The ship's horn blew, the steam jetting into the air. It was heard even a couple blocks away, where a blond-blue eyed man was in a quick game of slap jack with the proprietor of the store they were in. The blond's traveling companion, a young auburn-haired man with a strange curl on the side of his head, watched with interest. The proprietor set card after card down. Then finally...a jack! Blond's hand slapped down onto the card. It was the last one he needed to win the game.

The proprietor sighed, leaning back, obviously shocked that he lost. He handed the blond two outfits resignedly. Blond handed haircurl the dress with green trim, and the cream headcloth. He went to the changing room and got into the remaining outfit. When he came out, his friend was having trouble with the headcloth. "Doitsuuuuu~! I need heeeelllllp!"

'Doitsu' was obviously a nickname, the way haircurl said it. 'Doitsu' helped tie the ends of the cloth so it would stay on his friend's head. "Italy...You really do look like a girl in that dress."

Italy smiled, then took notice of his friend's wear. He had a navy blue cap, and a navy blue coat and capelet to accompany it. He also had black pants. Italy gasped softly. His partner looked just like one of his old friends...Holy Roman Empire. "Wow, Germany, you look like Holy Roman Empire!"

Germany regarded Italy in surprise. "You knew him?"

"Yes, he was an old friend."

The two were silent for a while. Then Germany looked at the clock, eyes widening. The Titanic II would be leaving in 5 minutes! He grabbed Italy by the hand and ran toward the ship at full tilt. He and Italy dodged people, traffic and other objects as they ran to the Titanic II. They almost got run over by a Mini-Cooper, at which Germany yelled a few cusses in his language. Italy normaly didn't cuss, but the asshole deserved it: "Bastardo!"

They continued their sprint until the 3rd class gangplank was in view. They slowed down a bit and ran to the crewman at the door. "Identification?" he asked.

Germany replied, "Doitsu Beilshmidt and Feliciana Vargas, we're actors."

Behind him, Italy nodded. The crewman nodded back and waved them aboard. As the two rushed into the ship and to the top deck, Germany told Italy, "Unless we're alone you have to use a girl voice, alright?"

A very womanly voice replied, "Sure, Doitsu!"

All Italy had to do was raise his voice a couple octaves. It produced a cute, teen-like girl voice. Germany startled, then smirked slightly. "Perfect."

He and Italy raced to the higher decks, until they broke into the sunlight. Italy squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. Thousands of people were gathered on the deck. A few were even Italian, he could sense it. He raced to the railing, and gazed out at the crowd below. Everyone was waving farewell, both ways. He joined in the waving. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Germany wave as well.

The Titanic Two pulled out and set sail for America's land. Of course, it would make a couple stops for fuel and supplies, but it would be in the free land in little more than a week. Not too far from Italy, England and company stood. England gazed proudly at his citizens, feeling overly confident about this ship. America rolled his eyes and left to go to his cabin. France flirted with every female passenger he could without England hitting him.

Russia sighed, he looked around. He looked at an individual with a green and white dress. The auburn hair was short, but it said sweet. The individual turned 'her' head and looked back at Russia. Those honey eyes...Russia found himself smiling a genuine smile. The girl was beautiful. He sighed.

Behind him, England was yelling at France, who was moving his fingers as if he were playing the smallest violin in the world. The Titanic Two set sail, and disappeared from the view of the crowds on the dock. The maiden voyage had begun.

April 12, 2045

Russia smiled, glad that here, in the middle of the Atlantic, Belarus couldn't get to him. He finally felt at least a little secure. Then, his thinking was interrupted by three knocks on his door. A creepy voice he knew sounded, "Oh brotherrrr~!"

He went pale. Bela! How the hell did she find me here? Russia curled up in a corner, shutting his eyes tight. "Go awaaaaaaay!" he cried.

A male teen voice laughed on the other side of the door. "Hahaha, just kiddin' ya, Russia! It's just me!"

Russia's eyes snapped open. He grabbed his faucet pipe, a purple haze surrounding him. He frowned, opening the door. America opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off when metal made contact with his head. He fell, rubbing his head where Russia struck him. "Kolkolkolkolkol..."

Russia smiled, in a pissed off way. "You don't...do that...ever again. GOT IT?"

America lifted his hand away from his head, noticing a trickle of blood. "I got it. I get that you're too much of a strait-laced guy to take a little joke like that! Commie bastard."

WHAM! Russia's glare hardened. "Easy for you to say...capitalist pig."

America winced slightly, wiping the slowly increasing flow of blood from his forehead. He got to his feet, glaring at Russia. He smirked. "We just ended a war, don't start another one now, commie! You've got an obsession, Russia...an obsession with fighting me! You want the Cuban missile crisis to repeat, is that it? Do you REALLY want us to hate each other for decades again? Well, then, FINE! I don't CARE what the FUCK will happen to you!"

He brought back his hand and swung it forward. It made contact with a CRACK! Russia staggered to the side, shocked by the blow. He slowly brought his hand to his aching cheek. It was red from the blow. As red as he had been during the Cold War. America smiled and turned. He walked off, saying one more thing, "As it should be, commie."

Russia felt a feeling come over him. He knew this feeling well, although it normally came whenever Belarus was near. He felt like he wanted to die. He really didn't want this to happen, he didn't want for America to hate him again...but his words were too much. Russia bit his lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened. He rushed out of his room, down the hallways...to the stern deck of the great liner.

He didn't care who saw him. He didn't care who he passed. He bumped into a startled France and England, and the Russian ran until he met the railing of the very end of the boat. He gasped for breath, recovering from the run. He had run his fastest. Again, he tried to bite back tears as America's words echoed in his mind. "I don't CARE what the FUCK will happen to you! ...As it should be, commie."

Russia lifted one leg and passed it over the railing, onto the inch or two of decking that spread past the railing. He now allowed the tears to fall freely. It didn't matter to him anymore. He passed his other leg over and turned to face the wake of the great liner. He gripped the rail tightly, and shut his eyes, bracing himself for the long plunge.

A soft, sweet, caring, feminine voice stopped him before he let go. "Wait. Stop, please."

Russia turned his head, spotting where the voice had come from. The girl from the day of the launch, with the green and white dress...Purple met honey, and his life changed forever.