A/N: Part 2! Don't have much to say for this opening note, for once. I guess I should just warn! you all about the non-con America/Iraq in this part… it's the 2003 invasion, obviously. As always, don't like, don't read.

Disclaimer: If I didn't own it for pt. 1, what makes you think I'd own it for pt. 2?

Good (Part 2)

Iraq focused on his boss' lips specifically as his boss told him of his plan of retaliation against Iran for attacking their ambassador.

"An invasion is essential to insure national security. We must show Iran that we won't take this lying down."

Iraq just loved how the man always used the pronoun 'we' whenever he was about to make a potentially unfavorable decision. He used it as a psychological tool, one meant to unify and create a sense of shared understanding. As if he would be fighting on the front lines with the Iraqi troops. With Iraq himself.

"Iran's weapons are far more advanced. This is a fact that cannot be ignored. However, in just a few months, our nuclear facilities should be up and running at full capacity. If necessary, we may have to obliterate Iran to get our point across."

Iraq closed his eyes, and prayed with all his might that every word said by the man before him would turn into dust.

"So, Kurdistan… did Iraq tell you what he's planning to do to me next?"

Iran asked this in a nonchalant tone, as if he were asking Kurdistan about the weather. The two walked about Tehran casually, everything still intact in the capital, the people around them acting normally as if their country wasn't at war at all. After a few moments of silence, Iran added in, "Is he planning on attacking Tehran?"

But Kurdistan would not say a word.

A few weeks later, he was in Damascus, with Syria. He immediately knew that she wanted something as soon as she opened her mouth and actually said something to him:

"Where's Iraq going to strike next?"

Kurdistan gave the female Nation the world's tiniest eye roll; of course, as the first of Iran's only two allies, she would be interested in knowing that. Her choice to support Iran never ceased to baffle him—why couldn't she just go with the majority and join Iraq's cause? Couldn't she see that Iran was clearly in the wrong?

When he didn't answer, Syria narrowed her eyes and told him with the upmost certainty, "I know that you know."

In reality, no, Kurdistan did not know what Iraq had planned. But even if he did, he wouldn't tell her.

"Does he want to attack me?" she didn't wait for him to answer before crossing her arms and declaring, "Tell him to attack me, if he wants. I'm not afraid of him."

Kurdistan shrugged. "Okay."

Syria roughly grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him so that he would face her. "Why do you like him so much? The only good thing he's ever done for you is give your region some political autonomy. Woo hoo, big deal. You don't have to go protecting him at every turn because of it."

"My reasons for protecting Iraq are none of your business," he hissed.

Syria shrugged in indifference. "Alright, fine. You do what you want. But don't come crying to me when that son of a bitch stabs you in the back, just like he always does to everyone. You aren't special; Iraq will get you in the end. He will hurt you. And you'll have no one to blame but yourself."

Everywhere Kurdistan looked was unclear, clouded by chemical gas. The source of his pain was all around him.

The should've-been Nation hacked, wheezed. Tried to take in a breath of air, but found that he could not. It was as if the gasses themselves possessed hands which wrapped around his neck, choking him, squeezing life out of him. He tried to scream, but could only make pathetic-sounding squeaks, his lungs lacking the oxygen needed to produce anything louder.

He stumbled, fell down to his hands and knees. Coughed, rasped. Out in the distance, he could hear bodies dropping. A few at first, but then many more.

Blood trickled out of the corner of his mouth, and the world began to spin. The last thought had to do with what Syria had told him all those years ago:

"Iraq will get you in the end. He will hurt you. And you'll have no one to blame but yourself."

Why did she think that I'd blame myself? He hazily thought. I'm not that stupid.

And then he went under.

"NO, PLEASE, AMERICA! FOR THE LOVE OF ALLAH, DON'T DO THIS!"

