Stone and Sun

Natalia sat in her corner, alone. She was always alone afterwards. It was what she needed, and he knew it.

"Brother," she whispered in a timid voice not meant to be heard.

If anyone heard her small voice they'd leave her. Brother would leave her if she showed weakness.

She didn't want Brother to leave. But she also didn't want him to stay. Not afterwards. Never afterwards. That's why she came to the corner.

Because afterwards she felt empty. He took everything from her. He simply devoured her; body, mind, soul. She needed time to get herself back.

She could hear little drops falling down her face, onto her dirty, torn dress. How strange – that she could hear her tears but couldn't feel them.

Because she was empty. She was always empty afterwards.

The same thoughts circled in her mind like buzzards around a kill.

"What are you muttering alone in the dark for, Bela?"

A dangerous voice floated through the air, staining her ears with malice.

The worst part was that it was a voice she knew – a voice that normally echoed with utter honesty and happiness through the halls of the UN. Alfred. Now it threatened her, in a tone she knew all too well.

This man was worse than Brother, in some ways. He was jealous and powerful. He was a force to be reckoned with. He was America.

"I told you never to call me that, you fool," she lashed out, returning his addresses with an equal amount of hate. She reached under her tattered blue dress for her trusty blade, willing something to happen.

Maybe fighting with America would help her get herself back. Fill her up again.

She chuckled at her own uncertainty. Of course it would fill her up again. It always did.

Because, as regularly as Russia was there to take everything away from her, Alfred was always waiting in the wings to bring it all back.

That's the way it had been for years. That's the way it would continue to be.

But, she thought to herself, I've been feeling a lot emptier lately. Brother has required more and more from me. I think I may be dying. I mustn't let America know. Because then he will abandon me too.

He only does this for his own satisfaction. He doesn't care. Not like brother does. America just wants to be the hero.

That's what she had to keep telling herself, so that she didn't collapse from the exhaustion.

She gripped her knife with shaking fingers, waiting for the adrenaline – the strength – to flood through her, like she always relied on it to do when she was in her corner.

Alfred was unusually silent today. He hadn't uttered a single comeback yet. Natalia wondered why.

"Bela, why do you need me?"

His voice was surprisingly close to her ear. She hadn't even heard him approach. What was wrong with her? She ought to have seen him coming from a mile away. She really was out of it today.

He'd surprised Natalia, but she knew better than to let herself jump like some girl. Like Seychelles. Or Taiwan. She almost snorted in disgust. Women.

She let utter revulsion creep into her voice as she answered.

"I don't need you. I only need Brother. I'm using you, the same way you're using me."

"You don't believe that."

"And who are you to decide what I believe? If you are not pleased with this arrangement, you may leave. I've already stated that I am not in need of your services."

Silence. Natalia felt him move beside her, but he didn't get up. Instead he put his arms gently around her.

She froze, forgetting the blade in the palm of her hand.

This was where she normally lashed out at him, fighting to the end. This was where he easily disarmed her and kissed her roughly.

Yet none of these routines transpired.

Instead, just for once, Belarus let herself be held. She even let herself settle quietly into the stronger country's embrace, letting her weakness show, just for one peaceful moment.

He smelled perfect, like wood fires and a warm bed and fresh coffee in the morning. She would never admit it, but she loved the scent of America.

His formal button up shirt crinkled gently against the worn cotton of her dress, and his blond hair fell into his eyes as he looked gently down at her.

He was completely different from Brother.

She'd realized this from the beginning, but it seemed to stand out now more than ever.

Where Ivan stood tall, intimidating, and formal, Alfred was lithe and strong. He always appeared completely relaxed, regardless of the situation.

Where Russia was the cold sun glinting off colder snow, America was a warm breeze blowing through a field of wheat.

Natalia could see why Ivan wanted him so much. And Ivan always got what he wanted.

That's why she couldn't leave Brother. She had so much to learn from him. He was the strongest person she knew. That's why she continued to give every last bit of herself to him. Even if it cost her everything.

Yet, in her heart, she knew that what she was doing was wrong. Being with Alfred was wrong. Betraying Brother was wrong.

She couldn't stop herself. She knew she was cheating something out of Ivan, and she did it anyways.

She was despicable. She'd stolen one of her beloved Brother's lovers from him. And worse, she'd done it while hiding in the dark, right after she'd promised everything to Russia.

She smiled.

"Kiss me."

"As you wish, my lady."

"Don't be an ass."

"Shut up."

"No, you-" She was cut off by warm, soft lips pressing against her rough ones, making her forget everything but him.

Ivan was gone. The hunger she constantly suffered from was gone. The pain of being with Brother was gone. The cold stone floor that her bruised body knew all too well was gone.

There was only Alfred.

She lost herself in the warmth that washed over her whenever he was with her. She heard herself whisper his name, felt the blood rush to her cheeks when he let his mouth wander from her lips down to her neck, saw her worn body curve into him.

She enjoyed every gentle second of his embrace.

Natalia was so lost in him that she hardly noticed when he carried her to the small bed that lay sagging in the corner of her cold stone room.

She was so entranced by his lips that she didn't care how he laid her out; handling her like she was made of porcelain. Maybe she was. She didn't care what she was made of, as long as she had him to care for her.

She was so preoccupied by his solid weight on top of her that she failed to discern how he laid her knife and his gun out on the bedside table, careful to keep them both out of easy reach from the bed.

She was so spellbound by his beautiful blue eyes that she couldn't perceive the chill that crept into her bones when he peeled her clothes off, unraveling her like a ball of string.

She wasn't even conscious of her own hands, caressing him, undressing him with the same vigor that he held her thin, broken body.

Belarus only became aware when he was inside her, filling her up so completely that she felt she was going to overflow with molten sunshine.

Then she was overly alert. She heard her shallow breaths mingle with his deep ones. She felt his large, rough hands cradle her like they would a child. She knew Alfred was struggling to hold back, be gentle. For her.

Now she knew, with unnerving certainty, that Alfred was completely different from Brother.

She knew that this was why she needed America so much. This was why she could risk everything, in her dark world where only Brother existed.

And as she flew, high up into the clouds, reaching the last, highest point of perfection, she caught a momentary glimpse of that elusive emotion that everyone made such a big deal about.

In that moment, she saw love.

Then she was back in a cold stone room, ragged breaths bursting from her chest and a handsome, sweaty man collapsing beside her on the tiny, squeaky bed that held all of their experiences in its worn lumpy fibers.

Natalia watched Alfred lay still for a few moments, a silly grin on his face and his eyes closed as he breathed deep, steady breaths into the Belarusian air.

"You lost control this time. You always do when you're tired."

Those quiet words shattered the serene silence. Why did he have to bring up something like that at a time like this?

"I did not lose control. I never lose control. Whatever I did was done intentionally."

"Don't lie to yourself."

"I'm not lying."

"Then why are you crying?"

Belarus reached trembling fingers up to her face, feeling warm tears. Alfred reached over to run his fingers through her long platinum hair, holding her close to his broad chest and letting her cry in silence.

Natalia sniffled and roughly pushed her fist across her cheekbone, wiping away all evidence of emotion.

"I am not crying. I'm not tired. And I am not weak. Don't take pity on me. It is worthless."

"Does that mean you think you're worthless?" Cruel words echoed through her mind.

It wasn't so much what he'd said that got to her. It was the way he'd said it. Softly, honestly questioning her. Listening for her answer.

Brother never listened to her.

She shrugged, letting her mask slip easily into place.

"Maybe. But it doesn't matter, as long as I can be of use to Brother."

"You know that's not true."

"Yes, it is."

"No!" Indignant rage had crept into Alfred's voice, and his rough hands grasped her arms just a little too tightly.

"No, it isn't true! Are you so deluded by your own notions of importance that you can't see Ivan's just using you? He doesn't need you! He only takes you because you keep throwing yourself at him! Damnit, Bela, why can't you see that he doesn't care about you like I-"

He hesitated for a moment before continuing in a gentler voice. "like I do. Natalia, please, for once, just listen to me. It's a new decade. The Soviet Union will fall soon. Surely you can feel it. Ivan knows it too, which is why he's taking so much from you now. And if you continue to give, you'll end up dead. You know it, I know it, and Ivan knows it. I can offer you freedom. I can offer you life. Bela, come with me. I'll take care of you. I won't just take from you like Russia does. I- I don't want to lose you,"

Natalia could see the honest, caring tears form in the corners of his bright eyes. She listened to Alfred's tirade in silence, considering carefully everything he said.

"You know I can't abandon Brother. I've known for a long time that what I'm doing is going to cost me everything. I've made my decision. Now the only question is, can you handle it?" She expected her coy tone to surprise the blond, but the only thing she saw on his face was endless determination.

He leaned down and kissed her roughly, shoving her lips open, stealing intimacy from her. Then, quicker than lightning, America rolled over, grabbing both weapons from the bedside table and landing lightly on his feet, handgun pointed at her head.

"I expected you to say that. I should've known that it was useless to be gentle with you. I should've known better than to be honest. I should've known that the only way you respond is when motivated by violence. Fine then, Natalia, you now have a completely different choice. Get dressed and come with me, or die, here and now. Remember, you can't help your beloved brother if you're six feet under."

She could see steadfast resolution in the country's eyes. He was serious. Her eyes flicked to the gun. The safety had been subtly clicked off. This was it. The deciding moment. Damn, why was he so smart? He knew she wouldn't risk death if Brother depended on her to live.

Belarus was furious with herself. She should've seen this coming. It was so obvious! The way he'd been so much gentler with her this time. The way he'd held back when he knew she couldn't take more. He'd been trying to trick her into trusting him!

And it had almost worked.

This was why Ivan was better. Because he didn't fool people with fluorescent sunshine. He was cold, but he was honest. If he wanted something out of her, he'd just take it. No sneaking around. No seducing. No tears. Just pure power.

She slipped timidly from under the covers, sliding her undergarments over her bruised hips and shoulders, watching America keenly as he did the same. They both dressed in tense silence, each watching for an opening from the other. None appeared. By the time Natalia's hair bow was in place and Alfred's tie was knotted, America still held both the weapons and Belarus still had nothing.

America approached her from behind, slipping an arm tightly around her waist and pointing the sleek metal gun at her back. To anyone else, it would appear that they were a happy couple. He whispered in her ear, suddenly sinister.

"Open the door. And smile, my dear. We're catching an express flight to D.C. this afternoon."