Invasion
By: Verin Mystal
Pairings: Russia/America (main), America/Canada (Plationic/Brotherly), Canada/Ukraine & others
Summary: America struggles to find solace after civilization crumbles in a post-apocalyptic world. My take on the classic "Aliens invade planet earth" set up. Rated M for language & violence.
Disclaimer: I own nothing except for the original ideas in this D:
Note: Since we're catching up with this story at the Kinkmeme, I've changed the updates to once every two weeks. However I'll be on vacation for the next 9 days (camping/hiking in the wilderness), so I decided to update again real quick before I left :)
Late December
America sat in the back of the car with Canada. Tony drove the small car while Russia sat in the passenger seat, dead asleep and snoring from his long driving session.
Upon leaving Belarus's borders, the group tried to stock up on as much fuel as they could find, but once they crossed over into Poland finding spare fuel that hadn't gone bad from sitting at the bottom of car tanks from aging and the elements was difficult.* They kept to smaller, remote roads and avoided larger towns that might hold alien infiltrators. Christmas came and went with little acknowledgment, and the group counted the car as a Christmas gift, as they didn't have to walk.
Canada nudged America, who turned to him with a questioning look.
"Ak'ei," Canada whispered, his eyes fixed on America and with a knowing look, nodded to Russia. "…áháshchiih baa."
Brother… I am aware of it.
…He's speaking Navajo. America blinked and glanced to Tony, who was glaring at them in the rear view mirror. …Because of Tony? He wants to keep this conversation from him? America returned to stare at his twin, who was staring at him expectantly. It wasn't as if they haven't done it before, using their native languages to speak to each other if they didn't want anyone to understand them. It started out as a game they would play to irritate England, back when they were tiny colonies. Now they used it to discuss highly classified information or to gossip openly during a break in international meetings and conferences.
Rolling the phrases through his mind, he translated them silently. Aware…aware of what?
Canada nodded to Russia, and then motioned to America with a wave of his finger.
America felt something flutter in his chest at the sudden realization. Frowning, America glared at him. "Doo nik'ehdii Baa Nasháa Da."
What I'm doing is none of your business.
What happens between Ivan and I is our business. America leaned away, wanting to distance himself from his twin. Honestly-
Canada pressed on, his blue-gray eyes growing serious. "Hahgo?"
When?
America clenched his teeth, annoyance rolling through him. "Ha'át'ííshą'?"
What do you want?
Canada let a soft sigh escape his lips.
"Ayor…da'?"
Do you love him?
America openly blanched at him. Color stained his cheeks, and he looked away.
Canada leaned forward, his face holding a look that was identical to the wide-eyed fascination America got whenever he discovered something new.
"Aaniinii da'?"
It's true?
America made a sound at the back of his throat and shrugged his shoulders.
"Huh?" Annoyance and confusion flooded Canada's face. "Háí lá ałdó da'?"
Is there anyone else?
"What?" America gasped in dismay, breaking the Navajo only conversation. "There is 'no one else'-…" America broke off at the sudden shoulder-jerk from Tony up front; a blush flooded his cheeks and he quickly switched back to Navajo. "…nda. Nihį…"
No. He is…
America fell silent and stared at the car seat. Canada smiled knowingly.
"Nihí…nánísdzá?"
It is difficult?
America picked at a loose thread and thought of the relationship he held with the elder nation. …I…I don't know. We've never really talked about it. We had just started dating before the flash and… and… Never brought it up. I mean…I think I love him but…I…I don't know.
Finally, he picked his head up to peer at Canada.
"Aoo. Nihí nánísdzá."
Yes. It is difficult.
Night fell, and the car sputtered to a halt.
"No more gas." Tony grumbled, opening the car door and slamming it shut behind him.
The sudden sound startled Russia from a sound sleep with a snort. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he stretched his limbs as much as the tiny car could allow, given his extreme height, and yawned deeply.
"Сколько времени?"*
America sat up from his slouched position and peered at the dark green and yellow sky.
"Around eight…I think."
