A look into why Russia may not be as bad as he seems… and what that scarf is for after all… It's a short chapter, but an important one. Review please? Especially this chapter. I'd love to hear people's thoughts.

Chapter 5:

History

"You're drunk Russia…. get off me." I tried to push him away. He'd collapsed on top of me… I pried the bottle of vodka from his hands and pushed him off me. I looked down at the bottle. It was still mostly full. Considering that it was the fourth bottle it wasn't surprising. I was working mostly inside Russia's house now so he could 'keep and eye on me'. More like keep me away from that wall… after last weeks little graffiti 'accident' he wasn't all that happy with me. He'd been working at his desk when he called me to bring him a bottle of vodka. After two more bottles and about a fourth of this one he passed out. I looked down at the bottle of vodka. It wasn't beer, but it was something. I downed it without so much as getting tipsy.

I walked up to the unconscious Russia and started taunting him. He couldn't hear me, but it didn't matter, it felt good to give some back. I kicked him. He was unconscious, it didn't matter. I looked around the room. A knife on his desk…now was my chance. I picked it up then walked over to Russia. I took of his scarf and stared… no it was just the vodka I'd drunk, right? I just couldn't see straight, right? I didn't actually see… I fell on my knees. "Oh Russland…" I stared at his neck. It was white, whiter even than his face, from always being covered with his scarf… and there were the scars. All over his neck there were scars. I dropped the knife… I wasn't the only on who'd tried to kill him was I? I looked at the pattern of scars…. No… no maybe I was the only one… The way the scars were…

"Russland… you… you did this… to yourself?" I bit my lip. I looked at the scars again… they looked self inflicted. So he wanted to die? Somehow that made me not want to kill him… I looked down at the knife, then sighed and set it back on his desk. I sighed again and picked him up. He wasn't as heavy as I'd expected. I took him to his room, laid him on his bed, yanked off his coat and boots and pulled the covers over him. "Oh Russland… I didn't know." I sighed. I felt bad for hating him now. Many of the scars were old, but some were very fresh… I doubted they were from very long before World War two… was it because of the Romanovs? I wondered. I didn't know much about them, but I'd heard about them. It had hurt Russia a lot… maybe that was why? Maybe that was why he beat me? Maybe that was why he wanted to feel powerful? Because he had no control over their deaths? Maybe his boss, Lenin, was cruel to him, feeding him lies, just like Hitler was to my bruder… maybe… maybe… I tried to shake the thoughts out of my head. I hated Russia just like he hated me….right? I sighed, looking down at him. He looked strangely peaceful there asleep… I wrapped his scarf around his neck again, somehow it felt like I just should. Then I went back into his office to clean up…

The next morning I woke up to Russia touching my shoulder.

"Did you put me to bed last night?" He asked rather gently.

I nodded sleepily.

"Spasiba." He nodded back.

I looked up at him, surprised with how nice he was being. "D…do you need anything?" I asked, not wanting to get up.

"Nyet you rest today. I will have more work for you tomorrow." He nodded.

I smiled. Sleep… precious precious sleep…

"GDE?" He'd started calling me that a while ago, "My scarf was on different when I woke up… did you… move it?"

I bit my lip, and nodded.

He said nothing, only nodded back, sighing and turning away. "So… you saw?"

"Ja." I sighed.

"Forget what you saw. Do not discuss it with the Baltics…" He almost snapped…almost…

I nodded. "Ja." I hadn't intended to. "Russland…?" I asked when he turned away.

"Da?" He looked back.

"Are you ok?"

"Nyet GDR… as long as I live I will never be ok…" Did I see tears in his eyes?

"I'm sorry…" I sighed, biting my lip.

"Nyet. No one is. You are my prisoner. Why should you be sorry?" He looked at me with something between curiosity and anger

"I don't know…" I bit my lip. "But… But I am…" I nodded.

He sighed again, turning away. "Nyet." He walked out of my cell and shut the door behind him.

It wasn't long before I fell asleep again… ah sleep… but to my surprise instead of dreaming of Germany, like I always did… I actually dreamt of Russia…