Prepare to meet the twisted-ass pursuers.

Warning: Angst, sad stuff, dangerous conditions, profanity (a bunch), innuendo, reference to bestiality, gay slur, weapons, insults, new OCs, and a character death (for reals, people).

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

Two Shores

Francis choked out a sob as Arthur's limbs twitched and his eyes flickered open. Ivan backed away as Arthur rolled onto his side and coughed, trying to pull the water up from his lungs.

He hacked for a good minute, finally managing to cough up a cupful of water. Afterward, as pale as ever, he was so tired that his limbs gave out and he collapsed and he sucked in air, so much he made himself dizzy. It was only then that he realized that he was alive and seeing Britannia and her ship had been some sort of dream. Even though he was alive, he wished he was back in that dream, floating in the water that was warm and felt like silk around him. Fuck, he was freezing. His body broke out in uncontrollable shivers.

"Arthur!" Francis cried and knelt beside him, brushing the hair out of his eyes. All of their hair had grown long since the Uprising, and Arthur's was now below the base of his skull. Arthur just looked at him, his eyes hooded and tired, and Francis pulled the man to him, holding him. "I'm sorry. Merde, why did I let you stay behind? Never again." He looked at everyone standing around him. "Does anyone have anything dry to wrap him in? He'll freeze to death next."

"Here," Kiku tossed over a half-wet blanket that had been rolled up in his sleeping bag. Francis caught it and wrapped it around Arthur, who was shivering and chattering so badly that he could barely speak.

"Fr-Francis," he said, his breath a mist.

"Shh, don't talk. Just rest."

Arthur frowned. "D-don't tell m-me to shut u-up, frog."

Francis smiled. "Mon Dieu, he's still snapping. He's going to be okay."

Alfred was staring down at him, his face sticky with tears. "Shit, Artie. You're determined to give me a fucking heart attack aren't you?"

"You saved him when he went under," Francis said to Alfred. "I saw it. Thank you." Then he peered up at Ivan, who was watching and trying to catch his breath. "And you." The Russian could only nod.

Alfred rubbed the back of his head. "Well, seeing as he went under…" Alfred looked at Arthur then. "You act like you can't swim."

Arthur blinked up at him for a moment before shaking his head. "C-can't."

Alfred frowned. "Can't? You can't swim?"

Arthur nodded.

"What the fuck, man?" Alfred laughed a little. "Weren't you a pirate?"

Ivan glared at Gilbert and Kiku. "Weren't one of you supposed to be watching him?"

Kiku shook his head.

Gilbert chewed his lip. "Ja… but I didn't know the crumpet monster couldn't swim! I thought he was right behind me, and the waves separated us. I couldn't stop or go back by the time I noticed he was gone or I would have been shot."

"Mattie," Alfred said suddenly and he rose to his feet, looking around. "Hey, where's Mattie?"

"I saw him come out," Yao reported, furrowing his brow. "But I have not seen Sadiq."

Alfred lowered his eyes. "Sadiq's gone."

Kiku blinked in shock at him. "Gone?"

"Yeah," Alfred wet his lips. "He was… washed down the river."

"Shit," Lovino muttered.

Everyone was silent for a moment.

"Well go find Matthieu for God's sake," Francis told them. "He must be heartbroken… or worse. Someone look for him."

Matthew stumbled out of the water, his legs shaky and his eyes blurred with tears.

"Sadiq," he whimpered. "Sadiq."

He staggered past the others further into the little clump of forest, tripping over roots, fallen branches, ankle-deep in freezing snow and shivering so much he could retch, but he didn't. He walked until he couldn't take it and leaned against a wind-worn tree and completely broke down.

I let him go, Matthew thought forlornly. I couldn't hold onto him. I lost him. I let him go.

He was sitting in the snow by now, sopping wet and chilled to the bone, but he couldn't care. He hid his face in his hands and sobbed. In one he gripped the bandana mask he had given Sadiq in place of his broken one—the last reminder of his love lost. He held it close to his chest, icy fingers gripping it as if he was afraid it would slip from his grasp as well and be lost to him forever.

He was snuffling miserably by the time he heard voices calling his name. He barely responded, content to just sit there and let the snow build up on him until he was no more than a white mound. But, apparently, the rest of his group wasn't going to settle for that.

"Mattie!" It was Alfred. "Mattie!"

Matthew didn't respond, almost hoping that Alfred wouldn't find him. But Alfred did, and he was soon crouched next to him.

"Oh, Mattie. I'm sorry." Alfred held out his arms and Matthew found himself falling into them and crying.

