I know I should be writing "Play on, Hetalia" now, but I really had a lot of inspiration for this chapter, so…here it is!

To explain some confusion, Russia is very delirious in this chapter, and he hallucinates/dreams that he's back in Leningrad moments before the nuclear bomb falls. That part will be in italics. Also, Leningrad = St. Petersburg. There will be some historical notes at the end, if you're still confused. :)

And now I'll answer the guest review! I'm so sorry that I haven't been answering these at all… :)

Guest: You're welcome! Yep, poor Toris and the other Baltics. They suffer a lot in my stories, it seems. :) Yeah, I guess Estonia was pretty analytical in that chapter. And Latvia really is oblivious. :) Anyways, I'm so glad you think my story is interesting! That makes me feel really happy. Thank you for all your nice reviews!

Tears streamed down Lithuania's face as he bent down over Russia, wiping up the blood and pus that trickled down the tall man's leg. The Russian's blisters had popped, creating a nasty, bloody liquid that smelled sick and rotten. Lithuania could do nothing but hold his breath and weep silently as he sponged up the blood with the only cloth he had: his own shirt.

The exhausted nation shakily stood up to wring out his shirt, moving deliberately so not to bother the half-conscious Russian. Black spots distorted his vision as he stood, and the Lithuanian swayed dizzily, reaching out for anything that could help him keep his balance. His legs quaked. The faint light from the flashlight seemed to dim even more, and objects began to fade from his vision.

Was he about to pass out? What...when was the last time he'd eaten? Images of his noon lunch swam in his vision: burnt borscht made by Latvia that he'd barely touched. Oh no… He swayed again, cold sweat pouring down his forehead.

If he passed out, what would happen to him? Would anyone know to come over and help? Latvia was probably sleeping, and Estonia couldn't come over because Russia - oh no. What would Russia do to him?

He couldn't pass out, he just couldn't! Trembling violently, Lithuania forced himself to take deep breaths. The metallic scent of blood immediately filled his nose, and he gagged. No, you can't throw up, either! Woozily, he lowered himself down to the ground where he put his head between his knees. Maybe this would help…

After a few moments of trying to calm his nervous breathing, the dizzy feeling gradually faded, and Lithuania didn't feel as much like he was going to throw up anymore. He slowly lifted his head back up and let out a quavering sigh, hands worriedly pressed to his empty stomach. Just because he had stopped himself from fainting this one time didn't mean that it could happen again.

Russia's arm moved abruptly in his peripheral vision, and Lithuania's eyes flashed fearfully towards the Russian's bloody body, his sweaty face, his flushed cheeks...

Something was seriously wrong. With a trembling hand, Lithuania reached out to touch the Russian's forehead. It was burning hot. He moved away in a panic, heart pounding. The evidence was undeniable.

Russia...had a fever. And when a nation has a fever, it means something horrible has just happened.

Chills shook the Russian, and he shivered, trying in vain to soak up any warmth from his long, thick coat. He stared up with bleary eyes at his ever-faithful Lithuania, trying to get across the message that he was still in severe, biting pain...and that he was really, really, cold! He could feel the goosebumps popping up on his arms and legs, battling with his burn marks and blisters for space.

Please help me, Lithuania~! I'm hurt, and scared, and cold, and-

And then, he felt burning hot, hotter than he ever had been before. His brow dripped sweat into his eyes, and the Russian, all wrapped up tightly in his coat, was in agony. He tried to move, to get away from this oppressing piece of clothing, but...he couldn't!

He couldn't move. With that realization, his eyes opened wide and darted towards Lithuania. What's going on? Why...what's wrong with me?

And then, right in front of his eyes, the room disintegrated around him.

A surge of cold hit Russia immediately, and he quickly shielded his face against the rushing wind and snow with his arm. He stood like that for a moment, shivering, then he opened his eyes.

He was standing on a street in Leningrad.

Russia gaped in surprise. How in the world did he get here? And...how was he able to move again? He stretched an arm experimentally, then his legs. To his astonishment, they all worked perfectly. And to make it even stranger, his injuries and pain had vanished, too!

