Whew! This is the first chapter in a while to come close to 5K words, which hopefully means it's actually a decent chapter. In any case, I hope you'll enjoy it, and thank you all for your support so far!
Chapter Fifty-Three: Torn Apart
They'd been waiting in the half-darkness for what seemed like days, with the only way to measure the time being their once-daily meals, brought by jeering soldiers who kicked and tormented them. Belarus was afraid of the soldiers, Italy understandably on edge, and all of them, even Switzerland, were aware of a certain painful tension in the room.
Panem's intentions, immediate and long-term, were clear. She would break all of them - there was no doubt of that, but she clearly planned to break Lithuania first, and, in doing so, planned to break all of their minds.
America knew his sister - or, at least, he knew the monster she'd become. They all knew the monster, although they did not know or understand the girl who had inhabited Panem's body before she had become what she now was. So they waited, knowing that when she came they would do nothing, that they would let her take Lithuania - or one of the others, if she came for someone else before him - and they would let her do what she wanted, rather than face torture and death themselves.
They clung to each other - Belarus to Lithuania, America to both of them - although he tried to deny it - and Italy, oddly enough, to Russia. Only Switzerland remained aloof, and yet it was he who America found holding Lithuania one night, when the brunet Baltic was crying and could not seem to figure out how to stop. Switzerland might not speak to the rest of them - might not want to speak to them - but it was clear that he cared about Lithuania, for whatever reason.
"He does not want to talk to us because he is afraid of being hurt," Russia said, as if reading America's thoughts.
"Huh?"
"Basch. He is afraid that we are all going to die, and he is afraid that because he feels strongly about our safety, he will be hurt by what happens to us. So he refuses to speak to us or to care for us."
"What about Toris?"
Russia shrugged. "How can anyone not care for Toris? I certainly cannot stop myself from caring about him, although it would probably be in his best interests if I did."
"What are we gonna do if…" He trailed off, not merely because he did not want to say that Lithuania might lose his mind, but because someone had thrown the door open. It was as if the mere thought of Lithuania being hurt had called down torture upon him, for there stood Panem, smiling.
Russia cursed - or at least, America assumed it was a curse; he still had very little grasp of Russian, even after all this time. Lithuania's moan was quiet, but nonetheless, they all heard it, and pitied him.
"Toris!" Panem's voice wasn't as calm as it had been on previous days, nor did she look as composed as she had then. "Get over here. And save the drama, or I'll make you wish you'd been strong enough to walk up here without your friends' help."
Please don't. A thousand protests blossomed and died inside America's head, held captive by a fear as strong as the walls that imprisoned his body.
Lithuania stood, shakily, and walked to the front of the room, and as he passed it was all America could do not to scream, to tell him not to go.
If I speak…if I even try to help him…he'll be hurt even more. This is what it means to be powerless. Not only can I do nothing for him, but if I even make one move to help him, it will make everything worse.
Humans, in times of great danger and distress, often seemed to think 'someone do something'. Switzerland knew humans, he knew what they thought, and it was not often that they thought 'I should do something'. But maybe there were humans who did. Maybe it was just that he wasn't connected to his people anymore, and so he'd forgotten that humans did not have to lie down and take whatever suffering was forced upon them. Humans might not have the same resistance and inability to die as the nations, but that did not mean they could not fight. That did not mean they had to stand by and watch their friends be hurt.
How did I ever think that my only option was to cut myself off from everyone, when, really, what I most needed to do was to stand with them - to protect them? Even if I die…I'd rather die protecting them than die alone.
It was desperate selfishness, not bravery, that made him move forward now, but he was moving forward with a goal in sight, and if he could only say what he had rehearsed in his mind, he thought he could reach that goal, although, of course, it would make Panem laugh if he managed to achieve his objectives. And yet, he would be all right with her having a little fun at his expense, as long as he was the only one being broken by her cruel sense of humor.
"You don't have to listen to her," he said, standing up and fixing his eyes on Lithuania. "There's no law that says you do."
"Actually, Basch, he doesn't have a choice," Panem said. "If he resists me, there will be consequences, and you don't want him hurt too badly, do you?"
"He's not going to resist you. I am."
"Basch," Lithuania pleaded, "just, just forget about it. I'll be fine…"
You won't be fine. We all know that. You're so near your breaking point that we can all practically see the seams tearing. You can't take much more. So we should all protect you, but if no one else can…I will. I'm not scared of dying. Not anymore.
