Book 3 - Retrievers

VI - Pain

I hope you guys like the picture~

Russia is eventually dragged back inside, and everything feels numb. He barely registers the blood dripping down the backs of his calves.

'Is America okay?'

'Please?'

'He has to be okay.'

'It should've been me.'

He's pulled into the living room. He numbly looks around and notes how the doorways are being guarded. Most of the younger states are huddled in the middle of the room. Russia wanders in and his knees give out from under him.

Lightheaded.

Falling.

Russia crumples to the floor, and the floor spins from behind the spots in his vision. He gasps. His clothes are heavy, and his heart even heavier. He chokes on his breath and bites his lip. His whole body aches, and his heart pounds in his ears.

Russia curls up on himself. Shivers wrack his body, and he can't keep his hands from shaking violently. His legs throb, and emotions clog his throat. He grasps at his head with his sticky, dirty hands.

'It should've been me. It should've been me. It should've been me. It should've been me. Itshould'vebeenme,' his thoughts scream, looping an unwanted mantra through Russia's mind.

'Why did he do that?'

Someone pulls his dripping sweater off of him, but Russia doesn't even fully notice. When Russia comes back to reality, he's sitting in nothing but boxers wrapped up in fuzzy blankets.

'How did I get here?'

Russia brings the fuzzy blankets up to his face as if to hide from the world.

But Russia can't ignore his surroundings for long. Finland leads some of the older states to clear the house, and America is laid down next to Russia. And Russia finds that he can't ignore the motion around him without beginning to spiral into a panic.

Russia stares down at America's heavily bruised face. Russia's heart twists and nausea hits him hard. Tears gather in his eyes, and he doesn't try to stop them.

'That should've been me.'

Russia reaches out to brush America's hair back but retreats before touching him. He feels shame as if giving America affection now would be taboo.

Russia looks up blankly to someone waving at him. Someone tells him something, and Russia nods, but he didn't really understand a word.

Then, someone shoves his shoulder back. Russia's head jerks up and he sees Dixie standing over him. But Russia notes Dixie doesn't look angry.

"Hey, Russ, can you hear me?"

Russia nods.

"Are you willing to work this out with Amy?" Dixie asks, vaguely gesturing to Russia and America on the couch.

Russia stills. He glances down at America's face and winces at the cuts and marks. He looks back up.

'Do I?'

'Yes,' the answer pops up almost immediately.

"Yes. I am."

Dixie offers a tired smile. He pulls over an ottoman and he sits down on it in front of Russia.

"Good. Let's figure out a plan for that."

"Wha- really?" Russia asks, his eyes wide.

Dixie laughs.