"Mmn." Russia made a sound of acknowledgment at the back of his throat, reached for the door and threw it open with another yawn. Sliding his feet out, he stood, stumbled a moment before straightening and stretched his limbs once more.
America and Canada also exited the car and looked around.
"Where are we?" America asked, turning to glance at Tony.
"South-eastern Germany, near the border of Poland." Tony stated flatly as he searched a car stranded on the opposite side of the tiny, two-land road.
Russia turned around and stepped closer to America and Canada. "We are close to Prussia's country home that he shared with Germany."
"How close?" America felt his mouth run dry as excitement flushed through him. "How soon can we get there?"
"Another day… if we can find fuel easily."
America frowned. The most time they wasted was when they foraged for fuel. Sometimes it only took a couple hours, other times taking as long as three days to carry the fuel over long distances. And most often it was of poor quality, and the engine tended to use more of it due to its advanced age.
"Should we split up again?" Canada asked and leaned against the car. "Do you think they've been following us still?"
America stepped closer to his twin, standing beside him. "I think we'll be okay, honestly. We would have noticed if they followed us… with us in the car and all."
Russia rubbed the sleep from his eyes and ran his fingers through his thick ashy-blond hair. "I agree. I think we will be alright in…staying together."
"This car has fuel." Tony called from across the road.
America pushed away from the VW Belarus gave them and stepped across the road to Tony. "I'll lift the car up, you get the hose ready."
Tony forced the cap open to the fuel tank and jammed a long, plastic tube into the opening. Getting the nod from Tony, America gripped the underside of the car and hefted it up with ease. Sticking the other end of the plastic tube into the plastic storage container, seconds ticked by until the fuel started through the hose, and down into the container. Russia stepped across the road to survey the process. Curiosity filled his violet gaze, and Russia stepped as closer to America.
"Is…is that car heavy?"
America glanced to him. "Mmm…not really."
"Not…really?" Russia echoed, fascination filtering into his voice. "What is the heaviest thing you've ever lifted?"
"Uhh…well…" America shifted from one foot to the next, having no trouble balancing the heavy car as he shifted. "I know when I was young I could pick up a full grown buffalo. But…I think the heaviest thing I've ever picked up was a steam engine? Yeah, that was kinda heavy."
"…Kinda?" Russia parroted. "Could you lift something even heavier?"
…why does he always ask me about this?
"Yeah… I could. Cause when I did that it was during my civil war, so I was in a lot of pain anyways." America continued on, his tone holding a self-conscious edge. "I'd probably struggle a bit, but I could lift it-"
Russia shushed him with a wave of his hand, turning his head, he grew silent and listened. Only the sound of the fuel trickling into the plastic container filled the air. Fields with clusters of trees surrounded them. Grasses moved and shifted.
Fuck me. America bit his lip and heard the movement behind him. All of our guns are in the car.
There was a shot, and the metallic ping of a bullet striking a metal surface sounded next to America's hand. In the blink of an eye, Russia had his TT-30 in hand and fired into the field, the shots quick and consistent. A hissing shriek sounded, and more shots erupted. America turned and with a huge step forward, flung the car in the direction of the gunfire. The car flew through the air silently, save for the mad scrambling of the aliens as they ran away, revealing themselves. The car smashed to the ground with crunching metal and shattering glass. The others were gunned down in seconds. America turned to Russia with a smirk on his face.
"Nice shooting."
Russia shook his head and reloaded his weapon. "I was not the one who killed them."
America frowned, and turned to Canada. His brother was just exiting the car, rifle in hand. Upon seeing America's questioning look, he shook his head negatively. Tony calmly screw the cap in place on the plastic container and pointed to the trees.
"It came from over there."
America followed his finger and found Prussia and Hungary exiting the trees, rifles in hand.
"How did you find us?" America asked after the introductions concluded.
"We have been following this particular group of aliens for three days now." Hungary admitted. "They were among those that kidnapped the others…" Her eyes grew pained at the mention of her former husband. "And we wished to find out where their base of operations were, when they broke off suddenly."
"Antonio and Romano followed the others." Prussia supplied, and peered at America and Canada, a smirk growing across his face. "I should've known you two would be alive."
