A/N: I swear, I will stop getting distracted so I update more regularly OTL I just had so much to do since I became admin of a cosplay group, and then I had my seasonal job at a Ren Faire, and then…yeah, the gist of it is I love you guys and hopefully I'll actually get this done. ;w;/

Thank you for all the reviews and encouragement to keep writing! If it wasn't for you guys, I don't know if I would have gotten through the bit of writer's block I was having. So thank you and keep up the great work!

Also, I hate to say this after how late this update is, NANOWRIMO is this month so I'll be working on another story ;w;/ I'll try to work on this one as well, but I apologize in advance!

oOoOoOo

"Now let us lie-

Sad we lived, sad we die;

Even in your pride, I never blamed you…

…

No sympathy, no eternity-

One light for each undeserved tear…"

oOoOoOo

"So, how is little Italy today?"

Russia was smiling, but that only made it worse. Italy was standing in front of the Russian, though his legs were trembling from the sheer effort. When Russia had thrown him into the kitchen he had cracked several ribs, and aggravated his already injured leg, as well as his head. His entire torso was bandaged now, and he was extremely dizzy, but he couldn't show that to Russia. The other nation would only use that as an excuse to hurt him more and Italy wasn't sure how much more he could handle. Russia just cocked his head innocently as he spoke again.

"You're still under the impression someone will save you, da?" He chuckled darkly. "Foolish thought. They've all scurried back to their little hidey-holes, they're not even thinking about you anymore."

Italy shut his eyes, wishing he could block out the chilling words coming out of Russia's mouth. He knew the other nation was doing it on purpose, slipping the doubt in his mind at every opportunity, but Italy liked to believe he was stronger than that. Russia knew better, judging by the smirk on his face as he continued.

"They're never coming for you, Veneziano. You might as well resign yourself to that fact. After all, who would risk their lives for silly, useless Italy? Who would get themselves to save your pathetic skin?"

Italy bit his lip, screwing his eyes shut tighter and wishing he could cover his ears too, but Russia would see that as a reason for punishment, so he restrained his urge. Russia went on in the same strain for several more minutes before deciding that he'd had enough fun for the evening and reached into his desk.

"I have work for you to do. I need you to send out the instructions on these sheets to each of my generals. It's about time I showed those quivering fools my real might, da?"

Italy shuddered, taking the papers in trembling fingers-he knew better than to disobey. He attempted a bow before hobbling out of the room toward the stairs that led to the small attic room he'd been given. Russia had decided to use him to do work for him, and Italy, fearing further injury to himself or the others, grudgingly obeyed. He walked with wobbling steps toward the desk which held a phone and a computer, both completely locked to sending anything out to anyone not certified by Russia. He lowered himself into the chair, wincing as he accidentally put pressure on his ribs, biting back a whimper. Italy was furious with himself, knowing he was doing everything short of signing his friends' death warrants, and he couldn't do anything about it because he was too afraid of getting hurt or…he shuddered involuntarily. He had to be strong, had to keep trying his best to stop Russia from doing anything worse. He sighed deeply, wincing again as he picked up the pieces of paper Russia had given him, reading through the words quickly. He froze when he got to the second paragraph, the papers slipping from his fingers to land on the floor as he brought his hands to his mouth.

"Deploy three units to begin attacks on Berlin and surrounding area, use any and all force deemed necessary…"

"Dio…"

oOoOoOo

"Are you sure you don't want me to come with you?"

Alfred sighed, rolling his eyes so it was visible to his twin who had been following him, blue-violet eyes anxious. Matthew had told him about France's return, and also about England collapsing, and that made Alfred even more eager to get back to fighting and trying to come up with a way to stop Russia from harming him ever again. His personal plane had been left at the airport where they'd landed, so he was planning on flying right to New York, and from there attempting to make it to Washington D.C.. Matthew had been trying the entire ride over to convince him that it was foolish, that he was just going to get himself killed and what he really needed to do was lay low, but Alfred refused.

"At least call Arthur first!" Matthew huffed, frustrated. He knew the Briton was most likely waiting anxiously for the call, since it had taken them longer than expected to get to Canada. But Alfred just shook his head, continuing across the tarmac to his plane.

"You can call him for me, right, Mattie? I should get going right away."

"Call him yourself, Alfred!" Matthew said sharply, grabbing his brother's arm in a surprising show of annoyance. He knew America wanted to be a hero, wanted to protect everyone, but… "You love him, don't you? He'd rather you called him, eh!"

Alfred didn't turn around, but Canada could see his shoulders stiffen and then a loud sigh escaped his brother's lips before he whispered softly.