It was the fall of 2003, and Kurdistan was held up in some closet, sitting on the floor, knees draw to his chest. He was trembling, flinching with every blow that America dealt to Iraq. The only think which separated him from the two other Nations was the wooden door of the closet, which to Kurdistan suddenly seemed so flimsy and unstable and weak and—

There was a large thud, a yelp of pain, and Kurdistan knew that Iraq had just been thrown onto the floor. For all the commotion America was making, when the world's only leading superpower spoke, his voice was deathly calm, like a rapist or mass murderer. Or like that of an entire Nation scorned. "Iraq…"

"NO, PLEASE! I'M BEGGING YOU, DON'T DO THIS TO ME! I'M TELLING YOU THE TRUTH! I SWAER I'M TELLING YOU THE TRUTH!"

America laughed. There was a demented edge to it. "But Iraq, didn't you once tell me that you were a fantastic liar? That you could look people in the eye when you did it? You told me so yourself, unless you were lying about that, too."

A couple of more blows, ones which only seemed to grow more violent as Iraq continued to beg. Tears gathered at the corners of Kurdistan's eyes, and suddenly his world seemed very small, confined to the closet he was trapped in and what was going on immediately beyond it.

After a while, Iraq fell silent, and America asked tauntingly, "Hey, hey, Iraq? You still awake? C'mon, you didn't pass out on me, did you?"

A moment of silence, and then Iraq made a throaty sound that made it clear to Kurdistan that America had grabbed him by the throat. "Oh, you're still awake. That's good. So, I was gonna ask, where's Kurdistan hiding?"

Said regions heart clenched like a fist, and for a moment, the world was still. Then, Iraq rasped:

"America… he… he isn't at fault. He never… was. P-Please, America, if you're gonna punish anyone, punish me! I'm the only one who should suffer! I can take it! Just please… please, America…" and suddenly Iraq's voice became breathy, as if he were trying to coerce America into something, "don't take it out on him. You're mad at me. Take it out on me."

The other Nation stood quiet for a few moments, everything deathly quiet. Then, a sharp slap pierced through the air, and America hissed, "You're such a fucking slut, you know that?"

Kurdistan heard something rip, the ruffling of clothing. As he stripped Iraq, America continued his tirade, his voice growing in volume as he went on. "Not only are you a terrorist, a failing state, an extremist, and a barbarian, but you're a goddamned slut on top of it all! Man, what the hell did I ever see in you?"

The few moments of silence that followed were brutally interrupted by the loud moan that came from America's lips, one which Kurdistan almost didn't hear against the tortured scream that ripped away from Iraq. Kurdistan stood in one fluid motion and gripped the doors handle, not thinking. He turned it, for better or worse—

But it was locked.

He tried again and again to but couldn't get the door to open, before he remembered that the particular closet that he was in locked from the outside. And America obviously wouldn't have locked it, and there was no one else left in the house, which could only mean that...

It could only mean that the door was malfunctioning, locking on its own. Because, surely, Iraq couldn't have, wouldn't have done such a thing. Kurdistan cared for Iraq but knew that his feelings weren't exactly reciprocated, and besides that, Iraq was selfish. He wouldn't have locked him in, wouldn't have protected him in that way; he would've been too preoccupied with his own survival.

Kurdistan backed away from the door and sank down to the ground. He had no choice but to remain where he was, but he could still hear all that went on beyond the closet door with frightening clarity: how America quickly set his pace, grunting shortly with each thrust, moaning demeaning and humiliating things to the Nation that he had once loved. Iraq, on the other hand, lost all of his words; he cried out with each thrust, began screaming once the more powerful Nation on top of him began to pick up his pace, slamming into him without mercy.

"Look at me!" America suddenly barked. Kurdistan instinctively opened his eyes. "Don't give me that look! Don't! You brought this upon yourself!"

Iraq wailed loudly in response, one cry which gave way to sobbing, something so obscenely uncharacteristic of him. Out of all the years that he'd known him, Kurdistan had never seen or heard Iraq cry, not from pain nor sadness. Was this his breaking point? Did it take being beaten and raped by the Nation he loved to finally bring Iraq to tears? "We could've had a good life together, you hear me? I loved you. I really did! You could've always had me on your side! But what did you do instead? You got greedy, you pissed it all away, you—"

"You're… wrong!" Iraq managed to say in-between thrusts. "The boss… made me… invade Kuwait… made me hurt… hurt Kurdistan! Saddam… the boss… you… you supported!"