Canada smiled. "Alfred and I aren't so easy to kill off." America nodded in agreement.
"We have heard what happened." Russia got right to the point. "And we know where they are keeping the others."
Prussia and Hungary gaped at him. America motioned to Tony, who was glaring at everyone.
"It's all thanks to Tony, really." America admitted with a smile. "He's the one who cracked their written language and got into their network…thanks to that communications vehicle we discovered."
"Well where are they?" Prussia asked, his voice growing impatient. "If you know where west and the others are then tell us."
"Abandoned air base from World War 2. Kummersdorf."
Russia's eyes widened in recognition.
"That's near Berlin…" Prussia frowned. "West was having it demolished to expand Schönefeld airport…"*
"They might have been using it as temporary holding until they moved them to a more secure location?" Hungary offered. "In any case, we could make it there in your car in less than a day if we didn't stop for fuel, and come up with a plan along the way."
America looked at Canada, who nodded with a shrug. "Sounds good to Matthew and I. Ivan?"
Russia remained silent for a moment, and rolling the new information through his mind before nodding. "…I agree. It is important that no more of us are captured."
"…No more?" Hungary questioned. "Did you find out about any of the others?"
"We'll tell you everything we know along the way."
Prussia shouldered his rifle and headed for the car.
"Let's get going, the longer we stand here the less time we have of saving the others."
Early Next Morning
America ignored the frigid chill of the air and ran through the trees towards the abandoned airbase, now alien compound. Russia followed close behind, his rifle ready and loaded. Buildings loomed ahead through the trees, and America stopped just short of the tree line and crouched behind a thick tree trunk. Russia found one close by and remained standing.
After exchanging information with Prussia and Hungary, they decided to split up into teams of two and sneak into the abandoned airbase.
"See anyone?" Russia whispered.
America peered through the trees into the open area that surrounding the group of red brick buildings. Four large armored vehicles stood before the largest building. Guards standing around, waiting with boxes and other soldiers. America frowned and turned to face him.
"Something's wrong. I think they're leaving."
Russia clenched his gun, suspicion filling him. "Leaving?"
America nodded and peered through the early morning darkness. "I think I see more coming…"
Two double doors opened and a huge group of guards stepped outside, followed chained prisoners. Heart leaping into his throat, America jumped up and surged forward. Russia grabbed his arm and shoved him against the tree.
"Stop it." Russia hissed. "We can't take them all on."
America glared at him. "But they're all there!"
Ludwig and Feliciano, Roderich and Francis and Arthur…
"I can't just let them get away." America pulled out one of the high explosive alien grenades Tony gave him. "If we use this-"
"It's too risky." Russia shook him by the front of his shirt. "We can't-"
America pushed him away, pressed the button on the grenade, stepped around the tree and flung it across the clearing. A huge fireball exploded under one of the armored vehicles, splitting it in half and sending pieces of it everywhere.
"Damnit, Alfred." Russia growled at him, tore his own grenade from his pocket and flung it across the clearing where it blew up another armored vehicle.
The prisoners were herded away; more than twenty guards led them out of the clearing and into the surrounding woods. Two more explosions sounded, the shock waves slamming into America's chest. The alien vehicles were utterly destroyed, and the remaining aliens fought to find cover. America raised his rifle and picked off the aliens one by one, Russia joining him in the carnage. After the last one fell, America turned and stepped into the clearing, looking around for where the others escaped.
"There!" America shouted at Russia. "Come on!"
Russia sighed and followed after him.
America peered into the tracks on the forest floor.
"They went through here, and over this way…" Standing, he pointed in the general direction. "If we hurry, we can catch up with them."
Russia frowned and shook his head. "…I don't like this."
"What's not to like?" America gaped at him. "We're so close and yet you want to sit here and do nothing!"
"Nothing?" Russia echoed. "I am thinking through this clearly. The alien's might be expecting us to follow after them."
"…What are you saying?" America glared at him. For months he'd worried over England, despite his brother's assurances that the elder nation was fine. To be so close to rescuing him and the others…his heart hammered against his ribcage. "How can you be so calm? We can't just sit here while the others are getting away."
