Disclaimer: I don't own APH.

AN: It's midterms this week, so I decided to write something that wasn't a request. I'll get back to requests though.

America and Russia, I think. Apocalypse. Not 2012. Listening to "Loose Heart" Riverside.


The room is pitch black. At least, he believes it's a room. For all he knows, it could be the open sky, nothing left to confine him to the earth. It could be a desert, a tundra, a clearing in a forest. All he really knows it that it's dark and cold.

"Are you awake?"

The voice is heavily accented, but direct. He feels like he should recognize the voice, but it doesn't register. At least, it doesn't register as of the moment. His head hurts. He tries to raise his hands, but they're tethered by something.

"Yes…I'm awake. Who-Where are we?"

He decides the more pressing question is where they are. He'll get around to who his partner is later.

There's a harsh, dry laugh with no actual amusement. It turns into a cough. "You don't remember, do you?"

"If I remembered, I wouldn't be asking."

"No need to get angry." Another dry cough. "I don't remember."

"You just got angry at me for not remembering."

"You're the one who brought us here."

He doesn't reply and thinks about that. He brought the two of them here. Odd. "Why am I tied down?"

"I did that. You were getting violent."

"Can you untie me?"

He hears someone get to their feet and shuffle towards him. Big hands reach down, touch his head, go to his shoulders, slide down to his arms and the ties. The person feels familiar, but he doesn't know why.

"You can get the ones on your feet."

"Thanks."

He sits up and starts to work on the ties around his ankles blindly. The person sits down next to him.

"I think we're somewhere north."

"It is cold," he concurs.

Arms wrap around him, pulling him into a hug. He doesn't resist. This feels so familiar, but he can't figure out why. What is he not remembering?

"Why don't I remember anything?"

"We're…" Dry cough. "We're the last ones left, I think."

"What do you mean?"

"Everyone else died off. You started the first bomb, I bombed back. The technology wasn't…" Another cough. "It wasn't ready, so it got diverted. Hit other—" More coughing.

"Are you all right?" The man holding him is shaking and coughing, but his fingers are woven tightly in his jacket and hair. The other one rests his head on his shoulder.

"You will start feeling the effects soon. You passed out, which meant one of the bombs hit very close to your capital. And…I guess you have lost your memory."

He grips the larger man tighter. "I did this?"

A snippet of a laugh. "We did this."

"But…"

He is hugged tighter. "We killed everyone. We are dying. This is the end."

"I-It can't be!"

"But it is. It's the consequence…" Another cough. "…of being so powerful and so paranoid. I am not going to last much longer."

"No, please, hang on!" He can't let this person die. It feels wrong. He doesn't know why, but this man can't die.

Dry lips are pressed against his cheek, his temple, his forehead. "You were always…so young…We did this together, love."

"It's my fault though! You can't die! I'm supposed to die first and—" Lips press against lips.

"You will have your chance to die, love." A hand is pressed against his chest, above his heart. "But, maybe it is not today. Today is my day to die." More coughing.

"Don't die." He is squeezed tight. "It's all my fault."

"It is not singularly your fault. We did this. I-I am sorry I never told you enough, but I…"

The other is sinking to the floor. He leans down, his ear close to the other's mouth, desperate to hear. He hears it, barely a whisper. The other dies.

He blinks back tears. He struggles to his feet. He can't see anything. It's so dark. He staggers forward. He'll find a way out of here and then maybe he'll be able to…to do what? Save the world? It seems a little too late for that. It feels like his world has already ended.

He starts coughing. He's got to find the damn door. He's got to get out of here.

He collapses forward and hits a wall. It's a wall! Some groping against and he finds the door handle. He's on his knees. He's coughing up something that he suspects is blood because of the metallic taste in his mouth. He's there.

His hands slip against the cold metal of the door knob. He pushes open the door. His heart is beating in his ears so slowly. He can't hear anything his heart has stopped he's out he made it out now he can save the world and clean up the mess it's so

...


AN: As I said before, it's midterms this week. I've also more or less lost my faith in humanity. I thought people might actually be decent and caring. Where on earth did I get that idea? XD