The Sun Never Sets – One Shot

DISCLAIMER: Hetalia is not-a my-a propertee-a (pretend I said that with an Italian accent…)

(A/N) Just so as to avoid confusion, this little one-shot is set in the (extremely distant) future…so, hopefully that'll clear everything up (things change over time, ya know?). Also – this is fic is not intended to be a sequel to Nineteen Ninety (other LietBel fic), but could be viewed as one should you prefer. Enjoy!

From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.

- Thomas Moore

Natalia loved Toris's touch. She loved his smile, his never wavering optimism, and the way he was always looking out for her, even when she insisted she didn't need it. She loved holding his hand – the seemingly simple action always made her feel warm inside.

In fact, Natalia was holding it now…but she wasn't feeling very warm…and neither was Toris's hand. She gripped it tightly with desperate fingers. "Toris!" she cried.

"Why did you do that?" she asked angrily, the tears in her eyes making the world look like a giant abstract painting. "You idyjot…I could've handled it!" Toris was heavy in her arms and on her legs – Natalia was kneeling on the ground, the Lithuanian's upper body held securely in her lap.

His eyes opened, and he smiled weakly at her. "Ne, Natalia…you couldn't have…" there was a gigantic red stain on his front and on the floor, and it was rapidly expanding. His skin was losing its pallor as his blood drained out on the carpeted ground – and with it, his life.

"But you're dying," Natalia stressed, hardly able to believe it. "For real!" He can't be…niama, not Toris…

"I know, meilė...but it was better me than you," his voice was just barely a whisper, but it still held that tender, loving note he always spoke with.

"Don't say that!" she shook her head. "Don't give up – I'll fix you, I'll find a way!"

"Natalia –"

"Nia!" she screamed it now. "Don't say good-bye!" You said you would never leave me! Obeying Natalia's wishes, Toris did not bid his final farewell.

"Natalia, it was for the best...," he said. Great! He's dying and he's still trying to comfort me!

"But why?" she was aching now, in her heart and in her mind - aching to know why he would go and throw his life away on her.

"Don't you know?" Toris's mouth curved upwards into a small smile. "I did it because aš tave myliu, Natalia…" The light in his eyes was fading now, too - they closed. His skin was whiter than paper, than fresh snow even. The pool of blood had stopped expanding…his life essence was painting everything – the floor, his clothes, Natalia's hands and face and arms and legs - but still Toris breathed.

There's still time! But deep down, the Belarusian knew she was deluding herself. Natalia looked up, looked up into the faces of the spectators of this grisly, heart-wrenching spectacle. I think there're even a few countries in there…somewhere…

"Help me!" she implored them. "Help him! Don't just stand there – do something!" She was asking for help from the people whose assistance she had refused just a few minutes ago… but the surrounding people and nations had already accepted what she wasn't willing too – Toris was beyond aid. There was no saving him, and never could've been.

His breathing was slowing, becoming shallower and shallower – his fingers slackened under her grip. "Toris!" Maybe if I get angry enough…but Natalia wasn't angry. She was decimated – maybe beyond repair.

"Don't you leave me, don't you dare leave me…Toris!" he breathed once more…and not again – peace was the only thing still left in his earthly body…nothing but motionless peace.

But Natalia still refused to believe the truth, the fact - the inevitable. "Toris, wake up! Open your eyes!" she shook his shoulder. Any second now, he'll get up and say it was a joke and I'll be angry with him but I'll get over it and then we'll all go on with our lives and – one, long, continuous train of thought just like that consumed her mind.

"Pračynacca, Toris," she repeated. "Wake up!" Then, Natalia felt a warm hand on her shoulder - Alfred? The American was followed by others, Toris's brothers among them. They shooed away the extra spectators, until it was only nations who were huddled around their fallen comrade.

Natalia buried her face in the Lithuanian's hair, inhaling his familiar scent and the feelings it always gave her. His smell – at the moment – was still miraculously unpolluted by death and blood. She herself reeked of the two. "Toris...," she lovingly brushed an errant strand of hair from his face. She gently brushed her living lips against his cold dead ones – it was a final seal of affection, one to keep him company in the afterlife.

"Ja taksama ciabie liubliu…," truer words had never passed her lips. I love you, too.

Natalia stayed by his side all night, and when morning came she wouldn't let anyone move his body. She stayed and stayed and stayed and stayed. She relived the moment, again and again. What could have I done differently? What would have happened if I did?

The Belarusian was also constantly mourning the years that she could've spent with Toris, but were instead whiled away with focusing her affections on Ivan – her older brother. Estranged older brother, now... The decades – no, centuries – she could have spent with the Lithuanian…but she had to wait to accept his love, didn't she?

The last few decades of her life with him had been absolutely wonderful…but now there would be no more. No more Toris, no more early morning coffee chats or late night walks – no more kissing in the dark of their bedroom or a love so strong she sometimes felt like she didn't deserve it. No…more...

Towards mid-day, on the second day of her vigil, a group of Toris's friends came and tried to talk her into leaving and letting go. I suppose they are…or were, possibly…my friends too.

"…he wouldn't have wanted this, Natalia…"

"…Liet, would like, totally have wanted you to move on..."

"…come on – let us take his body so everyone can pay their respects..."

"…plus, it's like, really gross and creepy…"

"…please, Natalia?"

Each voice was somber, and each face was even more so. No one could have possibly known what Toris's wants and wishes would have been – and that was because they weren't him, and never ever would be – this was the thought that helped her turn a deaf ear to everything they all said.

"Niama," she said, firmly and resolutely to each and every one of their questions or protests. No, no, no. I'll tell you all day if I have to.

A person's patience can only be tried for so long, and – let's face it – bodies that no longer hold life in them need to be taken care of. Natalia was an obstacle at this point.

"Someone go and get Irina," said one of the solemn faces – she thought it might've been Eduard. It sounds like him…but I don't care. But still – Irina…they're pulling out all the stops, aren't they? They were the teachers, and she was the naughty child – Irina, her older sister, was the parent called to come in and conference about the problem.

The war is over…but the mess such an affair would leave still remains…it was a favored quote of hers, issued by some quasi-important politician after the third World War – something that had taken place over eleven decades ago. Many had suffered, but in the end they thrived. Differences had been resolved, and apologies accepted - just as they had been previously.

But this - this insignificant little conflict - had taken Toris away from her. And he wasn't even playing that big of a role…all that damned him was his support of me. Damage a country enough, and there was no way they could recover. Massacre their people and nuke their capital and wipe every trace of their government from the earth…then they would die.

The offense had been delivered after the downfall – it had been like an innocent child getting caught in the thrashing death throes of some monstrous being…like how Toris had suffered undeserved wrath because of her decisions. He'd been felled by a cowardly foe, which had attacked a nation that wasn't expecting such quick and brutal malice, in lieu of the ones that really deserved it.

A nation like me…it was her fault. I never should have gotten involved. Her fault her fault her fault!

Natalia felt gentle arms wrap around her shoulders, and an ample bosom press against her back. "Natasha," came her sister's caring, oh-so-ever sympathetic and saddened voice. "It's time to leave." There was a double meaning in her words – she's telling me to let go…but Natalia couldn't. And that was why Irina had too practically carry her away from the side of the only man who'd ever made her truly happy.

Behind her, Toris was covered by a blanket. She would never see his face again.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Lying in bed that night felt odd without Toris beside her. He'd been there for so long…she could hardly even recall what it felt like for him to not be there. But now, Natalia remembered. She remembered all too well what emotions sleeping alone stirred up inside of her – she was experiencing them now, in addition to what she was already feeling about the recent events.

Natalia got up and paced around the home they'd shared together, very happily, as the Democratic Republic of Lithuania-Belarus…as husband and wife. It had been an interesting union because they still functioned as two separate countries – with separate governments, presidents, armed forces, languages, cultures…they had been more than an alliance, but not exactly one nation.

But now she was missing the "Lithuania" part of that title…the Democratic Republic of Belarus didn't, and never would, have the same ring or feel to it. It felt like a mathematical equation without the answer.

…at least to me.

The Belarusian needed to do something, anything, to get her mind off the guilt and the grief and the pain. She walked outside in her flimsy nightgown, not even bothering to put on shoes before exiting the house. I don't need shoes – I don't deserve them.

Walking down the side of the road, Natalia felt the need to go faster. She kept increasing the pace at which she walked until she was flying across the pavement – she didn't even care about the pebbles and occasional shard of glass that would cut into the soft parts of her feet. The more pain, the better.

She veered off the beaten path of the back-country road, and into a thick copse of trees that was along the way. Natalia continued to run, until she came to a spindly, weather-beaten and dead looking old tree that blocked her path. Instead of going around it – like any other, sane person would do – she began to beat it with her hands.

Natalia hit the tree as hard as she could – again and again and again and again – as if it were the sole cause of Toris's death, and all the heartache that occurrence was causing her. Dry bark flew off of the trunk where her fists landed, and she hardly even noticed that her knuckles were swelling and full of splinters.

After considerable damage had been done to the tree, Natalia grabbed her head. She rocked back and forth, making horrible animal noises from the center of her center that bounced around the forest. Her own blood dripped from her hands to the ground, but she didn't care in the slightest. My fault my fault my fault ALL MY FAULT.

Toris is gone never coming back all my fault forever my fault guilty I'm so stupid he's gone! He had been her rock, something to hold onto in the ever expanding sea of her loosened sanity – and now he was gone, and she was drifting too deeply and for too long.

Natalia eventually made it back to the house – she wasn't even sure how. She didn't remember walking, or catching a ride, or anything of the sort. She was just…home. The Belarusian felt a sudden urge to be extremely destructive – both to herself, and to her surroundings.

Her drug – Toris - was gone, and she was an addict going through withdrawal.

She started in the kitchen – the glasses and the china dishware were the first to go. They caught the moonlight coming in through the window so pretty, when they were smashed on the floor like that. Then the silver utensils were shoved down the automated garbage disposal, ruining both in the process.

