The lulz ends here, folks. Back to the drama llama.

Warning: Angst, retelling of violence, a eulogy, a small gory scene.

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

Cutting Deep

"That is the state line, I believe," Kiku announced as they were approaching a sign that read Nebraska… the good life, Home of Arbor Day.

"Finally," Yao grumbled. "At least we getting somewhere."

"There is nothing out here," Gilbert observed. "Just fields and hills… what a boring, unawesome place!"

"I don't know how the fuck they could have an Arbor Day with so few trees…" Lovino snorted.

"Well, it's desolate." Damn, they were still riding along with Nate and Marvin. A bunch of pussies not willing to switch with them, that's what Lovino thought. "I doubt we'll run into any Organization members here. Right, Marv?"

"Hmph."

Nate frowned. "You don't have to be so negative, damn!"

There was an odd silence that followed.

Nate kicked back, clasping his hands behind his head. "Fuck, all this scenery is boring as hell. I'm going to sleep." Then he added seriously. "And I don't like to be woken up."

"We will not wake you," Kiku assured when everyone else stiffened.

"Cool," Nate said cheerily and closed his eyes.

Great. Now they were sitting in a van with Marvin. How the fuck were they supposed to understand anything he was saying if Nate fell asleep? And Marvin seemed to get angry very easily. If they didn't understand him when he spoke…

Gilbert sensed Lovino's mounting anxiety and patted his head. "Go to sleep," he whispered.

Lovino leaned against him in spite of himself. He thought he saw Marvin's eyes on him in the rear view mirror, but when he went to look himself, the man's eyes were on the road. Lovino gave him a stern glare. "Don't you dare be loud," he hissed.

"I won't," Gilbert assured, and when Lovino continued to stare at him, he said, "What?"

Lovino huffed and settled against him, Gilbert wrapping an arm around him and letting Lovino rest his head on his shoulder. Gilbert, meanwhile, stared at the back of Marvin's head, hoping to fuck he didn't talk. Or grunt, or whatever the hell he did.

Pfft, I can totally take him. I'm awesomely ripped! He looked down at himself and frowned. Okay, maybe I'm not. But I'm sure my balls are bigger. Yeah, steroid boy probably has raisins down there, kesesese…

Marvin grumbled something, and Yao and Kiku flashed the albino angry glares. Gilbert bit his lip. Had he laughed out loud?

Oh.

He would be quiet now.

About four hours later, the sun had long gone down and they were all hungry again. They stopped just outside of Gothenburg, making a fire and passing around whatever they had picked out of the cans. The hot food was a godsend, and they quickly ate it, though most were still left hungry. Kiku had taken stock of what food they had left and told them that they would have to start limiting their meals. As they finished, questions arose about the newcomers, and Gerald eventually said, "Well, I guess we'll each have to explain where we came from. I'll start.

"I was born in Emmet, Idaho, not far from the Oregon border. There I worked as a mechanic in my own auto body shop. My family had owned it for generations, but when things started to get restless, the wife and I decided to move on.

"It wasn't until a few days later we found out about the Uprising. Of course it wasn't being called that then, but we quickly drove to her mother's house to check on her. My wife wanted to stay with her mother; we have no children, so she could devote all her time to her. But I got a frantic call from my sister in Illinois and I decided I wanted to see how she was faring. It wasn't an easy decision, but I left my wife in Oregon with her mother while I took the truck and set off for Chicago.

"I was heading back to Idaho when a disheveled woman flagged me down."

"I had just escaped from Organization clutches," Jeanne continued from there. "Before, I had lived in Astoria, Washington with my husband. We were both police officers and we were quickly targeted by early Organization rebels. I was six months pregnant at that time, but I miscarried after the abuse they dealt me. My husband was shot and killed and they drove me into Oregon, but I escaped. Before finding Gerald, I gave birth to my son and buried him. I was pretty bloody, and I'm surprised he stopped.

"Gerald said he was going to Chicago to check on his sister, but I had a cousin down south that I was worried about. He had been sent to military school in northern California, and I wanted to see if he was okay."

