Guess what! There's an actual historical reference in this one. *dance* Poland under house arrest, Liet's fever…well, okay, that's pretty much it. But it's better than nothing.

Here's the song Poland sings, with the English translation, in case you're wondering:

http:/lyricstranslate. com/de/Mysli-i-slowa-Thoughts-and-Words. Html

I do not own Hetalia or any of its characters. I'm not quite that cool.

I sank deeper into the water after Poland had left, closing my eyes. I contemplated sinking even lower, completely submerging myself, and never coming back up…

I shook my head angrily, trying to clear my mind of these thoughts. I had no right to be thinking them, especially now, when I had just regained my will to fight back.

I eventually realized that I'd probably been hiding in the bathroom for too long and regretfully climbed out of the cooling water. Because that's what I'd been doing- hiding. I didn't want to know what conclusions Poland had come to about the incident. I just wanted to forget about the whole thing.

As I pulled my clothes on, a glint of reflected light caught my eye. I hesitated. There hadn't been many mirrors in Russia's house, and I'd never gotten the chance to pay attention to the ones that he had.

I approached the mirror and looked in. My face was paler than I remembered, my hair longer, my eyes a little duller, but otherwise there was no change.

After staring at my reflection for another moment, I slowly turned my back to the mirror, looking over my shoulder as I did so. The amount of scarring and bruises on my back wasn't any more than I had expected, but I could see why Poland had been so shocked. I wonder what scars he has that I don't know about…

I finished putting my clothes on somewhat slower than I had been before the mirror had distracted me, reminded that I would have to face Poland when I left the room. I felt guilty about my unwillingness to communicate, but I couldn't help it.

It was never like this before, I thought, a little sadly. We used to be able to talk to each other about anything, share our hopes and dreams and fears…and our hearts. Why has it become so hard…?

Because I won't talk to him, I realized. That's the problem, or at least one of them. I need to be more open… With that thought, I steeled myself to face Poland and his inevitable questions.

To my considerable surprise, Poland didn't mention anything about the incident, although he was acting a little more awkward than he usually was around me. I half-wanted to bring it up myself, to prove to myself that I could talk if I wanted to…but I couldn't. The subject was too painful to broach by myself.

After a somewhat tense dinner full of forced conversation, it was an honest relief to get into bed. I was ready for the day to be over. Poland and I had gotten into the habit of sleeping together when we were children, and we never really got out of it unless we were going through a tough period.

We lay in peaceful silence together. I stared up at the darkened ceiling and tried to lose myself in the darkness, to clear my mind of thoughts…

"Hey, Liet?"

Oh, well. I turned to face Poland. "Yeah?"

He shifted towards me, putting his arm around my body and drawing me closer, like he used to do when we were children and I would have nightmares. "Don't hold things in like that anymore, okay?"

Surprised, I just sat there at first, unsure of how to react. But then I relaxed a little and snuggled closer to him. "Okay. I promise," I murmured, already somewhat lulled to sleep by the warmth generated by his body. I unconsciously placed my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat through his thin nightshirt.

My last thought before succumbing to the darkness was that maybe, just maybe, we really weren't as estranged as I had thought.

When I woke up the next morning, Poland was already gone. I lingered in bed for while, unwilling to relinquish the warm blankets, but I eventually gave up and dragged myself out of bed to go find Poland.

I was surprised to find him in the kitchen making breakfast. Walking over to where he was standing by the stove, I leaned down slightly and kissed him on the cheek. When he looked up at me in surprise I said, "We had a rough day yesterday. Let's try to make today better, okay?"

His brilliant smile succeeded in cheering my spirits even more. I wanted to take him in my arms, kiss him, tell him how much I had missed him…but I couldn't bring myself to.

"This is good," I mumbled through a mouthful of egg ten minutes later. "When did you learn to cook like this?" Usually I was the one stuck with the cooking when we were sharing a house, mostly because Poland had always been one to…how does it go? Burn water?

"Oh, you know," he said casually, waving a hand. "I, like, had a lot of free time when I was under house arrest."

"Ah," was all I could think of to reply. I needed to remember that Poland had been through his own trials, not just me.

The rest of the meal passed quickly through a lingering silence.

"I need to go run a few errands today," Poland said after the dishes had been cleaned up. "Do you, like, want to come with?"

"I think I need a nap," I said honestly. "But thanks for asking." Midway through breakfast I'd started feeling a little tired, probably because of Russia's old philosophy of 'an early riser gets more work done.'

"All right," he replied cheerfully. "I'll, like, come back soon."

I ended up lying down on the couch instead of going back to our bedroom. I didn't really want to fall asleep as much as just rest, and I knew I would have trouble with that in an actual bed.

I fell asleep anyway. I drifted through a dark and confusing dream of bloody snow and scarves and falling…

I jerked awake, gasping. The details of the dream were already going fuzzy in my memory, but the fear was still there.

"Are you, like, okay?"

It took me a moment to realize that Poland was sitting on the couch next to me. I started to sit up, but he shook his head and patted his lap. "C'mere." I obligingly shifted so that my head was resting on his lap and let him stroke my hair. It had been too long since we'd been close like this, far too long…

"Bad dream?" he asked quietly. I nodded, closing my eyes and concentrated on calming my breathing as he started singing softly.

"Kocham cię, uciekają myśli złe
Zamiast róż magię słów
Kocham cię, czasem zapominam, że
Tylko to liczy się

Widziałam w twoich oczach tamten blask
Kiedy mówiłeś kocham pierwszy raz

Myśli i słowa by znowu budować nowy dzień, nowy, nowy dzień
Wichry i burze, to wszystko by znów wiedzieć, że...

Kocham cię, nasza miłość zmienia się
Tak jak my, z każdym dniem
Tak bardzo kocham cię i wierzę w każde słowo twe
Gdy jesteś tuż obok mnie..."

His soft voice carried me off to sleep again, although this time it was uninterrupted by dreams.

I was woken again by Poland calling my name.

"Liet?"

I blinked blearily at him, not fully awake.

"I hate to wake you, but I think you've, like, got a fever," he informed me.

"Damn it," I muttered, pushing myself up off of his lap. I pressed the back of my hand against my forehead; it did seem a little hotter than usual, but it was hard to tell. That would explain my sleepiness earlier, though…

I stood up and almost immediately fell back into the couch, overcome by a sudden headache.

"What's wrong?" Poland asked, standing and helping me up as well.

"Well, I definitely have a fever," I replied with a sigh. "I need to get back to my own house, I've been here too long…"

"Now?" Poland asked, looking disappointed. "Can't you at least, like, stay for lunch?"

I laughed. "Can't get enough of me, can you?" When he didn't reply, I kissed him briefly and said quietly, "We'll see each other again soon. I'm sure of it."

He smiled at me. "I'll, like, see you then, słońce."