Hurray for chapter two! This is fun to write, but if you're reading and enjoying, please post a comment to let me know! It encourages me to keep going. ^.^
His mind was alive with strange visions and dreams. Dark figures standing over him, and whispered voices he couldn't quite make out. Nonesensical. Frightening.
He felt as tho he were adrift on the Huron, tossed about by waves, at the mercy of the wind, helpess to bring himself ashore.
It had felt like nothing at first. The same physical nothing you feel in your deepest dreams where your mind is aware, but your body is not. The fear and the tension is present in your dream-turned-nightmare, but you feel as tho you're encased in sand. You want to run and scream, but your legs wont move and your mouth is silent.
Slowly, ever so slowly, Matthew felt himself coming up. Like he had been deep underwater and he could see the waking sunlight at the surface, he swam upwards. His consciousness roused when his head burst through the dream water, and he gasped for air. His eyes fluttered open.
He was laying face down on a bed.
The bed was bare. There were no pillows, no blankets, no sheets. Only an old threadbare mattress. Matthew gazed at it's fraying material and didn't try to move his body just yet. He wasn't sure if his limbs would obey any command his brain sent them. Instead, his eyes rolled to take in as much detail of his location as he could.
He was in a small room. There was a tiny window. The walls were a dirty colour that might once have been white. Or ivory. It was hard to tell. The floor looked old and worn and had no carpet. There was no furniture, save for the bed he was laying on. There was a single lightbulb overhead, it's cord, bare and ugly, hanging from the ceiling. There were two doors. One must be a closet, Matthew guessed, the other was the way out.
The Canadian's sense of smell began to stir and he breathed in. It smelled old in here. Musty with age. There wasn't any dust at least, and that was something.
He tested his fingers. They flexed. Good. Now his toes. They wiggled. Also good.
Whatever drugs the Russian have given him were wearing off. He felt sluggish, but that would pass. A quick assessment of himself told him that nothing was permanently injured. His face hurt a bit from the blow he'd taken before, but he could feel the cut on the inside of his cheek was already healing. He wondered how badly he was bruised, but there was no mirror to check.
He put effort into rolling to his side to be more comfortable. A metalic clinking sound came with the movement and he felt something pulling with him.
He slowly pushed himself up to sit, and felt something cold brushing against his chest. He looked down.. and wondered what sort of hell he'd woken up into.
Oh God..
There was a metal collar around his neck. A linked chain hung from it and pooled on the mattress below him. It was attached to the wroght iron headboard of the bed he sat on. And.. he was naked.
Matthew covered his face in his hands. His blond curls fell over his fingers and his shoulders shook as he surpressed an involuntary laugh. The utter ridiculousness of the situation nearly overcame him. He'd been tricked into coming to Moscow a day late for the G8 summit, he'd been attacked and drugged, and now he'd woken up here in a tiny room, completely naked, chained to a bed. It wasn't funny at all, but laughing was better than crying. Giggling lessened the shock of surrealness and eased back the rising sense of panic that threatened to overtake him.
He was alive, he was mostly unharmed, and he was chained to a bed. It could have been worse, he supposed. He could have woken up in a cold dungeon, bloodied and broken and chained to a wall.
He assumed he was in Russia's house and the man himself would be walking through the door soon to.. do whatever he meant to do. Matthew had to pull himself together and think. He shook the last of the drug from his mind and brushed back his hair from his face.
What does he want from me? Canadian military secrets? Hahaha. What military secrets?
Matthew supressed another giggle. He stretched his legs and touched his bare feet to the floorboards. It was chilly. He wrapped his arms around himself and tried not to start shivering. He was bloody freaking Canada! Being naked in a chilly room should not make him shiver!
Does he want to invade? He'd have to get through Alaska first. Alfred wont let that happen.
America. There was a comforting thought. As much as he was often downright pissed off with his neighbour and brother he knew Canada's land and borders were always safe. America wouldn't let anything happen to him. Maybe because he cared, but mostly because Alfred wouldn't let any one or anything dangerous come too close to his own borders. It was a sore spot with America that Matthew and his past bosses never bothered beefing up Canada's military and defenses. Canada didn't see the need. No one hated Canada. No one would attack the quiet, peaceful, helpful nation. No one remembered Canada enough to want to attack it. Besides.. Canada was a cold place that no one needed. For more than half the year it was ice and snow and hardship and that was most likely one of the reasons Canada was so big. No one else wanted the tundra. The same could be said for Russia.
That brought the thought into Matthew's mind that none of this made sense. It was a well known fact that Russia was completely Off His Rocker Crazy, but even he couldn't be stupid enough to think he could annex Canada without bringing down America's wrath. And why would he want to? Didn't he have enough snowy lands of his own? He wanted to own the whole arctic instead of part of it?
Matthew shook his head.
This was silly. He pushed himself up onto shaky legs. Five steps to the door, but there wasn't enough chain to reach the doorknob, even if he stretched his arm as far as he could.
Had he more time to think, he'd have guessed this room was once servants quarters. It didn't matter tho. America would be there to save him soon. Or England. Or France. Maybe even Cuba. Someone would come for him. Right?
