Behold, the beginning of my story, there is some America bashing (don't be offended, I am an American, but I'm also from NY so...I reserve the right to be an asshole to the rest of the country =P Especially New Jersey LOL nah, just kidding..., but not about NJ, seriously)

Beware, there is plenty of Russia angst; country biology speculation; much love for Russia; and other fuck upedness

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The nation of Russia was currently walking around downtown Princeton looking a little odd with his long and heavy looking overcoat with his signature scarf fluttering in the muggy March wind. For some reason the capitalist, burger-eating pig had decided not to hold the world conference in his capital, like any normal nation would, or even in New York City where the UN headquarters was located, but in Princeton, New Jersey.

The stupid pig wanted to show off the Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital that boasted an admittedly impressive track record with diagnosing strange medical maladies as well as implementing many ground breaking medical pratices. It was obvious that America simply wanted to show that his country could accomplish something other than breaking records in obesity and stupidity. However, it would have been nice if he could somehow accomplish this without it being at the expense of his fellow nations. Unfortunately, the city was more college oriented than tourist oriented which meant that it was difficult for everyone to find an affordable hotel (since everything in America was overpriced anyway.)

Russia grumbled a bit more to himself, thus scaring some of the locals around him a bit as well, and buried the lower half of his face deeper into his scarf. Russia's dark mood lightened a little when he spotted a little park and he decided that it would be more relaxing to watch the cute ducks swimming in the pond than for him to rile himself up over stupid things that were impossible to change (aka America...and Belarus too).

Russia calmly sat down on one of the benches near the edge of the pond and the tension that he had been carrying with him all day drifted away.

"Ahhh~ I wish it could be more like this back home~" Russia said mournfully as he thought of his winter plagued lands that were still frozen solid, even in March. Unfortunately for the slavic nation, as well as any nation that was close enough to the poles, the temperature of his lands directly effected the temperature of his physical body, hence his heavy winter clothing.

This was another reason Russia was resentful towards America. Even though he had territory in the artic he was uneffected by this unfortunate side effect since the extreme high and low temperatures of America's own land seemed to negate themselves leaving the pig with a normal body temperature. And it seemed Russia was the only artic nation that minded. Russia thought sadly about the nordic nations and America's invisible yet generally cheerful brother. Why was he the only one that had such a problem with winter and everything that applied to it? Russia shuddered as he felt a familiar squeezing in his own chest. Why him?

A hand suddenly dropped down onto his shoulder and it startled Russia slightly out of his increasingly upsetting internal thoughts. Russia's eyes shut in pain when he felt the pain in his chest return again.

"Hey, are you okay?" asked the voice Russia assumed was attached to the hand still on his shoulder. Russia opened his eyes to look at the foolish American that dared talk to him.

His large violet eyes peered into the smaller brown ones of a handsome man that looked to be in his mid- to late thirties and he owned a rather impressive set of eyebrows although nothing NEARLY as bad as England's. The man looked as if he had been out for a jog due to his sweatsuit that he was currently wearing that had "McGill" stitched onto the front. Russia's brow wrinkled slightly as he pondered that. Wasn't McGill a canadian university? Maybe this man was canadian...it was rather hard to tell the difference.

Russia was startled again when the man shook his shoulder again and he realized that the man had been talking to him the entire time. He then started to tug on his scarf.

"-really, are you okay? Maybe you're overheated, I mean it has to be over 70 degrees out today, you're going to give yourself heatstroke," the mysterious man continued to tug on his clothing, but the large nation growled and grabbed the offending hand before he could do anything else.

"Stop," the Russian told the annoying jogger threateningly. He shuddered again as he felt another wave of pain.

"Hey, calm down, I'm a doctor," the man proclaimed. "My name is Dr. James Wilson, and you really aren't looking good. What's wrong? Do you need to go to the hospital?"

"Nyet," he insisted although his grip was tightening on the doctor's wrist as the pain in his chest sharpened exponentially. The Russian released the man's wrist to clutch at the fabric above his heart. Russia was startled when the area was slightly wet and he pulled his hand away to see that his fingers were painted a bright red. The doctor above him gasped as he pulled out his cell phone and began to dial.

The last thing that Russia heard before he passed out was that the doctor was sending him to Princeton-Plainsboro Teaching Hospital. Well, shit.

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Yay! First chapter! I hoped that you liked this one and for those of you who aren't as obsessive about Russia as me, his "medical condition" is kind of linked to how his heart just falls out sometimes. Just check the Hetalia Wikia~ This'll give House something to think over, eh? Oh, and lame title is lame. Sorry about that.