"If I hear his voice, my resolve might crumble and I would want to fly right back across that ocean into his arms and never leave again, but…I just can't, Mattie. I have a responsibility."

"You don't have to do it, Alfred, and you know it! Can't you see we're worried about you, you…you damn hoser!"

Matthew's grip on his arm had tightened, and his eyes were steely yet at the same time filled with tears that threatened to spill down his pink cheeks. Alfred finally turned to look at him, eyebrows raised slightly in surprise, but Matthew was surprised to see the sadness in his brother's eyes as well.

"I know you're worried, Mattie…but if I don't do anything, Russia will just keep going and I…I don't want you or Arthur to be next, alright?"

Matthew was surprised to hear the anguish, the utter fear, in his brother's voice. Matthew sighed, shaking his head, but a small smile had formed on his lips.

"I don't think he's going to be coming for me any time soon, Al. It's you he's been trying to take down the most…"

"I'm the greatest threat." Alfred said bitterly, smiling wanly. "I was the one at the top, the one he's always wanted to see crash and burn…"

Matthew felt a pang in his heart as he saw Alfred's eyes fill with an indescribable sadness as he thought of his people, and the large sections of his beloved country that was in ruins. Canada knew just how horrible his brother had to be feeling, knowing how much he had always prided himself on his beautiful lands, and his people…he threw his arms around his brother and squeezed him, taking care not to hurt him, and Alfred made a soft noise of surprise.

"Mattie?"

"Take care of yourself, Al." Canada whispered, holding onto his brother tightly as his eyes filled with tears once more. "Do you hear me? I'll call Arthur to let him know we've landed…"

"Thanks, bro." Alfred said, squeezing his brother one last time before letting go and giving him a grin that contradicted his sad eyes. "I'll see ya around, Mattie."

"Bye…" Canada said, giving his brother a small smile as he turned and walked to his plane, thinking how small those shoulders looked as they retreated from him, and recalling the words once spoken to England…

"You used to be so big…" he whispered as he watched his brother get in the cockpit before taking off down the runway and into the sky toward his decimated country.

oOoOoOo

"Italy?"

Lithuania frowned as he knocked on the door to the attic room where Italy was living for the time being. When he received no response he tried knocking again before deciding to just open the door. He pushed it open slowly, peering around the doorway to find Italy leaning onto the desk, snoring gently. He frowned concernedly, but he decided not to wake him right away-he knew Italy had been sleeping only sporadically since he had regained consciousness, and was probably horribly exhausted. Lithuania sighed, setting down the tray of food he had brought with him and touching Italy's shoulder, jumping back as the other nation shot up.

"Che co-oh, Toris." Italy sighed in relief, a faux smile making its way to his face. "Dispiace, I must have drifted off…"

"Ah, it's alright, Italy…I'm sorry to have woken you." Lithuania smiled wearily. "I brought you some food."

"Ah, grazie, Toris." Italy smiled weakly, wincing as he accidentally stretched his chest too much. Lithuania put a hand on his arm, frowning deeply.

"We should change your bandages, I bet they need tightening…"

"Ah, it's okay, I can do it myself." Italy assured him. "Y-you should worry about your own injuries…"

"Mine are nothing compared to what he did to you, Italy." Lithuania whispered, a sombre expression on his face, and Italy's smile faltered for a moment before he bowed his head and nodded solemnly, unbuttoning his shirt as Lithuania grabbed some bandages to replace the old ones. He stayed as still as he could while the other nation unwrapped his chest, wincing occasionally as a slight movement caused pain to shoot up his side. Lithuania apologized softly each time, but continued his work with careful hands that spoke of years of experience. The thought of that made Italy frown with pity-here he was complaining after only a few weeks in Russia's capture, and yes Lithuania and his brothers had spent many decades in his "care". He bit his lip, remembering the way the three of them had stood up for him as he helped the others escape, how Latvia had been killed…he didn't realize he had begun crying until Lithuania looked up at him with a sombre smile and brushed a tear from his cheek.

"It's alright, Italy…after a while, you'll get used to it. You'll learn not to cry."

