Finland sat silently and watched Sweden work. Ever since Sweden's confrontation with Russia over the phone, Finland had been sure Russia would come after him the very moment he found himself alone. He'd gotten into the habit of following Sweden around like a shadow. Wherever the silent Swede was, Finland was too. He ate with Sweden, he worked with Sweden, he slept in Sweden's bed… Sometimes he even made Sweden stand guard outside the door when he went to the bathroom. The more powerful nation seemed surprisingly okay with the way Finland clung to him. They had not spoke of their romantic encounter a few days ago, and even though they were always at close quarters, there was always a slight air of awkwardness between them.

"Is there anything you need?" Sweden asked in his usual flat tone, looking up from his desk.

Finland shrugged. "Not really, no… I'm happy just watching you."

"You're not at all bored?"

"Well… maybe a leetle…"

"Hmm…" Sweden glanced around his desk, then grabbed a small pile of blank printer paper and held it out. "You like to draw, right?"

"Oh… Thank you," Finland said, taking the paper and a pencil. Sweden flashed him a tiny smile before returning to his work.

Finland sat down on the floor and began to doodle absentmindedly. Most of what he drew consisted of unrecognizable shapes and distorted figures created by simply moving the pencil without really thinking about it. A few could be clearly identified as people and things, like a reindeer or a Norse god or Santa. After doodling for a while, Finland got an idea and grabbed another piece of paper to draw a scene developing in his mind.

The picture depicted a Norse goddess cowering in fear behind a god, who protected her from a menacing bear. Behind the bear lay a trail of dead bodies and a line of slaves chained to the bear's leg.

Looking up, Finland let out a startled squeak as he noticed Sweden standing silently over him, watching him draw.

"Thor and Sif, right?" Sweden asked, nodding toward the picture.

Finland nodded. "The bear has either keeled or enslaved everybody," he explained, "and now he's after Sif."

"Vhy a bear? Vouldn't it make more sense for Loki or somebody to be terrorizing people?"

Finland shook his head and pointed to one of the corpses behind the bear. "Loki was one of us- one of them, I mean. The bear comes from a completely different world. He got too beeg for that world, so now he's trying to take over ou- theirs."

Sweden knelt down so he was next to Finland and studied the drawing carefully. "How far," he pondered, "do you suppose Thor vould go to keep Sif safe?"

Finland shrugged. Sweden smiled- something he'd been doing more often lately- and softly kissed Finland on the forehead.

"He'd die for her," he told Finland. "She is his wife, you know. I tink Thor vould do absolutely anything to keep her out of harm's way. And as long as Sif stays vith him, nothing can hurt her."

Without another word, Sweden stood and return to his desk. His words, though spoken with a completely emotionless tone, had been meaningful enough for Finland not to be scared anymore. Sweden wouldn't let anything happen to him. As long as he stayed with Sweden, Finland would always be safe.

xXxBack on the beach where we left them…xXx

Arthur awoke to his lover's voice cooing softly at him. "Wake up, mon cher, ze tide is coming in…"

He sat up, rubbed his lower back and looked at Francis. "My arse hurts," he complained.

"Zat should be expected," Francis replied with a smirk. "You were magnifique, by ze way."

Arthur stared at him for a moment, taking in the shame looming over him, then shook his head. "Oh, shut it."

"What's wrong?" the Frenchman asked, resting his head on Arthur's bare shoulder. "Didn't you like it?"

"I… would really rather not talk about it right now…"

Francis chuckled and closed his eyes, wrapping his arms around Arthur. The Brit sighed and squinted up at the clear blue sky.

"How long have we been out here?" he murmured.

Francis shrugged. "A day or two, I zink."

"Bloody hell! Were we… you know… the whole time?" The events of the recent past were all one big haze in Arthur's memory.

"Ah, so you don't remember eizer? Oui, I believe we were. Hours upon hours of unbridled passion and ecstasy…"

"Oh, God…"

"Zat's what you said!" Francis laughed. "Twelve times. I counted." Arthur groaned, pushed Francis off of him, laid back down in the sand and rolled over.