"Shut up!" the world's only leading superpower screamed. He began to penetrate Iraq with a maddening speed, but the smaller Nation still managed to say: "You… did… this to… me! You… you ruined me!"

"You didn't have to listen!" he screamed defensively, as if trying to justify himself for all but appointing the Middle East's very own madman to rule Iraq. "You could've told me what he was doing and I would've helped you get rid of him! But you didn't, and I think," a particularly hard thrust, if Iraq's pained moan told was anything to go by, "I think you liked it, what he did. What was it, Iraq? Did he fuck you like this? Did it turn you on?"

No, Kurdistan thought. If there was one thing that guy never did, was rape Iraq. He tortured me, he raped scores of human women, but never did anything to Iraq himself.

"Or maybe," America mused, "Maybe he didn't fuck you like that. Maybe he just fucked with your head."

"Iran must fall. He thinks that he can keep you underneath his boot and use you just as his grandfather did to Mesopotamia. Mesopotamia… I believe, Iraq, that your grandmother would have approved of what you are about to do."

"Kuwait is stealing your oil! Conspiring against you! That false-state should have always been living in your house to begin with. To hell with what Jordan and Saudi Arabia and America say—they should not be meddling with our affairs to begin with."

"They all deserved this, you know. They all wanted to hurt you. Kurdistan isn't as innocent as he looks. He wants to kill you."

"Look at you! You are so weak! Even now! You're just lying here and taking it, like the slut that you are! Kurdistan… he'd definitely put up more of a fight. Maybe I'll take him ne— LIE STILL!" he screamed in response to Iraq's sudden thrashing.

"America! Don't! Please!"

"SHUT UP!" America screamed, all of his anger and rage erupting from him in one grand flourish. "YOU DESERVE THIS!"

All of his other options exhausted, Iraq began to blurt out a harried and desperate prayer in Arabic. The Islamic prayer rushed out of his mouth in a harried frenzy, as if the very words themselves were eager to free themselves from their owner's tortured body, ready to deliver his plight to the Almighty.

In his mind's eye, he saw it: how America drew his hand up and stroked Iraq's face in an almost loving gesture, as if he hadn't just invaded the other's vital regions. As if Iraq had been consenting. "No one's ever gonna love you like I used to. No one. I loved you, with all my heart, my soul, my mind… even after you invaded Kuwait and we went to war. I never stopped loving you, not once, but then… you…" his voice cracked. "I thought you felt the same. Why did you help those guys do that to me? Why do you always have to lie about everything? Why… why do you fuck over everyone you love?"

A few moments of silence passed, before America got to his feet, and ordered Iraq, in the gentlest of voices, to get on his knees. Iraq did not obey (his eyes were glazed, his mind was far away—Kurdistan knew this, he didn't know how, but he did) and America repeated his demand, before sighing and stating in a louder-than-necessary voice, "Gee, I wonder where Kurdistan is…"

Iraq scrambled to his knees at that, while the region he was defending finally snapped out of his own shock and scooted as far away as he could from the door, until he was completely hidden behind rows of clothes and shoeboxes. And when he could still hear America's moaning, he closed his eyes, covered his ears with his hands and hummed quietly to himself, and waited. He thought of other things, like clouds and rain and what would be the end result of this invasion. He was almost certain that he would survive; Turkey and Iran never expressed much liking for him, but when he had needed them the most, they'd been there to take him and his people in. However, Iraq had no one. How would he ever live through this? He was already so close to collapsing…

Kurdistan's heart beat painfully in his chest. How could America do this? Why would he pick on an already dying Nation? He had so clearly loved Iraq at one point; how could that love just disappear? How could he go from blushing whenever Iraq smiled at him to brutally invading his vital regions?

In the mist of his thinking, his mind drifted back to something Iraq had said earlier; he had mentioned not having anything to do with certain 'attacks'. He mentioned how much Iraq lied to everyone. America mentioned some other things as well, but Kurdistan's mind was still reeling from all that he'd been forced to hear, all that he'd involuntarily envisioned in his mind's eye, and he could not keep a coherent thought for more than a few moments before it slipped away.

