"Hey, do you hear what I'm sayin'?! We're government officials from the United States of America and Lithuania, you can't hold us here! You've got zilch authority, especially when compared to us, so let us by!" Alfred demanded, face-to-face with a checkpoint guard. They had gotten back into the city with little to no resistance, but once they got to the airport, it was another matter entirely.
"We are not permitting anyone to pass beyond this point," the guard ground out in heavily accented English, glaring at America outright.
"B-But...we really need to leave. How else are we going to get to Warsaw?" Toris wondered aloud, though it was more to himself than anyone present.
"You can walk, for all I care. Get out of my sight, гомосексуалист*!" the man spat, shoving America back and sending Lithuania a warning look.
"Do you want me to mess you up?! 'Cause you're just askin' for it, you son of a bitch!" Alfred snarled, cocking a fist at the guard threateningly.
"A-Alfred, don't! I-It's alright, I've been called worse," Toris hastily whispered into the blonde's ear, his expression stressed and full of worry. What if we can't get out of Russia? This is starting to look very bad...
"Now, now; there's no need for this to get violent," a feminine voice wafted from behind America and Lithuania, drawing everyone's attention to its speaker.
"Comrade Orlov! I...I did not know you were coming," the guard stammered out, giving the approaching woman a salute.
"Of course you were not aware of my coming here, you were not informed; it was not necessary that you know," the woman purred, moving gracefully in front of the two foreigners as they turned around to properly face her. "Vanya, are you knowing these...government officials?" she asked, glancing coyly over her shoulder to the person standing just a bit in back of her.
"Da...Representatives of America and Lithuania," an eerily familiar voice drawled out, amethyst eyes wandering over the country personifications lazily.
America couldn't help the sharp intake of breath as he looked the newcomer over, his teeth grinding in anger. He looks exactly like Russia..., Alfred thought, sizing up the new communist country should things become physical. I'll be able to hold my own against him, I've done it before, but I'm not too sure about Toris - not to mention little Rus, he won't stand a chance!
"May I ask your business here, gentlemen? I was not told of your arrival," the woman asked in a sweet tone, though her eyes were sharp as flint.
"They are not worth worrying about, for the moment at lea-" the other Ivan began to say in a rather smug tone, but was cut off by a sharp slap across the face from the woman.
"I will decide such things, солнышко* Vanya. Who was it that brought our wonderful Union back to life? Who was it that gathered our comrades together once again to regain our rightful place in the government, and set you back on the correct path? Who was it, my sweetling?" the woman uttered in a sickeningly sweet tone, walking the tips of her fingers up Soviet Russia's broad chest.
"You...," the other Ivan muttered out, sounding much like a petulant child that had been denied a treat because of bad behavior.
"And whom is it that leads you, my heart?" she hummed in a dark tone, her delicate hand tightly gripping the blood red scarf he wore.
"You," he replied in a small voice, a spark of fear flashing in his red-flecked purple eyes. He flinched when he felt her hand travel up to his face, thin fingers circling the red mark on his cheek like disparaging vultures.
"Good boy," the woman cooed in an overly sweet tone, patting Soviet Russia on the cheek such as one would a young child for completing a task. "Now," she began, returning her attention to America and Lithuania, her tone shifting to one more business-like, "What is it that I can help you with, gentlemen? Surely there is a reason for you coming here, no?"
America felt anger boil up in him at how this woman, who was apparently the instigator of this new communist revolution, was acting. Not only did she have the audacity - yeah, that's right; America can use a word like audacity when he wants to! - to actually hit her country, she seemed to think she personally owned him! "We came here to see the extent of the damage that your take over has caused, and to make sure that you're treating the injured and dead as they should be," Alfred bit out, sapphire blue glaring into steely grey.
"Of course. No matter if the injured disagree with our ideals, they are still Russian citizens, and they will be taken care of as best we can provide. The dead are always treated with respect, I assure you. Would it be too much to ask your names? I prefer knowing whom it is that I am speaking with," the woman said in a calm voice, matching America's fierce look with one of amusement.
"Alfred F. Jones," the sandy blonde answered begrudgingly, his fists clenching and unclenching in his loosely controlled rage.
"T-Toris Laurinaitis," the Lithuanian man stammered out, his arms tightening around the young boy that was concealed in his heavy winter jacket. T-This woman...she reminds me of Stalin..., he thought fearfully to himself, his trembling no longer caused by the cold temperatures. He glanced down when he felt the younger Russia jolt against him, tearful whimpers coming from the boy as he fisted his pudgy hands into Lithuania's green sweater.
The noise seemed to catch everyone's attention, despite how muffled it was, making Lithuania fidget and shuffle behind America somewhat.
"What was that?" the woman inquired in a genuinely curious tone, her flint eyes boring into the brunet.