Somehow the sound of that simple, almost bleak phrase made Italy want to cry even harder, but he tried to hold it back, knowing he had to be strong if he was ever going to do any good to his friends. He needed to find a way to warn Germany, to tell him he was being targeted, but he couldn't while Russia had such a close on watch on him, and that made him feel so useless. Italy was used to being told he was useless, though-how many times had even Germany himself mentioned how useless he was, how weak and stupid he was. But now was his one chance to prove he wasn't the silly, helpless nation they'd always told him he was, and he couldn't do anything. Russia had been right in his saying that no one would be willing to put their lives in danger for him-even though he wanted to believe that Germany would and had been trying to come up with a way to get him out of there. He wanted to have faith in Germany, because he loved him, he truly did, but…he was starting to believe that there really was no use in waiting for a rescue that would never come. Italy was well and truly alone…

…and he hated it.

oOoOoOo

England had been staring at his phone, as if just glaring at it would make it ring the silly tune America had set for himself ages ago, long before there's was even a hint of a war. He sighed morosely, setting his mobile back down on the side table, picking up his lukewarm cup of Earl Grey and sipping it as he stared out the window. It was raining (though that was hardly a surprise, given it was London), and the weather did nothing to lighten his mood. He had yet to receive a phone call from Canada or America, and that caused him to worry greatly. Just as he was about to take another sip of his tea, however, his phone rang, and he recognized the lyrics of the once popular song "Canadian, please"-Canada was finally calling. He picked up the phone in moments, some of his tea spilling on the side table.

"Matthew? Have you landed? Is Alfred alright?"

"Ah, Arthur, don't speak so fast, eh."

England huffed, gripping his phone tightly as he forced himself to take a few calming breaths.

"I'm terribly sorry. I shouldn't have been so agitated…I'm guessing you two have landed?"

"We landed about half an hour ago. I would have called sooner, but I had to see Al off and tell him not to be an inconsiderate jerk." Matthew replied, and England could tell that he was trying to sound light-hearted but the worry was evident in his soft voice.

"He went back already, then?" England replied, his voice cool and composed thanks to centuries of practice. He had already been far too emotional the past few weeks for his liking, and and he didn't want to appear any weaker than he already did. On the other end of the line Matthew sighed softly before replying.

"Yes he did. I told him to call you himself, but…he said he had to go back right away."

"Of course he did." Arthur grumbled, and he heard Matthew sigh.

"He's just trying to be a hero in his own, selfless, foolish way. I honestly don't blame him, eh…I mean, if it was my country looking like that…"

"Yes, Matthew, I am well aware of the state his country is in. All the more reason for him to stay away from the fighting, because he's more vulnerable, he could get himself…" Arthur sighed deeply, picking up his tea cup again to have something to do, to keep his mind from finishing that sentence. Matthew just sighed again, and Arthur could almost imagine him shaking his head.

"But you and I both know Al better than that, Arthur. He could never sit and watch his country burn without putting up a fight."

"I know." England said softly, sipping from his cup and grimacing at the now cooled tea. "Thank you for calling me, Matthew. I should let you go about your business."

"Alright. I'll call you if I hear anything about Al. I'll talk to you later, Arthur."

"Likewise." Arthur replied before shutting his phone and setting it back on the table calmly. He took another sip of his tea, scowling at the cool beverage before chucking the cup across the room, shattering it on the wall. He stared at the shards of glass before slumping back against the headboard wearily, resting his arm over his eyes.

"Bloody git…bloody, foolish, loveable git…."

oOoOoOo

Prussia stared out the window, a weary scowl on his face. He was in the kitchen, finally having moved from his room so he wouldn't have to listen to the sound of Germany pacing in the room next door. His brother was spending most of his time trying to track Russia down again, but there was little hope of being able to find him again, and that made Germany antsy and furious. He spent most of his time either in his study or pacing in his bedroom, trying to think of a way to get Italy back again. Prussia had given up on trying to get him to sleep more than a few hours at a time, and it was showing. He let out a heavy sigh, glaring out at the sunset moodily.

"Gilbert?"

He jumped, taking the small gun he'd taken to carrying again and pointing it behind him automatically, red eyes flashing. Hungary raised her eyebrows, but showed no other sign of surprise at the weapon pointed in her face.

"Good evening to you too, Gilbert."

"Liz…don't do that." He sighed, putting the safety back on and setting the gun down on the table. She just smiled wearily, shrugging.

"Sorry. I was just coming by to see you."

"Shouldn't you be at home?" He asked, frowning it a bit, and she shook her head.

"There's nothing much happening over at my place. Besides, I said I was here for business, so it's fine."

Prussia just nodded, gesturing toward the table.

"Go ahead and sit, then. Do you, uh…do you need anything?"

"You, being courteous? Should I be worried?" Hungary quipped, a small smile on her face, but it was strained and Prussia just chuckled wryly.

"Give me a little more credit, Liz. Beer okay?"

"Beer's fine." She said, nodding her thanks as he handed one over before opening his own and taking a long swig from it. He leaned against the counter, staring back out the window again as they sat in silence. After several minutes passed this way Hungary finally spoke in a soft voice.