Nate stood and smiled. "That's me! Well, military school sucked and all, but when the Uprising happened, the guys inside the school started to riot. Sure, there were some tough instructors in there to keep us down for a bit, but we outnumbered them. As soon as we could, we got the advantage and began to run the school like we wanted to. Those sniveling, chickenshit instructors were hogtied, and no one bothered us for a while.

"Then things started to split. There were two guys that had been butting heads for the role of leader for a while and everything just simmered over. The school went into chaos, people were shot, killed, tortured, and I was glad to finally get out of there with my balls intact when my cuz showed up outta nowhere and I hitched a ride.

"It was a tight fit in that truck, but we were determined to get another vehicle so that Jeanne and me could go our separate way while Gerald continued onto the windy city. But when we tried to steal a van we thought was left behind in Medford, Oregon, we quickly found out that it did have an owner."

"Hmph," grunted Marvin.

"I know," said Nate. "I'll explain. Marvin was a fitness instructor in town and had left his van for a while to stock up on supplies. He was going to get the hell outta Oregon and head out to Alaska where he would live in the wilderness to avoid all the mayhem going on in the other states."

"Hmph," agreed Marvin.

"Yeah, so, he came out just when we were trying to steal it and, fuck, was he angry! He's a shit brick house, but he understood our motives and once we explained everything, he was cool with traveling with us. He said we needed some sort of protection anyway, even though I'm practically my own power pack by myself."

"Hmph."

"I know, I know, we needed you too, man. And I'm glad you came along. Now," he returned to the story. "We were taking a trip through Nevada to get to route eighty and just outside Reno, we ran into—"

"Me," Carter said, pushing up his thick glasses. "Um, I'm a student at UCLA, well I was, at least. Studying computer programming. During the summer me and some friends got together and pooled our pay so that we could visit Reno. Well, we ended up blowing our wad and getting stranded there. I told them before we went it wasn't the ideal place for college students working part time, but I was outvoted. It was a mess, everyone breaking into the casinos, holding people up for cash, mass chaos. Thank God our van had enough gas in it to get far away from there. But it was parked so far away and all of us had scattered. I was with a friend and we were almost to the van when some random maniac came up shooting behind us, shouting something about judgement and the end of the world and, I didn't hear all of it because I was trying to see if my friend was all right—" He was getting worked up and he took a deep breath, exhaling in a gust. "He'd been shot and had no pulse. As much as I wanted to take him with me so that his family could at least have his body, the guy was still shooting so I ran. I felt like such scum when I got into that van and no one else was with me. But I had to leave. I didn't want to die.

"I drove out of the city not knowing exactly where I was going. I was in such a panic I almost got into a wreck. The other driver got out to check if I was okay."

Gerald picked up from there. "I saw that it was a kid, and he looked pale as a ghost. I thought he was sick or something and invited him to ride with me while Jeanne took over driving his van."

"I was more than grateful," Carter said. "I get panic attacks and probably would have ended up crashing and killing myself if Gerald hadn't showed up."

"And that's how we met," Gerald finished with a smile.

Gerald's smile was an obvious invitation for the rest of them to tell their stories, but Ludwig wasn't going to let that happen no matter how suspicious it would seem. Instead he cleared his throat and said, "We… we lost one of our own recently and would like to honor him."

Matthew looked up from where he sat huddled against Francis, buried in his coat. Ludwig motioned to him. "Matthew."

Matthew felt put on the spot, but he was glad that they were finally addressing Sadiq's death. Though it would bring up memories, good and bad, Matthew knew this was something he had to do. He couldn't move forward if he kept looking back.

He moved to stand, but then he remembered his wrists, and he remained seated. "I…" he began and sighed. "I really don't know how to begin." As soon as he felt Francis's arm around his shoulders, he could feel the weight of his grief slowly returning. He looked at his gloved hands. "I wish I could say I knew him better, but, in a way, no one really knew him. But I knew a side of him he never showed to anyone, and that was enough for me. The time we had together was," Matthew paused to swallow down the prickly lump that had formed in his throat, but it only grew worse. "short, but wonderful. It would have lasted long after this Uprising was through, I know that." Matthew took a deep breath and looked up, scrubbing his wet eyes. "I know it's not a lot, but that's all of what I have to say. The rest of him is too much to describe in words." Too perfect, Matthew thought, but refused to cry. Too perfect for this world. Maybe it's good that he's gone. He won't have to endure this hell…

"I could tell he loved you very much," Francis said.

