Find out who's alive and who's not-so-alive. Oh, and why Romano had been missing from the country when the Uprising happened. A drama-llama chapter, get ready, hurr

Warning: Angst, several character deaths, drama, mention of rape and death by fire.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Death Count

Alfred was looking at Ivan with a devious smirk on his face. Oh, he wanted to hear what Ivan had to say. That's why he put him on the spot. He wasn't cruel or anything, are you kidding… he was the hero!

But the bastard deserved it.

Ivan stared at him evenly before he began. "Da, I will begin." He made sure to keep his face blank as he continued, not wanting Alfred to get the reaction he wanted. "The Baltics had to go back to their own countries after visiting me purely for political reasons to settle the various issues rising there and so did my two sisters, so I was alone and rightly had my own problems to attend to. However, I could not contact any of them for months. Naturally, I was quite worried. I didn't want the Baltics or anyone else to think they were entirely out of my grasp, despite the discontinuance of the USSR." He smirked at Alfred while he said this, then went on, "Eventually I went looking for them. As you can imagine, I wasn't in the mood to look for Natalya at first—she gets angry when she's under stress. I made a short trip north and found out that the Baltics had been trying to help each other, but in the process had been found out by the rebels. They were then captured, being betrayed by a close government official, and were tortured before being beaten to death in succession and burned.

"After finding out what fate befell the Baltics, I hurried to find my sisters, and I found Katyusha first." His voice threatened to break at this point, but he was determined to remain stoic, so his hands, out of habit, went to finger the hem of his scarf to draw his attention off of the unnerving feeling of grief. "She… she had been raped and strangled, left out in the woods for the animals to feast upon. As for Natalya, I found her in a warehouse close to her home. The rebels must have been holding her hostage, though I don't have any idea how. They slit her throat like a pig. Blood was everywhere. It was clear she'd put up a hell of a fight before she died."

There was a long stretch of silence for a while, some expressing sympathy for the Russian, others not quite knowing what to do. The latter feeling encompassed Alfred at the moment, and he stared ashamedly at the floor. Was I really intent on getting a rise out of Russia by basically asking him to describe how those close to him died? The feeling made him sick to his stomach… but he quickly reminded himself that this was the same man who had threatened to blow Alfred up a few decades ago and he sucked it up.

Ivan was now wringing his scarf so hard that he felt a couple of seams snap, and immediately let it hang loose around his neck again. He wasn't about to ruin the only thing he had left from Katyusha. "England, do you have anything to add?"

Arthur blinked in surprise at his sudden slip into the spotlight. At once he felt what seemed like thousands of eyes intently watching him. His arm itched anxiously. "Uh… I lost communications with the Nordics, but I didn't really hear from them. Only that Sweden and Finland had died together, as was expected." He winced inwardly. That sounded a bit cold. Why do I sound like I'm presenting a report? He loosened himself up and continued, "Sealand is gone. I don't know what happened to him, but somehow the Uprising reached him, poor lad. Possibly trying to help Sweden and Finland, but…" He trailed off.

A moment passed before Alfred asked hesitantly, "And… what about your family? Did they live?"

Arthur's heart immediately began to pound and a familiar stabbing pressure formed in his chest. He hadn't wanted to admit that he'd failed in saving them. Alfred, you git. "They… Wales went first. The Ireland's were second. I don't want to go into detail about their deaths, but it was rather… inhumane. Scotland was the only one with me when we tried to—" His throat became scratchy at this point, and his eyes clouded with tears, but he refused to let them fall. He wouldn't let his bastard of an older brother see him cry over him. His bastard brother who he loved so very much and hadn't had a chance to tell him that. "We tried to board the helicopter here, but the rebels caught us by surprise. They… they shot him before we could escape. Christ, there was so much blood… and we were so close. I almost saved him, but I couldn't…" His voice trailed off, unable to form words. He still had not cried, though, and his pride was still intact… most of it.

"I'm sorry, Artie."

"Shut up, Alfred." Arthur snapped, feeling guilty afterwards. He was afraid that if anyone tried to comfort him now, he would break down completely. To his utter relief, though, Alfred seemed to read the atmosphere… for once in his life.

Ivan directed his gaze to Francis. "France, what do you know?"

