Hey, guys! Guess what... Yep, new story! Well, not exactly... But sort of.

This is the beginning of the oneshot collection I've been planning to write ever since I finished "Soviet Insanity". So, yes, this is a followup to that series.

This particular oneshot focuses primarily on Latvia, as you'll see in a moment. I've been writing him a lot for "Written in Blood", and once this idea showed up, it just wouldn't leave.

Also, I needed to comment on how warm and fuzzy your stomach feels after you drink alcohol. (My dad let me try it, okay? It was just a little.)

So, warnings would be for... Underage drinking, mentions of past abuse, hinted self-harm/suicide attempts... Why am I even listing these? This is Baltic trio fanfiction written by me. It's not supposed to be pretty.

Anyways, welcome to "After Insanity". Updates will be irregular, as I will update whenever I have a oneshot written, which could be... Who knows when? Whenever I decide to write a oneshot.

I have a ton of ideas, though, so I'll probably update it sometime soon.

Also, each update will be a oneshot, and they will not necessarily be in chronological order. My apologies.

With that said, I hope you enjoy the first installment of "After Insanity".

Sometimes, Latvia still drank. Even though he knew he shouldn't, even though he'd escaped Russia. Even though it was harder to get the alcohol now. He was trying to break the habit, really he was, but…

He needed the alcohol's influence sometimes. Not often, just a couple of shots now and then. Just enough to give him that warm, fuzzy feeling in his stomach. Just enough to make him giggly. Just enough to erase his pain for a little while.

It did all this for him, and more. Alcohol was like Latvia's drug, and although he knew that this was a bad thing, he had to have it. He just couldn't resist.

He went without it for a while, right after he moved back into his own house. But then, one time, he went to Lithuania's house for the day. It wasn't too long after they had left Russia, and Lithuania… There was still something wrong with him. Something in the way he moved. Something in the way his hands shook every time he held a knife.

And it was something in the way he reacted to hearing Belarus' name that worried Latvia the most.

Latvia wasn't sure what had happened to Lithuania. He only knew that never before had he found alcohol in the older boy's cupboards.

But he did on this visit. He found vodka there, and a few other alcoholic beverages. He had never taken Lithuania for a drinker, but, then again, he had never expected to find Lithuania with fresh, blood-stained bandages round his wrists in the morning, either.

Latvia stole Lithuania's sole bottle of vodka and took it home with him. He knew there was no way Lithuania would blame him for the missing alcohol. The others-Belarus, Ukraine, and Estonia-had all seen Latvia drunk before. But Lithuania never had. It was the one way Latvia had protected his older brother. He had never let Lithuania see that he, Latvia, also had a dark side.

The vodka was gone a week later. Even though Latvia tried to drink it sparingly, the knowledge that it was right in his house was just too tempting.

For a couple of days after he finished the vodka, he was fine. Then, he found himself once again longing for just a bit of alcohol. Not much, just a small glass. Enough to warm his stomach and lift his spirits just a little, that was all he wanted. He always told himself that. And he always ended up drinking more than he needed.

So, he went to visit Lithuania again. This time, it was harder to get the alcohol. Lithuania seemed a little better this time, although Latvia noticed that he still wore bandages over both wrists. He fought the urge to ask Lithuania about them, only because, of course, he already knew. Latvia knew what those bandages were supposed to hide. He was not the child he appeared, not on the inside. And he knew why Lithuania wore those bandages.

He had planned to steal another bottle of alcohol and take it home with him. But, then, over dinner, Lithuania asked him something that surprised him, and Latvia saw a sad, tired look in the older boy's eyes as he spoke.

"Latvia, I need to ask you something," he said, "The last time you were here… You didn't happen to take a bottle of vodka home with you, did you?"

Latvia blinked, instantly putting on his most innocent look. When it came to keeping his alcoholism a secret from Lithuania, he was the world's best actor. If he had not been determined to keep his dark side a secret from Lithuania before, he was utterly resolute to do so now. He worried more, and seeing the bandages on Lithuania's wrists, he feared that any small incident might send the older Baltic over the edge. He didn't know what had been done to Lithuania close to the end, just before they had all left Russia. But he did know that after the escape, Lithuania had changed, and that he must not be pushed too far. Estonia and Ukraine had both made certain that Latvia understood that.

"Why?" Latvia asked, his tone innocent, "Are you missing some vodka? Hey, Lithuania, I didn't know you drank…"

Lithuania sighed, looking more tired than ever.

"I must have drunk the vodka and forgotten about it…" he murmured, "Don't worry about it, Latvia. It's fine. I didn't think you would have taken it. I just wanted to make sure."

He smiled, but it was a forced smile, and Latvia knew it.

The Latvian knew then that he would have to be more careful from now on. Lithuania had noticed the missing vodka, and so, he could not steal another bottle. He would have to drink something while he was here, and then go home.

He often spent the night with Lithuania, and he rarely slept much. Estonia had told him to watch for strange behavior when he stayed with the oldest Baltic, and Latvia had to wonder what Estonia was hiding from him. He knew that Lithuania was not all right… But then, what exactly was wrong with the brunet Baltic?