Natalia was rummaging around in the utensil drawer, looking for something she might've missed, when a thin blade of fire sliced through her fingertips. She withdrew them to find she'd stumbled across an errantly placed steak knife. It might've been ordinary in daylight, but in the dark of the kitchen it looked wicked and deadly.

I could do it. She raised the blade to her neck, contemplating. The Belarusian was no stranger to knives – she knew exactly just how damaging one short, little sharpened length of steel could be. Then I could be with Toris… She lowered the knife to her breast, aligning it to where her heart beat. Then she –

Niama…no. Natalia couldn't do it. The almost-death-instrument dropped to the glass-covered woodwork with a clatter and a tinkle. It wouldn't work – what had happened to Toris was rare and exceptional. It couldn't be duplicated with a simple steak knife.

He wouldn't want me to do it, either…even if it meant spending eternity together.

The guilt started coming back from its temporary lull. If Natalia had kept to herself instead of getting involved in the stupid affair, he would still be alive. And since nations were – almost but not quite – immortal, they would have spent eternity together anyways.

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ME! Natalia ran her fingers through her hair, faster and faster until she was just holding onto fistfuls of the golden strands and pulling-pulling-pulling with all of her strength. With a sound not-unlike Velcro, the hair broke – just ripped right away. She stared at the locks in her hands, their ends frazzled and jagged. A small portion of her hair now came down just below her ears – she could feel the newly shortened strands tickling her cheeks and neck.

Would Toris have wanted you to do this to yourself? Asked her head voice, which was back now that she had almost completely lost her lucidity.

Być spakojnym! Natalia mentally roared. What do you know about what Toris would have wanted? No one could have known and never will! She ripped open another drawer, and withdrew a pair of scissors. She furiously grabbed a chunk of hair and sloppily cut it. The scissors were old, and not meant to be used on hair. They tugged almost unbearably at her scalp with each snip – but still, she cut. Natalia repeated this process until every last strand was the same length…about – just past her ears.

She caught a glimpse of her reflection in the window that was placed above the sink. What have I done? It looked like a pair of dull hedge-trimmers had attacked her once silky and long mane of hair – now it was torn and mangled - if hair could physically die, hers most definitely would be one its way to the afterlife. Natalia screamed in anger at her own, stupid self.

She picked up the nearest thing she could find – a heavy, metal napkin holder, the Belarusian was positive – and chucked it at the pane of glass. Her reflection cracked and shattered, falling to the kitchen floor and the ground outside like so many razor-sharp raindrops.

Natalia grabbed ahold of the steak knife again – the handle instead of the blade this time – and went into the living room. This was where we talked to friends, and received guests…she expertly slashed each one of the cushions on the comfortable couches, the carefully embroidered pillows, and every once-cozy armchair. All the drapes on the first floor received similar treatment – they were once decoration, and now they weren't fit for cleaning rags.

She ran through each room, destroying everything that could be smashed, shattered, slashed, snapped, or just plain broken. Vases were pushed over, and paintings were torn from the walls. Long, skinny candles were snapped into pieces, and little trinkets were tossed about.

When she ran out of things to damage on the first floor, Natalia nimbly trotted up the steps. There, she committed an identical reign of carnage. She twisted the knobs and handles on the bathtubs and sinks until they fell off – water quickly covered the bathroom floor, having nowhere else to go and no way to cease the never ending flow of new liquid. The toilets were clogged with both toilet paper, and whatever else would fit in their clean, white bowls.

Every mirror in the house was systematical shattered, and the rest of the windows joined their fallen-kitchen-friend in aperture hell. All the bedding was shredded, both in her room and the guest ones – mattresses were stabbed repeatedly with the much abused kitchen blade. The home office was one of the best rooms to dismantle – the computer monitor crashed to the carpet, and government papers and books were tossed into the air and ripped apart. I don't want or need these anymore, anyway.

The only things that had been spared were Toris's – his keepsakes, his treasured items, his clothes…things like that.

The Belarusian never stopped – she just kept going and going and going as fast as her body would let her until there was nothing left. A cold night breeze drifted lazily through the house, whistling softly through all the broken windows. Natalia shivered.

Her actions had begun to catch up with her – both of her hands and both of her feet hurt terribly. The bits of glass and other refuse embedded in them, along with the various lacerations, burned like fire. They were still dripping blood, but not too much…not enough to worry about. Her over-kneaded and stressed scalp was sore.

Natalia suddenly felt very tired and almost content, as if her rampage had helped release some of the blame, and guilt and sadness she'd held inside. Not all of it is gone…but it's better. It would take a very, very long time for every last trace of those feelings to disappear.

She climbed onto her now-bare and mutilated mattress, and curled into the fetal position on what used to be Toris's side of the bed. It was almost dawn now – Natalia could see it very clearly through the window. The sky was becoming less black and blue, and more orange and pink.

Natalia fell asleep. Not gradually, or eventually. She simply closed her eyes, and was immediately encumbered in the lovely folds of amnesia and thoughtlessness that slumber usually brought to her.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Irina just about keeled over and had a cow when she came to check on Natalia around noon. "Natasha!" the ample-chested nation cried upon bursting into her younger sister's room. "What have you done to your things!" It was an exclamation, not a question – what the Belarusian had "done to her things" was plainly visible. Her gaze fell on Natalia's hands, hair, and feet - her eyes widened. "…and to yourself?"

Natalia attempted to look blasé, but her heart wasn't in it. She ended up looking like she was actually feeling – angry, alone, and so very sad it was almost unreal. Irina took her by the wrists, and made her meet her gaze. "Natasha, I want you to listen to me very closely." Cold blue eyes met warm ones of the same color. "Toris would not have wanted you to react this way – would you have wanted him to hurt himself on purpose, were you the one that died?"

The Belarusian closed her eyes, and shook her head once – with brevity. If I were dead…huh… no, I guess not…

Irina smiled kindly, but she was not very good at disguising her concern. "See, Natasha? I know it's hard, but it'll get better. From every tragedy blooms a blessing."

Natalia quirked an eyebrow. …blooms a dabraslavieńnie? Where does she pull all this sentimental crap from? Irina, in the meantime, had taken to examining her sister's wounded hands and feet. She was getting really worked up too, pretending to be less anxious than she actually was to get Natalia medical treatment.

She won't say anything…Natalia rationalized. So I'll say something for her. "Irunya," she said, slowly and quietly – it was all the Belarusian could manage at the moment. Irina dropped one of Natalia's feet in surprise, causing her sister to wince slightly as it rebounded off the mattress.

"Da, Natasha?" the Ukrainian seemed overjoyed and stunned to see her finding her voice again so quickly – usually when Natalia was in one of her moods (moods that had been absent for ages, mind you), she often didn't speak a word for days on end. What had happened recently had definitely qualified as a more-than-probable mood trigger.

"Can we just go to the God damned hospital?"

So, Irina drove Natalia to the nearest hospital, never mind the fact that all the Belarusian was only wearing a flimsy little – barely decent – nightgown. But Natalia didn't mind. She actually kind of relished the odd looks she received as the two of them walked into the emergency room, in a dark, half-hearted kind of way.

Maybe I could tell someone I stopped a bank robbery or something…or, better yet, I robbed the bank – No! An entire chain of banks! Fantasy was easier to swallow than the truth, sometimes.

Two hours later, after getting her wounds cleaned, stitched up, and bandaged, Natalia was escorted – a.k.a. "forced" – into a near-by hair salon by Irina. Either I'm losing my resolve, or she's found some – she never would've gotten me into a place like this before.

The hairdresser asked her what Natalia wanted done with her hair, after gently and cautiously washing and brushing the still rather destroyed-looking locks. The poor woman probably thought the Belarusian was the victim of some horrible accident or illness. Either that or she was insane. A combination of both, I'd like to think.

"Just clean it up a little – make it look nice," Irina told the stylist, when Natalia neglected to answer her warily stated question. Natalia just sat in the chair and watched as the woman's reflection snipped away – she was obviously more experienced and talented when it came to hair than the young nation was.

"It's lovely!" Irina cooed.

Her once long – then dramatically and messily shortened – hair had been trimmed into a fashionable little bob. The stylist started to explain all the different looks Natalia could achieve with her new do, depending on which hair products she used. But Natalia wasn't going to stick around just to listen to information she would never utilize – she just walked out the door, leaving Irina to apologize and pick up the bill.

I liked it better long.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Natalia stayed with her sister that night – Irina had said that her house was no longer fit to sustain human life - But I'm not a human…I'm a fucking God damn country – and that her younger sister would just have to take advantage of her hospitality for a little while. At least until the handy-men had finished renovating and repairing, and the interior designers had finished wall-papering and furnishing.

She had the distinct impression that Irina was making her stay so she could be observed. To make sure I don't off myself, probably.

Irina had informed her that most of the things in Natalia's house would have to be replaced – over dinner of course. What better time to break bad news than when one was eating?

"Most of the furniture will have to be replaced, as will the windows, and the floors," Irina struggled to pick up a small roll of sushi with the thin little wooden sticks Kiku and Yao always tried to pass off as eating utensils – take out had been deemed the easiest option for dinner that night. Natalia had barely touched her own little balls of rice, fish, and seaweed. She just played absently with the chopsticks.

"You really did a number on that place, Natasha," the Ukrainian gave up the battle "chopsticks versus food versus Irina", and got up to fetch herself a fork.

"I want them to find replicas of everything, and replace them with that," Natalia said. If I can't have my house the way it was, then I don't want it at all.

Irina started to laugh, until she realized her sister wasn't joking in the slightest. "Natasha…," she leaned over the table, her abnormally-large breasts preceding her. "You and Toris furnished your home back in the 2200's…it'd be nigh impossible to find replicas of those things now."