Francis hesitated, having to pry his worried eyes away from Arthur and process his thoughts. "Euh… The only ones I managed to keep in contact with were Monaco and Luxembourg. Then the communications went down, but we still could contact each other using telegraphs. When I didn't hear from them, though, I went to investigate. Monaco had been… assaulted and killed, left in the street for anyone to mutilate her precious body. As for Luxembourg… I came too late. They were b-burning him at the stake when I arrived. He was nothing but ashes when they were through." He hung his head afterward, wiping tears from his face.

Ivan's face was blank, but he felt a twinge of empathy for the other man—despite him being a pervert. "America, have you heard from your states?"

Alfred blinked in surprise at the sudden question and scrunched his nose up in thought. "Nope, can't say I have. The last one I talked to was Virginia, and that was when she arranged a flight for me here a couple days ago bound for Guam. As for everyone else… I can't seem to locate any of them. Not even New York."

Arthur flinched at the mention of Virginia, his former commonwealth. He had always wondered what she looked like now. He hadn't seen her for centuries. He sincerely hoped she was okay.

"Yao-Yao?"

Yao winced at his nickname before saying sadly, "Vietnam, Taiwan, South Korea, Thailand and Hong Kong are all dead. Hong Kong was shot when we were swimming to the shores of Japan. It was too late, and I couldn't… there was nothing I could do…"

"South Korea died while bravely defending me." Kiku cut in, drawing attention away from the currently choked-up Yao. "We will miss them all."

"Turkey?"

Sadiq tried to come off as nonchalant, but failed miserably. "The Balkans are gone—completely wiped out. The last one I had communications with was Greece. He was begging me for help, but then the line was cut." His gaze fell to the floor. "I wish I had the chance to." he muttered under his breath.

"Germany?"

Gilbert folded his arms and muttered, "Why does West get all the attention and I don't?"

Ludwig ignored him and said with professionalism, "Austria and Hungary paired together to help each other, but they were overwhelmed. The last I heard, they were being held captive and tortured, though I'm sure they're dead by now. Holland and Belgium have fallen also. And Veneziano told me that Switzerland and Liechtenstein were trapped. They have more than likely perished." Feliciano burst into tears in Ludwig's arms, clinging to him and crying into his shirt. Ludwig sighed in exasperation.

"Romano?"

Lovino looked up at Ivan in surprise, shocked that he had been called upon. Then again, he wasn't nearly as innocent and naïve as his younger brother. He braced himself against the wall before saying, "I haven't heard from Spain since a few months ago."

All of them remained quiet, expecting Lovino to continue, but he did not. Ivan raised skeptical silver eyebrows. "I believe you are keeping something from us, comrade."

Lovino's face turned red with rage. "How dare you accuse me of false accounts?! How come you didn't question the others' stories, uh? Why me?"

"Because during the Cold War, I was an interrogator, and I know when someone is lying."

Lovino looked incredulously at him.

Ivan turned to Alfred. "What do you think, Amerika? You've had enough practice to know when someone is not telling the truth. Is he?"

It took a moment for Alfred to get over his initial surprise that Ivan had called upon him for anything that didn't involve jibes or insults. "Yeah… he's not telling us everything."

They all stared at Lovino then… a million curious stares that he wanted nothing more than to curse at. Call him a liar? Ha! He was no liar… most of the time, anyway.

"Y-you didn't answer when I called your house."

Lovino rounded on Feliciano, flabbergasted at the betrayal. Feliciano went on under his older brother's seething gaze, more tears running down his cheeks as he did. "I-I called your house… I called so many times, Lovi, and you didn't answer. Not once. I even called your boss, your colleagues… why didn't you answer, Lovino? Where were you? I was so scared!"

"The coward probably ran away." Sadiq snorted.

Lovino growled. "I did not run away, you bastard! I came back for Feliciano. If I ran away, why would I come back, uh?"

"Is true," Ivan drawled, his violet eyes seeming to bore into his flesh. "What happened when Veneziano called? How come you cared enough to come and save him, but not enough to answer his calls?"

"Seems pretty shady to me." Alfred muttered, realizing with horror that he had just agreed with Ivan. And it didn't seem to slip by the Russian.

All those eyes staring at him… Lovino wanted to punch them all, wanted to rip his hair out, would rather die than tell the truth, but he had no choice. They wouldn't let him slide by. Finally, he sighed and walked slowly over to a row of chairs, seating himself in one of them, slumping over wearily. "I will tell you—but you'd better not give me any shit about this later, got it?"