"You're going to resist me?" Panem laughed. "Go ahead and try. You failed to kill me before, and I've no doubt you'll do the same thing now."
He knew he couldn't kill her, not permanently, and killing her for a few hours was not his goal. But, let her think it was, let her think of him as the troublemaker to be punished. Still, the satisfaction he felt, slamming her against the wall, hearing her cry out in surprise, was deeper than he liked to admit, even to himself.
"What if I did kill you?" he asked. "What if I did? You might not die permanently, but it would certainly hurt for a while. Would you like that? Because I'll do it! I'll do it right now!"
"You'd never hurt a child," Panem informed him. "That much, I know."
"You're not a child. Not anymore."
"Basch?"
"Yes, Heidi?" He looked up from his literal piles of paperwork to see Liechtenstein standing in front of his desk, her hands twisted together nervously. "What's the matter?"
"I…well, it's just, while I was sitting out in the hall at the meeting yesterday, I was talking to this girl, and…"
"What girl?"
"Panem - America's little sister."
"The micronation with no actual land?"
"Yes, her, but listen, Basch… She seemed really lonely. I'm not sure America is taking good care of her."
Back then, when Liechtenstein had been alive and had noticed Panem's loneliness - probably far too late to do anything about it, seeing how Panem acted now, not so very many years later - then, Panem had been a child. She had lost that title now. Children were supposed to be innocent and incorruptible, and if Panem had been corrupted then she was no longer a child.
And she smiled, now, with the confidence of an adult, and shoved him away with all the force in her small body. He reeled backwards, barely managing to prevent himself from falling.
"You're right about that, Basch. I'm no child. I'm stronger than you now. It's too bad, though, that you couldn't kill me. It would have bought you a little more time."
I don't want any more time.
He kept his face neutral, certain that he could prevent her from reading his thoughts, and, for once, he did.
"I'd planned to torture Lithuania, but that can always be done later, and, to be honest, I'm rather bored with him. It'll be far more fun to kill you than it would be to torture him again."
"Basch…" Lithuania whispered.
"It's fine, I don't…" I don't care, I don't care what she does to me, can't you see that? I don't care if I die. The rest of you will just have to get along without me. And you, you who have everyone rallying around you, shouldn't take this too heavily, when you'll probably lose all of them and your own sanity before the end.
He could not say any of that aloud, though, because he knew enough to realize that Lithuania and the others did not need to hear something like this, did not need to hear one of their comrades giving up. So he turned, faced them, and spoke the truth in the way that, he hoped, would be least hurtful to them.
"I'm not afraid of dying. If I'm going to die, I'd rather die now than later. That's just the way I am. So, don't worry too much about me. I'll be fine."
Then he turned away, because the grief on Lithuania's face was too much to bear, even if he wanted this. Lithuania didn't deserve to blame himself for this, but hopefully the others would be able to talk him out of it, or, at least, talk him out of enough that he would be able to stay sane longer than he would have otherwise. That's the only thing I hope to accomplish by this, after all.
And Panem led him from the room, and as the door closed, he saw Lithuania bury his head in his hands, sobbing.
Don't cry. This is what I want. Everything's going to be fine now.
"It's not your fault, Toris," was the first thing out of America's mouth when the door closed, separating them from Switzerland, probably forever.
"Then is it yours?" he asked. "It wasn't you that he saved, Alfred."
"Toris, do not take this personally, but I am not so sure it was you he was trying to save."
He looked up at Russia, not understanding. "What are you talking about?"
"Basch…Basch was trying to save you, yes," Russia said. He seemed nervous, perhaps even confused, uncertainty reflecting in his violet eyes. "What he did, he did to deflect Panem's anger away from you, but I do not think that this was the only reason for it."
"Why, then?" Belarus asked. "What was he trying to do?"
"He wanted to save himself," Russia said. "Like you, Toris, he wanted to save himself from getting hurt more. If we understand nothing else about him, the two of us can at least understand wanting to avoid being hurt again."
"He…he was…" Of course he was. He was already so close to wanting to kill himself, what with Heidi having died… Losing Roderich obviously broke him, and none of us did anything for him. I should have done something…
"Is he blaming himself again?" America's voice was small, hesitant, Russia's sigh resigned.
"He is always blaming himself. I do not think there is any way to convince him that he ought not to do such things."
"We should have done something," Lithuania whispered.