Confused, Russia slowly wandered over to a small bakery. He was hungry for the first time in hours, so he thought he might as well eat now. As was often the Soviet norm, a long line of exhausted people stretched out of the store, and Russia joined the line, marveling at how normal the world seemed. Hadn't there just been a nuclear explosion?

A young teen with untidy blond hair stood ahead of him in line. He wore the usual Soviet schoolboy uniform, a dark blue suit and tie, and when Russia approached, he turned around with fear in his light violet eyes.

"Zdravstvuyte," said Russia, smiling at the boy. Hello.

The boy, legs quaking slightly, nodded his reply, and Russia surveyed the other ten or so people in the line, mostly just women bundled up in layers of clothing. A woman walked out of the store with a small loaf of bread in her hand, and the line moved up a bit.

Bored, Russia's eyes moved back to the boy. He was just standing there, trembling, a small string bag clutched in his hand. The boy looked awfully familiar for some reason, and kind of reminded Russia of someone he knew...but who? He ran through a list of names in his head, trying to match any of them up with this face.

And that's when the sirens began to blare. The people in the line looked at each other in shock, then one of them screamed, "Quick! Get inside the store!"

There was a mad rush towards the bakery as every person out on the street scrambled for safety. Russia just stood there in confusion, watching everyone run. He caught snippets of sentences like "nuclear bomb", "run", and "fallout shelter", but when he tried to move, he couldn't. Why couldn't he move?

The boy started to run, then tripped over a woman's foot, falling hard onto the frozen sidewalk. Tears filled his eyes, and he looked back at Russia helplessly. Russia tried in vain to reach an arm out to help the boy, but it wouldn't budge. All he could do was stand there and watch a small shadow in the sky that was getting bigger and bigger and bigger…

There was a blinding flash, then a mix of fire, noise, and heat. The sky itself seemed to catch on fire, and Russia was blown backwards like a leaf onto his back. Looking up in horror, he managed to just roll out of the way before the bakery collapsed, rubble falling everywhere.

People screamed. A woman vanished, leaving an ashen shadow burned onto a half-collapsed wall in her place. People's clothing and skin sizzled in a fiery inferno, and barely recognizable bodies littered the ground.

A scream came from under a mass of dead bodies, and Russia's eyes moved toward the sound. He only caught one glimpse of the violet-eyed boy before the whole street erupted in flames…

And right before everything turned black, Russia realized who the boy reminded him of:

Latvia.

Russia thrashed about on the ground in the fallout shelter, eyes rolled up into his head. "Nyet!" he screeched, sweat pouring down his face. "Nyeeet!"

Lithuania stumbled unsteadily away from the screaming Russian, head fuzzy with dizziness. Russia is delirious, he told himself, and I have to do something! Wiping his sweaty palms on his pants, the Lithuanian took a deep, shuddering breath.

He would have to get help, or else Russia wouldn't survive.

Hehe, this was a pretty intense chapter! (Of course, this whole story is intense, but anyways…) So to explain more, Russia was hallucinating that he was in Leningrad because his fever was so high. There also was some foreshadowing...but the thing that I foreshadowed isn't going to happen for a while in the story. :)

So why does Russia have a fever? You'll find out in a chapter or two!

Translations:

Zdravstvuyte: Hello (Russian)

Nyet: No (Russian)

Historical Notes

St. Petersburg is called Leningrad because, firstly, the Russians renamed the city Petrograd during WWI because St. Petersburg sounded too German, and the Germans were the enemy then. They changed it to Leningrad in 1924 to honor Lenin.

From time to time in the Soviet Union, lines of people sometimes stretched out of stores. This generally happened when the Soviet collective system of agriculture was doing badly; the system was meticulously planned out without much leeway for bad weather or the land's producing capabilities, so items were sometimes out of stock. If you wanted certain types of food during one of these times, you would have to line up at a store early in the morning and wait in long lines. [EDIT: Thanks to 47Zhou-Yu74 for pointing out the inaccuracies in this historical note. They are now fixed.] :)

Stores didn't supply bags, so you would have to bring your own bag with you. That's why the boy who looked like Latvia had a string bag with him.

I got most of my information from the website "englishrussia dot com", from an article called "Soviet Reality That Seems Never Existed." That article has pictures of Soviet stores and school uniforms, and it might help you visualize this chapter better. :)

Please don't forget to review!