"Calm down." Russia warned. "You running off blindly will solve nothing."
America swallowed and breathed in deeply.
"…Fine."
Russia continued to glare at him for a moment before refocusing onto the trail of several footprints.
"I suggest we follow the foot prints, but off the main trail. That way if they set up an ambush of some sort, we will catch it."
America crossed his arms and thought over Russia's plan.
"Alright. I think I can do that."
"…Good."
"But I'm on point." America insisted. "I'm better at tracking than you."
"Really?" Russia raised an eyebrow at him. "You think you are better than me?"
"Yep. I think so." America smirked at him and turned back to the prints. Carefully, he stepped off the trail and into the deep underbrush. "This way."
Russia followed; checking back to ensure they weren't followed as America trained his eyes forward, scouting ahead for any movement. Several minutes passed, and the only sounds were those of the forest waking up to the morning sunrise. Birds chirped and wind rustled the leaves and branches as the sun filtered through the canopy to the forest floor. Studying the tracks, they curved and trailed around, many seeming floundering and hurried, while others were slower and steady.
"..Are they…lost?" America questioned softly and stepped around a large tree. "It's almost like… they stop and go, figuring out where they're trying to go…" Frowning, America stepped out of the thick woods and back onto the trail, hoping to clarify his assumptions with a closer look at the prints.
A click was his only warning before gunfire exploded up the trail. Bullet's slammed into his chest and abdomen, the sudden burning pain, the dull aching throb they left behind.
He stumbled and fell backward onto the ground. The gunfire abruptly halted.
America groaned and opened his eyes. He felt stiff and a throbbing burn filled his chest. Looking down, he found his chest shot multiple times, blood already soaking into the layers of clothing wrapped around him.
Shit…not good.
Aliens crowded around him, all chortling and hissing at each other, their beady eyes focused on him. Seeming to come to a decision, two of them gripped America's upper-arms and lifted his torso off the ground.
Pain ripped through him, and America couldn't help the half-growled groan that escaped.
"Let go of me you bastards-"
They hissed at him, and one of them punched his vulnerable belly. America coughed and groaned.
"Fuck-!" America spat, blood staining his teeth. "-you."
His chest felt wet and warm, his limbs and fingers clammy and chilled.
Trees passed by overhead as America was half carried, half dragged through the dirt and bushes. His booted feet scraped on the ground, and blood dripped from the bottom of his jacket.
Ivan…Ivan was behind me. America turned his eyes around, glancing from one side of the trail to the other. He'll wait for the right moment, and then attack. I just…I have to be patient.
He breathed, and everything went bubbly. Blood filled his mouth and spilled over, trickling past his jaw and down his neck. There was a distant pain deep within his chest. America knew he should be worried about it, but found that all he could do was stare at the weapon the aliens had attached to their midsections.
It's so close… so close…if I could just…
America shifted and tried lifting his right arm. His muscles moved slowly and it felt as if the air was thick as molasses. A screeching hiss was aimed at him, the alien's three fingers suddenly tightened painfully and jerked his arm in a painful twist. A muffled pop sounded in the still woods.
A pain-filled shout exploded from his chest at the sudden dislocation.
Fuck, fuck, fuck fuck-! They continued to drag him using his arms. A burning, tearing sensation flared at his right shoulder. America bit his lip and growled. Just put me down, fucking please…
They stopped suddenly, and the alien's hissed something to each other. More of them stepped over, staring at him as if he were an insect crawling helplessly with its wings torn off. Voices sounded from a distance, voices that sounded human. There was shouting, and someone calling his name, but the aliens rushed away and the voices abruptly fell into silence.
The aliens walked forward again, trees moving past his vision until they lifted him higher in the air and flung him away. His back struck the ground and pain jackknifed through him. A scream erupted in his chest before he could stop it, but instead of cutting through the air, it came out as a garbled moan, wet and bubbly. Figures crowded around him, their voices whispering to each other. One voice cut above the rest, and America closed his eyes. Just let me sleep…I wish I could just wake up…and all of this will be a dream…
"…Alfred…Alfred-" Someone nudged him. "Come back, don't give up just yet."