"I never liked him all that much," Alfred added. "But the way he made you smile, I didn't mind him."

"I still don't like the bastard," Lovino snarked and Matthew glared. "But I guess I'm sad that he's gone…"

"What?" Gilbert quipped. "Because it's one less person for you to bitch about?"

Lovino was fuming and everyone was struggling not to laugh, for Matthew's sake. But Matthew started snickering and everyone followed suit. Lovino punched Gilbert hard in the arm.

"This is a eulogy, you insensitive fucker!"

"I was just stating what your were thinking, jeez!"

Another punch.

"Shit, ouch!"

"Say something else, bastard!"

Jeanne was chuckling and everyone stopped what they were doing. They had all forgotten they had an audience. The woman eyed Gilbert and Lovino. "You two are too cute. You're together?"

Lovino stopped glaring at Gilbert to stare in Jeanne's direction, his cheeks reddening. "Uh…"

Gilbert wrapped an arm around him and yanked him to his side. "Ja, that's right! He's taken so don't even think about it, kesesese!"

Lovino's face was glowing red and he pushed against Gilbert. "L-let me go, bastard!"

"See? He loves me! Kesese… ouch!" Ludwig had flicked his ear.

"Stop making him yell. I'm going to get a headache," Ludwig ordered.

Gilbert winced as he rubbed his ear, releasing Lovino. "You could have just told me, West. You might have damaged my awesome ear!"

"You never do what you're told without discipline."

"And you're brothers?" Jeanne asked.

Ludwig and Gilbert looked at each other. Then Ludwig stood, the wind buffering him and making his face numb. Too much information had already been given. "It is too windy to pitch our tents. Do we have your permission to sleep in the vehicles?"

Jeanne and her companions stared for a moment, as if confused by the sudden change in subject. Ludwig bit his lip.

"Of course," Gerald said with a smile. "But we'll have to move some things around first to make room."

Ludwig nodded. "Ja, I will help you." With that, everyone stood, scattering to help with whatever they could. Gilbert stood, and Ludwig grabbed a fistful of his shirt, yanking him over.

Gilbert yelped and began to say something foolish like always, but Ludwig interrupted, "Take the first watch and have your gun ready."

Gilbert smirked. "Paranoid about the Organization, West?"

"Hardly. A sob story won't get me to trust these strangers anymore than I did before. And you'd best think the same."

When Ludwig left, Gilbert snorted. "Relax, West. I have an awesome sense for liars." He reached up and felt his ear where Ludwig had pulled it so harshly. "Of course I won't be as awesome if my ear was pulled off, jeez!"

Alfred was helping Ivan stuff things in the trunk of one of the vans to make sleeping room up front when the Russian suddenly dropped a bag he had been moving. Alfred glanced over at him, knowing that the man was anything but clumsy, and saw him wince for the shortest of moments.

"Ivan?" Alfred asked in confusion, then he remembered and his eyes trailed down to the Russian's side.

Ivan took a deep breath and shook his head. "Fine. I am fine. Just slipped…" He went to lift the bag again, when a stinging pain shot up his side. This time he couldn't keep his hand from going there, covering it. His other went to the van, holding himself up as he slumped over.

Alfred moved forward to help him keep his feet. "Ivan, what's going on?"

Ivan swayed a bit before catching himself. "A-ah, I… the bullet…"

Alfred's eyes widened. "The bullet? Ivan, I thought you said it went out the other side?" His voice rose with anxiety. The one he got from the buring field, oh God…

Arthur peered around the vehicle. "Alfred, is everything all right?"

"I don't know. Ivan… there's something wrong… Ivan!" The man had slipped from his grasp to slide down to his knees, gripping his throbbing side.