"It's what I want, Irina," Natalia made sure to forego her sister's pet name, trying to get her point across.

A slight shadow flitted across the Ukrainian's features, but was gone as quickly as it came. I guess she's getting sick of me…wouldn't be the first time.

"Natalia –" she began more harshly than usual, paying the Belarusian the exact same "curtsey".

"It's. What. I want." Natalia interrupted her, standing now and fists clenched at her sides.

Irina made the call immediately to find replicas of the furniture and other things that had been damaged - "And for the love of God, hurry!" she cried into the phone.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

The day of the funeral, Natalia was wearing a new black dress – picked out and purchased by Irina, of course. All of the Belarusian's clothing had been torn to shreds during her rampage three days earlier. Her sister had been practically keeping her prisoner out of worry – not that Natalia cared. Even if her own house had been in completely good shape, it still would've seemed unbearably lonely and empty.

Her hands and feet only bore faint scars now, which were fading quickly. Thank God for a nation's ability to heal quickly, she thought half-bitterly and half-thankfully. If only that particular skill could be applied to emotional injury, as well. She absentmindedly fingered the antique amber pendant she put on her neck that morning, the one that Toris had given her on their first anniversary.

The service was being held in Italy, inside a very old, very ornate church – compliments of Feliciano. The congregation was populated by over half the world's nations, and by most of her government. Toris, and his government, had been their friends after all, she ruminated, looking from a distance at her president and his cabinet members.

It was so easy to get around the world quickly nowadays, compared to the old days, when everyone still drove cars and boats, and old clunky commercial jets. Lightning fast planes and underwater trains had made traveling extremely long distances feel like going to the supermarket…and that was why so many different nations from so many different parts of the world were present.

Before the Minister could start the service, various countries took the pulpit and reminisced about their fallen friend. First, was Feliks – his rambling speech was riddled with "likes" and "totallies," and no shortage of tears. Then Eduard and Raivis went up at the same time – they talked fondly of their late older brother, and how he had shouldered all the hardships they'd shared together.

Alfred went too, sharing a few funny but respectful anecdotes about Toris's time as his housekeeper, among other favorite memories he had of the Lithuanian. The out-spoken man managed to illicit a few laughs from all those attending (a rather remarkable feat, given the occasion) – except for Natalia. She just stared straight ahead at the closed, wooden casket. She'd picked that out, not Irina.

A number of other countries went…eventually they all melted together into one big mural of remembrance and sadness. Even Gilbert got up to say something, but he was the last one. Natalia heard whispering behind her – apparently it was going around that Ivan had wanted to say something too, but no one would let him.

"We actually had to threaten to sanction him to get the guy to stop asking," whispered mystery person/country number one. Natalia had no desire to turn around and see who was speaking about her brother – she just listened intently. Shame on them, whoever they are – talking at a funeral. But the Belarusian kept her head turned forward, determined to get through the day without a meltdown. I promised Irina…

"Why wouldn't you let him?" mystery person/country number two inquired.

"Explicit orders from the chick with the huge rack…what's her name again?"

"…Irina?"

"Yeah, Irina – that was it. Well, she told everyone – except for Ivan, apparently – that he mustn't, under any circumstance, be allowed to get up behind the pulpit and talk."

"Really? I wonder what he would've said…,"

Something inappropriate for a funeral, no doubt, Natalia answered the second gossiper in her head. Natalia sat through the priest's sermon anxiously – she was going to get up and address the people attending as soon as the holy man said "Amen." They had worked out an agreement, prior to the funeral.

Why am I nervous? I shouldn't be – I talk to these people ten times a week…each! Or, at least, when she felt like it. Toris had been the most social and vocal between them. They stood up and sang a hymn, recited a prayer, the priest said some closing words, and then "Amen." Now was the time.

She met the priest's – an old man dressed in robes as ornate as the church (this was Italy, after all) – gaze. "Oh, I almost forgot!" he exclaimed.

"Ms. Arlovskya has some words she would like to share with you all." Natalia got up, and clack-clacked her way purposefully across the stone floor, up onto the dais, and considered going behind the pulpit – niama, it's too impersonal – but decided to stand next to it instead. Her hands were folded firmly in front of her. She stood as tall as her five-foot-three inch frame would allow. If she stretched out her arm just a few feet, she could touch the casket.

She stared out across the congregation of nations and humans alike – their eyes took her in, from her new haircut to the shoes on her feet. There were a few friendly faces, a few bored-looking ones, encouraging ones, pitying ones, and solemn ones. Natalia focused on the visages of her friends, but mostly on her sister. Irina was sitting in the front row, ready to leap into action and reign in the widowed young woman, should she break down or lash out. I can do this – just take a deep breath and go.

"Dziakuj, for coming here today," Natalia began. Oh, Jesus. I sound like the fucking priest. "You are here because you were Toris's friends…or loved ones," she looked to Irina who smiled and nodded. Just keep going, you're doing great! – is what Natalia was sure her sister would have said, were she able.

"Toris impacted the lives of each and every one of you…including my own. He devoted his life to helping others, to bearing the burdens that they didn't know how, or if they even could," she paused for a moment, feeling an ominous tight-feeling in her throat. I can't cry, not now! She plowed on, reciting the words that had been running through her mind for days.

"You were all great friends to Toris," Natalia squinted. Was that…was that Ivan over in that corner there? He looked a million miles away – she would've thought he'd be closer to the body of the man that he always held a twisted fixation on. Hmmm…"He was…a special person, and an outstanding nation. I will always remember Toris as the one who saved me, from both myself and the perils of losing your love of life when you need it most. He rejuvenated me…he made me happier than I had ever been in my entire existence. I'll miss him…I do miss him, and I always will – I'm sure the same is applicable to all of you. So, again, sincerest thanks for attending on this lovely morning – and extra thanks to Feliciano Vargas, who helped arrange the use of this lovely church."

Feliciano, who was sandwiched in-between his brother, Romano, and Ludwig as well, smiled and modestly bowed his head. He had been abnormally subdued these past few days…the Italian had liked Toris. Everybody had…no one had reason to hate him, except maybe Gilbert (but that was ancient history, now).

And then the funeral was over, and all that was left was the burial…I'm not looking forward to that.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

Toris was buried in his homeland - in the middle of a rye field near the home he and Natalia had shared. Not everyone from the funeral attended the graveside service - the burial site was about an hour's ride on the sonic-train from the Italian church.

A group of Toris's close friends had shown up to pay their final respects by watching his casket get covered with the earth.

He was really a part of Lithuania, now.

Eduard and Raivis were there, as was Feliks (of course). Alfred, Irina, Elizaveta, Roderich, Ludwig, Feliciano, Tino, Kiku, Gilbert, Francis, Yao, Berwald, Arthur, Peter and Matthew had shown up as well. No politicians had…no human, not even a president, could truly understand what drew nations together and what made them stay that way.

While the centuries away with a country, and you get to know them pretty well.

I want them to go away - I don't want them to see me cry...but Natalia managed to remain stoic throughout every single prayer the priest recited, every single word of blessing and good will that passed his lips.

She lost it when they put him in the ground...forever.

For eternity.

The Belarusian fell to her knees without meaning too, and began madly digging at the freshly-turned dirt filing the grave. I can get to him...this isn't real this isn't happening he isn't dead!

"Natalia, hold yourself together!" Irina spoke in a concerned tone. The younger looked up and realized…everyone's looking at me...

Natalia stopped pawing at the earth, and wiped her hands on her new black dress. Irina winced at the sight of muddy streaks on the (expensive) night-colored fabric.

She let out a short laugh, a loud and singular guffaw. I haven't acted like this in the longest time...and never this badly. I'll bet they commit me by next week.

I'll take that bet, said head voice. How much?

Great! Now even I know I'm crazy.

"Natasha?" Irina was pulling her to her feet – the Belarusian barley even registered her surroundings, the concerned faces. "Let's go," her sister gently began to lead her away.

"But...I was...," she couldn't even form a complete sentence correctly. Natalia tried to turn back to the gravesite.

"Let's go," Irina quietly repeated, righting her sister and firmly tugging her arm.

The seventeen nations who had remained – besides Irina and Natalia - got into their cars, and followed her and her sister back to the Ukrainian's house for "a celebration of Toris's life." There was a table with food on it - party things, like hors d'oeuvres, little tiny sandwiches, and beverages.

While the guests talked and ate and mourned Natalia sat alone in Irina's guest room – her knees beneath her chin and rocking back and forth...back and forth...ever so slightly.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The dream always started out the same…

"We'll need to look over that paperwork," she told Toris. "The conflict may be over, but there's still a whole slew of "legal" and "protocol" stuff that's just beginning."

Natalia made sure to stress the fact how much she hated paperwork whenever the opportunity arose…like now, for instance. Toris nodded, smiling. It was the beginning of a fall afternoon, but the weather was still kind of warm - it was only the beginning of September.

"Why are you so happy? You weren't really involved," she did not say this in an irritable tone, but in a coy one.

Toris grabbed her hand – something that she once would've broken his bones for…but now Natalia loved the feel of his fingers intertwined with hers. Together, they stepped out of the world conference room and into the hallway.

I have changed, and so has the world…

"I know, he answered just-as coyly. "But this means that I finally get to have you back, all in one piece." Natalia grinned right back at him, rolling her eyes and shrugging her shoulders playfully.

They were amidst a mixed assortment of nations and regular people, everyone jostling and moving each other in the corridor. It was their lunch break - it had been a long morning of discussing what would happen if the country who had started the now-resolved problem was found (along with their leaders, of course). Toris and Natalia themselves were heading out to eat at a hyped restaurant with Feliks, Irina, Eduard and Raivis - they would meet the four of them there.

Natalia caught a glimpse of a scarf and familiar violet eyes in the small crowd, but her brother quickly disappeared behind a group of secretaries who were chatting and carrying boxes of important documents and information from one part of the building to the other.