America forced his eyes open. The figures were blurry, and America squeezed his eyes shut once more before opening them once more.
England stared down at him. His green eyes glistening with concern and narrowed with anger. France sat beside him, a similar look plastered onto his face.
"…Ah…rth…?" America tried speaking, but it came out garbled beyond recognition. Choking, America spat up a mouthful of blood. "Nggh…"
"Shhh~…" France shushed, and nudged him with his knee. "Don't speak. You will only make it worse."
America made a vague sound of acknowledgement in the back of his throat, and stared at his elder brothers. They were much thinner than he remembered, but appeared to be healthy enough. Their clothes were bloodied and tattered, his hair dirty and skin smudged with dirt. How long as it been…?
Turning his head, America found the others sitting nearby. Austria, Germany and Northern Italy sat together, while Denmark and Belgium sat huddled, their eyes focused on him. Germany shot a teal-eyed glare at the aliens guarding them and shifted closer on his knees. He studied Alfred's wounds, looking at each bullet hole before noticing his arm. His eyes narrowed and he shifted his gaze to England and France.
"Well?" England asked, his voice muted and soft, but low and demanding.
"…From what I can see," Germany started. "Only his lungs took serious damage, but… due to all the blood, I assume one of the arteries has been hit…"
"Alfred…everything will be alright." England whispered, leaning close to him. "Matthew… he is here."
America looked at him, and then around the makeshift camp. His twin was nowhere to be found. A moment passed, and it dawned on him that Matthew was using his talent, his invisibility to hide himself from the invaders.
"Ak'ei…" A soft, barely recognizable voice whispered into his ear. "Ayor…" He felt a touch over his heart. "Áhályą…"
America blinked, and felt England and France's eyes on him.
Russia… he's taking care of what? Of the aliens? America felt his throat close up in alarm. …alone? He's doing it alone? What happened to Tony, Prussia and Hungary? Are they alright?
Canada's voice returned, a bare whisper.
"Ánaai… adigash."
America turned to England who stared at him with curiosity. Did he hear him too? America worked his mouth and throat. England…and his magic…what does he want to use his magic for? Not to escape but… maybe to distract?
England leaned in close, putting on a fake show of pain in his gut to prevent the guards from growing suspicious. America breathed in and tried not to cough and gasp.
"Distract…your magic-" America's lungs seized, blood filled his throat and spilled over his lips. White spots filled his vision as he burned for a lungful of sweet oxygen.
England pulled away and stared off into space, his eyes growing hard with concentration. It was a look America had witnessed before, back when he was young and stumbled in on England performing magic when he thought America was in bed sleeping.
The others crowded around him, France leaned in close and spoke to him, forcing him to remain conscious, lapsing between French and English.
Sleep clawed at him and drug him under, wrapping its layers of darkness and warmth around him. America struggled to keep his eyes open, tearing the layers away and pulling himself to surface, but the urge was too strong. His body relaxed, his eyelids slid closed, and darkness welcomed him.
An explosion shook the forest; a fire ball erupted some distance away.
Broken from his surprise, Russia slammed the butt of his rifle into the alien's face, and shot the other in the chest. A sickening crack and its chest was splayed open, green blood spraying and spilling across the ground.
Reloading America's dropped rifle with fluidity, Russia moved forward, rushing from tree to tree for cover.
"It came from over here!" Prussia's voice materialized behind him, and the others appeared nearby.
"Where are the twins?" Hungary asked. "What happened?"
Russia continued stepping through the woods. "Alfred was caught by surprise, and they gunned him down."
Tony clenched his own rifle, his eyes narrowing in response.
Screeching and chortling came through the trees. Russia stopped and peered into the clearing. Aliens were rushing around, many training their guns on the prisoners while the others all pointed to a charred crater. Leaving the two guards behind, the aliens crowded around the crater, all peering inside and looking for the cause. Prussia, Hungary and Tony came in beside him.
It took only seconds to gun them all down.