"He did not want us to do anything." Russia crouched in front of Lithuania, his voice gentle. "Toris, I may not agree with you on the issue of suicide, but I do understand the urge to end your own life. What Basch is doing is not suicide in the literal sense, but it is the same principle. Just as it was selfish for me to stop you from dying when I knew you would only be hurt as long as you lived, so it would be selfish for us to keep Basch from dying now. Do you understand?"
"It's…it's only…"
"It is only okay when you are the one who wants to end your life," Russia said, quietly, soberly. "That is what you mean to say, isn't it?"
"He doesn't deserve to die, Ivan."
"No more do you, my Toris, but I can no more convince you of that than you could have convinced Basch. Please…I know it is your nature to hate yourself, but in this instance, try not to. This is not your fault. This situation has never been your fault."
Then please explain why I feel that I am the one to blame.
She had to give Switzerland points for effort. She'd known he was close to either giving up or trying to go out in a blaze of glory, but she really hadn't expected the latter, at least not so soon. And, really, he didn't even seem to want to go down in flames. If he had, he would have actually fought her, instead of letting her drag him off to some unknown destination without so much as trying to murder her.
To be fair, this isn't exactly characteristic of me, either. I'm supposed to keep to the plan; it scares them that I have everything planned. But a little spontaneity can't hurt either. Keeps them on their toes.
Boredom was a petty motive for murdering someone, but coupled with vengeance, she supposed it would pass for something more than a ridiculous plot twist.
I never thought I'd get bored with torture. But I guess…I have. It's not quite enough anymore, especially not with Toris taking so long to actually go insane. Maybe I've been hoping someone would do something stupid like this, to give me an excuse to kill them. Everything's more fun when you know it'll end in your victim's death, but I can't kill Toris yet. Not yet.
She didn't let herself think about the other possibility - the probably-true possibility - that her boredom stemmed, not from a loss of interest in torture, but from the fact that she cared far more about what happened to Latvia than she did about killing the others, and she was making no progress with him. She would make some progress, somehow. She had to.
Switzerland kept his head down - literally - for the entirety of the walk through the complex, though Panem knew he had to be watching his surroundings, taking everything in, including the fact that they had left the main headquarters now, and were headed for another, smaller building. She could see the white building through the trees, had made the call before she left the main headquarters, and as she approached, she saw a man in a white coat waiting for her.
"Keys, Curtis," she told him as she passed, and he handed them to her.
"I never thought you'd actually use that machine of yours," he said.
"Aw, are you scared?" she asked, smiling at the pale-faced scientist. "Don't you want to see if your babies can actually do what you created them to?"
"Not in person, no."
"Get going," she said, "or I might make you watch. I could use the company."
Curtis didn't wait for her to carry out her threat. Not two minutes later, he was hurrying away through the trees, and Panem was leading Switzerland into the white building.
"What exactly are we here for?" Switzerland asked, and there was no fear in his voice, but the fact that he'd spoken at all told her that, somewhere, some part of him was trying and failing to keep from panicking.
"You'll see," she said. "But, of course, you'll do exactly as I say, or I'll take you back to your cell, and someone else can come here in your place. You wouldn't want that, would you?"
"There's nothing I'd want less."
Stupid, chivalrous nations, always trying to die for each other. You're all gonna die in the end. I'll make sure of it, so there's no point in your sacrifice.
On one hand, she knew she was supposed to admire him for his courage, but on the other hand, it was stupid of him to try and be brave now, when he and all the others were going to die, and they both knew it. It would be a lot more fun for her if he'd go kicking and screaming to his death, but, somehow, these nations never seemed to. She wondered if humans did.
Someday, I'll find out.
They'd come to a stop outside a metal door, somehow out of place in this building full of white, and Switzerland tried to act as if he didn't care what was going to happen as Panem inserted the key into the lock, but it was hard not to care when he knew he was going to die, yet had no clue of the method that would be used to bring about his demise.
He took a deep, quiet breath, glancing over at Panem to make sure she hadn't noticed. She was still busy with the door, her long hair falling into her face, but as the lock clicked open and she straightened, she turned to him, smiling.
"You're scared, aren't you?"
"It doesn't matter." I wish I wasn't afraid. "I'm going to die either way."
Panem shrugged. "Well, that's one way to look at it. Come on."
He followed her inside, noticing at once that they were in a small room at the top of the white building, looking down on something in a pit far below them.
