I figured I ought to post this before finals week kicks in and steals my free time.

---

After dinner and tea the Baltics began cleaning up while Russia moved to living room, bottle of vodka in hand, and put on a vinyl record of the Soviet Army Band and Chorus. Lithuania could hear the music clearly in the kitchen, and was again struck by how depressing it was, songs about dying in war and widowed mothers and giving your everything for the good of the People…

They were just finishing up when the music stopped and Russia came back to the kitchen, empty bottle in hand. He thrust the bottle at Latvia in passing, who nearly dropped it, and continued to the counter, where one of the unopened bottles from dinner stood. He grabbed it, and turned to his three countries.

"You're finished cleaning, da? To bed with you," he said, waving at hand at them. They moved to leave, and Russia stopped Lithuania. "Not you. Come with me," he said, flicking a finger against his throat. An invitation to drink. Except from Russia, it was never an invitation.

Liet's heart sank; Estonia and Latvia shot him apologetic looks as they went to their rooms. Resigned, the remaining nation followed Russia back to the living room.

"Put on the Pyatnitski Chorus," Russia ordered, retrieving two shot glasses from the liquor cabinet. Lithuania did so, carefully positioning the needle of the record player, trying to keep a tight hold on his rising fear. Russia sat heavily on the sofa, gesturing for Lithuania to join him; as soon as Liet was within reach Russia's hand shot out and grabbed him by the wrist, pulling him sharply forward. He fell onto the sofa and immediately whirled to face Russia, his heart in his throat, but the huge nation made no further move towards him, pouring two drinks. He held one out expectantly and Lithuania cautiously took it, hand trembling.

"To Germany's downfall; may he fail miserably in all his endeavors," Russia said quietly, tapping his glass to Lithuania's before tossing it back.

Lithuania blinked, then took his shot as well, shuddering from the burn as he felt the fluid settle warmly into his stomach. God, why did Russia have to drink so damn much?

Russia sighed, filling his glass again. "Do you know what Germany is doing?" he asked lightly, eyes on his vodka.

"No," Lithuania answered, handing over his glass when the other country held out his hand. Well, aside from the war, but he suspected that wasn't what they were talking about.

"His boss, is crazy you know. Bitter over the Treaty of Versailles," Russia handed back the glass, full to the brim. "He wants to take over the world."

And you don't? Lithuania thought, but wisely kept silent. "What's wrong with Poland?"

Russia chuckled, then took another shot, exhaling loudly. "His people are hurting. So, he hurts." The huge nation shrugged. "It happens."

"You said Germany wasn't feeding him," Lithuania pressed. Russia didn't answer, only nodding towards the still full glass. Ah, so that's how this game would work. Russia had answers, and wasn't going to give them up unless Lithuania went along with his requests. This would predictably result in Lithuania becoming absolutely drunk, and thus horribly vulnerable. But simply being here made him vulnerable, and he had to know. He emptied the glass quickly, wordlessly demanding an answer.

Russia smiled slightly, approving. "Da. Germany gives Poland only enough to keep him alive, and his people even less."

"Why?" Liet wondered aloud. Immediately Russia poured him another glass. Suppressing a scowl, Liet drank that one too.

"Because mass executions frighten people. And lessen the number of potential workers. So, put them in factories and don't feed them enough, and they will work themselves to death." Russia shrugged, topping off both their glasses. "Effective, and does not waste bullets." He tilted his shot at Liet in salute before downing it.

Lithuania sat stiffly, gaze glued to the man across from him. Effective? Doesn't waste bullets? Did Russia just not care?

The huge nation noticed his revulsion. "Do not look at me like that, Lithuania. I feed Poland," he said.

"But you won't help him," Liet pointed out bitterly, tossing back his shot with a grimace. He was drunk, he realized abruptly. First the vodka from dinner, now this? Too much.

Russia just smiled at him. "Germany and I have an agreement; you remember our trip to his house last year, da? A nonaggression pact between us."

"Yes, and you focused all that aggression at Poland instead," Liet snapped. The intelligent part of his brain, the part apparently wired for survival, was telling him that he needed to get the hell away from Russia before he said something he'd really regret, but he didn't move. "And then you decided that you could just waltz in and take me over, and my brothers, despite the fact that do so is an act of illegal war aggression and—mmph!"

Russia pressed a hand over Lithuania's mouth, pushing him down onto the sofa, smiling gently. "Hush now, Liet," he crooned, but Lithuania jerked his head away.

"Don't call me that!" he shouted angrily. That was only Poland's nickname for him!

Calmly, Russia drew back a fist and punched him; Lithuania's head snapped to the other side. Shocked into silence, he looked back to the Arctic country, and his eyes met cruel violet ones that chilled him to the bone.