"He's gone," Matthew sobbed. "I couldn't hold him… he's gone. I let him go, Al. I should have held onto him. I should've…" He choked on his words, tears streaming down his cheeks.

"Oh God, Mattie, you're fucking freezing," Alfred said, helping him to his feet. "Nothing's your fault. It was the river… come on. Let's go back and get you warm."

By the time they got back, the men on the other side of the river had settled down and made a fire, determined to wait them out until they froze to death. The nations had been going through their packs, searching for any scrap of warm covering they could. But only a few semi-dry items had been found and those given to Arthur, and Feliciano, and Matthew. They all sat at the edge of the trees in a tight huddle, shivering, hoping to keep warm. Francis held Arthur's hand and took Matthew into his other arm, holding him close and letting him cry his pain away. It was simply heartbreaking to see Matthew like this; was this how it was when Matthew had thought him dead?

"H-how long do you think they will b-be staying there?" Kiku asked Yao, whom he was pressed up against. As much as he hated being confined, he was too cold for his claustrophobia to affect him. He nodded to the men settling down on the other side of the river.

"I do not know," Yao admitted, worry gnawing at his belly.

Ludwig was holding Feliciano close to him and felt the Italian go a little limp. "Feli," he said. "Feli, don't fall asleep." He shook him.

"Ve," Feliciano muttered as he forced his eyes open again. "But I'm so tired…"

Ludwig had to be blunt for Feliciano to follow his orders. "Feli, if you fall asleep, you will die."

And so Feliciano stayed awake as well as everyone else.

Across the river, the men gathered around the fire, laughing and drinking.

"I knew they was in that ravine," one man said. He was older than most of the others, with a scruffy chin. Beside him, his loyal black bitch lay, panting and wet from the chase. Fleas bounced from her coat and onto her master, who scratched vehemently.

"You say that every time we pick up on a Deceiver's trail, Itch."

They all laughed.

"Yeah, well it was kinda hard to lose them," another man, this one lithe, young, and cocky, commented. "With them leaving footprints in the snow and lighting fires and being so close to the road."

A burly man hacked and spat into the fire. It hissed as if offended. "Dumbasses. Just another reason for us to take 'em out. We could all do with less idiots in this world."

A shaggy blond stepped around the fire, rifle in hand. "I wouldn't be so quick to say that if I were you, Bubba." Everyone laughed except for Bubba, who only gave a bewildered look and spat again.

The young man looked up at the blond. "Eh, Keith, how're our sitting ducks doing over there?"

Keith smiled wickedly as he sat down beside him. "No doubt wishing they would have flown south for winter like all their other pals." They both chuckled. "You know, you never did tell me how you got so accurate with your shot, Luke."

Luke shook his head. "You know that's confidential."

"And yet I have a feeling it's illegal."

"You have a good feeling, then."

"Well, at least we have one guy down."

"Are you sure?"

Keith nodded. "Yep, ran down there a bit just to get the blood pumping. Them wolves had him out of the water, gnawin' on him like they ain't had nothin' to eat for weeks."

"Probably haven't, poor bastards."

"Don't 'poor bastards' them. One of them almost took a chunk out of one of our hounds."

"Ah, Brutus wouldn't let 'em do that to his bitch. Saw them going at it the other night. Were stuck together for a while. I was pretty damn sure for a moment that I'd have to saw them apart."

Luke winced. "Brutus'd have you in your sleep for that."

Keith took out his knife, studying his reflection in the polished blade. "I'd like to see the sonofabitch try."

"It's bound to happen sometime. He's bitten everyone except you, the unruly bastard."

"I say he needs his balls chopped off, that'll calm 'im a bit. And keep him from bangin' everything from here to the moon."

"… He was at Itch's leg yesterday."

"Someone should tell him that's not wise. Might get fleas on his dick."

"How many you think he's knocked up?"

Keith took a look around at their hounds, five in all. "I'd say every one of 'em. Including Tonto. He's made of such chickenshit I'm pretty damn sure he's gone female."

"I hope they don't start shittin' out pups," Luke said. "The last thing we need are hormonal bitches and loud little twerps following us around…"

"We could just eat 'em."

"Heh," Luke nodded over to Itch and his hound. "Try telling Bitch that. She'll tear your arm right off."

"Isn't that why we called her Bitch?"

"Yep. And she responds to it better than all the other sorry fuckers."

They were silent for a moment, staring at the fire. Then Keith looked at Luke, smiling. He patted him on the back. "Good shot today. I'm sorry we couldn't down more of 'em."

