Chapter 8: Враг: Enemy

"You are a drunk."

Russia blinked, looking around himself from his place on the couch, seeing Canada and his sister still in the kitchen, talking amiably and seemingly enjoying their work as cooks. Nobody else seemed to be in the vicinity… he took a wary glance at the bottle of vodka in his lap. Perhaps little Matthew put something in it?

"You're rude too."

Pinpointing the direction of the voice, Ivan glanced to the left, pausing to take in the sight of a white polar bear sitting innocently on the floor by the sofa. "What?" Russia asked, his face blank.

"I do not like you."

"I do not care."

The bear tilted his head to the side, "You hurt him."

What was the animal going on about? Was he talking about Canada? "Da, he was being stupid."

"You're stupid."

"What do you know, you dirty animal?"

"I know you're stupid."

Russia narrowed his eyes… he was losing a verbal fight with a bear. Bears shouldn't even talk, especially not to Russia in that tone of voice. "I'll kill you. Your pelt will become a new rug. Now leave."

The furry animal acted like he didn't hear, crawling up on the couch and sitting beside the Russian, "I'm hungry."

"Then go ask your master for food, not me."

Like Ivan had done a moment before, the bear looked back to the two countries in the kitchen, debating on whether he should bother with getting up and walking all the way over there… And then, choice made, he yawned and fell down on the seat with gusto. Russia just looked at him with a mixture of annoyance and amusement.

"Kumajirou," Ukraine called with glee as she came into the living room, seeing the white polar bear curled up with such a cute face. She set the plate of food meant for Ivan on the coffee table in front of him before kneeling on the carpet to pet the coarse fur. "How have you been?"

"Hungry."

Katyusha made a cooing noise gathering the animal into her arms, "Let's go get you some food then!" Turning around to make her way back to the kitchen, Kumajirou looked back to Russia over the woman's shoulder, sticking his tongue out in a rather human-like expression.

Russia decided he did not like Kumajirou.

…oOo…

A wide yawn interrupted his concentration, his laptop blurring within his vision as he leaned back in the office chair. Ivan had long since left the two chatty nations in the living room, attempting to get some work done before it got too late. However, his headache refused to leave him and Matthew –may he be cursed to hell –decided to hide his vodka from him, saying one bottle was clearly enough. That irritable little boy had the nerve to keep him from his alcohol in his own home?

Needless to say, Ivan was very tempted to break more fingers. But then his sister just had to agree with him! Katyusha would never have been so bold as to refuse him his vodka, but then silly little Canada comes around and suddenly she's got the will to deny him? She hadn't done that since she declared her independence from him!

Without fail, the remembrance of that night hit him hard and his shoulders sagged as if a great weight had settled on him.

A crisp white envelope was held out to him, Ukraine's normally serene face clouded in strife. Russia looked at her worriedly, wondering what could be wrong with his sweet sister that offered him so many smiles. He took the offered paper with a little confusion. "What is this?"

"My wish for independence," She stated with a surprisingly even voice. Russia snapped his eyes back to her face, searching the dark blue eyes for traces of a joke. There were no signs of jest, and the innocent envelope in his hands suddenly burned his fingers. He set the paper down on the desk quickly, as if it contained a disease. "I love you brother," She continued, her voice was quiet, but her eyes were hard and Oh god, she was serious. "But I want to be my own country."

Russia swallowed, his eyes locking with Ukraine's. There was a knot in his throat that kept him from speaking and his chest constricted, making it difficult to breathe. His Baltic States had steadily left him over the decade, and it was a surprise when Belarus suddenly wanted to be on her own, but this… Ukraine was never supposed to leave him, she was the only one left! "Sister, you can't-"

"I will fight if I have to," Her voice wavered at the end and her eyes softened, glistening with tears. "Please don't make me."

Trembling, even though he tried to hide it, Russia stepped forward. "Why do you want to leave me? I know it looks bad now, but the Soviet Union will come back and I'll grow stronger. I will be strong and I will protect you you will have no protection out there!" He had to make her see…

"No. I must go… Please. Please don't make this hard." Her voice was full of emotion but she did not cry, with one last pleading look to the large man in front of her, she turned to the door, stepping out of the study and walking to the entrance of the house. Her suitcase was waiting by the door, ready to go, and she picked it up.

Russia wasted but a few seconds, staring where she once stood, wondering how everything went wrong. Ukraine couldn't leave him, she was precious to him, she would be vulnerable out there on her own, her country was poor, her government would never make it he would be alone again!

