Chapter VIII

Lithuania stared at himself in the mirror. The burns that littered his side like angry red clouds toned down a bit and the blotchy scabs were beginning to peel away. He was getting better, yes, but his skin was still sensitive to the touch. Though, he couldn't complain about that—he was healing much faster than he had first expected.

He wished he could say the same for his people, however. They were growing restless with every passing day—they were angry with the invading army and anxious to have this over with before the year ends. Winter was approaching fast, and Toris knew things would only go downhill from there. But he still had faith in his people and he would see to it that everything would be over soon.

He wondered about what to do next—he managed to contain Prussia's invasion of Kaliningrad within the city area. The rest of the oblast was safe, for now. Now he was trying to bring him down in the polluted Baltic Sea. Toris closed his eyes and pictured the rows or artillery firing, sending smoke into the salt-scented air. He pictured ships, people, sinking into the tainted water.

Lithuania tasted something bitter on his tongue. He focused his attention back to his own body. Scores of his men were dying in the fields and the only thing to mark their passing were the dark splotches on Toris's skin, subtle wounds illuminated by the pale moonlight filtering through his bedroom window. They were only bruises but they were what concerned him the most.

The injuries were unpredictable. Every morning, Toris would find more and more of these bruises forming on his skin. They went away fast, faster than any burn or scab, but they would always return and as the war dragged on, they would take much longer to heal—he knew from pure, raw experience.

There was a gentle shuffle of sheets and then heavy but careful footsteps behind him. Cool arms wrapped around his middle from behind and someone's head rested against the crook of his neck. Lithuania closed his eyes again, his body unmoving. Russia's touch was soothing to his healing burns and bruises and he welcomed the embrace, moving only to lay his hands on the arms that still circled his torso.

Russia lifted his eyes to meet Lithuania's gaze in the mirror. His mauve irises caught the light like glass orbs. Lithuania still remembered the days when he feared the subtle glow they gave off.

But Russia's gaze was only questioning and laced with genuine concern this time.

Toris didn't need to say anything to hom—his eyes told Ivan what he wanted to know.

Ivan took one of his hands and led him back to the bed with slow movements. Lithuania let himself fall back, his face stoic and heart throbbing painfully.

Russia kissed the bruises tenderly; his gestures and actions were gentle, as if he were still afraid of breaking Lithuania with his hands. He treated the other like something fragile—a porcelain doll perhaps- even though Toris had proven himself to be something otherwise.

Though… It wasn't like he minded. Lithuania already had his fair share of rough-handedness for the day. The way Russia was holding him, and the way he was holding Russia somehow made everything feel better. It was pleasant (in its own twisted way, Lithuania mused).

It honestly felt like a dream.

-x-X-x-

-x-X-x-

Lithuania thought the moonlight illuminated Russia's hair beautifully as the other nipped at his skin almost playfully. He ran his fingers through gossamer strands, admiring the bright sheen. He buried his nose into the hair when Ivan set to kissing the nape of his neck.

-x-X-x-

-x-X-x-

Lithuania was on his front now, his head resting between his arms as he let Russia explore his back. At first, his movements were faltering and riddled with guilt but it wasn't long before his kisses were quick, distinct, and without hesitation. His lips traveled along the glossy red and white lines of his century-old lacework.

Lithuania shivered, though not from terror.

-x-X-x-

-x-X-x-

The black heels of his boots clicked loudly against the polished floor as Lithuania left the conference room that still contained over half his bickering generals.

Toris never really liked this particular uniform—few occasions called for such attire and as hardworking as he was, he did his best to avoid those few occasions. The uniform was a dark blue-gray in color, very much unlike his usual green. The whole thing made him feel so cold and foreboding—the military cap that was shadowing his eyes didn't help matters, but it wasn't like he was trying to prove how warm and friendly he was either. He still longed to roll his arms back to loosen his muscles but the shoulder boards felt too restricting, he needed to change soon or—

"Ivan?"

Russia was waiting on one of the hallway benches, dressed in his own olive colored attire; his pale scarf was still wrapped around his neck like always. Lithuania couldn't help but notice how the uniform hung off of his figure a little—but just a little.

At the sound of his name, Russia looked up. "You are done already?"

Toris nodded stiffly. "We all had similar ideas… I can tell you later, if you'd like. How are things on your side?"

Russia smiled cautiously. "They are stubborn, but we have things under control."

His constant nodding felt redundant, but it felt like the easiest thing Lithuania could do in response. "We should have our leaders discuss… things later."

