Emma awoke with a gasp, flailing her arms. She stopped, blinked, and rose from the ornate bed where she lay. The meticulously decorated room was lit by the dawn sun. She tsked and rolled out of bed.

"She could have given me a warning before cutting me open," she grumbled, rubbing her arms. She padded out of the room, and was met by a soldier guarding the door. He saluted her.

"I have orders to bring you directly to the president," he said, ushering her down the hall. Emma glanced around the tall, golden walls.

"Ah. The Kremlin's presidential suites."

The soldier stopped in front of a door guarded by two men in suits. They opened the door and waved her in. The president sat at a small table, eating breakfast.

"Gaverty. Sit."

Emma joined him at the table. A servant placed a plate of bliny and a cup of tea in front of her. She took up her fork and dug in.

"I was told by your companions that you wish to speak to Russia," the president continued. "I nearly refused, but they insisted it was vital to ending Russia's current madness."

"We have a plan," Emma said through her bliny. "Hopefully I can get Russia to cooperate -"

The president gave a short, sharp laugh. "My people have worked on him for a full day now," he said, shaking his head. "He has shown nothing but resistence."

Emma dropped her fork. "Worked on - have you been hurting him?"

"It's standard procedure. He is currently an enemy. A traitor to his people. We must do what we can to discover how to bring him back to himself." The president's lips thinned. "He refuses to let us know. I believe, Gaverty, he no longer cares about the fate of his people."

"That's not Russia," Emma whispered. "It can't be. Even if he's lost it, he can't be so callous towards his own people!"

"From the notes of my predecessors, Russia's first sign of madness was a direct attack against his people." The president steepled his fingers. "This Russia is not the same man as the one who met me when I came to office, Gaverty. I do not want to dwell on what he will do if we don't end this little tirade soon. I will allow you to meet with him. But if this plan of yours goes south, I may have to consider drastic measures to keep Russia under control."

Emma pushed away her bliny, her appetite gone. "I think I know what to do. I had the opportunity to experience Russia's psyche personally. Take me to him. I want to get this over with."

The president nodded and snapped his fingers. A couple of men in black suits appeared from the corners of the room and pushed aside a wall, revealing a doorway to a staircase leading down.

"At your leisure," the president said, motioning at the staircase.

Emma raised her eyebrows. "There's a secret lower level of the Kremlin? I never knew that!"

"Of course you didn't." The president gave her a small smile. "It's a secret."

Emma rose from her chair and walked toward the staircase. The suited men followed behind her as she descended into a narrow passageway. It ran for a few meters before opening into a wide room with many off-shooting hallways.

"This way," one of the men said gruffly, leading her down a hallway to her left. She passed many doors, each firmly closed and locked, before the men stopped in front of a solid wooden door. One of them unlocked it, reached in and quickly turned on a light without fully opening the door.

"He's in there," the man said.

"You're not going in?" Emma said disapprovingly. The men glanced at each other.

"We don't let anyone have prolonged exposure," one of them said finally. "We've only had him for 18 hours, and already we've noticed that he works on the minds of his interrogators. They start pitying him. Wanting to help him. Only the president has been immune so far."

"Weird," Emma muttered. She pushed through the door. The men quickly closed it behind her.

The room was stark, 4m by 4m, painted in a garish mustard yellow and lacking any furniture. All light came from the buzzing florescent fixtures inlayed into the ceiling. Russia sat on the floor at the far end of the room, legs pretzeled beneath him, head hanging down. He was chained close to the wall, his arms twisted behind him. His coat and scarf were gone, as well as his vest. His white collar shirt was disheveled and untucked, his slacks wrinkled and mussed. Emma cringed at his state and took a few steps forward.

Then he lifted his head. Emma stopped and covered her mouth. His eyes burned with a hatred that she knew, a hatred she had felt when she was linked with him. All of the pain, and fear, and anger that he ever felt in his life, that he kept walled off when he had his sanity, focused on her, freezing her where she stood in the middle of the room. He blinked and leaned back against the wall, his restraints clanking as he relaxed and cocked his head. He wore an easy smile, though his hooded eyes burned.