Arthur helped Alfred get Ivan to his feet. "Is he hurt?"

Alfred shook his head, heart beginning to pound. "I-I don't know. He said something about a bullet, and—"

Arthur was aghast. "He… he still has it in him? Since the field?"

Alfred licked his lips nervously and looked at Ivan. "Ivan?"

Guilt ate at Ivan as he met Alfred's eyes. "I… didn't want anyone worrying over me."

"No, no," Alfred said, giving a piteous whine. "No, Ivan, why didn't you tell us? Oh fuck, it's still in there. It's been a whole week, oh God…"

Arthur remained level headed as he unzipped Ivan's coat and pushed it aside, hiking up the shirt underneath. "He must have jostled it while he was lifting things…" He clawed at the bandages, pulling them back just a bit to peek underneath. "Oh… oh Christ."

"What?" Alfred asked, bending down to have a look. What he saw made his heart leap into his throat. "Shit, oh shit, it's red and… and…"

"Not healed," Arthur said, swallowing. "Not at all." Indeed it was no more than a finger-sized hole leading into Ivan's abdomen, the flesh around it swollen, red, and oozing discolored liquid. "We need to get that bullet out. Oh God, how deep is it? It must have hit muscle for it to be affecting you like this…" He peered up at Ivan who looked half in shock, half annoyed. "Can you feel it?"

Ivan nodded. "Da, it's… it's fairly far in…"

Alfred stood again and took Ivan's shoulders. He wanted to shake him senseless. "Ivan, what the hell is wrong with you? You didn't think that bullet could have caused problems later on when you decided to keep it a secret from us? You said yourself we aren't as strong as we used to be and you do this? Fuck…"

Arthur rolled the bandage over the wound for now, standing. "This isn't like Lovino's bullet wound. The bullet is too far in to simply pull out with a pair of tweezers…"

Alfred's stomach began to churn and he felt dizzy. "What? Well then what the fuck are we going to do? We can't just leave it in there!"

Arthur put a hand on his shoulder. "The first thing you need to do is calm down. You aren't going to make this situation any better when you're acting so anxious."

"How the fuck can I not act anxious?"

"Something wrong?"

They all turned to see Jeanne leaning on the side of van, arms crossed, staring at them. Arthur immediately began to sweat. This situation just got a whole lot worse. "Nothing. Nothing's wrong, just a… a…"

"A stitch in my side," Ivan finished for him, motioning. "We have been traveling in the vans so much that I seem to have lost some stamina."

Jeanne frowned suspiciously. "There's no need to keep secrets, you know. We're all in this together now. If there's really something wrong, I might be able to help."

They all just stared at her for a moment before Alfred's anxiety got the better of him and he blurted, "Ivan's hurt. He was shot a week ago and the bullet's still lodged in there and it's really deep." Ivan glared, but Alfred didn't notice as he was staring hopefully at Jeanne. "Is there anything you can do?"

Jeanne bit her lip, thinking. "I… fuck, this is another time I wish one of us was a doctor…" Then she added, "I've been trained to deal with bullet wounds in case me or my partner happened to get shot on patrol. I've also been taught how to remove one, but I've never actually done it. I think I still remember how to do it, though…"

"It wouldn't be wise going through with it if you don't really know what you're doing." Arthur advised.

Alfred shook his head. "We can't just leave the bullet in there. The longer it's in him, the deeper it will go and, who knows, it might just pierce an organ or something and then what're we gonna to do?"

"He's right," Jeanne agreed. "It's either try to get it out now while it's still relatively close to the outside or wait another few weeks until he hemorrhages. And, trust me, that's a slow, painful death."

Alfred's lip was bleeding, he was chewing it so hard. "Do you have the supplies?"

Jeanne nodded. "We grabbed up a medical kit as soon as the first riots broke out. Thankfully we haven't had to use it much until now. I'll go get it. You two," She motioned to Arthur and Alfred. "Get one of your sleeping bags and lay him down on the ground."

"On the ground?" Alfred repeated, stunned.

Jeanne nodded again. "Yeah, there's going to be a lot of blood. If we're lucky the cold might chill it so he doesn't bleed out." And she left.