Kurdistan sat there, hands over his ears, for what seemed like an eternity. It could have been minutes, hours, days for all he knew. But he didn't move, didn't dare. Only when he felt someone shaking him did he finally open his eyes.

"Kurdistan?"

Iraq's hoarse voice resonated within him, and the region's eyes shot open, and he saw that Iraq's face was right in front of his. In the darkness that surrounded them, he could not make out the fresh wounds and bruises on the other Nation; all he could see was the smile on Iraq's face, one that was tired and withdrawn, and yet also laced with a serene kind of happiness. "I've been looking for you everywhere. You were here the whole time?"

He nodded. Iraq's already delicate smile faltered "A-And you were asleep? The entire time?"

And Kurdistan gave the answer that he had to give: "Yes."

Iraq breathed what appeared to be a sigh of relief. "Well, c'mon. Let's get you into bed. Did you hear the news?" Iraq took his region by the hands and pulled him up to his feet. "America invaded me. My people are freakin' out, scared out of their minds… yours are still safe, though. I made sure of that."

Kurdistan tried to act surprised by the news of the invasion, and then upon finding out that for once, his people weren't the one's being targeted. "But why would America invade you?" he cried, playing dumb.

"Eh… truth is, I don't really know. It has something to do with 9/11, and nuclear weapons, and the boss. Oh! Speaking of which, the boss abandoned us. Him and his entire family split a little after America came. They left us all alone." Iraq scoffed. "What a bunch of pussies."

"R-Right…"

"Hey, Kurdistan… don't worry, okay? Everything's gonna be fine. America will soon realize that I wasn't involved in 9/11, and that I don't have any more nuclear bombs, and that Saddam is out of our lives for good. America's not as dumb as he looks; he'll figure it out, and fast. Just watch, he'll be out of our hair by the end of the month."

"No!"

Kurdistan shouted this in the fall of 1991. He had his arms outstretched, brow furrowed, a determined look in his eyes. Behind him lay an unconscious Iraq. And in front of him…

In front of him stood a coalition of 33 countries, led by America. The Land of the Free, soon to be the world's only superpower, smiled sweetly at Kurdistan, as if he, the adult, now had to deal with the antics of some child. Kurdistan could plainly see the impatience that lay just underneath America's fake façade, that condescending smile, and beyond that still, he saw something much worse. Anger? Fury? Rage? The depth of America's emotion had no end, and it scared Kurdistan. It almost felt as though he were staring into a black hole.

"What do you think you're doing, Kurdie Birdie."

It was not a question. It did not hold the air of a question, but the firmness of a statement, hard and cold and leaving no room for argument. The should-have-been Nation took a deep breath and re-affirmed his stance, looking America dead in the eye. He was not about to move.

"Kurdistan, please get out of the way. We don't want to hurt you," England tried to reason. But in the vast spectrum of people in which Kurdistan had no trust, England was perhaps the only one in which Kurdistan had absolutely no faith. He trusted the man's words no more than the hand trusts the open blade. He did not move.

Kurdistan looked past the two leading Nations in all this, expanded his vision to look past them. He almost fell over from the shock: they were all there. Nearly every Arab state stood behind America and England as if it were natural, as if they held no qualms about supporting, as they so eloquently put it, "the infidels". Their hypocrisy unnerved him.

"Kid," Syria deadpanned. "Move out the way."

"No."

"Don't make alluh this harder than it needsta be," Turkey tried.

"No."

"He hurt you, too, if I'm not mistaken," Libya mentioned. "Why are you defending him?"

Kurdistan didn't answer, didn't move an inch from where he stood.

"Please. It's all for the best. We don't want to hurt you. We only want Iraq." Armenia explained.

"I know."

"They why don't you just move out of the way?" Saudi Arabia probed.

"Because."

"Because what?"

