allowed myself to fall for him. There was just a simple explanation for everything – I loved him. And Yao was scared of me, I could see it. When I took a step towards him, he took a step back. His fear, it amused me, why was he afraid?

"No, it's not me. It's you," Yao finally said slowly. "I've sat by, watching you and your antics, and I never did step in to stop you."

Why? I wanted to ask, but I didn't know what I wanted to know from that. The blood empowered me, and gave me the strength to go on in the war. It was a war, after all, even Yao had said that. There was no better time than now to take advantage of countries who did not want to step in and be involved.

"It's not Japan who's slowly breaking me apart, it's you."

And it's not the war that's taking over my mind, it's you, the desperate thought ran through my mind. Yet all I did was to watch him back away, his eyes breaking contact with mine for the first time since we've been together. And he ran.

…

I never once expected Finland to put up such a strong resistance. Futile, though, for with our superior numbers we should have easily crushed them. But, Tino was no longer the dependant man I once looked upon. No, he wasn't the small, weak man who had once succumbed to me, who had allowed me to drag him away from the man he loved. But Berwald... That man confused me. As I stood silently in the snow, the whiteness of the surroundings tainted black and red, I saw the dark blue uniform of the Swedish military in the distance. I kept silent, until I heard the crunch of snow under his boots. Interesting.

"Hello," I said, almost amiably, still staring out into the blinding white landscape. I didn't have to turn around, I knew he was looking at my body. "I have lost weight, haven't I?"

I wasn't expecting Berwald to even acknowledge my presence, after all, Tino was a very sensitive topic between the both of us, and he avoided all contact with me if possible.

"'Allo, Ivan," he said, as stiff as ever, and I hid a smile. Somehow, it amused me that out of everyone I knew, Berwald was probably the only person who really knew all sides of me. He knew what it was like to lose the person you loved, and he knew what it was like to never truly get them back. He knew what it was to stand back, and watch them fight for their life, because there was no way you could intervene. Politics, huh, I thought sardonically. It's something that governs us, yet it's something that prevents us from doing anything. It's the reason why Yao and I - no, it was not.

"Heard about Yao?"

"I've read the news." I wasn't expecting him to say he was sorry, or for him to show his sympathies. I was just intriged by the fact that he willingly stopped to talk to me, and I wanted to know why. Berwald's eyes were as cold as mine, but I noticed that he took a small step backwards when I took a step towards him. "I guess I've become like you." He took my silence as an indication to continue.

"Standin' by and doin' nothin'. 'S not because we can't, but because we try 's hard, it becomes impossible." His cold blue eyes stared up at me, and yet, behind the cold façade, I could just see the smallest hints of pity, and it annoyed me.

Why was he feeling pity for me? Even I didn't pity myself – I believed that if I just took things step by step, they would work out. Just like how that small Chinese girl had felt: Her father leaving to protect them, us Allies apparently coming to save them. Everything was just a series of events.

"You're going to lose him," Berwald said quietly "No matter how much you try, you'll discover that everything you do, 's never enough."

I held my gaze evenly at him, smiling gently all the while. It was as though this smile had become my mask, and the whole world was a masquerade ball; everyone hiding behind a disguise, a front they put up for people to see, and not for people to really know.

Was that how Yao treated me as well? Was everything we've been through only because he only wanted something else, something higher?

I smiled once more at Berwald, his eyes watching me intently all the while, and I was so sure he could see through my very soul. I turned away towards the white horizon, walking off into the distance. "Thank you." I looked back at him, and there was no more smile on my face. "But that will not change anything."

I knew he would not have the guts to kill me.

…

"Ivan?"

The pistol on my desk was so intriguing – I wrapped my fingers around it, my thumb resting lightly against the safety catch. What was it like to die? I kept on telling myself that I would do anything for Yao, even die for him, but what was it like? What was death? Or perhaps, who was Death? So many times I had taken lives in cold blood, so many times have I seen people die, but I never once stopped to wonder what would it be like to take your own life.

"What are you doing?" Yao demanded, grabbing my wrist, glaring at me. "Put that thing away, you idiot, you're going to get someone killed."

Such a small weapon, yet such a deadly weapon. I had loaded a solitary bullet into the chamber this morning, after my small talk with Berwald. I was curious now, what was Death like? Was he really as mysterious as everyone made him be? Was he really as terrible as everyone seemed to think so? Who really knew Death, anyway? I pulled my hand calmly away from Yao.

"Say you love me," I said cheerfully. "Go on, Yao. Do you love me?" My thumb flicked the safety off.

"Ivan, put that thing down," Yao said carefully. "You don't know what you're doing."

He was just so beautiful. How could a man so beautiful be so cold towards others at the same time? Did he really love me, or was he just using me? If anything, I should be the one using him, because I was. But now, I wasn't so sure. I wanted to know, I needed to know. I looked evenly at Yao.

"Do you love me?"

"Don't do anything stupid, Ivan!" I could just see the faintest hint of panic building up in Yao's body; the way his eyes widened, and his hand gripping his shirt tightly.

"There's only one bullet," I smiled. "There's a one in six chance that I'll die. It's probably better odds than if I go out there, into the freezing winter, and meet Tino's troops head on." It was thrilling, the fact the my life was entirely in my control now. Or maybe not, as I spun the chamber, hearing the "click, click, click" as it rotated in its place. "Answer me."

"Ivan," Yao said desperately. "Don't do this."

I'm not even making you choose. My eyes narrowed, the smile slipping off my face, and I could see that Yao now knew that I was serious.

"I love you," my voice was barely above a whisper, as I placed the mouth of the pistol against my forehead. I wanted to know, it was only just 3 words.

I pulled the trigger, as I heard them, but the gunshot simply drowned Yao's voice out.

There was a 16.67% chance that the gun will fire, and I could see the horror on Yao's face when he realized it was too late. But all I heard was an empty click, and Yao collapsed against my desk, tears running down his face. I was sorry, and yet I was not. If I never once questioned the idea that I might honestly be messed up, I now did. Russian roulette was something I had seen my compatriots try, for fun, or to prove their bravery, but never had I expected it to give me such a thrill. There was a loud "clang" as I lost my grip on the pistol.

"You're the first person I've ever loved." Chinese was a beautiful language, but it sounded heavenly when Yao whispered it. Leaning over the desk, I pulled his body over the table, and I hugged him tightly, never wanting to let go.

I, Ivan Braginski, wasn't someone who cried easily, but as I felt Yao's fingers tighten around my shirt, I did.