Luke laughed. "Thanks, man. Did you hear that other guy scream? I mean he screamed, like a fucking chick."

Keith scoffed. "A faggot, most likely."

"We're like to turn that too before long."

"Not me. I'd rather fuck a horse. Hell, I'll be like Brutus."

"Not with all the women gone migrating to the cities—and used as whores. The Organization orders it of them."

"We'll just have to go to the city, then."

Luke nodded over to the shadows that sat huddled across the river. "How long you think that might be, counting on the stubborn bastards over there?"

Keith's smile widened. "Come morning, they'll be frozen over. And the wolves'll be at them, takin' care of 'em for us like they did their friend when the river took 'im."

No one fell asleep that night, not even Feliciano. They all remained awake, shivering, teeth chattering, huddling as close as they could to each other. As much as they wanted nothing more than to close their eyes and slip off into what they knew would be a deep sleep, they refused. The sleep may be so deep they may never wake from it.

The night was as long as anything. It could have been an eternity before they finally saw the light again, the sky becoming a brightening gray in the east. Their faces had grown numb and aching with the cold, their wet hair dusted with frost. Feliciano's tears had long frozen on his cheeks.

When the sun peeked over the horizon, Ludwig could see the men stirring on the other side of the river. One man wriggled out of his sleeping bag and was stamping out the fire. Ludwig nudged Feliciano.

"It is morning and the men are moving," he told him, surprised that his voice sounded more akin to a toad than it did a man.

Feliciano looked up at him, a pitiful, shriveled thing. His eyes had lost their enthusiasm, the brightness leeched out of them by the large, dark circles beneath. He looked as pale as death, his lips blue, his whole body wracked with chills. It made Ludwig's heart ache and his gut twist with angst.

"Ve… I-I don't think I can move, Luddy." He blinked slowly, as if trying to keep off sleep. The sight scared Ludwig.

"You will move, Feli," Ludwig told him, though he was unsure of that himself. He tore his eyes off of the Italian to address the others. "The men are moving. Get up, we must leave before they cross the river."

"How in the fuck do you suppose we do that, bastard?" Lovino quipped. "We'll have to find a way to unstick our frozen asses from off the ground first and then make sure our fucking legs still work.

"Lovino," Gilbert said, not feeling up to himself from the cold. "I will carry you if I have to, just cooperate for once."

Lovino shut his mouth then, though it was more out of exhaustion than obedience.

When no one moved, only stared at him, Ludwig said more firmly, "We must move now. Do you want them to kill us?"

With that, everyone got to their feet, though slowly and unsteadily. Alfred stood, then bent to help Arthur up, then Matthew. The Canadian turned his face away when he looked at him. Matthew tried to hide it, his shaking, his little sobbing hiccups. But his hair, however long it had grown, could not cover his face entirely; tears ran unhidden down his cheeks, and Alfred saw.

And he didn't know what to say. There was no bright side to everything they were experiencing. "Mattie," he ventured, but it was no use. Even speaking was an effort that he couldn't afford to commit to. So he took his brother's hand and hoped that was enough.

But it only gave Matthew little, lingering comfort. The pain of losing Sadiq was nothing compared to all of his other pains combined. He could still feel Sadiq's hands holding strong to his, blocking out all memory of the vicious iciness of the river. He kept replaying over and over in his mind the time when Sadiq slipped away from him, trying to figure if there was anything he could do to save him. But every time he did, he could not find a way, and he felt even more heartbroken than before.

I knew he was going to die, Matthew told himself over and over. I wanted to go faster because I knew it wouldn't be long for him. Why didn't I warn him? Why didn't I warn him? Why couldn't I hold on? I killed him. It was me. Oh God, Sadiq, I'm so sorry.

This time was worse than the time he thought he lost Francis, not in physical reaction, but a mental one. He had been so busy crying over Francis to think about the implications surrounding his death, not as deeply as Sadiq's real death. His instincts told him that now was no time to break down, that he had to keep going for the group. But then that meant that those emotions were expressed internally instead of externally. Matthew didn't know how he would fare, but he barely felt the cold. What he worried about most was if he could keep his head straight enough to be able to go on.

I miss you already, Sadiq. I love you so much. How could I lose you?

Thankfully, no one seemed to be too worried about him—at the moment there were more pressing matters to tend to. Like staying alive.

