The World We Lost

Yesterdays

Heracles hears about the fall of the Ottoman Empire.

Something in him mourns.

--

He sees Sadik again at a world meeting.

(Heracles has to pause to wonder if this is what it's like to see a ghost; this is not the Sadik he remembers, proud and strong, with that ever present mask. This Sadik hangs low, shoulders curled forward as though Atlas has dropped the world on them. His eyes, a haunting green in the flickering lighting of the conference room, look sunken and dead.

This is not the Ottoman Empire that Heracles once knew.)

Sadik does not speak and Heracles does not say anything when they brush by each other in the corridor, but he lingers in the back of Heracles' mind for the rest of the day.

(He sees him again at the end of the day, when they're all going their separate ways.

"You're alive," he says, in passing, but does not dare look Sadik in the eye.

The fallen empire's laugh is laced with bitterness. "Not alive. Surviving. Merely existing.")

--

When Heracles arrives home, Egypt is in the kitchen, perched on the counter with some grapes in hand. He's the only one Heracles really stayed close to after gaining independence - everyone else went their separate ways. Greece isn't surprised to see him - he merely tips his head and dodges Gupta's swinging feet to reach by and dig through the refrigerator for something to drink.

"Was this your first time seeing him?" Egypt asks, golden eyes fixed on Heracles.

He can feel the other nation's gaze burning into his skull. "Yeah," he says, but doesn't look up, "it was."

Egypt merely blinks slowly, tips his head, and pops another grape into his mouth.

"You should go see him."

Heracles stops, halfway to the exit of the kitchen. "Yeah," he sighs, softly, "maybe I should."

But he and Egypt both know he won't.

--

Greece isn't sure what possesses him to pass notes at the next meeting. Turkey is two seats down from him and he scribbles messily on a scrap of paper and slips it casually around the Italian brothers, who take no notice. On Sadik's other side, Egypt doesn't miss the slip of paper, locking eyes with Heracles, but only momentarily.

By then, Heracles has already completed his task and relaxes back in his seat again. He knows, instinctively, when Sadik reads it - the sound of it being opened is loud to him, even if nobody else pays it any attention.

Heracles doesn't get a response.

("You should just go visit him," Japan tells him later, when Heracles falls into step with the Eastern nation.

Gupta is with Turkey, so his other friend had been out of the question.

"Maybe I should," Greece says again, and he's not sure if he means it or not anymore.)

--

Heracles doesn't bring up the subject again for a couple of years. They go by in a blink - a split second in which he questions his place in the grand scheme of things. There was a song, he recalls, that his mother used to sing, but Greece can't remember the words anymore. His mind is too swamped with papers and money and problems upon problems. He just wants to sleep.

For the first time in a while, Heracles goes to church.

He's done a lot of bad and can't really think of the last time he repented for it. Most of the time, he questions just how religious he really is. His country is, sure, but Heracles can't help but wonder about his own personal beliefs.