"Sister! Wait," He sprung into action, practically sprinting out of his library and to the open door. There was a blizzard outside, but the harsh bite of General Winter didn't stop him though as he rushed out the door. Ukraine had put her luggage in the trunk of a small jeep that was already running, warming the inside and expelling a dark cloud of fume into the air from the exhaust. She continued on as if she didn't hear him, shutting the hatch to the trunk and climbing into the driver's seat.

"Please, sister," He yelled over the fierce wind, standing next to the window, trying to talk to her through the glass. "Tell me what you need -what your people need I'll give you whatever you want! Just stay!"

Her eyes looked so sad as she stared at him, her hands on the steering wheel. Her lips moved and though he couldn't hear her words, he could understand the movements of her mouth, "I'm sorry." And with shaky determination she put the jeep into gear, and pressed the acceleration. The tires slipped on the ice a bit before gaining traction, and Russia watched as she pulled away from the house they had made into a home.

"Please," He called, though he knew she couldn't hear him. "Don't leave!" But she didn't stop. She continued until the grey vehicle turned out of sight, and Russia collapsed into the snow. The wind blew, and the frost started to cover his hair and shoulders, melting on his skin and dampening his clothes. He was alone.

And he still was.

That had been twenty years ago and it still hurt every time he thought about her independence. He had wondered what had gone wrong, why he wasn't enough to keep her there, why everyone had left him. They used to be so close; they used to be a family. Now they only got together to talk business, it was becoming something rare when they even acted as if they were related. Sure, they still made an effort to be close whenever they did meet, and they still called each other brother and sister… but it was only by title or formality. Russia doubted Ukraine saw him as anything but a past caretaker.

The vice around his chest tightened and Russia struggled in order to breathe normally. It hurt to watch oneself fall, to lose everything and he wondered, not for the first time, if Germania and Rome had felt the same. Little by little their territories were taken by others or left of their own accord, and their once strong bodies grew weaker until finally they were confined to their beds; sick, weak and defenseless. Nobody cared enough to keep them alive, they just took what was left, watching them die.

The door opened slowly, and Canada's golden head peeked into the room. He was hesitant to enter, but the look on Ivan's face worried him and it had been a while since he had checked the man's temperature. "Rus-" His sentence cut off with a gasp and he jerked his right foot up off the floor like it had been burned. Canada gently took his foot in his hand, looking at the sole of his foot to see a glistening piece of glass stuck in the tender skin. With trembling fingers he took it out. It was the size of his fingernail, the edges jagged and sharp, enough to draw blood, but the cut wasn't deep.

Matthew looked to the ground warily, eyes widening when he saw the millions of glass shards spread across the library's cherry wood floor. The glass paper weight Russia had thrown yesterday had not been cleaned up and Ivan simply walked around the mess when coming to and from the library. "What happened here?"

Ivan did not answer him, still leaning back in his chair, violet eyes half-lidded as he watched Canada fuss about something being left unattended to. "Canada," He called, and Matthew immediately quieted, searching his face. "What do you think happens when we die?"

Confusion settled on his face first, and the bright mauve eyes blinked in thought before softening into an almost depressed look. His voice was nothing but a whisper, and though Ivan could hardly hear, he was attentive because he honestly wanted to know what the other thought. Heaven and Hell were for humans, he couldn't imagine that personified nations would go there and if, by some chance they did, then none of them would be admitted into Heaven with the amount of sins they were accountable for.

"I think you… disappear," Ivan didn't understand, but Canada explained without the need to be questioned. "Sometimes, when people forget about me or think my words are not worthy enough to listen to, I turn sort of transparent, like I'm invisible. And I know I exist, because I still feel my people, my government, and my economy. I still feel the fields in my hair, the valleys and mountains on my skin, the rivers in my veins… but I also feel like all that does not matter. When I am invisible, nobody can see or hear me; they run straight into me and don't bother to realize. To them, there is no Canada."

Russia could see the boy's eyes shine and Ivan was a little annoyed that stating such an opinion could make the child cry, but he said nothing, merely turning to the laptop screen, staring at the half finished document he had been in the process of typing. "So you think the empires of Rome and Germania are still alive just… invisible?"

"Possibly. Or maybe one day you disappear for real, instead of just remaining invisible. Just… poof." The boy made a motion with his hands, simulating an explosion of some kind, smiling a little at his own humor.

"If that is the case then how is Prussia still here?"

The smile was wiped off his face and Matthew's gaze wandered around the room as he answered, "It takes time to be forgotten; Germany may have taken over what used to be Prussia, but Gilbert is still a representative of the East. He still has a purpose, and even though his nation was dissolved people still recognize and acknowledge him."