Even through the vodka-induced haze he knew he had gone too far. When Russia leaned down, still smiling sweetly, Lithuania shut his eyes and turned his face aside, steeling himself for the worst.

A scream of terror rent the air and both countries froze. Russia sat back, listening thoughtfully, and Lithuania felt a flash of relief even as he wondered who the hell was—

"Noo! Please, stop! Nooo!"

Lithuania's eyes widened. Was that…?

"Ah, is Poland again," Russia grumbled, a touch of annoyance in his voice. "Go quiet him down, would you?" he said, flopping backwards to the other side of the couch, grabbing the vodka and taking a swig. He brandished the bottle towards the stairs as another blood-curdling scream broke the night. "He's too noisy…"

Lithuania clambered off the sofa, counting his blessings for the unexpected escape.

"And Lithuania?" The Baltic skid to a halt at the doorway, turning back to look at the childish nation sprawled over the couch, cheeks flush. "Keep him quiet," Russia stated, the vaguest hint of a slur in his speech. "Or I will."

Liet nodded quickly and dashed up the stairs towards the screams, wondering what had gotten into Poland. He found Estonia and Latvia pacing, agitated, by Poland's door, uncertain of what they should do. They relaxed slightly when they saw it was Lithuania rather than Russia.

"What's wrong with him?" Latvia asked, wringing his hands nervously.

"I don't know," Lithuania responded swiftly, opening the door and going in.

Poland was lying in bed tangled up in the sheets; as Liet approached, the blond flailed, nearly throwing himself off the bed in the process.

"No, please stop, stop; it hurts," he whimpered. Lithuania gaped; he was dreaming?

The nightmaring country shrieked as if shot, digging his heel in, his back arching off the bed. Remembering Russia's promise, Lithuania rushed to the bedside and grabbed his friend by the shoulders, hoping to shake him awake. Immediately Poland screamed—Liet flinched—hands scrambling for his wrists, trying to twist out of his grasp.

"Poland, wake up!" Lithuania said fanatically, shaking him roughly. "Please, Poland, before Russia comes!"

"No, please, don't hurt me, I can't- I can't- You're killing them; stop it!" Poland's terrified cries unnerved him, brought horror and a sense of being trapped creeping over him. Lithuania shook him fiercely, to no avail, and then, biting his lip in reluctance, struck Poland hard across the face.

Poland gasped, eyes snapping open. His gaze focused on Lithuania, the concern and unease in his eyes, and Poland sat up trembling, tears rolling down his face.

"Oh Poland…" Lithuania murmured and at that the frightened country sobbed, burying his face into Lithuania's chest. Wordlessly Liet held him, stroking his hair and lightly rubbing his back until Poland calmed down, catching his breath in great shudders. When Liet tried to step away Poland clung to him desperately, so he wriggled in under the covers and curled up next to him. Gradually Poland's breathing deepened and evened out, and Lithuania stared up at the darkened ceiling, wondering what they did to deserve this life.

--

They adjusted, as always. Poland threw up twice more during meals, prompting Russia to restrict the amount of food served to everyone ('all things are being shared, da? Is our way') until Poland was able to eat a full meal without being sick. Then Russia gradually increased the food until they had full meals again, and the emancipated nation began putting on weight, the hollow lines in his face filling out and making him look human once more, rather than a gaunt shadow of himself.

But shadows still chased around the hollows of his eyes. Lithuania found himself running to quiet Poland's nightmarish screaming nearly every night, and he quickly came to the conclusion that spending the nights in Poland's room was better than risking a run-in with Russia in the hallway, trying to reaching the panicking country before he did. The Baltic wished there was something he could do for Poland, but the blonde avoided any sly mention as to the contents of his horror-filled dreams, leaving Lithuania to speculate on what exactly had his friend shrieking terror in the dead of night.

The boy's waking demeanor had changed as well. He was quiet—not as quiet as he had been when Germany had dropped him off, but quieter than Lithuania ever remembered him. He was especially quiet when Russia was around. Still, Poland found a way to move under the heaviness of whatever was triggering the nightmares.

They had finished chores (well, the Baltics had finished chores; Poland's habit of slacking off hadn't changed) and were relaxing in the precious spare hours between the end of chores and Russia's return in the evening. Estonia was tucked into an armchair, reading; Latvia had the radio on very softly; and Poland and Lithuania were seated on the floor, chessboard between them. It brought back memories…

The front door opened and the Baltics froze, listening, trying to determine Russia's mood by sound alone. He appeared in the doorway a moment later, exhaustion ghosting over his features, but upon seeing 'his' countries, he broke into a wide grin.

"Ah, I'm glad to see you enjoying yourselves," he said happily before heading off towards the kitchen, apparently satisfied with his check-up on them.