"Because! I understand this little thing that seems to have eluded you all. Did it ever occur to any of you that Iraq didn't want to do anything that he did?" he screamed out into the crowd before him. "You weren't with him every day! None of you ever saw how the boss manipulated him and tricked him and had him doing mental acrobats just so he could advance in his own goals. Iraq never cared enough about Iran to go to war, all their qualms where insignificant and even they didn't take them seriously anymore. Didn't any of you notice that they only went to war once Mr. Saddam came to power?" Kurdistan dropped his arms, and his hands balled up to fists at his sides. He was not done. "And Kuwait. Kuwait is Iraq's little brother. They grew up together and confided in each other and were always close. Of course, Iraq didn't like that Kuwait didn't want to live with him, but he let his brother be for over 50 years. But now that we've lost to Iran, or had a ceasefire or whatever, of course Mr. Saddam wanted Kuwait in our house, to control his oil and have more access to the Gulf. That's why he made Iraq kidnap him! What, did you all think that Iraq just turned evil overnight?" the young region dropped his gaze to the floor, and added in in a much less confident tone, "A-And even with me… Iraq has always been mean to me, but never like he has once Mr. Saddam became our boss. Our relationship was even improving, but then… he…" Kurdistan quickly brought up a hand and wiped away that one tear that escaped. "I was poisoned and a lot of my people have died, and I have all these scars on my neck, but even then I could always tell that Iraq didn't want to do any of it. His face was always blank, but he was begging me to forgive him with his eyes." His head shot back up, his bloodshot eyes wide and angry. "If I saw all of that, what made the lot of you so blind!"

All was quiet for only a moment before America put on an eerie smile and piped up, "Well, looks like Finland isn't the only Nation out there who has some Stockholm Syndrome in him!" He aimed the machine gun that he was carrying at Kurdistan. "Go on, Kurdie Birdie. Fly away somewhere safe, before I shoot you out of the air and send you down to hell."

Kurdistan stared at the gun for a moment, and then smiled, of all things. "I'm not afraid of that. If you seriously think that this is the first time someone has pointed one of those at me, then you really don't know me that well." His smile grew. "And 'send me to hell'? But, haven't you heard that I'm going to heaven?"

America's smile left in a liquidated fashion. "I'm serious, kid. Move or I'll make you move. Tell me, is Iraq really worth it?"

"Yeah, of course." Kurdistan closed his eyes, and for a moment he almost seemed angelic. "And if you actually did love him, you would known that Iraq is worth any punishment, anytime."

Without another word said, America fired.

"Someday, you'll be a beautiful country again."

Kurdistan said this in full confidence, sometime in February 2011. He was looking Iraq dead in the eyes as he told him this, something he hadn't been able to do in years. They stood in a sea of carnage and destruction, burnt cars and police tape. Iraq himself was still just as stunning as he had always been, but in a different light. He was beautiful in a broken sort of way, the horror of all that was happening shining through his eyes, burning through the emptiness of his smile. For once, Kurdistan was actually doing better than Iraq, but he knew that the Nation before him would eventually rise through the ashes, just as he always had. He would shine again and he would be beautiful, perhaps not in the same way he had been 30 years ago, but not broken-beautiful, either. No, he would be pieced-back-together amazing, a stainless glass Catholic-church-window that glowed red and blue and yellow and green. A patchwork of experience.

And the patchwork said, "Yeah. Maybe someday, you'll be a beautiful country, too."

Iraq then turned on his heel and sped away before Kurdistan could question that.

The two Nations looked out upon their cities, Baghdad and Mosel, watched their people go about their daily lives. All was normal. There were no insurgency attacks, no suicide bombings, no checkpoints. The cloud of fear that once shadowed the two metropolitan areas was long gone. The days in which the two capitals were under constant attack seemed far away.

Iraq glanced over at Kurdistan for a brief moment. It still amazed him how tall the Kurd had gotten, but then again, independence often did that, induced growth spurts and sudden puberty. With the wind blowing through his hair like that, the way love still seemed to glisten off his skin after all that had happened… Iraq truly had no idea why he had ever given into his old boss, why he ever hurt his then-autonomous-region all those years ago. How could he not have realized how beautiful Kurdistan was?

"I'm glad you survived," Iraq admitted, before he could stop himself.

Kurdistan turned to look at him, and remained quiet for a moment, as if stunned that Iraq would ever say such a thing. Then, he smiled. "I'm glad you survived, too."