A thin eyebrow rose in curiosity at the boy's fervor in defending Prussia's existence, he even went so far as to be on a first name basis with the nation? Were they close? He filed that information away for later.

It made sense in a way, and Russia looked down at his hand, to be sure that there was color and to assure himself of his strength. He was still one of the strongest. He may have lost many and his idea of a perfect world where all were a part of him may have failed, but he was still the largest. He blinked as a certain fact entered his mind.

Canada… was the second largest country.

He knew that, but the implications behind it didn't become clear until now. Looking back to the emotional nation still standing awkwardly near the door, Ivan assessed the boy's body; the frame was small, hidden behind a bulky red hoodie. His face was heart shaped and feminine. The eyes shined with innocence and thin, slightly chapped lips quirked up in a soft smile. It was a body that would not be ideal in a brawl, eyes that did not hold harsh reality, hands that showed no hard labor. Weak… this boy was second to him? It was ridiculous -laughable.

Yet the child surely held strength, he was able to hit quite hard during their hockey match, even Russia had trouble regaining his breath from a few tackles, although he'd blame that on his sick body. The kid was smart too, unnoticeably witty, able to twist things around into his favor without being rude or obnoxious about it. His tricks would have worked if it wasn't for Russia's own intellect in these kinds of affairs.

The boy would be a perfect spy, he mused and the more Russia thought about that, the more he honestly agreed. Canada was practically invisible, he was kind (Russia disliked that, but it was a trait that would certainly serve well in that field of work), and he had a ferociousness about him if angered.

Russia had yet to see how much power the nation had, but he'd heard stories from Germany of just how frightening Canada could be. He didn't know or care who this Canada was back then, it was of no interest to him at the time, but looking to the country that had struck fear into Nazi Germany, Russia couldn't see how this wimp in front of him could be described as frightening.

It intrigued him. Russia would confidently say that Germany was a very strong country, especially in WWII – he had the honor of fighting him, so Ivan would know. But to think that Germany had been afraid of Canada came as a bit of a shock. Either the Nazi was delusional about who he should be cautious of or Canada's soft and kind exterior was false.

Russia would have fun finding out; they had a whole month together and Ivan was determined to discover what made Matthew Williams tick.

"May I ask what brought this up," Matthew asked and Ivan was brought out of his wicked thoughts and back to the original topic.

Russia shifted in his office chair, scooting closer to the desk in order to continue his business, "I was just thinking." His hands started typing at his laptop as he tried to get his mind to focus on work.

"About?" Matthew pried.

"Nothing that concerns you."

"But I'm your psychologist, eh? You should tell me." Canada found that it was much easier to speak when Ivan was pretending to ignore him, as he was now. The violet purple eyes were locked on the computer screen and his body language suggested that Canada should very well leave now.

Strange, it usually bothered Matthew when he went ignored or pretended to be unseen. But when dealing with the unpredictable Ivan, it was much more comfortable this way. "It's not good to hold things in. Those repressed feelings feed off of each other, breed and fester. It rots you from the inside out and your soul slowly dies."

Ivan paused in his typing, glancing up at the nation with an eyebrow rising as if to say 'what the hell are you going on about?'

Matthew felt his cheeks heat up and knew he was blushing from embarrassment but he nodded wisely all the same, "Seen it happen, very tragic. You think you're fine but then one day, far into the future, you'll be one of those old men at the back of a bar drinking yourself drunk and mumbling to yourself."

Ivan stared at him for a second, "I do that now."

"Then it's worse than I feared," And Matthew couldn't help it; the conversation, the look Russia was giving him (still blank but there was a glint of amusement) and the fact that this was the first civil discussion they've had all week; Canada laughed. His injured hand came up to stifle his giggles and he bent over slightly. "Do you have any more symptoms I should know about?"

Ivan decided to humor him, "I do not know the symptoms of one's soul dying, but I can remove my heart, da. I do not believe that is normal for others."

Matthew's giggles slowed and then came to a stop as he looked at Ivan with growing confusion. "Are you being serious?"

"Da," Russia decided to simply show the nation (because it would be hard to convince him that it was the truth otherwise). He reached under his long sleeved white shirt (he still wore his scarf but the coat was absent at the moment), a wet squelching noise was heard before he it withdrew to show Canada.

Matthew stared for a long time, his face going through all kinds of emotions; shock, disgust, disbelief, confusion, and then wonder. From his stand point, Canada could clearly see that the muscle was beating, as if it were still connected to the veins and arteries, as if it still pumped blood. "Mon… Dieu," He whispered, and his feet shuffled closer, he was careful not to step on any glass but his eyes stayed focused in on the red and grey mass within Russia's hand.