So, that night, as he lay awake in the guest bedroom, Latvia decided that it was time to drink. He would not drink much. Just a little bit, to warm his stomach and erase his depression for an hour or two. That was all he asked for, an hour or two without the worries and demons that plagued him constantly…

He just wanted an hour or two without having to notice the scars on his hands. Just a time where he didn't have to hear Russia or Estonia in his head, threatening to hurt him...

He hated that he was haunted by Estonia, of all people. Estonia was his friend.

And yet it was still horrible, being haunted by that maddened voice, the voice that used to be so calm.

Latvia soon found himself in Lithuania's kitchen, climbing up onto a counter to reach the cupboard where Lithuania kept his alcohol. He selected a bottle-he couldn't be sure in the darkness, but he thought it was vodka.

Latvia sat on the edge of the counter, his short legs dangling over the edge as he twisted the bottle's lid off and took a drink. Yes, it was most definitely vodka. He wondered vaguely why Lithuania kept vodka in his home, and began to ponder whether or not Lithuania might miss Russia. He wanted to deny that thought, but he had stolen a book on the workings of the human mind from Estonia. (He was becoming quite the thief, but he did plan to give Estonia's book back eventually.) In that book, he had discovered the term Stockholm Syndrome, and he had wondered if Lithuania might have it. Of course, the thought should never have crossed the innocent little Latvian's mind… But then again, he was no longer innocent. His innocence had been beaten out of him, crushed out completely during the last brutal beating he had received at the hands of Russia, the one time that he had attempted to play hero.

He took another drink.

A few more moments of thinking, and he took another. He was developing a warm feeling in his stomach now, and this was what he had desired. Just a few more drinks, and he should be able to forget his painful memories for a while.

Then the lights came on, and Latvia was caught sitting on the counter, with the vodka bottle in his hand, staring horrorstricken at Lithuania.

"So it was you," Lithuania said softly, "It makes sense. I always thought that Russia had drunk his own vodka when it went missing, and that he had forgotten it in… Well, a drunken state. But it wasn't him. It was you the whole time, wasn't it, Latvia?"

There was no judgment in his tone, only a quiet resignation.

"You aren't supposed to know," Latvia choked out, "I wasn't going to steal it all this time, I just…"

"You thought you needed it," Lithuania said, his voice quiet and sad, "Oh, Raivis…"

To Latvia's horror, Lithuania pulled out a chair, sat down, and buried his face in his hands, sobbing.

"Don't cry!" Latvia wailed, jumping down from the counter, "I won't do it again, Toris, I promise! Please don't cry!"

"I told Estonia that I failed," Lithuania said, his voice muffled by his hands, "I told him, and he didn't believe me. But, look… I found proof…"

"Toris!" Latvia wailed, seeing Lithuania's shuddering increase, "Toris, it's okay! Please don't cry!"

"Don't cry?" Lithuania echoed, "But I failed. I failed everyone. Estonia was insane, you're drinking alcohol at age fifteen, and I couldn't do anything to stop it…"

"I've been alive for a really long time," Latvia informed him, "I'm not a child."

Lithuania looked up, gazing at him with sad, anguished eyes that were devoid of all the cheerful light Latvia had once expected from him.

"We're all children, Raivis. We're all children, and we were destroyed forever in that mansion."

Suddenly, Latvia had had enough. He threw himself into Lithuania's arms, sobbing and begging him to please, please stop talking like this, to please put the happy, reassuring smile back on his face somehow…

And Lithuania began to cry again, holding him close. The brunet Baltic's sobs hurt Latvia, and he tried to make himself promise that he would never drink again, not until he grew older and was legally allowed to drink.

But he knew he would not keep that promise.

"It's like I thought. Toris can't ever know. Not now, not ever again. I'll tell him I'm giving it up, but I'll get the alcohol some other way, some way that he won't find out. I just can't let him know. He… Is it my fault he's so sad? Is it because of me?"

Much later, Estonia would explain to Latvia that it was neither of their faults that Lithuania was like this. It was the fault of years of torture and abuse, and it was also the fault of a certain girl, who had rejected Lithuania for reasons known only to herself.

For now, Latvia could only hold onto Lithuania as the older boy cried, and he could only hope that it was not he who was responsible for his brother's shattered mental state.

But at that time, he could not shake the feeling that it was in fact he, Latvia, who had broken Lithuania. Although he knew deep inside that it was not true, he could not shake that dreadful feeling.

I did write this rather randomly today, so if I decide it's horrible next week and rewrite it completely , that's why. I'm simply...

Okay, fine, I admit it. I could really use some moral support right now. Or criticism. Or...anything besides feeling sad all the time.

Good God, this is the internet. I need to stop spilling my heart to you people. I also need to stop admitting that I post my fics because knowing that even one person likes it makes me feel like living on...

Depressed Shadow, be quiet and go away...

...

Anyways, depressed Shadow has gone now! Happy Shadow asks that if you like or didn't like this story, please leave a review telling me why! Thanks! :)

Shadow, out!