(A/N: HEY HEY HEY! I'm writing this and the ending A/N quickly, so cutting straight to the point here. Thanks, .candlelight and Mamma Russia, for your amazing-tastic reviews! You have so much of my love. So much of it.

I don't own Hetalia, the pictures I based these off of (this particular drabble is based off of four pictures; message me if you want to see them) or the fanname for Ukraine, Yekaterina/Katyusha [nickname] that I use in this. Also, heads up for mentioned incest, I guess. Schoolwork plagues me so I don't know when you can expect the next update, but please enjoy this in the meantime, if it's even possible to derive pleasure from this. :| )

Your first memory of her is of her scarf. You've never thought of it as your own scarf. Even though you've jokingly referred to it as a body part before, the warm article of clothing around your neck feels like a piece of her that you're borrowing. It feels like assurance that you must meet up again so you can return it to her.

You look down miserably at the scarf, trying in vain to scrub out the blood red stains. You can't hand it back to her like this.

The next memory of her, one you thought long forgotten, comes to you in a flash of sobriety while you cower in your storage room. It is hardly the adequate time for reminiscing, as Natalia's screeching grows ever more urgent. Yet you still feel your vision growing hazy and your eyelids closing as you succumb to a pleasant dream/memory.

You find your dream self inside of a cozy kitchen with your two sisters. You would have thought there was nothing wrong with the scene if you couldn't see the blizzard roaring through the windows, the cracks alongs the walls, and the worried look on your elder sister's face, as if she thought the initial owner of this abandoned house would come back any second and kick them to the curb. Elder sister thinks you are too young to understand any of their financial problems...she thinks she has to bear the burden alone. You correct her pleasantly, but when you try to smile, it looks twisted, and when you try to laugh, it sounds demonic. You're just different, elder sister insists.

Different enough that all water pipes in the house, functional and non-functional alike, have been removed and placed on high shelves. You hope to be tall someday so the "shelf" punishment doesn't hold any weight.

You look over at the kitchen table to find elder sister showing Natalia how to use utensils, and you feel a strange rush of fondness for the two. Natalia is getting rather adept with the knife. She's a fast learner, you suppose. Elder sister looks pleased with Natalia and ruffles her hair, though Natalia slaps elder sister's hand away like it's on fire. Everything is as it should be, even if you have no food lined up for the upcoming winter.

Elder sister - Katyusha, she tells you to call her; elder sister, you call her anyway - is smiling at you and offering you a seat at the table one moment, but the next moment, tears are spilling out of her eyes and she is bidding you a farewell *and you don't understand why is she saying goodbye and oh god elder sister is gone and it's just you and Natalia and a knife-*

You wake up cuddled with Natalia in the doorsill, door knocked off its hinges, elder sister's beloved bloody scarf and a few other choice items of clothing cast aside. You scream.

Toris is not prepared for this, it seems. From the way Toris is shaking like Raivis stuffed in a freezer in the middle of January, you think he expects the water pipe or the shovel. He doesn't expect you to ask him this.

"You- you want me to pretend to be Ms. Yekaterina?" It isn't really a question, and Toris' relieved face is enough to tell you you did something wrong. You want to say 'no' just to make Toris' pretty emerald eyes furrow in fear and to make his rough skin turn a paler shade of white, but you can't say no. He is completely right... you want him to pretend to be elder sister. It is purely to practice for a reunion, you tell him.

But it goes terribly because Toris is a terrible elder sister. Laying your head on his chest isn't nearly as comfortable, and when you brush your gloved hands over his back, he flinches and his face contorts in pain. You keep doing it anyway, and you begin to cry. You're not exactly on your first vodka of the day, and you wouldn't know what to say to your elder-sister-as-roleplayed-by-your-charge even if you were sober. You succumb to sleep once more, and instead of remembering, you imagine.

You imagine yourself in your sister's arms, your hands hopelessly tangled up in her choppy blonde locks. Her hair has not gotten any longer as you feared it might; she looks exactly like how she used to, save for a somewhat larger bustline and a now worn-in pair of overalls. You're smiling (and it doesn't look nearly as twisted as it normally does, you're certain) and she's crying and apologizing. But you just shush her, rub circles around her back, and lean down to kiss her because *you missed her so much.* And now you're finally together.

When you wake up, Toris has escaped and you are trapped in a rather romantic position with your panda disguise. You leave your eyes closed and let the dream continue a little longer while you are still half-asleep...you picture the panda's bushy tail as her shoulder as you squeeze it reassuringly. You imagine the panda's fur as a warm winter coat you slip over her shoulders like a gentleman. You are laughing demonically (*happily*) but some whiskey apparently found its way into your system, and you vomit over your elder sister substitute. A proud Russian man can always hold his vodka, but throw a little whiskey into the mix, and you know you're in for a hell of a hangover. You hold your aching head and stand up to see the mess you made.

Looking sorrowfully at the ruined panda suit, you slip your water pipe under your coat (because it just wouldn't feel right otherwise), throw her crusty, foul-smelling scarf around your neck, and set off into the blizzard. Because you just remembered proud Russian men always seek closure.

(A/N: DEAR HIMARUYA: HOW DO YOU RUSSIA. HOW. DO. YOU. RUSSIA. (Raegface-ing destroys grammar, quite apparently.) But, um, if you could kindly ignore that this surreal yet cheesy chapter exists, that'd be great! :D Though I do think the childhood of the Slavic siblings is the cutest thing ever. There needs to be more childhood fics of the three of them, I swear! Because of that, the memories were fun to write, though I'm really not sure how they turned out except RUSSIA Y U NO BE IN CHARACTER.

Yeah, sorry Ukraine, you were sort of shafted as Russia got center-stage in this one. If I ever write a drabble of you with someone else, I'll try to center you more! (Aaaand now I'm talking to fictional characters and apologizing for not using them enough in my fanficton. I'm sane.)

ANYHOODLES (oh god even when I'm in a rush I ramble so much). I made some sort of announcement last chapter about pairing requesting, but I'm kind of lazy and pressed for time, so, uh...if you're interested in requesting a pairing, see last chapter...? I'M SORRY. And as a quick note, next chapter I'm hoping will be either AmeBela or AmeViet, but I'm not sure which, so if you have a preference, please leave a review about it!

Thanks for reading! Please review!)