Zubicu- a Hetalia fanfic.

Chapter 27

I stand in the centre of the clearing, wondering why the hell I agreed to this. Anya sits nearby, ready to watch. She said she's going to jump in and finish the job when I'm in trouble, but she didn't say what side she's on, which worries me. Still, she's my best bet at this stage. America and Romano are hiding in the bushes opposite Anya, in case she decides to fight me instead of Russia, which considering our past is a lot more likely.

It's been two days since we made that deal, and since then my wounds have mostly healed except for the worst cuts, which are just minor scrapes and should be gone soon.

Or they would be if Anya hadn't condemmed me to this.

I look up when I hear footsteps, to see Russia coming out of the edge of the trees. He smiles warmly when he sees me. I growl, drawing my swords and falling down into a ready-to-charge-run stance. He smiles his creepy smile, producing his faucet pipe. I shudder, but don't back down. Not this time. "Russia, I want my land back!" I demand.

He chuckles. "I don't think so. You will become one with Mother Russia, da? Then I will let you go."

I growl. "I would never, not even in my wildest dreams, do that." I snarl.

"Then I'll just have to win even more from you." he says. I snarl, and run towards him with a battle cry. As he takes a swing, I jump out of the way, dodging it, but somehow he manages to swing it round so it clips my bent knee, knocking me down with a cry. I snarl, swiping up with my sword to drive him back, before flinging my legs up into the air, momentum swinging me onto my feet again.

I swipe at him, but he blocks it with his pipe. I snarl, pulling my blade back, making a horrible screeching sound that makes everyone flinch, but me. I spent hours training myself to bear that noise so it doesn't distract me from it. I stab forward, but he grabs my extended arm. My eyes widen as he lifts me up and throws me, sending me flying across the clearing.

I hate going into the details of how I lost, so let's skip to the end of that battle.

I lie on the floor, on my hands and knees, struggling to stay up as Russia approaches me. He stops by my side, and lifts his faucet pipe high above me with both hands, preparing to bring it down on my back. I close my eyes to await the final blow.

This is it, then huh? Even if, by some miracle, he doesn't kill me now, I'm going to die anyway. I can just tell, from these wounds. I'll never be able to reply to those letters that Japan translated. Memories flash through my mind; seeing Romano and Spain for the first time. The first time I sang, at the World Meeting, and watched as everyone looked shocked by my voice. The praise I received, the amount of times my voice was called 'angelic'. My first win in a fight, leading to victory after victory. Learning my first spell with England, and the mess I made trying it out for the first time. Cleaning Austria's house with Hungary. Playfighting with Romano when we were chibis. Playing in the snow with America and Canada. Watching a scary movie with America and trying not to choke because he was hugging me so tight.

All of these memories....all made by me.....about to be lost.

I'm sorry....

"Five." Oh, he's counting down. Charming.

Romano....America....Canada....Spain....everyone..."Four."

I failed......"Three."

Forgive me...

"Two."

Don't forget me..."One."

Goodbye. I think, as he begins to bring it down. But the impact never comes. After a while, I look up, to see Russia on the floor. Who should I see standing over him but Anya, pointing a bloodied shovel at his throat. She hasn't hit him, but the madness flickering in her violet eyes tells the whole story. I smile weakly, before collapsing. I struggle to stay awake, but manage. I don't hear their conversation, but from Russia's face I can tell she's threatening him. Her determined expression and the way she's glaring at him only furthers my belief.

America and Romano run over to me almost instantly. Romano picks me up bridal-style, one arm under my knees and the other under my shoulders, cradling my bruised, broken and bleeding body into him. I cough weakly and America looks at me worriedly.

"Hang in there, sis." he says, before turning to Romano. "Dude, we gotta get her to a hospital, fast!"

"I was going that anyway, bastardo!" Romano snaps back, making me wince. He looks down at me. "Oh...sorry, ragazza." he says. I can't even nod a reply, so I just smile as best as I can. Realizing just how weak I am now, America bends down, picking my swords up from the ground, and carries them for me while Romano quickly runs out of the clearing. They sprint through the forest, moving as fast as they can to get to the town nearby, and get me to the hospital.

But I don't feel like I'm going to make it. I'm struggling to fight sleep again. I refuse to let myself go, though, because if I do I'll never wake up. At least Russia isn't after us. He and Anya must have decided to leave me alone. They do have some mercy....

I think of the letters. Three letters, sitting on my table back home, with Japan's translations sitting next to them. They're from another country. If I don't make it through this, I can't answer them. When I'm in the hospital, I wonder if the person will know? Maybe one of the others will tell them.

When I get out, I'll respond to them. I bring myself back to reality and realize we're running through streets now. I look up, my vision hazy, and see Romano, a determined expression on his face as he runs whilst carrying me. I never thought he cared. I force my head to turn and see America running slightly ahead of us, leading us along the quickest route to the hospital. He's still carrying my swords in his arms, which is good, along with my satchel. I wonder where he got that.

They rush into a big white building and up to the counter. Romano has a brief conversation with the nurse on the other side of the counter which I can't hear other than faint murmurs, but judging by the look on his face he's really worried and desperate. That's reassuring. The nurse takes one look at me and her eyes wide open in shock. She quickly rushes round, leaving an emergency call, and runs me through to the emergency ward. Staff with a bed arrive and Romano sets me down on it. I'm too weak to move, so just look at him, pleading with him through my hazy green eyes not to leave me.

But he has no option, as they rush me through the double white doors and to a room, where they quickly hook me to all sorts of equipment and start the fight to keep me alive. I struggle to help by staying awake, but fail. My last thoughts are with America, Canada, Spain and Romano as I drift into a dark, troubled sleep. Images of what would have happened if Anya hadn't stepped in when she did haunt my dreams, and I dread of what I will find when and if I wake to the real world.