Ivan would never admit it, but he was frightened. He had gotten shot before (much more than one bullet at once had been in him), but that was when he had been a country. Now he was human, and humans died from gunshot wounds every day. He felt so stupid for having left it in for so long, but they had been on the run, and they could not have afforded to stop to tend to him at the time.

Arthur and Alfred both threw an arm over each shoulder to hold Ivan up. Kiku passed them and gave them a curious stare. "What is wrong with Ivan-san?"

"Never mind that," Arthur told him sparingly. "Fetch us a sleeping bag. Quickly,"

Kiku gave him a puzzled look, but did not question further and scurried off. Ivan felt his heart begin beating faster, frantic, as Arthur and Alfred helped him to a spot behind the vehicles where the wind wouldn't be so forbidding. They waited until Kiku reappeared with the sleeping bag in hand, laying it out for them. Carefully, Ivan was lowered onto it, and the Russian bit his lip to keep in painful noises as his wound was jostled.

Jeanne walked over, first aid kit in hand, kneeling down and setting it beside her. "Help me unbutton his coat." They had bundled Ivan back up again to prevent him getting a cold. The irony was not lost on them.

"I'll do it," Alfred said and set to it. He had undressed Ivan more than enough times to know the fastest way to do it. Ivan watched him, felt the hands on him shake and fumble, saw the blue eyes grow bleary with frantic, unshed tears.

When Alfred was finished, he pushed open the coat and hiked up Ivan's shirt. When he saw the blood-soaked bandages his throat convulsed and a sob forced its way up from his chest. "Why, Ivan? Why didn't you tell me?" How could I not have noticed?

Ivan felt so guilty that he couldn't answer. If anything, he didn't want Alfred to hurt because of something he did. Alfred moved to sit beside him as Arthur reached over, peeling back the gauze. Jeanne winced.

"Ooh," she said with pity. "It's definitely deep." She opened the first aid kit and rummaged around in it for a while before pulling out some stitches, more gauze, and a scalpel.

Alfred took Ivan's hand, squeezing it. Ivan's stomach began to churn.

"I'm going to have to make an incision to get to it," Jeanne told him, putting a firm hand on his hip. The cold bothered Ivan more than it normally should, but at least it made the wound numb. "But I…" She chewed her lip and her eyes went downcast for a moment. It as clear that she was second guessing herself. Then she looked back up at Ivan and said, "If… if this doesn't work out or I mess up, I'm sorry. But we need to get that bullet out or you're gonna die anyway."

Ivan didn't like the odds at all. But he had to take that chance.

"If you're going to do it, then do," Arthur urged. "The more anxious he gets, the faster his heart will pump his blood."

Jeanne nodded and paled considerably. Ivan flinched when he felt the cold blade of the scalpel against his skin. "Be still," she said tremulously. "This is going to hurt, but you have to be still."

Ivan nodded and clenched his fists. He tore his eyes away from the scalpel to look elsewhere. He couldn't bear to look at Alfred. He felt too guilty to do so.

Kiku was watching with steeped intrigue. He had many questions, but he knew now was not the time to ask them. Instead, he watched and waited. Yao joined him before long, and he did not need to be told to be quiet.

Ivan felt the cold press of the metal against his flesh, felt his skin slowly cave under its touch, until the elasticity of it was pushed to its limit and he felt the first cut. It was just a prick and he could feel the warm blood begin to well beneath it. It was only when Jeanne began to slice that he could truly feel the pain.

Ivan gave a hiss, gritting his teeth as the blade made a trail around the wound. He knew Alfred was watching, as he could feel his grip tighten and tremble. The scalpel cut deep, through flesh and muscle. When the blade reached the latter, Ivan began howling. He had never experienced such pain—not until he was made human.

He began to flinch and squirm, trying to get away, but Arthur moved to hold his legs in place. Alfred was crying above him, and it was obvious he was trying to hide it but he couldn't. Suddenly someone was lifting his chin.