Hasn't he forgiven me, yet? I've forgiven him...she felt a brief pang of sadness, which she then buried under a landslide of happy memories and feelings that she'd experienced with Toris.

None of them would've happened had I not chosen him…

"So, this place we're going to...is the food good?" she asked, trying to distract herself. "I've never been there...Toris?"

She looked around - the Lithuanian was no longer beside her. He was leaning against a wall, five feet behind. His face was pale, and his eyes were wide. He stared the floor as if the fancy carpet held some sort of hypnotic power, one splay-fingered hand clutching at the area over his heart.

"Toris?" Natalia jogged to his side as fast as her high-heeled shoes would allow her. He fell to his knees, one hand bracing weakly against the floor for support.

"Toris!" Something is wrong, horribly, horribly wrong. But she was sure, whatever it was, it would pass.

She kneeled beside him, touching his face and brushing back his hair. "What's wrong?" Natalia demanded him to answer - she wanted to know what was the matter, and she wanted to know now.

"Tell me so I can help you."

"Natalia...Vilnius...it's gone," he gasped, and winced. "I've felt this way once before…only it's worse…this time…"

"Impossible! Did it just get up and...," she trailed off in awe and utter disbelief as Toris moved his hand away from his shirt.

Blood was starkly visible on the white fabric- and it was coming out quickly and in great amounts.

No...

"I told you...it's gone...and so are the people who...were there..." he grimaced, his elbow beginning to buckle under his weight "...and my leaders too."

"But why?"

"I was worried about you…these past few weeks…I thought…I didn't think this would happen …," it was taking him longer and longer between breaths to speak, whole sentences coming out in little pieces.

"No!" she shook her head…this can only mean one thing. It was the newly-defeated nation – it had to be! Toris wouldn't tell her so, but he had done something her thought was necessary to protect her, and it had inadvertently drawn him into a conflict which he had only dabbled in.

A crowd had gathered around the grisly scene, some nations, and some people. They were offering help, but Natalia gave them all one look and every one of the wanna-be Samaritans backed off.

"Toris, hang on...it'll pass, it'll get better...," she was desperately clinging to the hope in her own words.

There was blood on Toris's lips when he opened them. Niama! No, no, no, no! He drew her palm to his mouth, and gave it a small, stained kiss.

"Not this time, Natalia…"

That dream had been haunting her every night for the past two weeks, ever since Toris had been buried. She'd wake up in a cold sweat, her hand clutching at air where the Lithuanian's own had been just seconds before.

The dreams terrified her, even if they weren't that "scary" per say. Their repeat occurrences meant that Natalia couldn't forget, not even in her sleep. And Toris wasn't there to hold and console her once she woke up.

And it was because if this dream's very graphic and very real nature, Natalia was up at three in the morning once again, sitting in her newly refurbished kitchen. Irina was no longer playing the role of caretaker, but she still checked up on her younger sister every afternoon, usually with some type of food or activity in tow.

She had heated up some pasta and some type of sausage that Feliciano and Ludwig had brought over. In the fridge, the two respective dishes had been right next to the apple pie from Alfred, and the chocolate cake from Francis (the food Arthur had given her instantly got acquainted with her trashcan).

The man could take classes, and his food would still taste like shit.

All of the nations had been showing Natalia such unprecedented kindness...she didn't know what to think. That was happening a lot, lately. They'd been showing more sympathy than the Belarusian thought she deserved.

Natalia sullenly eyed the store bought thank-you cards Irina had brought over the previous day.

"Write a thank-you card for everyone who attended the funeral," her sister had told her.

"Why?" she asked, not really caring, but the question had come out due to habit.

"Because it's the polite thing to do, that's why," Irina had set the cards on the table, and was currently rummaging in Natalia's junk drawer for a nice pen.

"Thank-you notes are stupid…why can't I just send them all and e-mail or something?" she pushed the cards further away, to the far side of her table.

"Please, Natasha? Just try," Irina was getting that look again…the one that said the Ukrainian was about to break down and cry, but Natalia was unyielding. She had crossed her arms and refused to do anything until Irina left.

I bet I would cry too, considering the amount of grief I've been giving her lately, Natalia thought. She could show the completed cards to Irina later, and make her happy…besides, it's not like she had anything better to do in the small hours of the early morning. Natalia grabbed an envelope, a black pen, and a card from the pile.

"Dear"...she began in her neatest handwriting, but scribbled it out.

What should I say? Thank you very much for attending the funeral of the man whose death almost killed me, too? Writing thank-you notes after a funeral is a ridiculous practice…plus no one uses paper cards anymore.

She pushed all the thank-you note materials off to the side, and turned her attention back to the food. She'd noticed she had been eating a lot, lately.

I hope I'm not turning into some kind of emotional eater...eating when I'm sad and stuff like that. Don't wanna get fat.

All the nations had been anxious, as of late. There had just been a world meeting to discuss what would be done with the land that Toris had left behind - they had waited a full two weeks after the funeral to do so, out of respect. Natalia wished they would've waited longer, but their haste to find the gutted land an occupant was just another bitter reminder that life moves on.

There were many different ways the issue could be resolved - would it be absorbed by Natalia, since she was Toris wife? It was definitely within her right to claim, should she happen to want it. Maybe it could be taken by one or more of the other surrounding countries.

Like Raivis...maybe the little squirt would finally grow a couple of inches.

The cities would be rebuilt, the survivors of the vicious attack tended to...someone would take the land, and take the responsibility for the people and the culture that resided within what used to be Toris. Natalia wanted it to be either her, Eduard, or Raivis.

I don't want some jackass little country coming out of nowhere and just buying it...

The Belarusian was the most likely to receive the rights, but she'd probably give them to Raivis anyway.

What could I do with them? Toris would want his assets to be given to someone who needed it - like his brother.

Unless there was a brand new nation lurking out there, somewhere.

Unlikely - very, very much so.

A new country meant that an existing one would have to give birth, and no one was talking "little tykes" at the moment. No one had in over a thousand years. Nations didn't copulate often.

What about Roderich and Elizaveta? I'm sure there's still a spark there, everyone thinks so...or Vash and that blonde chick he always hangs around with...What about -

Oh.

Natalia quickly counted back on her fingers, once, twice, three times. It wasn't until the fifth tally that she was absolutely sure...

She'd been late…very, very late.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

"Congratulations, Ms. Arlovskya," the doctor looked up from the clipboard in his hands.

"You're pregnant! About...," he flipped a paper over, checking the other side "...six weeks - at least, that's what the test says."

I can't believe it...I'm...pregnant? She'd been late that year – female nations only got their periods every twelve months. It was just the way their bodies had always worked; no one was quite sure why – perhaps it was because of their extremely slow physical growth?

Natalia had been so caught up with the conflict, and then Toris's death, she'd completely forgotten about the tardiness of her annual gift from Mother Nature…about four weeks' worth of tardiness.

I can't be pregnant - I'm a country! We don't get pregnant! At least, not very often.

Wrong, said head voice. What about Helena, or Ama? They had been the forbearers of modern day Greece and Egypt, respectively. But each new nation comes to the world in its own way…very rarely is one literally born.

But I would have had to have been pregnant at the time of Toris's death.

"Six weeks..."she echoed numbly.

"Yes," replied the doctor, now beginning to straighten up the room for the next patient. He turned and raised an eyebrow at the young woman who was sitting on the examination table.

"The baby isn't a problem...is it? Would you like to discuss some other options?"

"Niama!" Natalia answered hastily. "I'm happy...it's just I never thought I'd be having children…it's a bit of a shock, really." And indeed, it was true. The Belarusian had never seen herself having children.

A bit of a shock? I thought it was completely impossible...so I'd never given the notion any serious hope.

"Well, you'll be needing another appointment soon," the doctor opened the door to leave so she could change out of the flimsy paper gown she'd been given and back into her clothes. "You can set the date with Marianne at the front desk. It was very nice to meet you, Ms. Arlovskya."

Then the doctor was gone, off to make (or break, depending on how you look at it) some other woman's day.

I pity that woman…

Natalia left the office in a daze. She sat in her car, hands on the steering wheel, but not going anywhere. Maybe the doctor made a mistake...

A mistake? He works for the best prenatal center in all of Eastern Europe! Yes, an error was highly unlikely.

Natalia placed a tentative hand on her abdomen. It didn't feel any different…not yet, at least - none of the bulging or kicking that one was supposed to experience, so said all the books and movies.

I guess that stuff comes later...

Natalia knew that she may have even been pregnant longer than six weeks - countries aged differently from humans. The Belarusian herself had only aged physically one year in the last two hundred. The child could have been gestating for over six months. The full reality of the situation was then realized by the Belarusian.

She was pregnant, and Toris wasn't there to be with her.

He would've been so happy...Toris would've known what to do, who to tell, and what to buy. He'd loved kids.Natalia didn't mind them either - she just had never really seen the point if getting into that whole thing because she thought she'd never be having one.

I thought wrong.

The Belarusian only knew the baby basics like how long a pregnancy lasted, what babies eat, where or what they need to sleep in, and what not to do or drink before they're born.

Luckily, she wasn't much of a drinker, and she hadn't gotten an x-ray when Irina took her into the hospital to fix her hand - the baby was probably healthy, completely unaffected by damaging substances like alcohol or radiation. Plus, the thing was a country in the making...that probably upped its tolerance to foods, drinks, or illnesses that would affect a normal child.

Natalia straightened up in her seat, both hands now firmly gripping the wheel. I better tell Irina about this...she'll know what to do.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"You're what?" Irina asked, caught completely off guard. "Pregnant? No way – you're shitting me!"

Hmmm...she must be surprised – she's swearing...cursing was never something the soft and warm hearted Ukrainian did very often.

They were sitting in Natalia's living room, on account of her having invited her older sister over the second she got back from the doctors. She needed someone to know.