Lithuania spluttered for a moment, his eyes widening in slight panic as Soviet Russia stepped closer to him. "I-It was n-nothing! J-Just a...a p-puppy that we found wandering in the streets, injured," he quickly replied, silently and frantically praying that they bought his fabrication.
"I could never tell when you were lying to me, Литва*...," Ivan breathed, a cloud of white escaping his lips before he buried the lower half of his face in the scarf he wore.
"Back off," Alfred growled, taking up a defensive stance between the Russian and Lithuanian. Just because this guy looked like the old Russia, that didn't make them the same.
"Ah...Amerikos*, did you miss me?" Ivan grinned, leaning back slightly as the Westerner took a step forward.
America frowned in confusion for a moment at what Soviet Russia said, but realization soon dawned on him. No...No, no! I got rid of him! He faded away with the USSR, when Russia regained his senses! How can he be back?! Alfred wondered in shocked anger. The purple eyes with flecks of red in them, like minuscule burning coals in a pool of amethyst stone, should have been a dead give away to America that his rival of the Cold War had returned, but America believed that he had defeated that side of Russia and didn't recognize him right away. "Soviet...You bastard, how are you still around?!" he demanded, startlingly white teeth bared like a wild animal.
Soviet Russia returned the look, though with more smugness and less of a defensive or angry feeling to the gesture. "You honestly thought that you had gotten rid of me? Tsk, tsk; how very...underestimating of you, Fedya*. Whether or not you want to admit it, I'm a part of Russia...and I always will be. Just as you will always have your Native America side, the part of you that absolutely hates all those other countries that colonized you when you were younger, Russia will always bleed Red," he remarked in a slow and decisive voice, his canine teeth clacking together as his lips curled back in a way that resembled an angered bear.
"You are the monster that lurks in the darkest corridors of Russia's being, a creature that he chained and locked away long ago. While you may be a part of Russia, you are not him. You're nothing more than a greedy, spoiled child who is so fixated on his own lust for power and gluttony of land that he cannot even comprehend what is happening around him, nor do you care about what lies are being fed to you or what truths are being twisted and whispered into your ear. You are nothing but a shadow, a mere after-image of Russia," Toris spoke up in a sudden whirl of hot emotion, his previous timidity withering in the face of his outrage.
Soviet Russia sneered at Lithuania, his eyes narrowing at the smaller man. "Is that so?" he muttered, the red flecks in his purple eyes seeming to stand out sharply in his anger.
Lithuania said nothing, but he didn't flinch away from the larger country's controlled rage, his blue eyes smoldering with righteous indignation. In the past, it had been easier to just cower away from Soviet Russia and do as he was told, but it was different now; now, Lithuania wasn't just going to stand by, powerless, as he watched Russia destroy himself utterly.
America smirked, nearly letting out a whoop at how Lithuania just told off Soviet like it was nothing. "So, are you going to clear us to leave the country diplomatically...or are we going to have to roll up our sleeves and scrap this one out?" Alfred asked, cracking his knuckles threateningly. "It's been a long while since you and me have gone at it, Soviet."
Bell-like laughter sliced through the building tension like a heated knife through butter, and the woman stepped between the two fearlessly. "You wish to leave so soon? As unfortunate as that is, we will comply with your demands, Mr. Jones. There is no need to get violent over such a trivial matter," she hummed in a velvety voice, looking America over with hooded eyes. "You may call me Vladislava Orlov. I look forward to seeing the both of you again..."
"Why did they just let us leave? It was obvious that they didn't believe a word of what we said, so why are we getting off so easily? I don't like this...," Alfred muttered, an analytical frown on his slightly tanned face. "Soviet is either being his usual arrogant self, or he's planning something...Probably gonna blow us outta the sky once we lift off..."
"No...I don't think that's it, Alfred. While Soviet Russia may be drunk with power, the woman that leads him is not. She knows what she's doing, and right now, that means showing her country off as merciful and benevolent to the rest of the world. You attract more flies with honey than vinegar, and when Soviet calls upon some of the weaker nations to join his union without any violence, they might be more inclined to accept his offer. After all, we technically trespassed here," Toris said in a contemplative tone.
"Ugh...I hate these political mind games that come around before a war," Alfred sighed in frustration, shaking his head.
Lithuania gave the blonde a melancholy smile, nearly whispering, "Ivan hated them, too..."
The statement hung heavily in the air for a moment, neither really wanting to address what had been said. The sound of snow crunching underneath their boots, in an uneven tempo, was all that could be heard in the remote area of the airport's runways, that they were currently traversing across, small flurries blowing at them and tugging at their clothes. The uneasy silence was suddenly broken by a sleepy voice asking, "What do I hate?"