Hungary rushed into the clearing with Prussia following after her. She ran to her former husband and flung her arms around him in a back-breaking hug. Prussia checked Germany, and the two conversed to each other in German while France unlocked his cuffs. Tony stared at America for a moment before turning and checking the dead aliens for any supplies and high tech gear they might find useful. The other's quickly followed Tony's example and took an inventory of everything they collected. Russia walked steadily across the clearing, stood at America's feet and stared, worry dripping from his lingering gaze.
"Alfred…Al-" Canada called, dropping his invisibility, and pressed his first two fingers to the side of his neck."His pulse is slow… he can hardly breathe…"
"His lungs are filling up with blood." England unzipped the jacket, yanked the knife from its sheath at America's waist and cut the two layer's of red and white shirts down the center. The blood soaked fabric was pushed away, revealing America's tan chest and the multiple bullet holes. Blood pulsed from the bullet wounds in synch with each heart beat, continually soaking his skin with a red glistening sheen. "We need to elevate his torso-"
"The alien's had a human first aid kit." Germany stood, shoved one of the dead alien guards away, and tore through the heavy bag it carried until he withdrew another red canvas bag. "They wanted us to remain in good health."
"Why the hell would they want that?" Prussia asked, his face narrowing in angry confusion. "They've done nothing but try to kill us since they got here."
The others fell silent at that, and refocused their attention onto the problems at hand.
Russia moved suddenly and kneeled at America's side beside Canada, gently plucking the bag from Germany's hands.
"I would rather conduct the surgery." Russia stated evenly and without offense.
Germany nodded silently, understanding the underlying intent of his words and backed away.
Opening the red bag, Russia withdrew medical items that might be a common sight in an old fashioned field medic's bag, save for the extra current supplies thrown in. He withdrew a plethora of items, including hemostats, gloves, alcohol, cotton pads and many other items.
"I will drain his lungs. Arthur, you keep him asleep and help turn his body. Mathew, I want you to pop his shoulder back into place, and be ready to give blood after we close up these wounds."
"I can't cast a spell for sleep without it further lowering his heart rate." England warned. "If he wakes up then we'll have to put those cuffs on him and hold him down."
Russia frowned, but nodded anyway and prepared hard plastic tubing for his lungs.
Canada held a look of grim concentration as he gripped his brother's shoulder in one hand, his arm in the other. Germany pressed his fingers gently to the arm and the shoulder socket, checking to see if it was the correct position and for any further damage. After a nod of approval, Canada snapped his arm back into place with a muffled pop.
England rolled America onto his left side and held him steady while Russia picked up two hard plastic surgical tubing, withdrew America's knife and cut the ends at a sharp angle.*
"Keep him still."
America opened his eyes and felt a dull soreness in his chest. Something clutched his hand, fingers interwoven around his own. Forcing his eyelids open and closed, he blinked the sleep away and lifted his head.
His brother lay in a bed directly beside him, his hand stretched across the small gape to clutch his hand.
"Mattie…?" His voice was horse and raw. "Are…?"
"Hush now, lad."
America turned and found England stepping into the tiny brick-walled room. A ball of something welled up inside his chest, and America opened his mouth to speak, but found his tongue in knots. England shushed him again, stepped forward and wrapped his arms around him. America stilled, feeling the arms around him, the comforting warmth of his elder brother filling his chest. His muscles relaxed, he pressed his face into England's shoulder and breathed in, relief flooding him. His eyes burned, and he squeezed them shut. England pressed his hand to America's head, giving it an awkward pat before pulling away.
England cleared his throat and looked away, his eyes embarrassed. America leaned forward and gripped his hand.
"You're…okay?" America asked. "Mattie-"
"He gave you lot of blood." England turned back to him. "He was worried about you… your body was on the brink...only your people and land were supporting you." England finally turned his evergreen gaze to meet America's stare. "I'm glad you're alright."
America cracked a smile. You always were awkward about expressing yourself…but… I guess I'm the same way.
"Of course I'm alright."
England frowned. "Its just...I-"
"It's okay." America interrupted. "I know. I understand…I…I felt the same."
England grew silent for a moment before a tiny smile cracked across his face.
"Right."
