Alfred groaned. His head hurt. Shit, how much did I drink last night? He couldn't remember a thing. "Ow," he said aloud, reaching up to feel his forehead. There was a bandage there.

"Good morning, my dear." Alfred's eyes flew open and he sat up so quickly he bashed his head against the top of the bunk. There was another explosion of pain. He collapsed, but stayed conscious.

"Owowowowowyoubastardowowow…" Ivan sighed. He stood and walked to the small kitchenette in the trailer.

"Would you like some coffee, my dear? There was a… ah…" He tried to remember the name of the place. "Coffee shop." He couldn't. "There was a coffee shop nearby. I bought some coffee." Picking up the two cups of coffee, he walked over to Alfred's bed.

"No. You probably poisoned it or something—!" He was interrupted by Ivan shoving his hand into his mouth.

"Нет. Why would I poison you, my dear America?"he hissed. His fingers stopped moving inside Alfred's mouth and slipped out—reluctantly—and traced down to his chin. "Drink it. I will not have you sitting in bed for a week." He pushed Alfred's face towards the coffee cup. The younger nation wanted to struggle, but for some reason, the way that Ivan's fingers felt on his skin… in his mouth… With only a little moan of protest, he wrapped his lips around the edge of the cup and drank. It tasted… odd… There was a strange fiery taste behind the bitterness of the coffee. The headache was beginning to go away. After another few gulps, it was completely gone, and the old pain in his shoulder was following. He grabbed the cup from Ivan and quaffed it down.

"What's in this?" he asked, amazed at the healing qualities. Not only that, he was feeling as rejuvenated as if he'd had just a regular cup of coffee.

"Some of my vodka." Alfred dropped the empty cup and gave it a distrustful glare.

"Your vodka can—heal?"

"Да. Any vodka from my people can heal me, but to affect other countries in that way, I have to have…touched it. Otherwise, they will be affected as by any alcoholic beverage." Ivan smiled. "Well, not any—it is vodka, after all." Ivan sat on the bunk across from Alfred, sipping from his cup of vodka-laced coffee. He went quiet, examining Alfred with his bright purple eyes.

After several heartbeats of painful silence, America asked, "Did something happen? You… you look worried." Ivan started, as if broken from a trance.

"Hmm? Oh, да, Prussia appeared. He had snuck into Italy's luggage."

"I thought you liked Prussia."

Ivan didn't respond. Alfred frowned. Finally, Ivan said, "I had him stay in your brother's trailer." Suddenly, he seemed to notice Alfred's confusion. He leaned forward, and whispered, smiling, "I didn't want any distractions."

Shit, shit, shit,… Damnit… Fuckin' commie bastard! Of course! HE STILL LOVES ME! Alfred picked up the cup on the ground and threw it at Ivan. "You bastard!" he shouted. "Why? Have you forgotten what's happened since then?" His voice dropped to an angry whisper. "Have you forgotten what I told you when the Union appeared?"

Ivan's eyes blazed with anger. "Нет, but just because my government has changed does not mean my heart has changed!" He leaned even closer, the cup crumpling in his hand. "Have you forgotten our promises to each other, my dear?" he spat.

"No! But those promises were made when I believed you were not the monster you are now, Soviet Russia!" The superpower snapped. He leapt forward, face filled with rage.

"The Union is not the monster! It was never a monster! It was all Stalin's Terror! It was all his fault! The tsar's fault! Volodya never had this in mind! I am not a monster! I! Am not! A MONSTER!" he screamed in Russian into Alfred's face. His hands found his enemy's throat and began squeezing, crushing. He wanted to hurt, he needed to hurt something. He felt something running hot down his face and realized there were tears of rage flowing from his eyes. Alfred's face was reddening. He was crying, Ivan realized, crying from fear and pain.

"I—Ivan—stoppit—," he choked. "D—don't—k-kill—," At the pained little noises, and the use of his name, Ivan removed his hands. Alfred sucked in as much air as he could, gasping for breath. Ivan looked down at his former boyfriend. He bent down and brushed aside a lock of gold hair, kissing him on his bandaged forehead. Alfred's breath caught in his throat at the touch.

"My dear…" Ivan murmured. His arms wrapped around Alfred's shoulders. "…I am sorry…"