Liet sighed softly. It was like having an overprotective homicidal father… He turned back to the game, frowning at the chessboard. Poland had improved not one whit since they last lived together, and if past experiences were any indication, the blonde would become bored with the game within the next half hour. Maybe if he was lucky he could wrap up the match before that. He shifted his knight, placing it beside a pawn, and considered his strategy.

From the direction of the kitchen, glass shattered. Lithuania paused, and heard Russia's footsteps; he reappeared at the door, his expression decidedly fixed in a smile.

"Estonia! Latvia!" he said firmly, and the two nations were out of their seats and to him immediately, a faint tremble just barely visible. Russia grabbed Estonia's wrist—he flinched noticeably—and pressed several crumpled rubles into his hand.

"Go to the store and bring back as much vodka as you can carry," he instructed amiably. Lithuania's heart sank. Please let this not be about a party.

Russia watched the two duck past and leave; when the door shut, his cold eyes slid back to the remaining countries, and suddenly the Baltic knew this was not about a party at all.

A sense of foreboding fell over him as he climbed to his feet, Poland mirroring him. Russia walked over to them, his movements precise.

"A funny thing just happened now. Do you know what it was?" he queried.

Lithuania stayed perfectly quiet. Russia was in that dangerous state, that terrifying stillness Liet knew heralded a violent outburst, and he'd be damned if he would draw attention to himself.

"I went to have a drink, but my open bottle had changed to water," the Arctic nation said calmly. "All of my bottles, in fact. One had this note." He held up a small scrap of paper on which was scrawled, in broken Russian, 'water's better for you anyways'.

Lithuania stared. He recognized that handwriting. But how…? When did he have time? During chores?

"Do either of you have anything to say to this?" Russia asked pleasantly, glancing between them.

Poland mumbled something under his breath and Liet choked back a gasp.

"Chto eto, Polshka?" Russia inquired sweetly.

Oh please, Poland, for the love of god, don't repeat—

Poland looked up, answering loudly, "I said, serves you right, you stupid drunk."

Russia was on him in an instant, knocking him backwards into a side table—Poland crying out in pain as his head collided with the corner—and onto the ground, pinning the smaller nation as he proceeded to pummel him. Lithuania grabbed his arm—"No, Russia, stop!"—but the huge country shook him off roughly, sending him stumbling onto the chessboard. Desperate to help his friend, Lithuania tackled Russia, the force of his lunge carrying them both off the blonde.

Russia twisted, slamming Liet into the floor with enough force to momentarily stun him, and followed up with a short quick punch to the gut. The wind rushed out of him and he groaned, curling up in agony, but Russia had him by the back of his collar and hauled him to his feet. Lithuania caught a glimpse of Poland, already bleeding from the nose and lips, lying dazed on the ground; then Russia dragged Liet bodily from of the room.

Wrenching open a closet, Russia shoved Lithuania in and slammed the door, cutting off the light. Ignoring the pain in his stomach, the bruised country threw his weight into the door; it didn't budge.

"Let me out!" he shouted, rattling the door knob.

"Hush, Lithuania," he heard Russia coo quietly from the other side. "I'll let you out once I finish teaching Poland not to touch other people's things."

Fear seized him. "Poland, run!" he screamed in the boy's native tongue, pounding on the door. Russia erupted into laughter. "Get up and run!"

"Running never helped anyone," the crazed nation sing-songed as he walked away. A moment later there was a cry of pain, which quickly morphed into agonized shrieks.

"Ah, no! Noo! Nn, ah-… St- Stop it!! Agh! Liet! Liet!!"

The trapped country fell to his knees in the dark, hands clasped over his ears, sobbing uncontrollably.

--

It was not the only incident.

"Latvia, have you seen Poland?" Liet asked as he finished washing the lunch dishes.

From the shorter country's place on the step-stool, he was taller than his older brother. "I don't know," he answered without turning around, putting away a cup. Liet thought he caught an undercurrent of… something there, but he couldn't be sure.

Lithuania left the kitchen, looking for the blond. After his stunt a month ago, Liet had been wary about letting Poland out of his sight for extended periods of time. Not that he thought Poland would really try something like that again, not when some of the bruises were just finally fading, but he'd rather be safe than sorry.

He paused on the stairs, glancing back towards the door where everyone's shoes were lined up like scuffy soldiers. Russia's were missing—he had been gone since yesterday—and so were Poland's.

Frowning, Lithuania grabbed his coat and scarf, pulling on his boots and bundling up to face the bitterly cold winter outside. He opened the door and sucked in a gasp of freezing air, coughing as his body complained about the sudden temperature difference. The sunlight reflecting of the snow was blinding, and he had to wait a full minute for his eyes to stop watering. Blinking away tears, he saw Poland's form crouched by the gate.

"Poland? What are you doing out here?" Lithuania called, carefully stepping down an icy porch step.