Once he was close enough to see the organ up close he was even more amazed, "How is this possible?"

Russia shrugged, "One day it fell out."

Matthew looked up in skepticism, his soft voice dry with humor, "It just… fell out?"

"Da."

Canada's gaze turned back to the bloody muscle, "Can I touch it?"

Russia narrowed his eyes, looking as if he would object. In truth, he never had someone touch his heart before. That kind of situation simply never came about, but glancing at the muscle in his hand and the shy boy in front of him he wondered what harm it would do. Canada looked quite fascinated; an expression Russia had not seen one show upon the grotesque discovery before.

Slowly nodding his head, violet eyes watched the blond carefully as he smiled, happy at receiving permission and yet tentative to actually step forward. Matthew shifted awkwardly, bringing his left hand up hesitantly, he paused along the way for a moment before continuing on until the tip of his pointer finger met warm flesh. Very slowly, the pad of his finger trailed down its side, feeling the smooth, damp surface and squeaking in surprise when Ivan suddenly jerked his hand away.

"I'm sorry," The blond apologized frantically. "Did that hurt?"

"Нет," Russia said. "Just felt strange."

Ivan didn't know what to expect, but the feeling of someone running their finger across one of his most precious organs tickled him. How could he explain it? His heart which was supposed to be inside of his body, stood exposed to the air and elements. How was he to describe the feeling of his heart being cold as a chill swept the room, or the caress of another's flesh? It felt strange and the large nation couldn't help but assess his beating organ for any differences, of which there were none.

"Have you seen Pirates of the Caribbean," Matthew suddenly asked. Ivan glanced up in confusion. "It's one of Alfred's so maybe you haven't. But one of the characters, Davey Jones, had his heart taken from his body and locked away in a chest. It was then buried in a place only he knew of. Whoever owned his heart controlled him, and so also controlled the seas. So everyone went to find this heart of his." A smile crossed Matthew's face.

Russia blinked. "So whoever owns my heart will control Russia?"

"N-no, I'm just saying that's what it was like in the movie," Matthew wished he hadn't said anything, because Ivan looked at him suspiciously. "Oh, the movie was American made, that explains everything, eh? Anyway, this is so cool," He motioned to the beating heart. "A little gory, but it's still pretty amazing."

Giving a small nod Russia brought his hand back under his shirt, storing the organ back into its natural place. "So," Matthew wondered. "You just… put it back in? Like, you don't have a big gaping hole or anything, do you?"

"Нет."

"Oh." Matthew nodded a little to himself. After all, he had already seen Russia without his clothes and while he was determined not to look out of decency at the time, he would have thought he'd notice if there was a bloody passageway to his inner organs. Silence remained and Ivan eventually got back to work after wiping his hand of the blood. "Right," Matthew felt awkward. "Are you running a fever still?"

"I have a headache, but no fever."

"Okay, good. Ukraine suggested Beef Stroganoff for dinner, is that okay?" Ivan merely hummed, his hands flying across the Cyrillic marked keyboard. Canada picked his way across the dangerous floor towards the door. He'd come back and clean this mess when he returned. Pausing in the doorway and glancing back to the nation at his desk. Canada felt really good about their conversation. It was enlightening and Matthew would be optimistic enough to say they connected on a new level; slightly above hostile enemy and moving up. Their relationship kept improving, regardless of the mishap with his fingers (which still hurt quite a bit). Perhaps they could survive this month together.

Ivan suddenly looked at him, violet gaze sharp. "Leave now."

Despite the intimidating glare being sent his way (which made his stomach do flips in fear), Matthew sent a small smile back, "Yes sir," If it wasn't such a submissive action, Matthew would have snapped a salute to further exaggerate the mock superiority he was displaying. "I just wanted to say thank you."

"For breaking your fingers?" He asked, although his eyes went back to the screen and he continued to type. "Da, Comrade Matvey, anytime."

Canada held back the urge to roll his eyes, "No, for being a little less difficult. Vous n'êtes pas si mauvaise parfois."

Ivan glared. He didn't appreciate words being thrown at him when he didn't know the meaning but Matthew ran out the door before he could say anything.

…oOo…

Ivan, Matthew, and Katyusha sat in the stiff elegantly carved chairs surrounding the food bearing table (Ukraine insisted that they eat supper in the dining room, and not at the countertops). Ivan, naturally, took the head of the table, and Matthew and Katyusha sat at either side. Needless to say, it seemed kind of awkward for everyone. No doubt Russia and Ukraine were thinking about the past when they sat in this very place, during darker and lighter times. Matthew felt ostracized; like he didn't belong there.

