My love in Siberia (RusAme)

10.

"Watch where you're going!"

The soldier apologized and got down on his knees to pick up the boxes he dropped. Soviet, keeping an emotionless expression on his face, looked back in the directions in which he was heading before the soldier bumped into him.

He slowly made his way forward, eyes glued to the double door which was the entrance to a tall gray building. Once inside he stopped and took a deep breath.

Thoughts were racing through his mind. About the war, about his country, his people, about Russia...

His heart skipped a beat at the thought of his son. He knew Russia was in good hands and that America is not the type to hurt someone without having a good reason to. But he is not easily fooled either.

All Soviet could pray for now is that Russia doesn't misbehave. One wrong move could be fatal for him.

If only he could somehow prove to America that that is actually Russia. America wouldn't hurt Russia if he could prove that the 'monster' is at least partly human, not to talk about proving that he's his old childhood friend.

But how is he going to do that?

Maybe it would be easier if Russia could remember who America is. The transformation he went through caused damage on his brain which led to memory loss. He doesn't even recognize Soviet as his own father. Thankfully that didn't happen again and he remembers everything that happened since that day. Maybe if he turns him back into a human he will remember. If only that was possible...

It is. It must be.

Taking a deep breath he began walking fast towards the central room. It was hidden underneath the building, about 300 meters under the concrete. And that was only one of many rooms which were covering the area in 1 kilometer radius, connected with an entire system of tunnels. It was designed to be more like a bunker so if the worst happened at least some could survive. But since they, luckily, never had a chance to use it they turned the first room into a secret meeting room that was accessible only to Soviet and the people he invites to come in. All the other rooms were kept locked down for months and were only opened so the quality of food and water supplies could be checked and to clean the rooms.

He set down in front of the table, leaning on it with his elbows and his face in his hands. This was the only safe place for him to let his emotions take over him. Tears slipped from the corner of his eye and soft sobs escaped his lips. He wanted to scream at the top of his lungs but the constant pressure he put on himself to show no emotions wouldn't allow him to do so.

He felt so weak and hurt. He needed some comfort, someone to hold him and share his pain with him. His wife used to do that back when she was still alive. She passed away on the day she gave birth to Russia. He could still see her face, her eyes full of tears from all the pain she went through and a soft smile on her lips as she looked at him, using her last breath to tell him that she loves him.

She was the only one who understood him. The only one who had patience for him. He remembers how angry he was at his father when he told him to find someone else. There was no one else he would be able to love like he loved her. No one who would treat him the way she did.

She lost her life to bring another one into the world. She greeted him his wish, she gave him a son, and she payed the price for it.

His father hated her. She was just a filthy woman from the lower class in his eyes. In other words, she was easily replaceable. His way of thinking made Soviet feel pure hatred towards him, and love her even more because no matter how bad his father treated her she still stayed with him.

But even though she passed away a part of her was still there. He had Russia. But Russia was too young to understand his behaviour and the reason why he was so strict and intolerant. But even though he grew up without his mother he was more like her than like Soviet. Just like America was nothing like his father.