"Want to look?" Panem asked, grinning. He didn't, but she pushed him toward the wide, glass window that took up the entire far wall, and he looked down in spite of himself.
The room below was no torture chamber. Rather than having torture tools stacked in a corner, this room was inhabited by creatures such as Switzerland had never seen. At first glance, they appeared to be dogs, but Switzerland got the uncomfortable feeling that there was something off about these creatures, something that made them not quite dogs, not quite wolves, and yet, not quite anything in between.
"Do you like them?" Panem asked. "They're Curtis' project - well, one of them - and you're going to help me test them out. What do you think of that?"
"I'm a person, not your experimental guinea pig."
"You're whatever I want you to be. And right now, you're pretty useless as anything but a test subject in a probably fatal experiment, Basch. You've done nothing this entire time except fail to save people, so why in the world would anyone want to keep you around? You couldn't save your sister, nor your best friend."
"Roderich wasn't…"
"Then what was he? Your lover? Because that's the only other thing I can think of. Poor Basch…you couldn't even save Roderich, and he was depending on you…"
"I'm not the one who killed him!" He wasn't sure if he was crying or not, maybe he was, but he didn't know. "You killed him, and Heidi too, you killed them! It's your fault they're dead! You deserve to die, to pay for what you did to them! They didn't deserve to die!"
"By that argument, no more do you, but you are going to die nonetheless."
He leapt at her, and he'd intended, fully intended, to kill her, to break every bone in her body with his bare hands if he had to. Anything to avenge Austria and Liechtenstein, to avenge everyone who had died, everyone who had suffered, to avenge his own suffering.
But she was stronger - probably always had been, or else her physical strength had begun to swell as her government grew stronger, although she never became the least bit taller. She kicked out savagely, bringing him to his knees, and she bent and locked her hands around his throat, pushing him back, against the wall.
"Nice try, Basch." She smiled. "But I've come too far by now for that to work on me. You're not going to kill me. I'm going to kill you, although first you can take a nice, long nap."
She can't kill me. She can't, I'm going to kill her, she can't do this…
But apparently, she could. After all, when had justice ever been on his side, or any nation's?
He dreamed of Austria and Liechtenstein, but he knew it wasn't real, and so, even as his sister held him, telling him that everything was okay, he could not believe her. He could not believe it, because he knew they had died. He remembered dragging Liechtenstein's body from the rubble. He remembered feeling Austria go limp in his arms. He remembered. He could never forget.
In his dream, he wrenched himself from Liechtenstein's arms, watching as the joy on her face turned to confusion.
"Basch, what's wrong?"
"You're not real. This isn't real. You're dead! You're dead, I couldn't save you, so don't act like you're happy to see me! It's my fault you're dead!"
"What are you talking about, Basch?" Austria's violet-eyed gaze was somehow understanding, and lacked the confusion in Liechtenstein's expression. "You couldn't be the cause of this. We all know who's to blame, and it's not you. It has never been you."
He woke to the memory of Liechtenstein and Austria's voice, woke to blinding light and the restless growls of animals somewhere below him. And he remembered what Panem had told him, remembered what his fate would be, and yet he still struggled, panicked to find that his arms were tied, that he was suspended in the air, with nothing at all above or below him.
As his eyes adjusted to the light, he could see the animals - not quite wolves, not quite dogs; mutts, Panem had called them, and mutts they certainly appeared to be - pacing below him, looking up almost hungrily. And he was in fact suspended far above them, secured by a rope that, even if he could somehow loosen it, would bring him no salvation, but would likely drop him into the pit of ravenous animals and speed his death.
I don't…I don't want to die like this! His panic was sudden and crippling, the kind of panic that caused him to struggle frantically against the ropes, searching for an escape from the animals below and the rope that held him now.
And then, as if to make matters worse, the rope jerked, as if controlled by an unseen lever, and he felt his body beginning to lower toward the mutts below.
Boredom was a dangerous thing, when the bored person in question was someone with access to torture weapons and semi-classified experiments, Panem reflected, as she waited for Switzerland to die.
She lowered the rope a little every hour or so, more or less depending on how bored she was getting, so for one hour he was suspended just out of the mutts' reach, allowed to speculate on whatever might happen next. (Of course, he already knew, but it didn't matter. He could hope he was wrong.)
This was much better than torturing Lithuania over and over, much better than watching America cry - although that was still quite amusing in its own right. He'd probably throw quite the tantrum if he could see Switzerland now, hanging there with half his body torn and bloody. She wondered if it was stubbornness or something more supernatural that had kept him from falling unconscious so far. All in all, though, his reactions were slowing, and she was starting to get bored again.