Lithuania started at the small voice, unzipping his jacket so that he could shift the younger Russia into a better position in his arms. "Ah, awake already? How are you feeling, any warmer?" he asked, avoiding the boy's question. The brunet glanced up briefly to see that America was conversing with who he assumed was the pilot of the small plane they would be using to fly back into Poland, but he quickly returned his attention to Ivan.
Ivan merely hummed in answer to both inquiries, tapping his index finger against Lithuania's chest.
Lithuania couldn't help the light chuckle that escaped him, the tension that had previously stalked him like a hunting cat, since facing off with Soviet Russia, lifting. "What are you doing?" he asked in a humored tone, watching as the boy's finger paused in its continuous motion.
"I'm talking to your heart," he stated cheerfully, resuming the repetitive tapping.
"Oh, really? What's it saying?" Toris inquired, stopping a little bit away from where America was speaking with the pilot.
"That you're sad about something," Ivan answered, finally stopping his tapping to investigate how the zipper on Lithuania's jacket moved. "What's your name? You never told me, da?" he asked, looking up at the older nation's face expectantly.
"Oh...Well, I suppose I am...," Toris murmured, clearing his throat. "My name is Toris, and that's Alfred over there," he replied, gesturing to America.
"Toris...and Alfred?" Ivan repeated in an unsure tone, sounding out the unfamiliar names slowly. He paused for a minute, bringing a hand up to his left cheek and rubbing it. "Toris, my cheek hurts," he mumbled, sounding a bit on the verge of tears.
Lithuania blinked, shifting Ivan onto his hip to free up his other arm. "Here, let me look," he said, gently removing the boy's pudgy hand from his cheek. His blue eyes narrowed in confusion as he saw a fairly large bruise forming on the left side of Ivan's face, like he had been hit. How in the world did that happen? He didn't have that a while ago..., he wondered silently, feeling worry bubble up in his chest.
After going over the usual talk with the pilot, America was about to go and tell Lithuania that everything was all ready when the man pulled him into a bear hug. "Hey, whoa, easy there!" Alfred blurted out, breaking out of the human's grip.
The man looked a bit surprised at the American's strength at first, but quickly dismissed it. He started speaking rapidly in Russian, but soon switched to English when he noticed America struggling to translate his words. "You...are savior to my family. If you not wanting to leave for Poland, my family would not get out of country alive and together. Thank you," he said slowly, giving America a grateful smile.
America nodded in understanding, finally taking notice of the frightened faces that stared out of the plane's small windows at him. As the other man walked off to get the plane ready to go, America trotted over to Lithuania. "Hey, Toris, we're all set! Let's get moving; I want to be out of here before that bastard, Soviet, changes his mind," Alfred muttered, tugging impatiently at the brunet's sleeve.
"Alfred, stop pulling! Here, why don't you take Ivan and get settled in; I need to give Feliks a call so he can get someone to pick us up at the airport," Toris said, handing the boy off to America as he quickly pulled out his phone.
"Alright, but don't take too long," Alfred warned, glancing around the area with a suspicious look in his blue eyes.
Ivan frowned as the two approached the small plane, a question forming in his mind as he tugged on America's leather jacket. "What is that?" he demanded in a curious tone, pointing to the aircraft excitedly.
America glanced down at the younger Russia, having not noticed that he was awake when he took him. "Huh? That's an airplane, it flies you from place to place over long distances," he answered, reminding himself that the boy remembered nothing of the last thousand years*; he seemed to be stuck somewhere in the past, though he had retained his knowledge of English pretty well.
"Fly?" Ivan repeated doubtfully, giving the plane a wary look.
"Yeah, it's sort of complicated to explain, but it can fly. Don't worry, you'll love it," Alfred replied in a reassuring tone, clambering up the steps to the small plane. He plopped down into one of the seats near the back, setting Ivan down in the one next to him, that was closest to the window. After buckling their seat-belts, he pointed out the small window, saying, "When we take off, you can look out the window and see how everything looks from way up in the sky. It's pretty neat."
Ivan looked from the oval window to America's face, still a bit doubtful of the whole idea.
Once Lithuania got onto the plane, they took off without any further delays. They would arrive in Poland sometime in the early morning, so Lithuania had fallen into a light sleep and America had started to doze on and off. Ivan had been looking out the window, like America had told him to, when they took off, but quickly looked away when he started to feel sick at the sight of the ground shrinking below them. He curled up in his seat - or, at least as much as he could with the seat-belt restricting his movements - and tried not to become sick as the plane continued to climb higher into the dark sky.
гомосексуалист : Queers in Russian
солнышко: Dear in Russian
Литва : Lithuania in Russian
Amerikos : Stupid American in Russian slang
Fedya : Diminutive of Fyodor, which is Alfred - or, at least the closest thing to Alfred - in Russian
"The last thousand years" : I set this story in the year 3000, only because I didn't want to mess with any of the current politics in the world right now. It just seemed a lot easier - and believable - for this to be taking place way into the future instead of present day.