Russia's eyes unfocused momentarily but he agreed, standing up and offering Lithuania a hand. It puzzled him, but he accepted anyways.

-x-X-x-

Lithuania poked at a campfire sluggishly. It was only late evening and he was already exhausted.

A young Russian soldier was sitting besides him, his eyes following the movements of his makeshift poker.

He needed to fill the silence. "Is there something bothering you?" His Russian must've been heavily accented from lack of use but Toris guessed it didn't matter when the other seemed to have understood him.

"I just have the feeling the other guys don't like us very much." His eyes didn't leave the fire. "Sir," he hastily added.

Lithuania disregarded the minor blunder "Us?"

"The ones who aren't from Lithuania."

"…Oh. I see. Don't be worried about that, I'm sure everyone will be used to each other soon."

He nodded absentmindedly.

"But meanwhile, try not to stare into the fire too long, I don't want you to hurt your eyes in a place like—" he was interrupted by a loud growl. There was a moment of awkward silence. Only the crackling of the fire could be heard. Toris eyed the soldier, mildly amused.

"Did you eat today?"

"N-not really, sir."

"Why is that?"

"I gave my last ration to Mikhail. He's younger than me, smaller too."

Lithuania fished for something in one of his pockets. He took out a round, flat can and tossed it to the soldier.

He muttered a thanks but stopped halfway in opening the ration. "But sir, what about you?"

Toris gave a slight smile. "I'm used to stretching the time between my meals. Take it."

"From other field missions?"

"I guess."

"Excuse me sir, but you look like my age and I had just left school…"

Toris shrugged. "Maybe I'm a little older than I look. I am your commander, aren't I?" He was glad when the youth decided not to question him any further. "…Oh, I forgot. What's your name?"

"Ivan," he replied, "Ivan Gurlukovich at your service, sir."

Ignoring his own advice, Lithuania stared deep into the flickering embers. "You… you have a nice name."

-x-X-x-

He took slow steps in pacing the lonely asphalt. Russia hoisted the AK-47 for the countless time that day. The metal of the gun was digging into his shoulder, causing it to ache.

The town he was staying at suffered a single day of gunfire but nothing more. He had been put on patrol for the whole day, as if satellites and radars weren't enough. His feet ached and he was bored out of his mind—he hadn't seen or even talked with Toris for days now.

Ivan wondered when their next chance to stop by home, no, Lithuania's home would be. To his dismay, this place felt so… distant to him. He felt so detached from his own homeland after returning to it for the first time in several months. Perhaps he had gotten so used to Lithuania that he forgot about the land, about himself.

A light shuffle of footsteps interrupted his deep contemplation. Russia whirled around, the assault rifle in both of his hands now. There was a cry of fear and Ivan struggled to make out the figure in the darkness. "Who's there?"

"P-Please don't shoot, mister. I-I di-didn't mean to sneak u-up on you…"

Russia lowered the gun but only slightly. The unknown person stepped into the gate's light. He was mildly shocked to see that it was only a little girl—if he had to guess, she must've been somewhere around eight, nine at the most.

Ivan spared a second to look over his shoulder, making sure no one was sneaking up on him from behind. When he saw that no one else was there, he looked back to find the young girl staring up at him with wide, brown eyes—they were filled with a mix of fear and fascination.

He lowered the gun altogether and the girl seemed to have relaxed a bit.

"What are you doing here? Do your parents know you are out this late?"

She shook her head. "Nn-no… I-I just…"

Russia blinked slowly. This one girl reminded him of Raivis. "Calm down, child, we're not here to hurt you."

"I-I…" She looked disconcerted for a moment, her fragile-looking lips pulled into a frown. Her eyes were darting from side to side as if she was wondering whether to say something or not, then she gulped, as if it were something to show that she had made up her mind.

Very slowly, she lifted a hand to her hairline and pushed back her auburn bangs, revealing a white scar the size and shape of a mangled flower.

"I-I'm sorry, mister… I ca-can't help it. I ha-hate it too… after th-the acci-cident…"

Ivan tilted his head curiously. He had seen and experienced more grisly injuries, but he still felt a pang of sympathy for the small child. For someone so young to be maimed like this, it was fairly sad. "I see, we won't talk about it then. What is your name?"

"M-Mischa…"

He knelt down so that he could look at her properly. "A fitting name for you, Mischa, I am Ivan. Do you need something from me?"

The girl named Mischa seemed distracted by his oddly colored eyes but eventually shook her head in response. "No, m-mister… I-I just brought… brought something from ho-home…" In her other hand was a bundle wrapped in an old-fashioned handkerchief. She tentatively offered it to him.