"Emma. For what do I have the pleasure?"

"I have come -" Her voice cracked. She coughed and tried again. "I've come to help you, Russia."

"Wonderful!" Russia motioned his head around the room. "Your help is always welcomed. Why, it has given me a chance to spend time in this fabulous location."

Emma sat on the floor, curling her legs under her. "I told you before, Russia. I'm on your side. Let me help you."

Russia gave a short, sharp laugh. "Are you, how do you say, the good cop? If so, they have chosen poorly." He clenched his teeth under his smile. "Right now, I despise you. Go. Away."

"No." Emma flashed him a grin. "You have information I need, and I'm not leaving 'til I get it, Russia sweetie. You'll not turn my head like your other interrogators, and I can take as many breaks as I must. I have all the time in the world, now that you've driven most of the world mad."

"You will be sitting a long time." His smile widened. "Go away, Emma. Go back to Australia. Are you not curious to see what America's ruined with his invasion?"

"Nope." Emma shrugged, keeping her voice light. "Aren't you curious to know what kind of information I'm after?"

Russia parted his lips, then paused. He stared at her for a moment. "Yes."

Emma smiled. "The necklaces, Russia. The ones you've been giving out like candy. What are they?"

"Gifts," Russia said quickly.

Emma rolled her eyes. "You know what I mean. How do they work?"

"Well, when one loves another, or feels obligated to them, or is threatened by them and wants to appease them, they give trinkets to curry favor."

"Smart," Emma said through clenched teeth.

"You would think so." He sighed. "But my gifts have almost always been rejected. Or destroyed. You think I might be doing something wrong?"

Emma's patience snapped. She slapped the floor. "How do you spell the necklaces to control another?"

"Aaah, there we are. The true question." Russia chuckled and leaned forward. "For which you will never know the answer, you little traitor."

They stared each other down for a moment.

"You know me, Russia," Emma said, anger tingeing her words. "You know I'll figure it out. It's only a matter of time until I uncover a book, a scroll from someone's library -"

"Good luck." Russia's smile grew. "It is of my own special creation, this spell. Why do you think no other country tried it before? Why do you think Canada attacked me first?"

"I will still figure it out."

"Then hurry, my dear. It is only a matter of time before I convince my people to let me go. So." He returned to his relaxed position. "We are both on the clock. Tick. Tock."

Emma crossed her arms. "I should've known. You're too stubborn to do any good for yourself. You'd rather let yourself falter and bring the world with you. Hell, you're the type to create a spell just to control old lovers!"

The smile dropped from Russia's lips. "What can you mean by this?"

"The only people you ever made necklaces for were Lithuania, Georgia and me," Emma counted off on her fingers. "I know your obsessions drive you, but it's pretty pathetic to waste that much skill on old flames, don't you think?"

Russia straightened. "Little girl, you know nothing," he said slowly. "I forget how little you know. How young you are. How free you are compared to the nations. You think I would develop a spell of such skill merely to keep my loved ones at my side? How frivolous."

Emma laughed. "Right. I'm supposed to believe you had an actual reason to create such a stupid spell? You've lived through quite a lot, sweetie, and I've never heard of you whipping that one out. Not during the Oprichnina, not with Napoleon's invasion, not even for the Mongols! And they beat you pretty soundly. Left you like a puppy with his tail tucked under for centuries -"

"Shut up you stupid girl!" Russia snarled and launched himself forward. The chains caught him. Emma forced herself to remain unmoved, aloof and haughty as he fought against his bindings. He growled and sat back in his previous position, his eyes smoldering.

"The Mongols," Emma said thoughtfully. "They really did almost destroy you, didn't they? Kievan Rus was demolished under them..."

"Not demolished. Diminished. She eventually recovered under my care." Russia's smile became pointed. "It took much effort, but she recovered. And then left me."

