"If we don't end war, war will end us."

- H. G. Wells

When North Vietnam arrived at her sister's house, she found her waiting on the porch with her withered lotus in her hair and her rifle in her hand. There were tear tracks down her face but her eyes held no trace of moisture - they were wide and full of emotion that North Vietnam had never seen in them before. Not quite hatred - she had a feeling her sister's mind wasn't coherent enough for hatred at the moment - but not desperation either. That was what shocked North Vietnam the most. There was no desperation because in order to be desperate you need something to fight for. Something barely within your grasp. South Vietnam had accepted her fate.

"You've lost," said North Vietnam, marching towards her sister's porch with her gun raised. "No more fighting. Surrender and we can be done with this."

"No."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "No?"

She had been right that South Vietnam had accepted her fate, but she had made the mistake of thinking that that meant she wasn't going down without a fight. North Vietnam barely had time to duck before her sister's bullet shot over her head.

She straightened, mouth open in shock, and launched herself up the stairs towards her. South Vietnam took cover behind the doorway, sending an endless stream of bullets at her with no thought for conserving ammunition or even giving herself much protection. Taking advantage of the pause to reload, North Vietnam hurtled inside and took cover behind the couch. Aiming her rifle over the top, she pulled the trigger and South Vietnam was forced to hurl herself behind the kitchen counter. Not even waiting for her sister to stop shooting, she leant out and pumped the trigger like it was the only thing keeping her clinging to life.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

North Vietnam dropped to her hands and knees, the bullets shattering the windows, shredding cushions and ripping holes in the wooden walls. This was not sweet, docile South Vietnam. War had changed her, and her inevitable demise had not served to subdue her. For the first time in her life, North Vietnam was genuinely frightened of her sister.

Behind the counter, blood was slowly staining South Vietnam's uniform. The Vietcong were back and America wasn't here to stop them, but she barely noticed. All she cared about was pulling that trigger until the sun burned out and took her with it.

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! Click.

Her ammo pouches were empty.

All North Vietnam heard was shooting - mindless, insane shooting - and quiet. Then footsteps were racing across the floor, combat boots thudding against the wooden boards and a scream, a hair-raising, terrifying scream was splitting her ears. She leant out from behind the sofa in time to see her sister, her kind, sweet, peaceful sister, charging towards her with nothing but death in her eyes. And, almost by instinct, her finger tightened on the trigger.

South Vietnam fell.

Silence.

Thirty seconds passed before North Vietnam looked out from behind the couch, her hands shaking.

"South?"

Silence.

"South, are you okay?"

Silence.

She crawled out into the open, crossing the room on her hands and knees to where her sister lay sprawled on the wooden floor. She poked her gently.

Nothing.

North Vietnam didn't dare to think or to feel; she was terrified of what she might find if she allowed herself to. Carefully, gently, she turned her sister over. A patch as red as the lotus in her own hair was spreading slowly over the front of her military jacket. Over Saigon.

Her brain numb, North Vietnam frantically brushed her sister's long, dark hair back from her face. A dead, withered plant fell from her hair and crumbled on the floor but she barely noticed it. Her expression was peaceful, like the South Vietnam she remembered. The South Vietnam that had picked flowers in their countryside and played with the children in the villages. The South Vietnam who had danced and smiled and brought her serenity when she could find none for herself. Her eyes were closed, her eyelids pale and nearly translucent.

"South," she whispered. "South, wake up."

Nothing.

"Wake up," she said a little louder. Her sister had always been a deep sleeper.

Tears were streaming from her eyes now, falling from her cheeks and splashing onto South Vietnam's face. Why am I crying? I only have to wake her up. "South, you can wake up now! Wake up!"

She was hugging her now, holding her close and rocking backwards and forwards, crying so hard she could barely see. "You can wake up! The war is over! America's gone! China's gone! They're all gone! It's just us, just like it always was. Remember when it was just us, South? We're free, just like we wanted! We did it! We can reunify and be one Vietnam, like we were meant to be. We don't need to fight any more, South! Everything will be fine again! Just wake up, damn it! WAKE UP!"

As North Vietnam held her sister and screamed, hysteria rising like floodwaters in her head, she felt a peculiar prickling spread through her. It was as though some of her nerve endings had woken up, ones she never knew existed (or maybe she'd simply forgotten?), prickling like pins and needles. It wasn't a painful feeling; it was strange, if anything, but she knew exactly what it was. South Vietnam. Not her sister, but herself. She could feel the fires of Saigon flickering to life one by one inside her, she could hear each of its screaming, fleeing people, smell the burning buildings, taste the acrid smoke. She and her sister had always been two halves of the same region. Two Indochinas, two Annams, two Vietnams. Not any more. That prickling was the citizens of the south joining her, becoming one with the north that had always been hers. She could feel Saigon burning as acutely as she would feel it if Hanoi itself went up in flames.

She paused, taking her lotus flower out from behind her ear. She held it cupped in both hands and stared at it in numb shock. It was a full lotus, just like it had been before the war. But its colour hadn't changed one bit. It was a fresh, vibrant, healthy flower, as red as her sister's blood.

She was well and truly one nation now.

In 1975, North Vietnam violated the Paris Peace Accords and invaded South Vietnam. The country panicked and officials were evacuated from Saigon in American helicopters and the city was left to its fate. Control was completely lost as fighting broke out, militia fled or changed sides and the whole situation descended into chaos. On April 30th, North Vietnamese troops easily overcame resistance, drove a tank through the gates of Independence Palace and raised the flag of North Vietnam on its roof. South Vietnam had been defeated and Vietnam was finally unified.

A/N: I won't lie, I cried writing this chapter. T_T I knew it was coming all along but it still made me really, really sad. I'd got kind of attached to the Vietnam sisters...

There's an epilogue coming soon, so don't go away yet.