It took a moment for them all to nod. Lovino noticed, with avid disgust, that neither Gilbert nor Sadiq had complied. Damn stupid bastards… "I… I was over at Spain's house before the Uprising started."

There was a series of curious mutters that irked Lovino to no end, and then Ivan quieted them with a wave of his hand. "Why were you not in your own country at the time?"

"Well… I was just visiting and then all of a sudden all this shit broke out and I couldn't get back home! What else do you want me to say, uh?"

Alfred raised a skeptical eyebrow and glanced at Ivan, knowing from his look that he too knew that Lovino was still lying. The Russian's gaze was pretty creepy and made his skin crawl.

"You are hiding something from us still, da?" Ivan asked, making Lovino frown.

"I don't know what you're talking about… I've told you everything, dammit!"

"Nyet, you haven't. Speak the truth or I shall use a more… creative form of interrogation." Ivan smiled innocently.

Lovino's face paled and his limbs trembled. His whole body tensed, causing his shoulder wound to complain repeatedly. His eyes fell to the floor, trying to find his words. Should he tell them? No, no… he would never admit—

"Romano," Ivan asked. "What is your relation to Spain?"

That made Lovino's head snap up. His gaze was smoldering, but his hands still quivered with anxiety. "What do you mean by that, bastard? He is my dumbassed older brother!"

"Nyet, Romano, your current relation."

A lump formed in Lovino's throat and he bowed his head. He gathered his strength and the remainder of his pride. Well, there was no way around this now. The stupid, frost-bitten son of a bitch had found him out! He took a deep breath and mustered the fiercest, most menacing glare he could and said, "We were lovers, okay!"

Gilbert and Sadiq, being the arrogant assholes that they were, sniggered at the admission. Feliciano's eyes widened and he sniffed, muttering an excited "Ve~really, Lovi?" while Ludwig stared on in shock. Arthur was completely gobsmacked, while at the same time he tried to restrain himself from clobbering Francis, who was currently crooning various romanticisms. Alfred and Matthew eyed each other, blinking in surprise. How Lovino ever managed to have a relationship, Alfred didn't know. Spain must be one patient guy… And throughout this whole, humiliating ordeal, Lovino sat stock still, staring at them all viciously, perfectly aware that his face had turned a bright shade of tomato-red.

Ivan quieted them down again. "You spoke of him in the past tense. Why?"

Silence.

"You must tell us everything, Romano. We need to know who we have left."

Lovino tried to keep himself together as he began his explanation, "I was visiting Spain before the Uprising. We barely had any time together, so we normally met then. But the fucking rebels had to choose to make their moves then, and I couldn't get back home. One day, I got worried about Feli, and I wanted to see if he was still alive. I felt guilty that I wasn't there to help him, so I asked Antonio if we could fly there. He agreed, but when we tried to annex one of the rebel's planes—since we were trapped in a government building—they found us and started shooting. The damn pilot flew off like a coward and left us stranded. The rebels chased us away from the building and into the woods where they eventually caught up with us.

"Then Antonio said-said he," At this point, Lovino's voice was faltering, and tears were pulling at his eyes. "He said for me to get to Feliciano, that he would hold them back. I told him that he was a stupid bastard, and that I wouldn't leave him. But he said that I needed to look for Feli, and that if I cared about my brother, I would leave. I had only seconds to make a choice… a few fucking seconds, and I chose Feli. I ran while Antonio shot at them, and then I heard a shout… it was such a horrible fucking shout…" Lovino let a few tears slip, angry at himself for having to explain his weaknesses and private life, and he scrubbed them grudgingly away. "I turned around and I saw him lying on the ground. There was so much blood." After a momentary pause, he collected himself and sniffed, "Well, he took a bullet to the head, so he didn't suffer. I just wish I wouldn't have been such a cowardly dumbass and done something… dammit, I could have done fucking something! Dammit!" He slammed his fist onto the armrest of the chair, holding in sobs.

"Lovino!" Feliciano squirmed in Ludwig's arms until the German was forced to release him. Feliciano parked himself in the seat beside his brother and wrapped his arms around him, tears rolling down his face. "I'm so sorry, Lovi, I wouldn't have been such a dick to you if I would have known!"

"Get off of me, dumbass!" Lovino tried to pry his brother off of him to no avail. "I should be the one having a break down, dammit."