The little Canadian tested out the length of chain. He stretched around the room to see how far he could go. He could stand in the middle of the room, just barely, with the chain pulling taut against his neck. He couldn't reach the closet or the window. He could only leave the bed by a few feet.
The collar around his neck wasn't tight enough to choke him, but there was no way he could push it over his face and ears to get it off. The clasp in front was padlocked. Maybe if he had a hammer he could bust open the little lock, but he couldn't imagine swinging a tool hard enough to do so close to his own face. No.. the only way out would be a key. And he knew who had the key...
Tugging on the chain at the other end attached to the bed did no good either. The wrought iron was old and well made and strong. He doubted if even Germany were physically strong enough to break it.
Matthew sighed and sat back down on the bed. He lay back and stared at the ceiling. At least the bed was big enough to be comfortable..
Footsteps in the hall. A key pushed in and turned the lock.
Canada sat back up and scrambled to the back of the bed.
Russia stepped into the room. He smiled when he saw the little blond was awake.
Matthew, aware of his nudity, felt his face flush with heat. He did his best to shift to a position where nothing was showing. He drew his knees up to his chest and wrapped his arms tightly around his legs. He wanted to glare and demand for Russia to release him, but humiliation kept him quiet. He pressed his forehead to his knees and let his hair fall over his face.
"Don't hide."
Matthew felt the bed sink as Russia sat down. He chanced a peek through his blond locks and saw the larger man was smiling at him. There was an expression in his eyes.. as if Russia had found himself a cute, but frightened little kitten he wanted to coax into being friendly.
A large hand brushed some of Matthew's hair back from his face, and Canada quickly slapped it away. He squirmed back on the bed as best he could to get beyond the Russian's reach. Russia only chuckled. His reach was long enough to touch Matthew no matter how far back he went.
"It's alright, Matvey. I wont hurt you."
Canada clenched his fists and grit his teeth. What a liar!
"You punched me before!" He glared at the Russian.
Russia nodded.
"Da, I did. I'm sorry. I could not think how else to bring you here."
"You need to give me back my clothes and let me go." Matthew wanted to add before my big brother comes to kick your ass, but he didn't think mentioning America would help his case.
Russia shook his head. A cheerful, friendly smile lit his features. Even without his glasses Matthew couldn't help but notice how handsome the large man was. He'd never seen Russia up close before. He, like almost every other nation, tended to keep his distance.
"Matvey is staying here. I am keeping you."
Matthew blinked slowly, wondering if he was still drugged and this was all some sort of crazy dream.
"Keeping.. me?"
"Da." Russia smiled, "I have wanted Canada for my own for long time. Now I have him."
Matthew remembered the words that had echoed over and over in his mind after he'd been drugged and was passing out on the table.
"I've been waiting to have you, little Matvey. And now you're all mine."
Russia reached to pet Matthew's hair again, but the little blond swatted his hand away once more.
"They'll come looking for me!" He threatened, pulling his knees more tightly against his chest.
"Who will look for you?" Russia tilted his head, and a mocking expression came over his face. "Who remembers Matvey? No one did at the meeting."
To this, Matthew had nothing to say. He felt his heart sinking. A familiar pain took hold in his chest. The same ache that dug into him every time he attended a meeting and was ignored. Every time he attended a party and was forgotten. Every time he tried to do business with another nation and he had to explain, over and over, who he was.
No one remembered him. No one cared. Anyone who did see him thought he was America and yelled at him or beat him up. America himself sometimes remembered him long enough to make fun of him.. or demand something of him.. like free trade and lumber.
No one noticed I wasn't there at the meeting..
He shouldn't have been surprised by that. And it shouldn't hurt. Hadn't he spent decades telling himself that it didn't hurt? It didn't matter. He had himself, and he had his little polar bear. He had his huge expanse of land to wander in, and he had his people. His people loved him. They celebrated him every July first. But..
But..
I've been so lonely.
Humans and polar bears were wonderful but..
I'm so.. alone..
Matthew bit his lip. He focused on an especially frayed spot on the mattress. Russia was right. No one would notice he was missing. No one would notice he wasn't there. No one would come looking for him.
Russia suddenly grabbed the chain at his neck and pulled him forward. Matthew yelped, so surprised he didn't have time to prevent himself from sprawling haphazzardly into the larger mans lap. Russia's arms wrapped tightly around him.
"I will take good care of my little Matvey. I will never forget him."
Matthew's face went as red as his maple leaves in Fall. He struggled furiously to get out of Russia's grasp. The Russian chuckled and let him go, and the little blond scrambled back on the bed, angry and embarassed and trembling. He glared daggers at Russia.
The Russian smiled, cheerful as he stood and walked to the door.
"I will let you rest for now, ok? I will come back later with your dinner."
I wont eat anything! It's probably all drugged anyway.. Matthew wanted to growl and bare his teeth at Russia just like his polar bear would. But all he could do was glower and glare and glow red with shame.
The Russian turned to go, then stopped as tho he'd remembered something.
"Oh!" He smiled again at Canada. "My name is Ivan. Or Vanya. Whichever you decide to call me."
Matthew could think of a thousand things to call Russia, and none of them were as nice as his name.
Ivan.. Vanya.. I like Vanya better.
Matthew huffed and turned his face away. Ivan chuckled and left the naked little blond to himself in the room, shutting the door behind him.