Poland jumped, slipped, and fell squarely on his arse with a small yelp. Liet laughed, and was cut off sharply by a well-placed snowball.

"Poland!" Lithuania gasped as snow somehow fell between his scarf and his skin. He quickly gathered up a snowball, compacting it as a second projectile landed inches away; he lobbed the makeshift shell at the blond and managed to take his hat off.

Poland shrieked happily and ducked behind the fence, rapidly making snowballs. Liet glanced about quickly and realized he was caught in the open; there was no decent defensive structure on this side of the fence. He leapt off of the porch and landed in a deep snow drift, running to the evergreen shrubs that lined the house-side of the fence, his speed hampered by the snow cover. From his position a few feet down, Poland launched a barrage over the fence, half landing wide. Lithuania grabbed the snowballs that landed closest, throwing them back quickly, before jumping to his feet and charging Poland's position. Poland saw the advance and pummeled him with snowballs, but Lithuania continued his rush near-blind and tackled him into a snow bank.

They laughed as snow fell over them, hiding them from the world. It felt so familiar, the camaraderie, the easy laughter. For a moment, buried in the snow together, their breath billowing out like white clouds between them, Lithuania could almost pretend that they were home, back when they were one land.

Lithuania sat up, shaking the snow off himself. "That was fun," he said smiling, sweating under his layers of clothes despite the extreme cold. Poland grinned, propping himself up on the snow bank.

"You like, totally have to make me hot chocolate now," he ordered.

Lithuania laughed. "I don't even know if we have cocoa po—" he broke off, a shocked stared fixed a few feet past Poland.

A few feet away next to the fence stood a truly impressive collection of empty vodka bottles, and affixed to the fence behind them was a sign which read, 'This is what a problem looks like'.

"Poland! What are you doing?!" Lithuania demanded, wrenching his eyes away.

Said country slouched deeper into the snow. "Just making a point," he muttered sullenly.

"You're going to get yourself killed!" He didn't understand; was Poland trying to get beaten up? "Poland, why do you keep doing things like this?"

"I'm not going to sit here and do nothing!" Poland shouted in his native tongue. "You don't know what it's like, shunted between the two of them like they own me! I'm my own person! I have just as much a right to freedom as everyone else! But then they step in and try to destroy everything that makes me unique, my language, my history, my people! I won't let them!"

"But Poland," Lithuania tried to reason with him, "little things like that won't change anything; it'll just—"

"I have to try!" Poland yelled, his voice breaking. "I have to try, Liet. How can my people have hope with nothing to give them hope? I have to try. I have to. Like, no matter what happens."

Lithuania sighed softly. "Poland, I—"

But the sadness had bled out of Poland's face, to be replaced by resignation as he stared over Lithuania's shoulder. Swallowing thickly as dread settled over him, the Baltic looked back.

Russia stood just out into the street, Vintovka rifle in hand, blood stains splattered over his uniform, gazing at the sign on the fence. For a moment, no one moved.

"Run," Liet whispered quietly. Poland remained frozen.

Russia's violet eyes flicked over to where they sat.

"Run," Lithuania repeated, louder. "Poland, run!" He scrambled to his feet, dragging Poland off the ground as they staggered into the yard. Lithuania risked a glance over his shoulder and felt his heart stop—Russia lifting the rifle to bear, lining up his shot—

Poland stumbled, yanking Liet down with him; the shot rang over head and ricocheted off the house. Lithuania focused his attention on the door, half dragging Poland with him as the blond regained his balance; another shot exploded in the snow just ahead of them—Russia's aim was better than that, was he just toying with them? Liet ran for the steps, practically falling into the house as he opened the door. Poland dove inside a heartbeat after him as a bullet shattered the porch light, and they slammed the door shut.

"Go hide, Poland, quickly—Wait! Take off your boots; you'll leave a water trail."

Poland struggled to kick off his boots as Lithuania pulled off his scarf and coat; he gave him a little shove down the hallway, whispering. "I'll hold him as long as I can—"

"I won't run from him!"

"Please, Poland, just go!"

Poland gave him a look Lithuania couldn't quite decipher before darting into the living room, past the two Baltics hovering there nervously, uncertain what to make of the situation. Liet turned back to the door, intent on locking it, but it slammed open before he got the chance.

Lithuania started, "Russia, please, don't hurt h—" but the heavy wooden stock of the rifle collided forcefully with his skull and the world went black.

---

Throughout WWII and Soviet Russia's occupation, Poland had a large and organized resistance, the Polish Underground State (ie, a full government system), against both Nazi Germany and Soviet Russia. Poland's little stunts here are representative of that resistance. Aside from inconvinces like sabatoging railway systems and such, they pulled off larger stunts like the Czortkow Uprising in 1940.

Vocab:

Chto eto, Polshka?- What was that, Poland?

So, what do you think?