Francis and Gilbert exchanged solemn glances, and they knew what the other was thinking. They had not heard from Toni either, and somehow they knew… they knew that he was gone. It was heartbreaking, but there was no time for that. So they just stood there, staring at the crying brothers and trying to hold back their own tears for their dead friend.

"Dude, I thought you totally hated Spain." Alfred burst out, not reading the atmosphere… again. "Actually, I thought you hated everyone."

"I do, bastard!" Lovino shouted, nails digging into the armrest in annoyance. "Just not Toni, Feli, or women. And I thought I told you not to give me any shit about this!"

"We won't," Arthur broke in, eyeing Alfred in warning. "And we are all sincerely sorry for your loss. But we can't stand around here discussing it. If most of you've forgotten, we are minutes away from being pumped full of lead!"

"He's right," Ludwig said, pulling his pistol and cocked it, looking at his watch. "Scheiße! We have less than ten minutes to prepare. I suggest we—"

"Wave a white flag!" Feliciano exclaimed, pulling one out of his uniform. "I have one, see? Maybe they will let us go! Wave it!"

"Damn idiot," Lovino growled from his place seated in a chair. "That won't work!" Then under his breath he muttered, "Trust me, I've tried."

"Calm down, everybody, calm down." Ivan shouted above the yammering, frightening rather than soothing the group. "I suggest we all rush out as a group shooting. It is risky, but it's worth a shot, da?"

They all stared at him in shock.

"Ah, fuck it! We're screwed!" Lovino groaned.

There was stretch of tense silence, in which three minutes ticked by.

Then, Alfred said somewhat hesitantly, "… I can fly us…"

"You can what?" Arthur looked incredulously at him.

"I said I can fly us." Alfred repeated, looking a bit nervous.

Arthur glared at him before punching him in the arm and yelling, "Why didn't you fucking tell us earlier, you bloody git?! Did it not occur to you that if another five minutes had passed by without you saying anything we all might have died?"

"Ow, man," Alfred recoiled, pouting. "I-I didn't wanna! I mean… I haven't flown since double W double I. At least not excessively. It had only been on special occasions before the shit hit the fan. "

"You still have flown before, oui?" Francis said, now recovered from his hangover.

"Well, yeah, but…" Alfred began to tug nervously at his leather gloves. "Uh… heheh, sorry?"

"You will be," Arthur growled. "if you don't get your arse moving!"

"Okay, okay!" Alfred thought for a moment, then said, "All right, I've got a plan. I'll fly. Let's take the plane Mr. Roberts was prepping for us. That'll save us some time."

"Mr. Roberts?" Sadiq wrinkled his nose.

"We'll explain later." Arthur assured, quickly throwing his bag over his shoulder and following Alfred.

"I hope he fucking knows what he's doing." Lovino groaned, rising slowly from the chair. Gilbert strode over and slung one of his arms over his shoulder, making the Italian redden and snap, "I don't need your fucking help, dammit!"

"Let the awesome me help you." Gilbert replied with a smirk. "You have no room to resist, kesesese~"

"Al!" Matthew called, gathering his things and bolting toward Gate 3. "Al, please don't get impulsive. If you can't do this, you can't. I don't want us all dying because of your stupid decision."

Alfred scoffed, "Why do you always think I don't think before I act?" Matthew gave him an accusing stare. "I thought you were supposed to trust me, bro? I promise I'll get us outta here. I'm the hero, after all!"

Ivan rolled his eyes and started toward the gate also. "I believe my plan would have yielded a much better result."

"I would rather try to escape than run out on that suicide mission." Yao muttered under his breath, squeaking when Ivan threw him a what-was-that-bitch? smile.

"Are you sure America-san will be able to get us out of here?" Kiku asked, a bit worried.

"Ve~! America will save us! America, take my flag, you might need it~"

"Stop that, Veneziano." Ludwig snapped, making the young Italian pout. Ludwig sighed and muttered, "Stupid child…"

They all poured into the gate, boarding the plane with lightning speed.

Arthur glanced at his watch, his heart skipping a beat. "Three minutes,"

"Verdammt!" Ludwig cursed, struggling to strap Feliciano into his seat. "Erg… Veneziano, please sit still…"

"I can help with that, chéri~"

"Stop creeping, Frog! Now's not the time!"

"Lemme see, uh…" Alfred examined the control board. "Now, what was I supposed to do before takeoff?"

Arthur's patience was wearing thin. "Ignore that, git! There is no one to communicate with, we don't know where we're going, and Mr. Roberts most likely checked the fuel levels and tire wear!"