"…you're serious, right?" Irina asked excitedly, practically bouncing up and down on the couch.

Natalia nodded. "Dy - I went to the doctor today, just to be sure."

Irina's awe and happiness was easily detected on her face, which shone like a beacon – the woman's entire body radiated glee.

"This is...this is wonderful!" Irina hugged her younger sister tightly. "It's amazing, Natasha! Do you realize that you're the first nation to get pregnant in over – "

"A thousand years, I know," Natalia finished. I don't think this room is big enough for me, her, and all the excitement.

"We need to plan a baby shower - we have to tell everyone! You can do it at the world meeting tomorrow! Da, that's what we'll do. And then..." Irina was going on and on, making Natalia's head spin and her throat tighten.

"Irunya...," she tried to cut through her sister's semi-delirious rant. "Irina!"

The Ukrainian stopped mid-blather about the prices of baby formula. "Shcho?"

"I...I just don't think we should be announcing it so soon...," Natalia trailed off, not quite sure how to approach this particular subject.

"Why not?"

"...I dunno." God, I am "astounded" by my own verbal genius...

"Natasha, what's wrong - aren't you happy?"

I might as well tell her…she'd just squeeze it out of me in the end, anyway.

"I am happy...I just...I'm afraid to do this alone – I miss Toris, and I really need him right now." There. She'd said it – Natalia was afraid. Childbirth was something no nation had experienced in centuries…centuries. What if something went wrong? An expectant mother typically had a partner by her side for support…hers was six feet under a field about ten miles away.

Irina donned her serious face – the listen-to-me-because-I-am-your-sister-face…Natalia had hated that expression when she was younger. It used to be patronizing, but the Belarusian had learned over the years that this was when Irina gave her best advice.

"Listen to me, Natalia," Irina laid a hand on top of hers. "Toris is not gone - don't you see? This baby is both a part of you and a part of him…therefore, in a way, he's still here."

Natalia blinked. "I've never thought of it that way..." and she hadn't. How does Irina always know what to say? Her sister's words had shed a new light on the situation – one that assured the Belarusian and made her feel slightly better.

"You see? Everything will be fine," Irina hugged her once more. "You're so lucky, Natasha." The Ukrainian then stood up, and smiled.

"I should be going now," she said as she gathered up her coat and mittens. "This truly is wonderful news."

"And Natasha?" she added, pulling the front door open and letting in a cold rush of late-autumn air. "Spasybi - for telling me first, I mean."

Natalia smiled, feeling more bonded with her older sister than she had in a long time. "Sardečna zaprašajem, Irunya."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"...because you see...," Natalia was standing at the podium of the world conference room, surrounded by all the other nations who were seated in various places around the expansive, modernly-decorated space.

She had gotten up to share her news, like Irina insisted the day before. The Belarusian knew it had to be done, but announcing her pregnancy so soon just seemed...not as private as she had wanted the affair to be.

I shouldn't be doing this in front of a crowd - it's not how Toris would've done it. But even still, Natalia managed to say the next two words - they were the most important part of her little speech, after all.

"I'm pregnant." The words were completely un-retractable at this point – they were too busy floating in through people's ears and getting registered by their brains. There was a moment of complete silence throughout the entire room - even Feliks had been stunned into keeping his mouth shut for more than ten seconds.

No one knew how to react – a pregnant nation? It was unheard of in this day and age. They were all being held captive by the same disbelief and shock Natalia herself had been in at the doctor's office.

Finally, Elizaveta stood up from her seat next to Roderich and shouted (or squealed, some people may have thought) "Gratulálok, Natalia!" while at the same time managing to keep a pesky-feeling gilbert at an arm's length away.

Quite a feat..."Dziakuj," Natalia gave a small - slightly embarrassed - smile.

Elizaveta was followed by Feliks, who was followed by Alfred, who was followed by many others. Almost all of them flooded her with sounds of well-wishing and congratulating. Natalia's news had been the perfect antidote to the gloom that had been cast over everything the past few weeks. Snippets of conversations around the room were caught by her ears…

"...amazing, really..."

"...oui, there will be a petit nation! Magnifique!"

"...wait, what?"

The words and the talking went on and on and on, nations milling around the room and sharing their thoughts with one another. Natalia was standing by the podium for all of it, looking for her brother. He, of all nations and people, was the one whose reaction she wanted to see.

Where is he? It was like he hadn't even shown up...which he couldn't have, because Natalia had seen him among the cluster of desks and other countries before announcing her pregnancy. I wonder how he feels about all this…obviously, not very good. If he was ready to forgive her, he would've come forward already.

In his own time, I guess.

Finally - just as he always ended up doing - Ludwig called for everyone's attention.

Natalia had taken a liking to Ludwig these past few centuries - ever since she'd gotten over his feud with Ivan in the World Wars era, she realized that she and the German had some things in common. They both got things done, and could intimidate people without trying very hard.

"Ruhig sein!" he boomed in his very loud, very deep voice. Everyone froze and got quiet, complying with his command. Then – knowing what was best for their safety – they all scurried back to their individual seats. Natalia remained standing until the German dismissed her.

She sat down by Irina, who smiled and whispered "Good job," quietly enough so Ludwig wouldn't hear.

"I guess this means we need to decide the fate of Toris's land a little quicker...," Ludwig had taken the stand, looking confident and tall behind the podium. His blue eyes raked across the room. "Since we have a new country on the way, I propose – "

"I have an idea!" called Alfred, standing up and waving an arm. "And it's one that will actually work this time!" Natalia could see Arthur and Matthew trying to pull him back down into his seat from across the room.

There was a collective sigh. Alfred's plans - especially the ones he said would work - never played out the way he said they would. Either they morphed into something else entirely, or they just plain failed…epically. Occasionally one was rewarded with success, but the odds were usually against the ambitious country.

Plus, I don't think we give him enough chances.

Arthur raised a hand, the other still trying to get Alfred to sit. "Excuse me, Ludwig? Personally, I don't think we should allow this moron to be involved in the formation of a plan that concerns the fate of an unborn baby."

Ludwig raised an eyebrow. "Anyone who seconds that motion, please raise your hand."

Arms shot up across the room, and some even waved around frantically as if their owners were afraid they'd go unseen. The only ones that didn't take the decisive ascent were Natalia's, Ludwig's, and Feliciano's.

In fact, Feliciano didn't look invested in the meeting at all. The rather kind but child-minded nation was currently humming and tapping his fingers to an unheard beat, eyes closed, and a pen wagging up and down between his lips.

"I see," Ludwig nodded slowly in his authoritative way. "Alfred, I'm afraid that no one really wants your input right now."

The American sat down with a sigh, and mumbled something like "…no one ever wants my opinion no not ever stupid pansy ass euro-trash..."

"Does anyone have any ideas - anyone?" Ludwig scanned the room again, focusing his gaze on the pitiable nations seated in the first row. No one spoke a single word. "Alright then…as I was saying - I propose that we let Natalia decide what to do, since Toris was her husband and this is their child. It is a parent and a spouse's right to do so."

He lifted an arm. "Anyone who seconds that motion, please raise your hand." Again, hands went up across the room.

Alfred stuck his in the air after getting elbowed by Arthur – he was probably just sulking, anyway. Feliciano's too, after a little nudge from his German partner. "Oh!" the Italian exclaimed, then stuck his arm up.

"Molte scuse!" he whispered.

The only hand not pointed towards the ceiling was Natalia's…and that's because she was in shock. I…I get to choose? She had not been expecting the vote to be cast so unanimously…or so quickly. There were so many nations, with so many different cultures and ideas and opinions, that any subject brought up for debate usually took months to resolve. The Belarusian was also deeply honored that everyone would take her role and her feelings into such account.

"I…I am honored," she said, with a nod towards the German. She knew immediately what needed to be said. "I would like the land for the baby…I'm fairly certain it's going to be a country, and it's going to need some territory once it's here."

"So it is decided, then," said Ludwig. "Toris's land will be given to the baby, and Natalia will have full custody and authority over the new country until the child is old enough to care for itself…no one, is to bother them, or move on their territory – at any time."

He directed a pointed glance at his brother – Gilbert – who shrugged and said "What? Even I'm not that big off an arschloch, bruder."

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

After the meeting, Natalia managed to pry herself from Irina's excited grip just long enough to track down Alfred. He was one of the only nations still left in the conference room, gathering up his coat and holo-puter.

"Alfred, can I speak with you for a second?" she asked.

"Yeah, sure, Natalia," the American glanced at her over the rims of his square glasses as he picked up a stray glove from beneath his chair. "What do you need?"

Last night, in bed, Natalia had been thinking. Now that she had come to terms with her situation, the Belarusian was consumed with a savage desire to keep her unborn child safe at any cost – as was a mother's instinct. I swear, I won't fail this time.

She knew that Alfred was one of the biggest security freaks in the world – everyone did – even at this extremely clam and peaceful time in history…well, until recently at least. And that was why Natalia needed to speak with him - Toris had not only been her husband, but also the spectacled nation's close friend.

He'd be glad to help.

"I'm sorry no one wanted to hear your idea," Natalia started off by apologizing. Alfred shrugged.

"Eh…it's okay. They just didn't want to hear it because it's so awesome it'd put all of theirs to shame." He said this very matter-of-factly.

Doubtful…but Natalia continued on – she had a big favor to ask, and was anxious to know if he would do it. "The reason I came over here to talk was to ask for some help with the baby…."

Alfred wrinkled his nose. "Umm…like changing diapers and stuff? Sorry, but –"

"Niama," she shook her head, exasperated. "Let me finish."

"Sorry."

"I want help with…," Natalia checked to make sure they were the only ones in the room. They were, but she lowered her voice anyway. "I want help with security."

Alfred's eyes lit up, and a slow happy grin meandered across his face. "What kind of security?"

"I know that you're leading the team that's looking for the little bastard that took Toris away," she told him. "I want you to update me frequently on the status of the mission…I also want you to help keep me and my baby safe for a while."

