"America!" Cuba yelled angrily, clearing at the offending country. "What are you doing here?" America felt sure that if he was able to, Cuba would have launched himself at America's throat and taken him out with the sheer force of his hatred alone. Cuba looked as though he would very much like to do so, but he was bound tightly, hand and foot, and chained to the pole of a large flagpole erected in the middle of Saskatchewan.
"Where is he?" America asked tiredly, referring to Russia. Cuba scowled, uninclined to answer, but the response came from behind him. "America!" America felt the strong arms wrap around him and barely caught his breath before Russia squeezed hard enough to crack two of his ribs. America tried his best not to puke on Russia's shoes when he was released. "I've come to save you!" Russia said happily, looking innocently excited to see America. America wheezed for a moment and found his voice.
"I didn't need to be saved." He complained, his tone edged with tension. Immediately he saw Russia's gaze sharpen, and although the smile remained huge and beaming, there was a calculating look behind it. "You are not kidnapped?" Russia queried, tipping his head. Technically he had been kidnapped by England, but America decided not to mention that. Russia was wstching his reaction, gauging the truth of the situation. "No. I came here by myself." America said simply.
He met Russia's gaze with an equally sharp gaze, making a serious face that only countries who had face him in war knew. "But your boss said differently. " Russia pressed. "I don't understand. Why would you help the side you are fighting?" There was a strange note in Russia's voice as he asked the question, alluding to a deeper inquiry than it first appeared. America knew that how he answered this question would decide whether or not Russia helped him. For a moment, America debated the answer to Russia's unspoken question. Why would you go against your boss? Finally, America decided to go with the simple truth.
"I'm not going to be the president's dog any longer." He responded, his tone harsh and cold. "Maybe I can't go against his words, and I've done what I was told so many times before, but not this time." America could feel the anger towards his boss growing in his chest. "At the very least, this time I won't do what he said." He hesitated, his voice softening at the next words. "Because Canada is my brother." Russia's eyes were no longer the round, innocent mask he usual put on, and the ever present beam had vanished from his face.
For once, Russia showed his true face,cold, calculating, and intimidatingly smart. He spoke carefully. "As Russia, I cannot help you go against your boss. As a country, I cannot break this alliance." America's response was just as careful. "What about as a friend?" "Da." Russia responded after a moments deliberation. "For a friend, I will." Before America could find out what Russia planned to do, there was a cheer from the soldiers, and America turned to see, far in the distance, a plume of smoke rising, and with a shout from Russia's General, a soldier ran to the flagpole Cuba was cjained too, and despite Cuba's vicious kicking and cursing, the flag went up.
As soon as the Russian flag reached the top of the pole, America fetl the pain begin. He didn't realize when he collapsed, biting tightly on his cheek to stop from screaming. America felt like a million pins were being pushed through each of his nerve endings, and all of his bones were simultaneously splinttering. He didn't realize he had bitten threw his cheek until he choked on the blood flowing from the wound. It was all America could do to keep from screaming. He was vaguely aware of Russia shoving something thick and leather in between his teeth to keep him from further injuries.
After a moment, America managed to regain his sense, pushing himself to his feet. He knew the pain of war very well, and was more familiar with it than his brother, and could bear it better. Even so, his legs trembled, and if not for Russia offering his arm to lean on, America would have fallen again. Tears were now rolling freely down America's face. As the tears turned into full cries, Russia wrapped his arms gently around his friend, hesitantly, and America fell brokenly into Russia's arms. He sobbed as he clutched at his coat. "I can't stop him. Please, please stop the president, before its too late."
America knew he was showing his weakness, and was painfully aware of his pathetic state, but he didn't care. "Québec is all that's left of Canada." The words America spoke were hwvay with emotion, and America couldn't fight the feeling of terror that struck him, or ignore the thought that he might not see his brother again. Except for the blood still flowing from his injured cheek, the pain was completely gone.
Instead, a strange feeling came through the bond, like static, a fuzzy, undefined feeling. He knew Russia understood what he meant by the way his eyes widened when he breathed the next word.
"Canada."