"I-I saw you ear-earlier today when y-you marched in… E-everyone else looked-looked so b-big and s-scary… You w-were ta-taller, but I-I thought you looked hun-hungry too. Papa t-told me no-not to talk to the ss-soldiers but…" Her sentence trailed off. She shuffled her feet nervously.

Russia smiled and hoped he had put enough warmth into it. "This is very thoughtful of you, Mischa," he said as he accepted the gift. He weighed the object in his arms and figured it must've been filled with baked goods.

The girls seemed happy to see that he had accepted the offering. "Ca-can I ask you s-something, mister?"

"Of course."

She pointed at the flowing scarf around his neck. "Why d-do you wear… wear that? Nn-no one e-else has a-a scarf like th-that."

His fingers automatically reached up to gently brush the cream scarf. "A gift from my sister, something to remember her by."

"D-do you miss her?"

"Very much."

"Did… did sh-she die?" The girl seemed horrified at the prospect. Ivan patted her head reassuringly.

"No, she's alive, but very far away. Go home now, Mischa, it's very late and your mother and father might notice you're gone."

She nodded hurriedly. "O-okay… T-thanks for talking t-to me, m-mister…"

"Ah, it's my pleasure. Thank you for the food."

The girl flashed a fleeting smile before turning around and scurrying off, fading quickly from Russia's vision.

Ivan left the town the next day, hoping a little that that single day of battle would be the last, for this small place at least.

-x-X-x-

Feliks hated this.

Like, really hated this.

The Prussian uniform felt terrible on his skin. He made a mental note to himself to take a shower immediately when he got home. That was definitely a priority.

But an even more important priority was making everything actually worth it. He reminded himself that he was not in Poland and that if he was going to get caught in a place like this, he was going to die—probably in a very humiliating way.

But he was not going to get caught. He made it this far for Liet, hasn't he?

"You there!"

Poland turned around and saluted, eye twitching. "Sir!" He answered in German.

"You are our transcriber, yes?"

"Yes, sir!" He resisted the urge to violently rub his eye.

"Then what are you waiting for? You are late!" He threw his whole arm in a gesture to follow him.

"Sorry, sir! I got lost, sir!" He wanted to stick a Polish word in there somewhere but he knew he couldn't. He should've thought twice about the doing this, but then again, he was willing to do anything to put an end to the fighting.

-x-X-x-

More than once, Prussia passed Germany when he was on his way to a meeting.

This time, Gilbert decided he would not be satisfied with just bumping shoulders. He carefully timed himself as he approached Ludwig and Ludwig approached him.

When he was just in arm's reach, Prussia clasped a black-gloved hand to his shoulder, effectively stopping him and demanding his attention.

"Germany… You haven't talked to me in a while. What's wrong?"

Ludwig blinked, looking bemused. "Nothing's wrong. There hasn't been much to talk about, that's it."

Gilbert took a minute to study him. His slicked back hair was still the same, his uniform and Iron Cross was still the same. And as far as he could tell, nothing had changed about him—on the outside at least.

"Gilbert…?"

"Sorry West, I just needed… to ask you something."

He looked at him expectantly and he continued. "Did- uh, my boss talk to you about anything?"

Germany frowned. "No."

He almost sighed in relief. "Good, I mean, great. Ah- I'm just glad you're not into this whole mess and all and yeah…"

Germany's frown deepened. "What happened between you and your boss?"

Shit, I can't even lie to him. What the hell, Gilbert.

"He's playing dictator. Not literally though—I've just had some disagreements with him, okay?" Well at least I'm not lying. Not really.

It was his turn to eye him strangely. "So things are going perfectly smooth for you?"

He tried to keep his tone level and casual. "You can say that." He tried not to falter under Germany's scrutinizing gaze. "So Konigsberg…"

"Konigsberg." It came out quite curt.

Prussia felt his words jumble together before they even left his mouth. "I'm building—I mean, I'm rebuilding the city."

"Good for you. Excuse me now, I have be out of here in five'." Germany brushed passed him—it wasn't unfriendly, but it wasn't exactly friendly either. Prussia turned to look after him, a dejected expression on his face.

Damn it, Ludwig. What did I do?

-x-X-x-

Poland could tell the whole thing was going to be extremely dull when he first stepped in. The scent of liquor and starched fabric made his head spin but he forced himself to record the every line the enemy officials said. At least the writing will be useful to him later, but it wasn't like they were saying anything he wasn't aware of already. It was all "defeat Lithuania" this, "defeat Russia" that, "Hey everyone, wouldn't it be totally awesome to clear a path between Kaunas and Vilnius?"