A/N: Okay, done. Notes:

Iraq invaded Iran in 1980 because of Iran's theocratic revolution, border qualms, disputes over oil, long-standing bad blood between the two, and because Iran was accused of trying to assassinate Iraq's Iranian Ambassador. Saddam Hussein had all of these chemical weapons at his disposal and was itching to use them. He tried using them against the Iranians, but the thing about chemical weapons is that you need the perfect weather for them, or else they don't work (as seen in the only other war in which these types of weapons were used, WWI). However, Iraq also had nuclear facilities, to build atomic bombs, and many believe that if they had been developed to full capacity during the war, that Saddam Hussein would have used them against Iran.

Despite the shortcomings of chemical weapons, they can still be used quite… effectively, when the conditions are right. Take the Kurds in the north. As part of the genocide, chemical weapons were used systematically against the Kurdish population and it lead to… devastating results. Absolutely devastating. These events would come to be known as the Anfal Campaign. Through the worst of Anfal, scores of Iraqi Kurds escaped from Iraq and went to Turkey, Syria, and Iran.

As for the 2003 invasion… I think I pretty much turned America into a yandere when it comes to Iraq. I told you things would get worse for them. Back in 2003, America invaded Iraq on claims that Iraq was still secretly developing nuclear bombs even after the U.N. mandated that he get rid of the materials needed to make atomic weapons. Saddam Hussein claimed on multiple occasions that he did, in fact, destroy the nuclear materials in Iraq's possession, but whenever the U.N. wanted to send someone over to see if this was true, they would always be denied access into the country. Obviously, this looked extremely suspicious, and thus the US invaded Iraq. However, once Hussein had been ousted and U.N. inspectors were free to check for nuclear facilities, they found none. Though, many find the whole nuclear bombs excuse to be bullshit, and to an extent, it is (on those same grounds, then we should have also invaded Iran and North Korea). It's now pretty much an open fact that America also invaded Iraq in part because they wanted to turn Iraq into a democracy, in hopes that it would inspire other Middle Eastern Nations to look towards democracy as well. As a result of everything, Iraq is actually now a (fragile and dysfunctional) democracy. In addition, many American's have either thought or still think that Iraq and Saddam Hussein had something to do with 9/11, when in fact neither the government or any Iraqi national had been involved in the attacks. Just a common misconception, I guess, seeing the war's closeness in time frame, and Saddam Hussein's well-known evil nature.

In 1991, Iraq invaded Kuwait. This goes back a while: during the Ottoman Empire days, Iraq and Kuwait were treated as one providence. However, once the OE collapsed, Kuwait declared himself independent of not only Turkey but Iraq as well. This didn't sit well with Iraq, mostly because Kuwait blocks Iraq's access to the Arabian/Persian Gulf (Iraq is nearly landlocked because of it) and because nearly all of Kuwait is one big oil field. Iraq always considered Kuwait to be his 19th rouge providence, but in that same breath, only violated Kuwait's rights as an independent republic when the war with Iran ended. The Iraq-Iran War left Iraq in a horrible place economically, drained of resources and deeply in debt to just about every country in the Middle East, and America. Saddam Hussein got it in his mind that invading Kuwait would solve all of these problems.

As a result, 33 countries came to Kuwait's aid, led by America and including many of Iraq's former allies in his war against Iran. Needless to say, Iraq lost, Kuwait was free again, and both Iraq and (Iraqi) Kurdistan suffered the consequences of Saddam Hussein's idiocy. Iraq pretty much went on a downward spiral after that, a dissent that hasn't quite ended but has only taken a different form.

As for Kurdistan's independence… it's something that the Kurds still wants, obviously. Iraq hasn't shown any explicit signs of letting Kurdistan go, but he seems to be being a bit nicer to him. One of the few successes of the American invasion of Iraq is the new Iraqi constitution, which mandates that equal rights must be given to the Kurds, placing Kurdish as one of the official languages of Iraq, and giving Kurdistan much more political freedom than before. So maybe, Kurdistan has some glimmer of hope for obtaining independence without any bloodshed. Maybe. (I really hope so).

So, yeah. Review, yall :3