Russia came in after England left. Two hot plates of food were carefully brought in and set by the end table between the two beds. Grasping the chair, Russia pulled it close to America's beside and sat down.
"England didn't cook, did he?"
Russia smirked, knowing of England's poor cooking skills.
"Francis did the cooking." Russia touched the blankets and gently pulled them down to America's waist. "Your wounds need to be checked."
America swallowed and watched as he carefully rolled the end of his shirt upward to reveal his bandaged chest. Gently, softly, he pulled each bandage away. A sticky film covered each raw wound, the cool German air touching the still healing entry wounds.*
"Well?" America asked, his stomach growling at the smell of the hot plate of food steaming beside him.
"You are healing at your normal rate." Surprise tinted his voice, and Russia continued to check each wound. "You are almost to your healing level from before the invasion."
"Good." America sighed in relief. "I was afraid I'd be stuck in bed for a month."
"If this happened when we were traveling through Alexei's land, you wouldn't have fared so…well." Russia put each bandage back into place and pulled his shirt back down. "It seems the interior of the wounds have made a full recovery. Now we must wait for the exterior to heal."
America frowned and made a face. "I have to stay in bed?"
"Just until tomorrow morning." Russia allowed, and picked up his plate of food and the fork that came with it. "Rabbit and freeze dried vegetables taken from the human food the aliens were keeping."
"More rabbit…" America couldn't help but feel his tongue curl in distaste at the prospect of eating rabbit meat. "I would give anything for some beef. I bet Darren would have beef right now…"
Russia paused and raised an eyebrow. "…Darren?"
America glanced to the elder nation and found his violet eyes narrowing with each passing second.
"Yeah. Darren." America smiled. "You know... Texas?"
"Ah." Russia swallowed and shifted in his wooden chair. "Texas."
"You've met him before."
"Is that so?"
America frowned. "You don't remember."
"Forgive me if I cannot remember your precious states." Sarcasm dripped from his voice. "If I can recall, you have yet to meet any of my-"
"You remember Alexei."
"That is different." Russia set his jaw and stabbed the fork through the cuts of rabbit meat and pieces of boiled vegetables.
"Different?" America questioned. "Because of your influence? Because you once had him long ago?"
"Because he is like one of our own." Russia admitted and held the fork full of rabbit meat and boiled peas at him. "Now eat."
"One of our own?" America parroted. "You mean like…like a…son?"
"Not a son." Russia forced out, the muscles of his jaw working. "But…"
"Like one of our own." America repeated once more. "I never knew you felt so…so strongly about him."
"Natasha views him as extended family."
America paled. "She what?"
"Not in that way." Russia quickly amended. "Not as she did…towards me. Before Lithuania..."
"Oh." America visibly relaxed. "Right."
Russia pressed the tip of the fork to America's lips.
"Now stop talking and eat. Your body needs the nutrients."
America swallowed and felt his stomach twist and ache. He parted his lips and let Russia move the fork into his mouth, where he closed his tongue and lips around the fork. Russia pulled the fork away clean through his lips and gathered and stabbed more food onto its prongs. America moved the savory meat and mushy vegetables around his taste buds until he swallowed the mouthful with a smile.
"That's the best meal I've had since Mattie's pancakes."
Russia hummed in agreement and held the fork out, which America gladly took into his mouth, taking the food away. They continued in silence, Russia feeding America until the plate was scraped clean. Smiling, America leaned back into the mattress and pressed a hand to his belly.
"A warm meal… I almost forgot how it felt."
Russia stood, plate in hand, and turned for the door. America stared at him in sudden confusion and gripped his arm.
"Where are you going?"
Russia paused and turned back to him, glancing to the hand clenching his arm before meeting America's questioning stare.
"…To put these away." Russia shifted the plate and fork to his free hand and tugged his arm away from America's vise-like grip. "You must sleep."
"Don't wanna." America frowned and reached for his arm once more. "Can't you just stay a while?"
"…You want me to stay?" Russia couldn't help the tiny smirk spreading across his face. "Why?"
America felt the words he'd spoken within his mind standing on the edge of his tongue.