"J-Jones?"
The nervous young soldier, Bailey, looked as if he wanted nothing more than to get as far away from her as possible, and she really had to hand it to him for not just blurting out his message and bolting off someplace as soon as he could. Maybe I underestimated his usefulness.
"What is it, Bailey?"
"T-that kid…the personification of Latvia...he keeps asking for you. He's getting upset, so I think he knows…"
"Raivis knows nothing. He only suspects. Be sure to keep it that way, Bailey, and tell him I'll return to him when it suits me, although I'm touched to hear that he was thinking of me."
"Y-yes, I'll do that." Bailey glanced past her, into the room where Switzerland still hung, half-conscious. "Is he dead yet?"
"Not yet. Soon." She watched Bailey for a moment in silence, remembering that Switzerland had nearly killed him, wondering if he harbored any resentment toward the blond nation. Might as well find out. "Would you like to watch him die, Bailey?"
"I…uh…"
"He almost killed you," she reminded him. "You have every right to want him to suffer."
Bailey said nothing, looked away, scuffing his shoes against the floor, but she saw the look in his eyes and knew that he wanted Switzerland to die, or, at least, to suffer horribly.
"If you feel like leaving, you can," she told him, "but I'm getting tired of this game, so I'm going to end it."
She pulled the control switch all the way down, releasing the rope, and Switzerland fell. Bailey flinched, and from that moment on, Panem decided to ignore him.
She'd harbored far too much bitterness against Switzerland - for never noticing her, for brushing her off, for choosing adorable little Liechtenstein and never giving her a second glance - to miss the chance at watching him suffer.
He'd been hanging there half-conscious for hours, vaguely aware of the fact that he was bleeding out from his legs, but somehow unable to care. He understood now why Lithuania screamed so loudly when he was tortured, now that he was hanging helpless himself, torn and bloodied.
It had been getting harder to breathe as time went on, harder and harder until he found himself gasping, fighting for every breath. And still the rope lowered, painfully slowly, and yet he did not pass out, merely remained awake, feeling the mutts tear at his body more and more as time went on.
I wonder...why it has to hurt so much...and why...no matter what...no matter how much I hope it's about to end, I still end up hurting again. I wonder...if it will ever be over.
He'd started drifting in and out of consciousness, dreaming again of Austria and Liechtenstein, and of the others, too, of Lithuania and Italy and even America, as if dreaming could somehow help him escape from this living nightmare.
And then, all at once, the rope jerked more violently than it had before, and then, before he could even register what had happened, he was falling.
He could imagine Panem somewhere close by, having grown bored with him hanging there, and finally, finally deciding to end him.
He should have felt relieved, and for a moment he did, but then he hit the ground and the mutts crowded around him, and all he could feel was blinding panic. His actual will to live aside, he didn't want to die like this, not now, not with these creatures crowding around him, tearing him apart.
He could hear the screams, and he knew, somewhere in his heart, that it was him screaming, but it didn't sound like him at all. He never cried, never screamed, but he was crying out now, in pain and grief, and if he was saying anything, he could not make out the words.
I didn't want to die...until I could somehow make up for Roderich and Heidi dying. I thought I could do it like this, but...but this...just… I just want it to stop. I miss them. I miss them so much. It hurts.
It was a little depressing – as if all of this wasn't already horrible enough – to think that, after everything, after how strong he'd tried to be, now, at the end, when nothing mattered anymore, he was crying for Panem to stop hurting him. He should have been stronger. He should have kept from screaming until the very end.
But in the end, when it finally stopped hurting, somehow, his weakness and his failures didn't seem to matter all that much anymore.
He wondered if he was imagining Austria and Liechtenstein with him, or if they were really there. And for a moment, he wondered if Italy was right, if all of this had been a dream, and he was waking up at last. In any case, whether he was waking from a dream or passing into whatever came after death, at that moment in between, nothing – not even his body, broken and torn by claws and teeth – hurt anymore.
Honestly, I think this is one of the more messed up things I've written in a while. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not, though.
A quick note on updates: I estimate around eleven or twelve chapters will be all it takes to complete this fic, and hopefully what remains will be enjoyable to all of you. Again, thank you for your support, and I hope you continue to enjoy this (exceedingly gruesome) story.