It was Yao. "Bite on this." And he placed a half-frozen stick in his mouth. Ivan focused on digging his teeth into the wood instead of the blinding sting of the scalpel.

"He's open," Jeanne announced, sounding a little relieved. Her hand had been trembling the whole incision, but she'd managed to make it steady enough to make a clean cut. She peeled back the hunk of flesh and meat, following the trail the bullet had made into Ivan's side. When the Russian felt part of him being bent back, resting on his skin, the wind invading the orifice it created, his breathing picked up considerably.

Arthur peered up from holding him down. "He's going to hyperventilate. Do something to calm him down, Alfred."

Alfred just stared. "How? We're cutting into him in the middle of nowhere!"

Arthur glared. "He's not my lover!"

Then Ivan could feel fingers skim over his brow, pushing the loose hair out of his face. "Ivan, y-you have to be still, okay? She's looking now."

Ivan's eyes locked with his and before he knew it, hot tears flooded them. Alfred noticed and interlaced their fingers. "I'm not going anywhere," he promised. "You just be still."

By now everyone had gathered to watch. Matthew had a hand over his mouth, struggling not to gag at the sight of blood and, well, the inside of Ivan's side. Francis put a hand on his shoulder, feeling a little sick himself, and Matthew covered his face with his hands. "Oh maple, I can't watch…"

Meanwhile, Jeanne picked around for the bullet with some tweezers she had retrieved from the kit. With every jab, Ivan yelped and twitched and Alfred squeezed his hand.

Just when everyone was beginning to wonder if this was truly the best thing to do, Jeanne gasped, "Found it… I found it." And she struggled to grab hold of the slippery bullet. It had been buried in Ivan's side for so long, the muscles had begun to grow around it. She eventually eased it loose, and Ivan screamed. Alfred was horrified. Ivan had never screamed before now ( at least not that Alfred had ever witnessed) and it was one of the most pitiful, agonizing things he had ever heard. "I'm sorry," he cried. I'm sorry I can't help you more.

Finally, and with much finesse, the bullet was pulled out. Jeanne studied it for a moment before placing it down beside her and assessing the mass of torn flesh she now had to correct. "I'm going to sew you up now, Ivan." And she reached for the tweezers, the needle, and the stitches.

Stitching up the injury was perhaps the most painful part of the whole process. The cold could only do so much good for the pain as Ivan's skin was pierced and threaded through over and over again. It burned every time Jeanne ran the thread through his flesh, and Ivan was so tired of yelling that he lay silent after a time, hot tears of anguish and embarrassment rolling down his face. And Ivan had thought he had cried all his tears during his childhood. How very wrong he was. He closed his eyes, humiliated that he had let pain win over him.

"It's almost over," Alfred told him, no longer being able to watch.

And then it was. Ivan spat the stick out of his mouth. It was nearly cracked in two.

"I'm sorry," Jeanne said as she gathered everything back up and put it away in the kit. Her work wasn't perfect, but it would suffice. "You shouldn't overexert yourself for a while, wait till it heals."

Arthur let go of Ivan's legs and cleared his throat but found he had nothing to say. Alfred wiped the tears off Ivan's face. "You'll need to rest." He looked at Arthur. "Help me lift him."

Arthur nodded. "Yeah… right."

No translations

A Word From the Writer: Is it wrong to ship your own characters? Marvin and Nate seem to be a good pair... Anywho, now you know the backstories of the OCs... and what happened to the bullet in Russia's side. I like making Russia cry, too. Just the feels from it... There'll be more action next time. I just have to give the initial feel of arduous travel first. Can't just apparate everywhere! Speaking of which...

I watched a little too much Harry Potter over the break and have gotten into reading the fanfiction for it again. I'm really trying to take in as much info as I can so that I can write my own fanfiction for it. Well, I've started on one, but it won't be out for a while. Now, this doesn't mean that I will quit writing Hetalia (who the hell has the strength to do that?), but it might mean that I may be posting some Harry Potter fanfiction soon. My favorite pairings are Ron/Draco, Fred/George, and Oliver/Marcus, so... maybe some from those categories initially...?

I must return to fangirling. Until next time~