"This is very good, сестра," Surprisingly, it was Ivan to break the silence and Matthew couldn't be more thankful.

"Thank you, but Matvey helped out a lot. He is a very good cook."

"Da, I noticed that as well."

Matthew smiled bashfully at both countries for their praise, looking down at his food to avoid the others' eyes. He couldn't help but sigh a bit in thought. He never had dinners like this. His dining room back home was so rarely used. Alfred was the only one to come over and there wasn't much point in doing things so formally for his brother (who wouldn't appreciate it anyway). If Arthur ever came over, which was not often at all, the Englishman much preferred the sitting room where he could drink tea and read books in peace.

Francis enjoyed the fancy dinners of course, he was probably the only one of his so-called family that did, but it would simply be too strange for them to sit at the table alone. His 'papa' was too… flirtatious for that and would probably get the wrong idea (and Canada didn't want to give him an active reason to pursue him anyway).

Sucking up his depressive thoughts, Matthew shoved them to the back of his mind. If this was the closest he would have to a 'family dinner' then he would enjoy it, even if the company was rather dull. He could handle Russia's infuriating harassment for the short time it took to eat – maybe… possibly.

Well, he would certainly try and act civil tonight, and hopefully things would go as smoothly as they had in the man's office. Matthew turned to try and start a conversation about Russia's weather for tomorrow (if they were to go out, it would be better to go prepared), but a familiar voice interrupted him. "Hungry."

Canada looked down beside him where Kumajirou stood on his back legs, his head almost reaching the top of the table. His little black nose twitched as he took in all the scents, black eyes wide and lustful of the food on the table. "Kumasa, you already ate, besides this stuff isn't good for you."

The bear looked disgruntled at the refusal. He wanted that food and if this person wasn't going to give it to him, he'd go to the next. Wandering under the table, he traveled to the large set of feet next to the others. Brown leather boots covered the legs and Kumajirou wondered how good that material would taste in his mouth before he moved next to the man.

"Hey," The animal whispered, and curious, childlike violet eyes looked down at him. "Feed me."

Blinking, the human form in front of him swept his arm across the table, snatching up a few things. A couple seconds later and a deep bowl usually meant for rice was set down in front of the bear. But it did not hold any food, just a clear liquid that smelt funny.

Kumajirou looked from the offered porcelain to the man who gave it. His voice was still a sneaky whisper, "This is not food."

"Нет," The man whispered back, giggling a little. "It is better."

The bear didn't think so, but with a hesitant 'whatever,' he flicked his tongue out and dipped it in the bowl. Jerking back at the strong, instantaneous taste, he looked at the drink with wary eyes before going back for more.

Russia smiled wickedly.

Later, as Matthew fussed over Kumajirou's supposedly sick body, (he stumbled nearly three times on the way to bed) Ivan passed by the scene with light hearted steps. "Seems like neither of you can handle alcohol well, da?"

Russia was almost to the end of the hallway before a particularly loud shriek of horror reached his ears,

"You gave him vodka?"

…Thank you!...

Ok, so I have a schedule I'm going to try and keep up; updates will be posted in two week waiting periods, depending on the length of the chapter and how busy I am. But two weeks is a nice summary and leaves room for emergencies. Deal? :)

Also, everyone listen up! My story is now being translated in Chinese (Cantonese) by serene528moon and can be found here:

Http: / www. loveandpeace. us/ ? tid= 25896 (remove spaces)

Am I the only one who thinks that's freakin' awesome? Thank you Serene! You rock!

Cha, I didn't reach my goal of 180 reviews (tear), but that's not something that will stop me. I started this story without knowing how popular it would be and I do this for the sheer enjoyment of writing. But you guys certainly help, and I want to thank all of you for all your comments and opinions they definitely keep me happy.

Another thing; while I have taken a lot of time in researching historical events about Russia and Canada in order to keep things current and in character (because they are countries, their characters are defined by their pasts and the people they represent)… I don't want to offend anyone who may be from these countries. They are human in appearance and thought, they have a mind of their own, separate from the nation they are, so if something doesn't sit well with what the "social norms" of these nationalities are, don't be mad. It is just a story and I don't intend to go all patriotic.

Are you guys happy with the length of these chapters or should I go for longer? It can be done.

Review shout-out:

Pomona: The link you sent me was broken, but I thank you tremendously for whatever was supposed to be on the other end. Ha ha.

Translations:

Vous n'êtes pas si mauvaise parfois (French): You're not so bad sometimes

Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia, Countries, McDonalds (you people really are sue-happy), or anything else that is copyrighted within this story. I make no money from this!

Review please! I want 180! D: