If I Could (I'd be There)

Trucking through the endless white, he shivered as a particularly cold breeze licked at his exposed cheeks. The stout blond rubbed his cheeks into the worn fur of his coat and sighed; just a mile more, then he'd behome. Looking to the tiny pile of twigs in his arms, a small smile illuminated his face. His sister's would appreciate the extra warmth...huddling only did so much.

The wind howled through the tundra again and the boy wished he'd stuck to the forest edge. At least there the trees would have blocked out some of the General's blizzard. Squinting through the snowflakes, Russia tried to make out the forest he knew was close by. Nothing but white. He turned a little. Nope. Ninety more degrees and still completely blinded by snow. Spinning himself around in panic, he eventually fell back on his bottom with a soft cry. He'd gotten himself on mixed up and now he couldn't get home.

Sniveling, the blond cursed General Winter once more. He hated winter and he absolutely loathed snow. He wished it would disappear forever and that all the land would be covered in continuous sunflowers instead! Hunkering down, he prepared to wait out the General's tantrum and prayed that his sister's would be okay for a few more hours...

Sitting there in the snow, he didn't notice the approaching person until the crunch of snow beneath boots filled his ears. Scrambling up, the boy thought for a moment maybe it was the dark-haired man from the East; but he quickly realized it could not be as he came closer and Russia saw how tall this other was. Fear swelling in his young heart, he made to run. However, before he could take his first step, a man's voice asked;

"You are Russia, da?"

The boy stilled and slowly came around to stare up at the person before him. Their face was old, wrinkled and warmed by a beard; what truly caught his attention, though, was the scarf wrapped around his neck. It was Ukraine's!

"What did you do to my sister!?" He demanded angrily, dropping all but the strongest stick from his arms.

Two mitten-clad hands rose up in the air. "You sister is where you left her," he said to Russia. "But you are Russia, da?"

What kind of question is that? Russia doesn't know. So he lifted the stick and waved in a threatening manner. "Come closer and I'll hit you!"

"You'd hit an old man?"

The blond narrowed his eyes. He knew better than to let his eyes fool him. He may seem weak and feeble, but the moment he put down the stick...the old man would leap at him. People had done it before. Knees knocking together, the boy shook his head. "I'm not stupid! Go away!"

"What do I say to make you believe me?" The stranger demanded, his aurora scaring the young boy further.

Tears pricking at his eye, he shook his head. "Nyet! There is nothing you can do!"

The old man approached and Russia didn't fight him as the stick was taken and tossed away from him. Crouching, the mitten-covered hand brushed at his cheeks. "I forgot how scared I used to be..."

Stubbornly, the blond scooted back. "'m not scared!"

The man chuckled and an oddly boyish smile lit up his weathered face. "Da, of course not.." he agreed lightly.

"Where'd you come from?"

A shrug. "I am dying," the stranger answered. "You do not know it yet, but I will visit you many times throughout your life. Sometimes I will be closer than I am now, other times I will be farther; from time to time you will notice me-like now and others...you will be blind to me."

Sniffling, Russia whispered "Dying?" All the rest lost to him.

"Da..." the other muttered. Faded purple eyes gentle as his mitten-clad thumb ran down the bridge of the blond boy's nose. "I suspect I don't have much farther to go either, given your age."

"I'm not a baby!"

He chuckled. "That you are not," he concurred. "Come, will you make a snow angel with me?"

"...Snow angel?"

A delighted grin lit up the old face and for a moment, Russia thought it could be a reflection of his own. "Da! It was I I learned this from, I remember now! Come here, you'll love it!" And with great enthusiasm, the old man took a few steps out to where the snow was not plodded down and flopped back; tugging the blond with him.

"Hey!" Russia yelped, but he didn't have much time to say anything else because the old man was lifting their conjoined arm up and back down.

A moment later, the stranger stood back up gently guiding the boy with him. They took a step back to observe the "snow angels". "Beautiful aren't they?" The old man mumbled.

Russia gazed down in awe. They were. Or at least the man's was. His was very sloppy and not nearly as perfect as his companion's. Oh well, in time he could become just as good (if not better).

"Me, I can feel myself being pulled off again."

"Me? I'm Russia!"

The old man didn't laugh, he instead reached down and lifted the blond's chin so there eyes would meet. "We are one," the aged stranger whispered. "You won't always know I'm near, but I will be there for you when you need me most. Remember that, da?"

"Da..."

And like he'd been made of snow all along, the old man seemed to vanish into the blizzard whipping around them.

Just a curious little one-shot that nagged at me to be written. It's an old, dying Russia somehow visiting pivotal points in his life to impart knowledge to his younger self or just re-witness old history with new eyes. And as he remarked, he's coming close to his end as he crossed the boyhood version of himself.

Let me know what you guys think,

thank you everyone for reading and please review!

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