"Ayor-" America bite his tongue and shook his head. Nervousness crashed through him and his chest tightened. "…a- no. Um."
Russia stared at him curiously.
"Ayor?"
"It's nothing." America stated in a rush and tried keeping the scarlet from filling his cheeks. "Just…I need sleep. That's all."
Russia frowned, suspicion resting heavily in his gaze.
"…Alright."
Next Chapter: The group takes a well-deserved reprieve after traveling non-stop for the past year, and fills the other nations in on the information America and Tony found, and try coming up with a plan on how to gather more intelligence; America finally comes to terms with his feelings for Russia.
Extra Notes (Lots and Lots of notes this time, sorry for the length D:)
1) "…finding spare fuel that hadn't gone bad from sitting at the bottom of car tanks from aging and the elements was difficult." - [From ] "Gasoline tends to lose oxidation and deteriorate after 4-6 months of non-use and will be for the most part useless after 1 year. While it certainly will still ignite and burn, the octane content for any engines usability is severely diminished as well the gas at this point may have also become both moisture laden with water vapor, and or particulate matter if it was not in a full and sealed tank when last used. "
2) "West was having it demolished to expand Schönefeld airport…" - This is directly quoted from a flickr album here: http(colon)/www(dot)flickr(dot)com/photos/phoenixesrose/sets/72157601115599912/ There's pictures of the place too, in case you're interested. Of course, I changed it a bit to fit the parameters of the story so I took some creative license.
3) England rolled America onto his left side and held him steady while Russia picked up two hard plastic surgical tubing, withdrew America's knife and cut the ends at a sharp angle. - I originally had the entire surgery written out, but it felt more like something out of a textbook and was kind of boring, so I cut it out and left it to the notes. (but if you think I should leave it in for the version don't hesitate on letting me know). All of this information came from my younger brother, who has taken two years of sports medicine, one year of anatomy, and is a biology major in college. Basically, when your shot in the chest and your lungs are punctured by bullet holes, they start filling up with fluid (about 95% of it is blood) and when your miles away from any kind of advanced medical care, you have to physically drain the lungs of fluid/blood so they can work again. In order to do this, you need to use something, like hard surgical tubing, cut it at a sharp angle and physically puncture the chest and the lung(s). This will allow the fluid to drain from the lungs and once drained, the tubing can be removed and the area elevated to prevent any further fluid from entering the lungs once more. As for the aorta artery that was nicked/hit (the artery that goes up your neck to supply your brain with blood), any normal human would be dead in minutes, but since Alfred isn't really human, he really doesn't need to worry about that. The other bullets, if still inside Alfred's body, would have to be removed with something like hemostats.
4) A sticky film covered each raw wound, the cool German air touching the still healing entry wounds. - Again, this information all came from my younger brother. Basically the "sticky stuff" is plasma. Its yellowish with a red tint, and it's stickier than water, but not gooey or anything like that. Most common wounds you might see this stuff in/on are abrasions (or as I like to affectionately call it, "road rash") and bad scrapes that take a while to heal.
Russian Translations (Done by silvensorrow!)
"Сколько времени?" - (Skol'ko vremeni?) What time is it?
Navajo Translations (From an online dictionary/pdf dictionary from the academic search engine ERIC, directly copy pasted with some changes, due to some symbols not transferable to Word. Also, the reason why I chose Navajo is because it has one of the most extensive/easy to use dictionary's I could find.)
1) Ak'ei - Kin, relative(s). The reason why I had Canada use this instead of the term for brother is they are twins, and in Navajo, at least the dictionary I was using, didn't had a word for just "brother". Instead all they had was "older" or "younger". So I decided to have them use this for each other.
2) Doo nik'ehdii baa nasháa da - What I'm doing is none of your business. (This actually came from a personal blog/website)
3) Ha'át'iishą' - What [do you want] (Last part is implied)
4) Ayor - Love (Assuming this based off another phrase)
5) Aaniinii - that which is true (The da' on the end adds a yes/no question marker)
6) Háí lá ałdó da' - Who else, which
7) Nihí…nánísdzá - you (plural) [are] difficult. The "love" is implied.