"Really?" Alfred sounded excited. The Belarusian nodded, answering his question.

"Yeah!" he continued. "I can definitely do that for you…Toris was a good friend – I owe it to him to keep his family safe."

"Thank you, Alfred," Natalia turned to leave. "And can I ask one more thing of you?"

"Go right ahead."

"When you finally catch the fucker...kill him." She left before Alfred could respond – she knew that it was unlikely the guilty nation would be killed…even if they did disturb over a century of peace and singlehandedly destroyed an entire innocent country. They'd be put under some type of restraint – they were a fairly new to the world, after all…just a couple centuries old but already grown – and sanctioned and fined and partitioned until they couldn't even breathe or go to the bathroom without it being documented.

They better stay the Hell away from me, Natalia thought darkly as she met up with Irina outside. Because I'll finish what the son of a bitch started…

Toris, she swore on the ride home. Our child will never know fear…I promise you that.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

The pregnancy was much longer than a normal human's would've been, but Natalia was certain it was because of Toris's passing that it went as quickly as it did – you know, considering it was a country. Before the conflict, who knows how their child may have manifested itself?

Maybe had Toris not died, an entirely brand new country would have formed from a portion of both of their land…in fact, that scenario was the most plausible. But fate had dealt them a twist, and instead of an entirely separate country being formed, the baby would inherit the namesake and culture of an old one.

Many things happened before the baby's birth – the nation that killed Toris was found…and by Alfred, no less. They were tried by the other countries, and inevitably found guilty of both disturbing a century of peace and murdering without a cause. Natalia wasn't quite sure what the punishment had been since she wasn't involved in the trial process….everyone knew she probably would've decapitated the disgraced country, or something along those lines.

In the meantime, she busied herself and her leaders with helping to rebuild their fallen ally. Vilnius was restored, as were all of the other Lithuanian cities that had suffered in the attack. The dead were buried, and the wounded attended to. People were fed and housed, and a new government was installed. It was only after all of this that the baby was finally born.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Her name was Ausra Maria…loosely translated, it meant "bitter dawn." It was the perfect name for a much beloved daughter who had brought a new era of calm to her mother after such a tragic occurrence. She was the light at the end of the tunnel.

Natalia was gently holding her new-born in her arms. She looks like Toris…the little child had hair just a shade lighter than her father's, but green eyes that were unmistakably his. Irina had said that the baby had the same facial features as Natalia, when the Belarusian was young.

…and she's beautiful. Ausra was red, wrinkled, and rather unattractive just like every other new baby…but to her mother she was the most precious, most gorgeous thing in the world – she always would be. Natalia spent hours just lying in her bed, admiring her daughter.

Ausra had been born at Natalia's home – the young woman had wanted it that way. She hated hospitals. The government had hand-picked different nurses and doctors, every one of which had been sworn into absolute secrecy…even in their advanced day and age the knowledge of personified nations had to be kept above top-secret.

Irina had been there too – the Ukrainian was ecstatic that Natalia had asked her to be present for the birth of her niece. Natalia had grown closer than ever to her over the course of the long pregnancy. She felt bad about the past coldness and aggression she had directed towards Irina, but that part of her life was centuries past. The only thing the two of them had to care about now were the present and the future.

Right now, Natalia's sister was downstairs sorting through gifts to give the mother and child some much-deserved privacy. The house was littered with baby things – from bottles to furniture. Most of what had been given was colored either green or yellow – no one was sure what gender the new country was going to be. Feliks, however, had given them enough pink baby clothes to fill an entire wardrobe.

"And it's a good thing you turned out to be a girl," Natalia whispered to her sleeping daughter. "Because there's no way I would've dressed you in all that frilly crap if you were a boy."

The Belarusian fell asleep that night, Ausra in a bassinet right next to her bed. She slept more soundly than she had in a very long time.

We did it, Toris.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

Natalia brought Ausra to the next world meeting, about a month later. Everyone was crowded around and fawning over the much-anticipated baby, whose eyes were now fully open, and her skin no-longer red – an infant nation was a very rare sight. She was quickly recognized as the new personification of Lithuania, inheriting what her father left behind. Natalia would manage all her government and economic issues until she was old enough to do so on her own.

Afterwards, nations were queuing up to hold the little child, which Natalia let them do rather hesitantly. All of the other female nations were exceptionally awed and careful when they held Ausra, the Belarusian noticed – they at least, were able to understand a mother's anxiety in the act of handing over her child into someone else's arms.

Elizaveta looked at Roderich seductively after she had admired Ausra for a bit – her wants were easily visible in her expression. The Austrian held up his hands. "Nein – absolutely not! Why don't you just babysit or something if you want one that badly?" He then turned and hurried away, cheeks flaming. The Hungarian chuckled knowingly and winked at Natalia before following her former husband out of the room.

Natalia, Irina, Eduard and Raivis all watched as nation after nation came up and cooed over their daughter and niece. Matthew, and Feliciano were all very gentle, of course – it was in their dispositions to be so. Then Feliks came around.

"Like, omigawd!" the effeminate Pole shrieked, holding a wide-eyed (and, Natalia would assume – slightly terrified) Ausra in his arms. "She looks just like Liet!" Natalia could read her baby's face – she was thinking who is this strange lady? And why does she sound like a man?

Feliks inspected the infant up and down. "But what have they dressed you in?" The young woman had forgone all the frilly pink stuff he had given her when dressing Ausra that morning, clothing her daughter in a cute little yellow dress instead.

He handed her back to a slightly-annoyed Natalia. "I'm going to shop right now," he told the baby. "And I'm going to buy you some more clothes that don't, like, totally suck." He then looked up at Natalia and caught her expression.

"Oh, and gratulacje, by the way," he called over his shoulder as he scurried away.

My fashion sense doesn't "suck"…Natalia thought irately…his does – but one look at her daughter's open and innocent face erased all thoughts and feelings of anger. Tino and Berwald were next, a still young Peter in tow. Tino was very careful, just as Natalia expected.

"You're so cute!" he cooed. "She looks just like her dad," he told her mother, aunt, and uncles. "Onnea, to all of you!" He then gave her to Berwald, who much to Natalia's surprise was just as gentle and mindful as the Finn had been.

"Sh's c'te," he mumbled. Peter, meanwhile (little as he was) was jumping up and down trying to get a good look at the baby held high in his papa's arms. "Let me see, let me see!" he cried. Berwald obliged his son, crouching down a bit so the boy could observe.

"Hmmm…," Peter stared at the infant, then looked up at Tino. "Looks small…how come she gets to be a full-fledged nation, but not me? I'm older, dammit!" Tino's eyebrows shot up, as Berwald made a low displeased sound and gave Ausra back to Natalia's receptive arms.

"Peter! Apologize," the Finn demanded. The young boy sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Fiiinnnee…I'm very sorry," he glared at his parents. "Happy, now?"

Berwald shook his head, and laid a firm, stern hand on his son's head. "S'rry," he apologized again for Peter's actions. "W'll deal w'th him wh'n we get h'me."

Natalia didn't really mind – in fact, she found Peter's remark kind of humorous. "It's fine, really. Don't worry about it."

The two Nordic nations then left after many apologies, Peter following in their wake. "Hey, Raivis!" he called before disappearing completely. "Can you still come over on Saturday?"

Raivis looked surprised, as if he hadn't known he had scheduled something with the micro-nation. Which he probably didn't... But Natalia had to give credit to her brother-in-law, who shrugged and called back. "Okay!"

They heard a faint shout of "Text me!" and then Peter was gone.

Ludwig, Antonio, Arthur, Kiku and Yao also held Ausra. Natalia was proud – her daughter had remained calm and happy throughout the entire ordeal. She was changing hands so often, it was a miracle she hadn't become fussy yet. There were two people that Natalia had refused to hand the child over to, though – Gilbert and Francis…and she did so with good reason.

There was one country whose presence had not made itself known through-out the entire day, or had come up to hold the new baby – Ivan. You would've thought that the Russian would take the time to at least meet his new niece, but no. If Ivan had avoided Natalia before the pregnancy, he'd now been doing so like she was the plague.

Finally all the nations that had wanted to see Ausra were gone, leaving only a few lingering around in the conference room, chatting or just hanging out. Ausra was asleep as Natalia carefully placed her in her carrier. She saw Alfred, waiting patiently off to the side – the Belarusian had some words to exchange with him.

"You guys go on ahead," she told Irina, Eduard, and Raivis – all of them looked tired and ready to fall asleep dead on their feet. "I'm just going to talk to Alfred for a second." The others, grateful to be dismissed (they had been helping her with an infant for the past month), sluggishly slid out of the room – Natalia would meet back up with them later.

She picked up the baby carrier and waltzed over to the American. "Hello, Alfred." Alfred stood up straighter, interrupted in the act of staring at his fingernails.

"Hey, Natalia…," he greeted her, then eyed the carrier in her hand. "Is this Ausra?" Alfred had been one of the few nations not to approach her either before or after the meeting. Natalia responded by nodding and smiling.

The big, strong American knelt down so he could get a closer look at the dozing infant. "She's so small…," he trailed off, and stood up before facing the Belarusian again. "Look, Natalia," Alfred ran a hand through his hair. "It might be kind of weird for me to say this and everything, but…Toris would've been very proud of you…"

Natalia felt her chest tighten – she didn't break down completely at the mention of her late husband anymore, but she still felt a hysterical twinge every now-and-then. The sadness had once been overwhelming, and it still came in waves sometimes…she felt like she was riding an emotional rollercoaster like the ones that used to be popular in theme parks, so, so long ago. But Natalia was getting better, and the birth of her daughter was already helping.

Motherhood has given me strength and love I did not know I could possess.

