'When your child is gone, you find your life forever divided into Before and After.'
England thought often where he went wrong.
He hadn't meant to push them all away. He just wanted to keep them close to himself, to love them forever, protect them from the world around them and know that they were safe forever. Maybe he wished too much after all.
He remembered America's bright baby laughter, Canada's curl bobbing in the breeze, he remembered holding onto Australia's small hands, helping him take a few steps forwards, New Zealand's head nestled against his chest, trusting and sleepy. He knew the feeling of a tiny hand wrapped around his finger, of small heads resting against his body, of a child's small arms wrapped around his neck.
They had that smell as well, the certain smell that all babies, all children had. Of soft white talcum powder, fresh cloth nappies, and the faint smell of urine. And later, smelling of grass, wind in their hair, and perhaps ladies perfume, from their nannies. And later still, like gunpowder, like parchment and ink, the bitter taste of defeat still lingering -
He stopped that thought right there. It would not do to think of such things before an important meeting like this - a climate change conference if he wasn't mistaken. He couldn't break down in tears or avoid his colonies for the entire meeting. He tightened his own tie a little more, gazing at his reflection in the mirror, making an attempt to pat his wild hair down.
The door creaked open and England looked around, surprised when a head of pale hair appeared. "Sir, do you think you could..." Russia looked up, looking equally dumbstruck. "Ah, I'm sorry, England, I thought you were..."
England's eyes fell to his unbuttoned cuffs. Without really thinking, he strode across the room and reached out, taking Russia's arm and doing them up for him, gently smoothing it off when he was finished. Russia's eyes did not leave his face the whole time.
"Thank you," he murmured.
"Ah! That was a little inappropriate, Russia, I'm sorry, but it's done now I suppose," England said, stepping back, a light rose dusting his cheeks. Neither man said a word for a moment, silently soaking up what had just happened.
"I've never had anyone do this for me," Russia admitted softly. "Especially without asking anything in return. Thank you, England." Russia slipped out of the room.
Once he was far away enough, he lifted his arm to his mouth and breathed the faint smell of warmth in, knowing who gave him the blanket, and wondering why. Inside the room, England sat down and didn't say another word, trying to ignore his memories and the part of him that twitched at the chance to mother again, knowing his life didn't have to be before and after anymore.