"I'm no sure zat's ze side you want facing me," Francis said with a snicker, scooting over to cuddle up against Arthur.

Suddenly, a shadow fell over them. They both looked up to see Spain and Romano staring at them. Romano closed his eyes and shook his head, while Spain blushed and tried not to laugh.

Francis smiled and sat up. "Antonio, Lovino, bonjour, what a pleasure," he said happily, as if he was not naked on a beach with his his lifelong enemy in front of two of his brothers.

Arthur moaned. "Don't tell me this is about to become a family affair…"

"Non, zat won't be happening. I don't like to share."

Antonio smirked. "So, Francia, you're at it again… But with him of all people?"

"Oui, Espagna, so it would seen…"

Lovino grunted. "All right, froggie, where's-a mah little brother? You didn't make him join in, did you?"

"Of course not!" Francis thought, offended anyone would think he would do such a thing. "He stayed wiz Germany. It's actually a little creepy ze way he clings to him…"

"Oh, fantastico, now he's back with der Hasselhoff. Just what everybody here needs." This, obviously, was sarcasm.

Arthur sat up and looked around. "Where are my trousers?" he asked Francis. The long-haired (in fact, all-around hairy) man handed him a torn-up, sandy pile of fabric, which he gladly shook out and pulled on.

Glancing up at Lovino, Arthur cocked his head to the side. "You look a bit transparent," he observed.

The Italian looked down at his hands and realized he could see the ground through them. Antonio looked curiously at him, then at his own barely opaque self.

"Of course," Lovino sighed. "Mah brother gets-a to fully recover or whatever under the damn potato-eater's care, but not me, oh no…"

"It's still strange, though," Arthur commented. "I mean… You're almost as faded as Prussia, and he's been dead for ages. A few hundred years, I think."

"Prussia is a fallen empire," Francis explained. "Zey last much longer zen a country killed in a natural disaster."

"Ah. So we're not going to last much longer, are we?"

"Zat is correct."

Arthur thought a moment, then shooed Francis' brothers with his hands. "Bugger off, you two, we need some privacy."

Lovino rolled his eyes. "Vamos, Antonio, let's-a go find Hercules. He's probably wandered up to Denmark by now."

The two turned and walked away down the beach. Arthur turned to face Francis and grinned.

"Life's short," he said. "… Do you think we can beat the tide?"

Francis laughed in his seductive manner and leaned in to kiss his beloved Brit.

xXxKolkolkol…xXX

Russia looked around as he walked down the abandoned streets of Beijing. Where was China? Why had nobody tried to stop him so far? He shrugged to himself and kicked aside one of the many bicycles that lay strewn about the city.

The plane that lay crashed into everything but the airport suggested that America might be here, but there was absolutely no one around. Russia supposed this meant he won, at least for now. Perhaps China was dead, and this was all unoccupied land for anyone (that is, for Russia) to claim.

Realizing his cellular phone was ringing, Russia sighed and pulled it out of his pocket. It appeared to be from home. He answered it and was immediately greeted by the sound of Lithuania screaming into the phone.

"MR. RUSSIA! Germany and Austria- attacking- capture back Hungary-" The sounds of gunshots and shouting were audible in the background.

"Well, do someting," Russia commanded in agitation.

"Like vat?"

"… I own as many guns as I do, and you eedeeots can't figure someting out?"

"Well… Ukraine and Belarus are holding dem off now… I dunno, Ukraine just told me to call you, so I called you, and I don't know vat to do…"

"Lithuania, stop being stupid and protect my house. If you can, lock dem up with Hungary." Russia hung up before LIthuania could say another word. So the lesser countries were revolting… He chuckled to himself. Those poor Germanics would be fed better in prison than in the richest parts of their own homes, and it would STILL be a living hell. Did they honestly think they could take on the great and powerful Russia?

He decided he would stay here and search for whatever might be left of China, unless he received another call and was needed at homje. Russia laughed to himself again as he pictured the weak and starving Germany and Austria struggling against his heavily armed servants. His house, he knew, was an impenetrable fort.