"Has there been any news on Russia's movements?"

"Not that I'm aware." Prussia replied, sighing. "He has mobilised a decent number of troops, but we are as of yet unaware of where he plans to strike. It could be any of us."

"Or all of us." She grumbled, taking another drink from her beer and setting it down on the table. "We don't even know how many he has, or what his plans are…it's like he's playing a game with us, but only he knows all the pieces."

"It's how he wants it." Prussia said darkly, his free hand curling into a fist. "He's playing with us, and he enjoys it. He likes seeing us jumpy and beaten, waiting to see what he throws at us next."

"But we can't just sit around doing nothing." Hungary practically growled, and Prussia looked over at her with tired scarlet eyes.

"What can we do, Liz? Everyone who has tried to push back ends up either dead or nearly there. Look at America…hell, look at Feliciano!" He slammed his beer onto the table, making her jump. "We can't win, Liz, and he fucking knows it! Ivan will just keep on going until he has all of at his side, under his foot, and he knows that we don't have the strength to stop him because we're fucking weak!"

"So you've given up, is that it?" Hungary stood up, her green eyes shining with anger. "You've given up on Feli and the others, you'll just let him do this? We still have a chance, Gilbert, if we just keep fighting back! He's only won once we give up."

"How many more have to die before we give up, Elizabeta? Will you be satisfied if you're next, or me, or bru-?"

"Just shut up!" She yelled, punching him across the face without thinking, huffing. "You may hold your life in very low regard, Gilbert Beilschmidt, but I don't!"

Gilbert stared at her with wide eyes, holding onto his cheek. She just scowled at him, but he saw her green eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she turned on her foot and stalked out of the kitchen. As soon as he heard the front door slamming he sighed and slumped back in his chair, looking down at the table. After a few minutes he heard someone clearing their throat and he looked up to see Germany standing in the doorway, a worried frown on his face.

"Bruder? What did she want?"

"Liz came to knock some sense into me, I think…a little too literally." Prussia laughed weakly, picking up his beer and taking a swig from it. Germany looked at him, eyebrows furrowed.

"I see…did she have any news?"

"Nein." Prussia sighed wearily. "No one knows what's going on, frankly…fuck, I just wish we knew something…"

"Maybe knowing nothing is better at the moment." Germany replied, shrugging as he walked over to the fridge and pulled out a beer. "I'll be in my office, then. Tell me if you learn anything."

Prussia just nodded, staring down at the bottle in his hand before draining it of its contents and pulling out another, resigning himself to more long hours of contemplation.

oOoOoOo

Russia pored over the map of Europe, a chilling smile on his face as he made marks with a pen. This country was his, this country wasn't worth the trouble, a few more troops to that one…he plotted his next moves with an eerie calm. Belarus watched him work, twirling one of her many knives in the air and catching it. After almost an hour of this, however, she looked over at him and almost pouted.

"When do I get to go out again, Vanya?

"Soon, sestra." Russia replied, smiling as he looked up from his map. "I have plans for you, you just have to be patient."

"Why can't we just wipe them all out now?" Belarus moped, twirling her knife in her fingers. "I mean, come on, you almost got that America brat, the rest should be a piece of cake."

"So you would think, but it is not that easy, sestra." Russia sighed, looking back down on his map. "The fools cling to this silly idea of hope, and for some reason it makes them want to keep on fighting when they know they've lost."

"But hope won't last forever. Not when we've got them cornered." Belarus snorted, shrugging. Russia nodded absently, making more marks on his map. After a few minutes of silence there was a hesitant knock on the door. Russia looked up, smiling as he said.

"Come in, Italy."

The door opened slowly, and Italy peered inside, looking at Russia as he walked into the room on shaky legs. He set the stack of papers he had on an empty space on Russia's desk, swallowing nervously as he whispered.

"I-I finished sending out the orders."

"Good boy." Russia smiled, and Italy shivered visibly.

"Is there anything else you need me to do?"

"Not right now. Do get some rest, Italy-can't have you collapsing on duty, can we?" Russia smiled brightly, and Italy swallowed thickly before nodding.

"I-I'll do that…"

"See that you do. I expect you in here promptly at six. You are dismissed."

Italy bowed a bit before scurrying out of the room as fast as he could. Russia watched him go, and when he noticed Belarus' frown he chuckled.

"He's got the makings of a good pet already. He will serve us well."

"But we can't trust him." Belarus replied coldly, looking at her brother through her silver eyelashes. Russia just giggled, shaking his head as he bent over his map once more.

"Don't worry, he won't be stepping out of line anytime soon~"

oOoOoOo