"Ukraine." Emma tapped her fingers on the floor. "You were kind of a minor player before the Mongols came, right? And then they took over -"

"I let them," Russia said easily. "It was the only way for my sister and I to survive. Mongolia tore every nation apart that stood in his way." Russia became stiff, his breathing tight. "He wanted me to work for him, and I did, to keep his armies at bay. For two hundred years I was his slave." He leaned over the table. "I kept count of every day. I watched as his power waned. I waited until I knew I could strike out and free myself. And when it was over, and Mongolia was in retreat, I knew I would never let another take me like he did. I would never be a ward again. I would do everything in my power to keep my freedom, even if it meant upsetting the balance between country and people."

"You thought of a spell so powerful that you could control an entire nation against the will of its own people," Emma breathed.

"Yes." Russia shrugged. "Simple."

Emma snorted. "Right. I would love to know how the hell you used a little blood to make such a 'simple' spell like that."

Russia's eyes rose in genuine surprise. "You know I use blood?"

"Obviously. It's a binding spell, right? Still, it's clearly against the rules." Emma shook her head and frowned. "You see what it's doing to the nations right now. It's chaos, Russia! A nation can't push against its people and government without ripping it to shreds!"

"I should care about this?" Russia's eyes went wild, his mouth twisting into a sneer. "What do you know of being a nation? Nothing! Do the people care about their nation when they go against each other? Against their government? Of course not. To them we are just an idea. A concept! Most of them do not recognize us, do not speak to us, cannot understand how we can be flesh and blood. And yet here I sit in front of you, flesh and blood!" He shook his arms to make his chains rattle. "The chains burn my wrists, the cold chills me, I grow hungry and tired, I sleep. But am I free like any other flesh and blood being? No!" He slammed his fists into the wall behind him, jolting Emma.

He went quiet for a moment before continuing. "I am ruled by the incessant needs of the people, contorted into impossible situations by the government! I yield when I am told, attack when I am told, slaughter and maim and torture when I am told! How many nations hate me for the things I have done? And these things, how many did I want to do, me, the man? You think you have captured me. But I have never been free, Emma. Now, with the nations under my control, I am the closest I have ever been to freedom, and even then the only way out is to burn everything to the ground!"

"You will destroy the world with you!" Emma snapped. "You want that?"

Russia laughed, long and hard. "Yes. For every nation to be free, first they must die. Teue ponimayesh? Kazshdeue. Dolzshen. Umeret!"

Emma leapt to her feet. "I won't let that happen!"

Russia smiled his wild smile. "You will be there with me when it burns, my dear Emma. You have angered me, but I still love you. Will you not watch the world end with me?"

"Shut up!" She turned to leave. "I'll find an answer!"

"No need!" Russia cried. "I will tell you the secret, because there is nothing you can do for me! Emma, I do use blood. Of course, you say. But how can one control another with mere blood? You would need a bit of the soul, would you not?"

Emma turned and gaped at Russia. "What are you talking about?"

"Simple, simple," Russia said with a shrug. "I want a person to feel my soul. Feel my thoughts, my emotions, become one with me. I cut a bit of my heart, let it represent the soul and then! They are mine. They are me."

"You use your own heart as a catalyst for your soul?" Emma reeled back in horror. "You've sliced away at your heart three times? And Canada! Good lord, his heart must be a tiny nub!"

"Yes." Russia's eyes glittered. "He will never recover. Even if repaired, he will still feel the pain. Ha!"

Emma's lips thinned. "I will repair him," she said. "I will repair you both, though neither of you deserve it."

"Canada, maybe you can repair, Emma my love, my darling." Russia leaned forward. "But me? Too late! Too late! Canada crushed Lithuania's medallion beneath his feet! You wish to repair my heart? Go find the slivers my people have kicked around the Red Square!" His laugh reverberated around her. "Go, fix up our hearts Emma! Hurry hurry!" He leered at her. "It is only a matter of time before my people free me. And when they do, my dear, my wonderful girl, I will come for you. And we will watch the world burn."

Emma stomped over to him and kicked his knee. Russia's looked up at her, bemused. "You are a tiny speck of a creature," she fumed. "You're not my Russia. Go ahead and laugh. I'll find him again. Keep plotting the end of the world, you pathetic thing."

She stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.