By the time they were all on their feet, the men across the river were pulling down their tents and feeding their hounds. Francis watched warily as they were tossed a bloody haunch of some large animal and tore into it with ferocity. Two dogs ripped apart two pieces attached by tendon, yanking until it snapped. A big black one growled as a smaller, spotted one came gradually closer until the former lashed out, sending the other whining pitifully to the edge of the group, his muzzle dripping blood. Francis winced. He didn't much like the look of that black dog and he hoped he would never have to meet it.

"Let us go," Ivan said. His limbs were stiff, but he did not feel the cold much. "We should have left last night."

"And let them pursue us while we were drenched and freezing?" Arthur asked him. "If we had not stayed, those dogs would have had us like that haunch they're currently ravaging."

Ivan looked at him. "Eyes are usually blinded by shadows and ears deafened by the talk of companions. We could have easily escaped during the night, and they would have had a difficult time catching us."

"Then why didn't you speak up earlier?" Gilbert growled.

Ivan's expression did not change as his gaze fell upon him; his eyes only darkened dangerously. "I am immune to the cold. I would have been able to continue but not the rest of you. And not all of us have the energy to run such long distances. However, it could have been suggested, but I do not take kindly to scathing remarks."

"Shut up, all of you," Alfred said. "We need to leave, now."

They were slow going through the sparse stretch of trees before coming once again meeting a sea of endless, rolling snow-white grassland.

"There is nowhere to hide," Yao muttered, though it seemed more like a shout to them. It was what they were all thinking, but too afraid to voice themselves. They were stuck. No ravine, no hills for miles, just an endless expanse of snow that would surely betray them with tracks.

Lovino tensed. "They're going to fucking find us whether we run or not!"

"We must remain calm and figure something out. Nothing can be solved with panic," Kiku said, although he was rather anxious at the moment.

"The road!" Feliciano shouted and everyone looked around.

There, speeding along the little two-lane road, just barely plowing through the snow that covered it, was a large truck followed by two vans. They pulled up along the side of the road, stopped, and the door to the truck opened.

Alfred felt his stomach clench. "Oh shit."

A man stepped out, older, bearded, and a bit round in the belly. He waved at them, no weapon in hand. "Here! Here! Come here! Before those damned men get across that river!"

For a moment everyone just stared in shock and bewilderment. Then they looked at each other.

The man lowered his arms and shouted, "Come on, then! Hurry!"

Then they all looked at Ludwig.

The German swallowed, his mouth dry, his heart pounding, and his time running out. He made what he hoped wouldn't be the worst decision of his and all of their lives. "Let's go."

Ludwig supposed that the howling and barking of dogs near them already on their side of the river proved enough that his plan to run for the vehicles was well made. And so their pace picked up, the doors opening to the vans as well. Ludwig pushed Feliciano in order to keep the Italian in front of him. Feliciano stumbled a bit, hesitating when he arrived at the truck, but the man said to him, "Get in, quickly!"

Ludwig pushed him in and turned to help more in but soon found that the rest had already filled the two vans: Yao, Kiku, Lovino, and Gilbert in the first, and Matthew, Alfred, Arthur, Francis, and Ivan in the last. Ludwig didn't like the idea of being separated from the rest of his group, especially with these strangers, but there was no time for introductions. The hounds were charging out of the forest, catching their sent, and racing toward the road. Their masters were fast on their heels.

"Go!" he shouted to the driver, the round man.

The man didn't say anything, only pressed the gas pedal all the way to the floor and they shot off, swerving for a few gut-wrenching seconds before straightening out and speeding away, the vans close behind them. All of them didn't breathe again until the Organization men and their vicious hounds were but black specks on the white horizon.

No translations

A Word From the Writer: Ooh, what have we here? New characters? LOL, I'm making up for losing Turkey with some random people I came up with. So, our boys are hitch-hiking. Never thought that would happen, eh? Ignore the convenient circumstances and just got along. Because at this point it really is best if your just submit to this mindfuck of a fic.

Oh! And England didn't die! Haha, oh, I love England, really. He's so fun to write, but especially when he's almost dying. Just causes so much conflict, ya know?. I like to pick on England a lot. Hard not to pick on a tsun. And have I mentioned I like making America cry? Yeah, that too. I'm just one big bitch. But you know you love it. OR ELSE. :3

BTW, I'm going on another campus tour. Yeah, I know it's kinda late, shaddap. Anyway, I'll be gone next Saturday and probably won't post till Sunday, so just be aware. I hate to leave you hanging like this but... (jk, you know I love to leave you hanging).

And I'm sorry this was posted late. Time just got away from me and... I'm unorganized, people. That's the reason. Mind's just a big clusterfuck. A smutty clusterfuck, granted, but still...