He was just about to unwillingly nod off until something completely and utterly unexpected caught his attention.

"-set off the explosives in each of the cities, that will distract Weillschmidt long enough to launch-"

"-Wait a minute," Poland blurted out, "you're going to like, blow up your own cities?"

Everyone was staring at him and Feliks realized he was only the transcriber and therefore had no say in what was going on. If he wanted to dig his own grave even further, he could've shouted out everything in anything but German.

"Private, restrain yourself! First you are late and now you are interrupting, do you need to be replaced?"

"No, sir! I apologize, sir!"

"Good, now as I was saying…"

Poland almost dropped his pen in horror when they went on. They're all crazy.

He swallowed nervously and continued to write down every word said, but the written words were meaningless to him now. He needed to get out of here soon as possible so could he warn everyone—he didn't even think these people were going to consider such an idea. How far were they willing going to go just to get what they want?

The talks went on for another hour before finally ending. By the time they were done, however, Feliks was already sweating in his uniform as his hands fidgeted nervously. He was dismissed and he eagerly left the meeting room, leaving the thin stack of papers where he left them—he didn't need them anymore, every word had been clearly etched into his mind.

-x-X-x-

They were home again. The sky outside was gray and damp, matching the atmosphere perfectly.

Lithuania was sitting in bed with a bowl of hot water, a bottle of rubbing alcohol, and an assortment of gauze scattered around him as he treated one of Russia's day-old bullet wounds.

Toris was glad that it was nothing more than a stray bullet rather than one from a sniper—something like that would've blasted away more than just a mere chunk of flesh. Mortality wasn't something Lithuania was worried about at the moment, just the difficulty of dealing with such an injury.

"Relax your shoulders, alright?"

Russia obeyed and Lithuania set to dabbing it with alcohol. He tossed the soiled gauze aside, and with deliberate motions, undid Russia's scarf from his neck. The other tensed up.

Toris frowned, worried. "You don't want me to? I need to get it out of the way…"

"I-It's fine…"

He shrugged, and finished with removing the scarf.

He already knew they had been there for a long time, but Toris couldn't help but stare at the white lines and blotches circling Russia's neck like a collar. Perhaps in one point of time in the past, Ivan did wear a collar. Perhaps it was heavy and made of iron too, but Lithuania was only guessing.

"Toris, is there something wrong?"

With a jolt, he realized his hands had stopped with the cleaning while his eyes were still fixed on the scars.

"Ah, no—! I was just wondering if the wound was going to get infected." It was a lie and Lithuania hoped Russia didn't catch on.

"I see… Will it?"

"No, it'll be fine."

He stared holes into the cauterized flesh and focused on wiping away the traces of blood before taping fresh gauze and bandaging it.

"There. Is it too tight?"

"No, thank you." Russia turned around and his eyes trailed back down to his neck.

"Russia…?"

"Hm?" He tilted his head only slightly but it was enough to expose his neck to the cold light, accentuating the pearly white marks.

"What are…" He reached forward to stroke a trail of dotted scars, "…these?"

Russia grinned darkly but he didn't let it bother him. "Only children's teeth marks."

Lithuania blinked—Russia was definitely hiding something. The answer to his own question was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite grasp (nor understand) it either.

Ivan raised a hand to press Toris's palm against his textured skin. The look he was giving him was strange—there wasn't anything malicious about it but it was like Russia was daring him to guess.

Lithuania noticed there were even more grain-sized markings on the opposite side of his neck and they were all aligned along his jugular vein. He suddenly became aware of the strong pulse beneath his palm.

"Ivan… What did they put into you?"

He didn't answer but Toris had already figured it out.

"Th-they didn't…" …No, not to their own country. No one would ever do that.

And even as he said that, he noticed that fainter but similar marks were layered underneath the more distinguished ones.

His hand slid down to his chest, tracing the thin lines and God, he hoped they would fade away soon (but he knew that it was very much unlikely). Russia remained silent and still, allowing Lithuania to explore the light and dark network of scars. His fingers trailed all the way down to his hip.

Toris reached the area that was much whiter and glossier than the surrounding skin. His fingers met a shallow dip—

—and he met a wave of nauseating sickness.

"…Toris? Why do you look so upset?"

Both of his hands left Russia's body to cover his mouth. Something bubbled in his stomach and he wasn't sure if he could even speak without retching.

"Toris?"

Why…? Why are you looking at me like that when…?

"…They-they skinned you, Russia." It was not a question. He wanted- he needed to say more but it was all he could manage.