"Hey!" Alfred turned to Arthur who was standing behind him, arms crossed in the cockpit. "You seem to know a lot about this."

"Well," Arthur looked a bit apprehensive. "I flew with the RAF, and I have piloted a jet before. But that was only a few times very long ago. The jet thing was for the queen."

"C'mon, Artie," Alfred begged, his lower lip jutting out. "Pwease be my co-pilot."

Arthur rolled his eyes. "That won't get me to do anything, git."

Alfred rounded his eyes. "Pweeeaaaasse?"

Arthur stared at him for a moment longer before plopping down in the seat beside him and sighing. "All right, I'll be your co-pilot. Just try not to be too annoying."

He winced as Alfred let out a loud whoop and placed his hands on the control yoke. "Okay, now let's get this baby moving."

"You should probably start the engine first."

"Oh, yeah, right," Alfred flipped the switch and the plane began to vibrate as it came to life.

Arthur put a hand over his face. "Ugh… Lord help us."

"That would be useful." Alfred smiled, not amusing Arthur in the least.

A gunshot sounded a distance away, barely comprehensible over the sound of the plane engine. Ludwig came rushing in, throwing open the door and saying, "Get a move on! They have started invading the terminal!"

"Gotcha," Alfred nodded, his palms slippery with sweat and his heart pounding. Sure, he had total confidence in his abilities but… what if he was mistaken and they all went down because of him? That would definitely not do wonders for his reputation. He took a deep breath and began to move the plane forward slowly, so slowly in fact that Arthur had to remind him more than once that they didn't have enough runway to be so snail-like with their speed.

"I know, I know! Jeez…" Alfred snapped, making Arthur want to slap him, but he refrained. After all, if the plane went down, it wasn't going to be Arthur's fault in any way and he wanted to keep it that way.

Gradually, the plane began to speed up. Alfred could hear anxious shouts behind him, something along the lines of the rebels racing vehicles up the runway. Alfred didn't dare take his eyes off the runway, but Arthur did.

"They won't make it in time." Arthur assured him, but looked pale nonetheless. "Just… make sure we make the takeoff, okay, Alfred?"

"'M tryin', Igs." Damn, why did his skills have to be so goddamn rusty? It wouldn't have killed him to have a little practice every once in a while…

By now, they were going fast down the runway, and Alfred could clearly see, with resigned terror, that the pavement was running out rather quickly.

"Alfred…" Arthur warned, his fingers digging into the armrests on his seat. "Alfred, I believe you're supposed to start lifting the nose of the plane now."

"Oh, right," Alfred did so, albiet jerkily, and he was glad that he had Arthur there to guide him through the procedures… no matter how humiliating it was to have some grouchy, arrogant British guy telling you what to do. Well, as long as the others didn't see this…

"Lift it a tad more… there." Arthur's heart was in his throat, his eyes pinned on Alfred's hands and every movement they made on the yoke. "You're doing fine, just remember to keep lifting it steadily until you reach the end of the runway. If you've done it correctly, the whole plane will be airborne." The Briton's voice wavered a bit, and he squeaked when Alfred's hand twitched on the wheel, making the whole plane tilt to one side.

"Dude, seriously, stop whimpering. You're making me nervous."

"And I don't have the right to be nervous?"

"No… huh," Alfred nodded to the window. "We've run out of pavement."

Arthur's eyes widened and he waited for the sound of metal crunching and a slow, fiery death, reciting the Lord's Prayer mixed in with Dumbarse yank, dumbarse yank, Alfred, you dumbarse, I can't believe a dumbarse has killed me, over and over in his head. But nothing happened.

He gave an elated laugh that sounded a bit too joyous than he had wanted it. "You did it, Alfred! You didn't kill us!"

"I know," Alfred smiled triumphantly. "You know, I remember you praising me like 'You did it Alfred! You tied your shoelace!' or 'You did it, Alfred! You shot your first pigeon!' but I don't recall ever hearing you congratulate me for not killing you before. That's a first."

"And be sure I won't have to say it again." Arthur said flatly, peering out the window. "So… do you have any idea where we are going?"

"To infinity and beyond?"

"Don't make me have to regret letting you take the yoke."

No translations

A Word From the Writer: Nuu, Spain! Why did you have to leave? You and Romano were the only OTC in this fic... for now anyway. Unless America crashes the plane that is.

And yes, that was a hint.