"He is proud of me," she said quietly, wholly and honestly believing that the Lithuanian was still with her in some way – not physically and alive, obviously, but in a manner that could only be felt and not seen. He's watching over us, no doubt about it…and speaking of watching over…

Natalia had another favor to ask of Alfred – she already had him ensure her daughter's prenatal safety…and now she just needed to do the same thing except this time Ausra was actually here. She saw the look in the American's eyes. He's not as stupid as everyone would like to think.

"You already know what I'm going to ask, don't you?" she said. Alfred nodded and smiled slowly. He gestured to Ausra.

"I'll still keep her safe…but I'm sure you could do that just by yourself," she caught the playfulness in his words and expression. She shook her head, going along.

"Just from outside threats, you idyjot…at least until she's old enough to handle them on her own. I'll handle her homeland security."

Alfred pantomimed a blow to the face. "Ouch! That 'idiot' remark really hurt…but yeah, I'd be happy to help you and Ausra."

"Thank you, very much," Natalia implored. She looked lovingly at the carrier. There's two of us, now.

"…and Ausra does too."

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

A few weeks had passed – surprisingly quickly – after Ausra's debut to the rest of the world. Feliks had made good on his promise to "buy her clothes that didn't suck." Natalia just tucked the new jumpers and dresses away with the ones he'd already given them. Peter had come over to apologize, again, at the behest of Tino. She'd invited them both inside for lunch – some skills that she had honed over the years with Toris were how to be social, make and keep friends, and be open…but not too open.

She needed less help from Irina and the two remaining Baltics now – Natalia was getting quite good at being a mother. Now that's something I never thought I'd be thinking…Ausra had settled into a regular sleeping pattern, so there was no more need for midnight feeding/ fixing-whatever-the-heck-was-wrong shifts…which was a relief, to be honest.

Natalia was now pro at changing and cleaning reusable diapers, as well as how warm formula needed to be or what position her daughter liked to be held and rocked in. Early mornings and late nights had become routine. Her boss had given her some time off – which a country almost never got – so she could take care of the young girl.

Even still, all her free time was being absorbed by baby related activities. The Belarusian wasn't going to lie – it was hard and all-consuming work, raising and caring for a kid. Looking back, she wasn't quite sure how Irina had managed to bring up her and Ivan when the Ukrainian herself was so young…but it was all worth it - every stinky diaper, and every spit stained shirt.

Ausra's presence had the same effect on Natalia that Toris's did…placating. Her inner demons were chased away and the world became clearer. Just looking at the infant's face filled Natalia with a love so strong only a mother could feel it…like today, as she lay her baby down in the crib in the newly painted and furnished nursery.

Ausra was growing quickly, now – about the rate of a normal baby. All she had was room to expand…the economy and government of Lithuania was morphing and changing very rapidly, so that helped a lot. It would slow down eventually, probably about the time she was a toddler – then she would experience a typical nation's childhood (a time the span of about three centuries, in most cases).

Her eyes were bright, curious, and intelligent. Natalia could tell every time she looked in them that Ausra was constantly learning something new…and that the infant knew who her mother was. She could already recognize Natalia's voice, as well as those of Irina, Eduard, and Raivis. Her little arms and legs kicked and waved in the air more often as they gained mobility, and her tiny hands grabbed ahold of anything they could find. Quiet, baby noises now came from her mouth instead of the constant wail of a newborn.

And just the other day, Natalia could have sworn that she had seen the beginnings of a smile on Ausra's face. It's amazing how quickly she learns and changes…the Belarusian now had a new perspective of the ancient phrase "time flies."

She leaned into the crib and nuzzled Ausra's forehead. "Mama needs to go downstairs and eat some lunch," she said. "But you'll be busy napping, so you don't need to miss me while I'm gone." Ausra had gently grabbed at Natalia's hair as it hung into the crib – the Belarusian grown it back out after her self-inflicted hair crime.

"Your Papa would've been in awe with you," Natalia told her, slightly saddened. "You would have had him wrapped around your finger." She carefully disengaged herself from her daughter's grasp, then closed the curtains and shut the light off before heading downstairs.

The young woman padded into the kitchen, in search of some food. She was just about to pull the refrigerator door open when the doorbell rang. Dammit! Natalia had forgotten to put the "Baby sleeping – please knock" sign on the front door again. She listened carefully for a moment, waiting for some disgruntled-Ausra noises to issue from the baby monitor.

When none came, she went to see who was calling on her in the middle of the day. She opened the door casually and without any secondary thoughts, like it was any other normal country or person who was standing on the front porch.

…Except it wasn't.

Natalia was speechless for a moment, then her brain and heart jump started, and she was able to form a complete thought and sentence again. He didn't say anything, so he must've been waiting for her to make the first move…very unlike him.

"I…Ivan?" she hadn't been this close to her brother in centuries…but there he stood, just over three feet away. He looked relatively unchanged, just as she figured she did. The scarf was still present, just as were his strange violet eyes and his towering height.

"Privet, Natalia," there were a few moments of awkward silence, as both of them stared at the other. Natalia was in shock, and Ivan was apparently feeling kind of shy and abashed. "I…I came to see the baby…da?"

He's asking my permission, she realized. He knows I don't still don't trust him…Natalia had forgiven her brother, but not yet was she ready to restore her unwavering faith in him again. She had seen what he'd done to Toris, what had happened to the people who'd gotten in his way…I'm ready to excuse his actions against my husband, but not to forget them.

But what was the harm in letting him see his niece? Natalia would be there the entire time, ready to intervene if things took a turn for the nasty. At least he was here, talking to her – that in and of itself was a miracle. Hadn't she been wanting to restore relations with her brother since he cut them off?

"Come in," Natalia stepped back from the doorway so Ivan could enter. He did so hesitantly, as if he wasn't quite sure he still wanted too. They didn't move from the foyer – the door was still open, and the two of them were just standing there. I don't know what to say…how ironic. She spends years wanting to talk too Ivan, and when she finally gets the chance she's completely tongue-tied.

Ivan spoke first, head slightly bowed, but still keeping his sister's gaze. "How have you been, Natalia?"

Heart-broken, overjoyed, mourning, slightly insane, and very, very tired. "I'm doing okay," she said. Which was a half-truth, at most – Natalia didn't really feel like getting into all the emotional turmoil she'd been experiencing, especially with Ivan.

She could still remember the day he learned of her and Toris's coming union – not that Natalia had expected a positive reaction, but she wasn't anticipating just how irate the news would make her brother. His eyes had hardened, and the Belarusian had feared her brother for the first time. He told her to leave, and she had done so. They hadn't exchanged a single word or glace since.

He didn't want me to take Toris away from him…well, now I can't have him either.

But Ivan seemed different now…she could detect almost no trace of the dark aura that her brother used to wear like a cloak. His eyes had lost that formidable glint that had almost always been flickering in their depths…was it possible that Ivan had changed?

Natalia knew that the Russian had deep-seated issues, ones that only he was enlightened to the roots of. She had wrestled her own mental and inner demons these past few centuries with Toris's help – had Ivan been doing the same, alone? What she had seen so far seemed to indicate it was so.

"That's…good," he seemed to be as hard of a time being conversational as Natalia was. "…and, the baby?" his words were spoken with a certain hesitancy and thoughtfulness, as if he was analyzing each syllable to leave his mouth, making sure none of them would incense the wary Belarusian.

He's being very careful…he never used to be like this. "She's doing fine…her name is Ausra…Ausra Maria."

Ivan nodded. "Ausra…," he tested the name in his mouth. "That's beautiful."

Natalia gave a small smile. "Thank you." I need to show him I'm not angry. The atmosphere in the room relaxed then, just the tiniest bit. Then, a keening cry wafted down the stairs, and a moment later from the baby monitor. Ausra…

Ivan looked around, obviously not knowing what to do. Natalia held up a hand. "Stay here a second…take a seat – I'll be right back," she told him, then turned and trotted quickly up the carpeted steps. She entered her daughter's room, and picked up the wailing child.

"What, what, what is it?" Natalia asked quietly, gently bouncing Ausra up and down, back and forth. She patted the infant's underside. It's not her diaper…and I just gave her a bottle twenty minutes ago. "Shhhh…," a colicky baby was the hardest kind to have, she decided – there was just no soothing one.

Ausra was crying more quietly now, but she showed no sign of stopping completely anytime soon. I can't just leave Ivan downstairs forever…Natalia looked at her daughter, still making unhappy sounds. "Well, it's sooner than I expected…but how would you like to meet my brother?" Your uncle…

Am I sure about this? Natalia asked herself as she descended to the first-floor of her home – where Ivan was waiting – with a sniffling baby held in her protective and steady arms. She found her brother milling around in the living room; it appeared he hadn't accepted her invitation to take a seat, as he was standing awkwardly in the middle of the welcoming space.

"Ivan," she said, as her brother turned. "This is Ausra." The Russian's eyes widened as he took a step closer – he was awed.

"This is…?" he slowly reached out with a tentative hand. "May I…may I hold her? Pozhaluĭsta?"

Natalia hesitated for just a moment. Should she trust that her brother had really changed, like she suspected? Or was this just a temporary lapse in his sociopathic tendencies. It's been over a hundred years…people change with time – I need to give him a chance if we're ever going to be close again.

"Of course," she took a seat on the couch, and Ivan did the same beside her. Natalia gingerly transferred Ausra into the arms of her uncle – she was ready to snatch the infant away at any time, but she didn't let her anxiety show. Ivan's eyes softened and he tilted his head to the side, observing the tiny nation. "Hello, Ausra…"

So far, so good.

"She will be very pretty…like her mother and father, da?" he smiled at the colicky baby. "Shush, malyutka."

To Natalia's astonishment, Ausra did calm down – her crying stopped, and she just stared up at Ivan's purple eyes with her green ones. Both of them were curious, gazing at the other like one would a piece of art. She had never seen her brother so calm and gentle when dealing with someone that was not herself or Irina – it was then that the Belarusian knew for sure that Ivan had changed for the better.