"Oh-" His own hand touched his side to feel the ghost of the old wound—the gruesome one. "-this? It doesn't hurt anymore, Lithuania, and besides-" he reached out to trace a line beneath Lithuania's quivering Adam's apple, mimicking the feel of a knife, "I already killed them."

There was a flurry of motion and Russia was suddenly on top of Lithuania. His face had darkened from the shadow of his arm, his aspects partially hidden from the window light but Toris could still make out his features. His grimace and quivering eyes reminded him of a guilty yet fearful child, and when he spoke, his voice was broken with remorse. "I… I killed all of them. I burned the wires, the medicine, the corpses, everything. Do you still smell it, Lithuania? Do you?"

It hurt, it hurt to see Russia like this—drenched in his own regret for his rightful vengeance. It hurt, but Lithuania willed himself not to look away, and he willed himself not to flinch when Russia wrapped his hands around his neck, allowing the ghastly light to irradiate his face.

"And all that time, you were standing over me, watching. No, I thought you were. I was so convinced, but at the same time, I knew, I knew I was holding onto a lie—a sweet lie given to me by the very same drugs used to tame me. You have to understand," his voice changed to something like desperation, "i-it was all I had! You- no - the fake kept me from truly dying, Toris."

His words turned forebodingly quiet. "But you were still the first thing I saw when I woke up from that hell; I was so happy, but so angry at the same time. I thought I had died and that the angels were simply mocking me." Abruptly, the fingers that were wrapped around his neck turned rigid and Lithuania inhaled sharply before he could stop himself, "I thought you were my punishment, Toris. Right then and there, I wanted to kill you. I wanted to kill you so bad, to crush this neck of yours and see you lying at my feet."

His eyes had considerably moistened, tears clinging dangerously to the ends of his lashes as he looked down at the silent Lithuania, the silent Lithuania who was looking back up at him without fear.

"That's not true," he had spoken aloud. His words were solid and clear, his gaze unwavering now. "That's not true, Ivan—you never wanted to hurt me." He touched and led Russia's hands away from his neck. He pressed his palms flat against his and intertwined their fingers. "You were only… confused, lost."

He let out a humorless chuckle. "But it doesn't matter, at least not to the others, da? There's still something wrong with me, Toris. Can't-can't you see it? Madness, I'm mad. I've been mad for a long time now, da?"

"No… No you are not."

"I sacrificed so many, Lithuania! Only a murderer, only a monster w-would…"

"Russia," his gaze was piercing, "I only found you. I didn't find a murderer or a monster on that day. I didn't."

"But aren't I that monster, Toris? Everything is my fault, after all. It always is. Because of me… you, you could've died. Died from me..."

He paused to lower his ear to Lithuania's beating heart. His own pulse synchronized with the reverberating heartbeats as he indulged in the strong warmth. "So cold… you would've been so cold, Lithuania."

-x-X-x-

To Anonymous Reviewer #5356: First off, sorry for the belated reply, though I'm not sure if you were looking for one or not. To answer your question about China's role in this story, the only reason is that I never actually intended for him to play a huge part in this particular story. I also didn't intend for him to appear as a jackass/antagonist to the reader. In Chapter 6, the reason why he portrayed as such was because the chapter was in Russia's POV, and Russia being considerably pissed off at the time didn't really appreciate China's involvement. China was trying to convince Russia to take part and pick a side so he could get things over with and minimize his suffering, but Russia didn't view it that way. He didn't even give the other a chance to explain like I'm explaining now. But China must've thought about things in a different light after he left, he was the one who freed Russia (not Lithuania) after all. Thank you for the review and compliment though, I hope I've made things clearer.

Don't get me wrong, guys; constructive criticism is a-ok.

Oh and another thing to clear up: This story is not historically accurate. It has some historical references (that are restated here in the Author's Note) but the plot itself is purely my imagination. Unfortunately, we still live in a world where Prussia still doesn't exist and where Lithuanians still hold a grudge against Russia :C Painful reality we have here oTL

Now about the chapter itself, It took me over seven days to write this. Average time is three days. What is wrong with me? x-x; I guess I was kind of occupied with events in real life, I'm going to graduate from middle school really soon and truth be told, I'm excited.

Anyways, I'm not pleased with this chapter mainly because it took so long to write it and it only turned out average in length and below-average in quality oTL Guys, bear with me here.

This story is also turning out a TAD longer that I originally planned. I promised some people only one more chapter after this, but it looks like there's actually going to be two. Whee?

Like always, thank you for reading~

(whyisthisshipsoangsty)