"Ivan," she told him. "You got her to calm down…that's amazing!"

The reformed Russian looked up in surprise. "Really?" Natalia nodded and smiled, and Ivan happily turned his attention back to his little niece.

The rest of the visit went smoothly. Ivan was simply fascinated by Ausra. "Look at her tiny hands," he told Natalia. "She's like a living doll." He had stuck around for a couple hours, long enough to witness Ausra's very first smile – this also delighted him.

Ausra eventually fell asleep, having been deprived of most of her afternoon nap. Natalia put her in her crib carefully so she wouldn't wake up.

"She'll be up all night," she told Ivan as she escorted him to the front door. Now we say goodbye. "Her sleep pattern's all messed up, now…" Ivan nodded as if he understood completely. Natalia opened the door, and there was one more silent moment, but at this one wasn't as awkward as all the others.

"Spasibo," Ivan thanked her as he slipped his coat over his arms and shoulders. "…it's been nice talking again."

"Dy…," she smiled.

"I have to be honest," Ivan began, averting his gaze from hers and apparently becoming very interested with a painting on the wall. "There was another reason I came here today…"

Natalia could feel her apprehension rising, her muscles tensing. What kind of other reason? Ivan looked up. "Natalia, I came to apologize." Well, that was unexpected.

"I…I'm sorry for what I did to you in the past…and what I did to Toris," he sounded embarrassed beyond all belief, his face reddening as he tried to redeem himself for absolutely disgraceful actions against the Lithuanian – not so much Natalia. "Please, know that – "

"Ivan, spynić," She held up a hand and shook her head. "Stop," she repeated. "You don't need to apologize – what's done is done…its history and there's no sense in trying to change it. But what we can change is the future, and I'm glad that you've chosen to become a part of mine and Ausra's."

A weight seemed to lift off of the Russian's shoulders. He nodded. "Thank you, Natalia…I'm glad that you're my mladshaya sestra."

He turned and started to head out to his car, parked in the driveway. "Do svidaniya! I'll see you both again soon, da?"

She waved as he got in the car and drove off. She closed the door, and stood for a moment, thinking about the events of the past few hours. Natalia couldn't help but wonder…when Toris died…did Ivan still love him? But she supposed that was for her brother to know, and for him only.

Da spatkannia, Ivan – see you later.

OoOoOoOoOoOoO

As it was to be expected, Ausra took a while to fall asleep that night. Natalia was watching the tiny girl, elbows resting on the edge of the crib. Her little chest moved up and down with each breath, her arms were held up by her head in the classic sleeping-baby pose, and her eyelids flickered as she dreamed about things her mother could only guess.

Natalia stroked Ausra's thin and wispy infant-hair with her fingers. As long as I have you, I'm happy, she thought. Toris has given me one last blessing…one last thing to teach me – motherhood. The bond between mother and child was strong – she guessed she'd always known it was, but it wasn't until the Belarusian had one of her own that she realized just how strong.

I would fight wars for you. I would run into a burning building or climb a mountain to get to you. I would go out and kill an animal with my bare hands to feed you, and build a house out of sticks to shelter you…anything you need, Ausra, I will provide. I will never let you be afraid, or lonely…I won't let you make the same mistakes I did.

Natalia removed herself from her uncomfortable perch by the crib – her elbows were getting sore from bearing her weight. She instead settled into a rocking chair in the corner, given to them by (or rather, a hand-me-down from) Arthur.

"I don't use it anymore," the Brit had said, a tinge on bitterness detectable in his voice – everyone knew that - even after all these years - he was still a little torn up inside about Alfred's decision to declare independence…and the fight that followed. He could pretend that his feelings of betrayal were still secret, even though they weren't. He was like a bird whose fledglings had left the nest before he was ready, not them.

Many powerful nations have been rocked to sleep in this chair…Natalia thought sleepily – it was almost two a.m. in the morning, and she'd been up since six the previous day. Child-rearing really takes a lot out of you. Alfred, she began to tally in her head. Matthew, maybe once or twice - and I think even one of Yao's younger brothers…and now my Ausra.

The Belarusian dreaded sleep, because sleep meant that waking up was inevitable. The simple act of waking actually pained her – the bed was empty without the Lithuanian, and that emptiness had served as a constant reminder of his permanent absence for over a year now. But Natalia now had someone - roomed just down the hall - who was a reason to get up every morning and be happy.

Natalia eventually drifted off to the sound of her daughter's breathing; it was calm, constant, and soothing. She need not fear slumber tonight. She dreamt - and while she dreamt, she smiled…because the dream was about Toris.

OoOoOoOoOoOoOoO

"I've been wanting to talk to you for so long," she told him, savoring the way his hand felt as it cupped her cheek. Her husband – Toris – smiled, leaned in, and gave her a gentle kiss.

"You can always talk to me, meilė," he said, pulling away. "I'm always with you."

Then, Natalia felt tiny fingers interlock with hers. She looked down and saw a toddler-age Ausra, grinning innocently back at her. The girl's hair was a bit longer, and a shade that the Belarusian now saw was a perfect cross between Toris's and her own.

They were standing in the middle of a rye field. Everything looked golden, and happy, and the way it could have been.

"But it is like that," Toris said, apparently reading her thoughts. "Everything is the way it should have been."

"How?" the Belarusian inquired. He took ahold of Ausra's other hand.

"Ausra," he said simply. "Haven't you ever heard of the phrase that a parent lives on through their children? I am a part of our daughter, as are you – as long as you have each other, you have me as well. Never, ever forget that."

The little girl giggled, her bright and beautiful eyes sparkling as she broke out her parents' loose grasp, and danced through the field. Natalia and Toris watched their child, her head resting on his shoulder and their arms wrapped around each other's' waists.

"You know," the Lithuanian whispered into her hair. "I still love you, even if I'm not there to say it anymore."

"Yes," Natalia sighed contentedly. "I never stopped loving you…and I don't think I ever will." And then, together, the two of them walked hand in hand through the rye – they needed to keep an eye on their adventurous toddler, didn't they?

THE END

(A/N) …yeah….Don't judge me too harshly - it was awful/cracktastic, I know (and there are still some loose ends that need answering, aren't there? Oh well…use your imagination – I know you can do it!). I realize that this could kinda-sorta be viewed as a sequel to my other LietBel story, Nineteen Ninety (which I just finished, I might add)…well, it wasn't supposed to be, but if that's what you'd like to think, then I'm not stopping ya'.

Reviews/ Faves/ Reviews/ Cookies/ Any-kind-of-feedback-what-so-ever are GREATLY appreciated (*hint hint wink wink*). So, until I adopt my next plot-bunny…see you later! (or would it be, "read you later"?)

Thanks for puttin' up with ma' crazy ~ V.o.t.s

About the future that they live in (if you're interested…it'll help you get a better understanding/more depth to the story)…

I didn't want to make this story about the technology. I wanted to make it about Belarus and Lithuania. So that's why, even though the story is set in like the 24th century, you don't hear very many references to future things. Plus, I knew that I went overboard the fic as a whole would get kind of cheesy.

The way I see the future that they live in is peaceful, simple, and clean. A fuel alternative that is safe for the environment gas been found/manufactured, and the invention of things like really, really fast trains and jets reduce travel time tremendously. They use technology, but not for everything. They still like to perform everyday tasks themselves (i.e. Cooking, driving, or arrying baby carriers). But futuristic inventions do help them - i.e. Alfred's holo-puter, which is basically just like a computer but is portable like a laptop, instead of a screen there's a hologram, and everything is touch activated instead of using a mouse.

The human race has socially evolved to some degree - they have realized (most of them, anyway) that fighting and killing other people doesn't really get them anywhere except in more trouble. Any arising issue/ conflict is dealt with quickly, and the possession of nuclear weapons is forbidden (which was part of the conflict in this story). As is moving territorially on anyone else's country - they try extremely hard to maintain peace.

People live simple lives, not as obsessed with status symbols and getting rich as they used to be. I'm not saying they all live in shacks in the middle of the woods, but their everyday routine wouldn't be as hectic and hysterics filled as ours are…it'd be less about themselves and more about others. They live to better themselves as a person and humanity as a whole.

The population of the world is much less (but not miniscule or endangered) on account of massive use of biological weaponry during world war three (since no one had the balls to use nukes). As a result, there is more room for people to live and build on, again. Most people live in cities, but some remain in suburbs and the countryside (like Natalia).

New countries have arisen and old ones have fallen, mostly in Asia, Africa, and the Middle East (in fact, just recently we got a new nation - South Sudan, welcome to the world!)

There are still those in life that remain prejudiced, greedy, vain, or abusive. The evils of the world are diminished, but not gone - there are some things I think that will never change...but some will for the better.

And for those of you who actually care…here's the

DICTIONARY:

Belarusian:

Idyjot – idiot

Nia – don't

Pračynacca – wake up

Ja taksama ciabie liubliu – I love you, too

Niama and Dy – yes and no

Być spakojnym – be quiet

Dabraslavieńnie – blessing

Dziakuj – thank you

Sardečna zaprašajem – you're welcome

Spynić – stop

Da spatkannia – goodbye

Lithuanian:

Ne – no

Meilė – love

Aš tave myliu – I love you

Ukrainian:

Da – yes (it's the same as in Russian isn't that awesome?)

Shcho – what

Spasybi – thank you

Russian:

Privet – hello

Pozhaluĭsta – please

Malyutka – little one

Spasibo – thank you

Mladshaya sestra – younger sister

Do svidaniya – goodbye

French:

Oui – yes

Petit – small

Magnifique - magnificent, great

Finnish:

Onnea – congratulations

Polish:

Gratulacje – congratulations

Hungarian:

Gratulálok - congratulations

Italian:

Molte scuse – many apologies

German:

Ruhig sein – be quiet

Arschloch - asshole

Bruder – brother

Nein - no