Welcome to my fourth Hetalia fanfic! (I consider the 'Blood and Tears' series to be one story.)

In this story, my portrayal of Latvia is a bit different than how he acted in my other stories. I hope people enjoy this version of him.

I did a lot of research for this story, and it references a lot of historical events. For an explanation of the references, please, please read the author's notes at the end of the story. (It will be beneficial.)

Hetalia does not belong to me.

Boiling Point

Latvia wasn't stupid. He saw the pitying looks the other countries gave him; not even the other Baltics were exceptions. He assumed that it was because he was small, or because he was one of Russia's favorite playthings. Maybe it was both. No matter what the reason was, he hated those looks. It confirmed the notion that was worming its way into his mind, that he was weak. It didn't matter that his country had a brief taste of independence before it was cruelly snatched away, nor did it matter that he fought with all his strength the day Russia came to take him to the Soviet Union estate. It didn't even matter that his country technically seceded from the Soviet Union in May of the previous year; Russia did not recognize this and forced him to stay in the mansion. To his fellow nations, he would always be 'poor, weak little Latvia', and nothing more. That thought sickened him every day.

Maybe, if I was taller, they would have given me more of a chance to prove myself, Latvia wondered to himself, a glass of vodka in his hand. Though he was worried about not angering Russia most of the time, when he was alone, preferably after he had a few drinks (stolen from Russia's alcohol cabinet, naturally), he would mull over his existence and wonder why he was created the way he was.

He was so deep in his thoughts that he didn't notice that Estonia and Lithuania had entered the room until he heard their whispering.

"Hello," he finally said, trying to make his voice sound as normal as possible. "Do you want to have a glass, too?"

Lithuania narrowed his eyes, but Estonia nodded. Both sat down on either side of him, glancing at each other. Latvia chose to ignore this and walked over to the cabinets to get Estonia a glass for his drink. Standing on his tiptoes, he opened the top cabinet.

"Want me to get that for you?"

Latvia knew that Lithuania was just trying to be nice, but at the moment, it was the wrong thing to say.

"No," he responded, a trace of coldness in his voice, "I can get it."

The older boy narrowed his eyes again, but said nothing.

After a bit of a struggle to reach a glass—which was unfortunately in the back of the cabinet—he walked back to his two friends and roughly placed it on the table. He carelessly poured some vodka into it and passed it to Estonia. The bespectacled boy took it and brought it hesitantly to his lips.

After he gulped some of the fiery liquid, he put the glass on the table and adjusted his tie. "Ahem. Um, Latvia, Lithuania and I have been meaning to talk to you."

"What is it?" Latvia knew that his two friends could sense his change in attitude, and wasn't looking forward to the lecture he would most likely receive.

"Well…" The middle Baltic took another drink. He took off his glasses, exposing the dark circles under his eyes. "We've noticed that you've become very…depressed…over the last few months."

Before Latvia could interrupt, Lithuania jumped in. "If you ever need anything, just come to us. We know your people have been very restless; ours have, too. Just try not to let it affect you; it's not healthy."

The small blond could sense the undertone of those words. What Lithuania really meant to say was, 'Watch yourself around Russia; don't try to upset him'. This wasn't anything new; the two older Baltics were always trying to get him to watch his mouth.

Inwardly rolling his eyes, he responded with the usual, "I understand."

Lithuania and Estonia nodded, though they looked at each other worriedly once more.

After Estonia finished his drink, he put his glass in the sink and walked back to Latvia, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Lithuania and I will be running some errands. You won't be alone with Russia, don't worry. Miss Belarus and Miss Ukraine will be here, too."

Like they'd do anything if Russia tried something. Latvia had nothing but respect for Ukraine, but he knew she was powerless to do anything against her brother, though she was older. As for Belarus, he gave up on her years ago. Add the fact that both women were drastically affected by the Chernobyl disaster, and the result was that neither of them would—or were capable of—doing anything. Oh well, it's to be expected. I'll just stay out of Russia's way.

"That's fine," was all he said aloud. He made sure Lithuania and Estonia were gone before pouring himself another drink. I know they disapprove, but I can't help it! They'd do the same if they were in my shoes. Wouldn't they? He knew Estonia drank when days got really bad, or when he was stressed, but he was puzzled as to why Lithuania never picked up the habit. Out of all of us, he has the most legitimate reason to. No matter how cold he would act towards the eldest of their trio, he always wished he could help him, when Russia was in one of his 'moods'. Though both of them were often beaten, it was only Lithuania who got taken to the basement to be punished. He knew that whatever happened down there was horrifying; he could hear his friend's agonized screams and pleading from when he passed by the kitchen. He had never seen the brunet directly afterwards, but he quickly discovered that he would be confined to their shared bed the next day, unable to work. Though he was kept in the dark, he was sure that Estonia knew something. This caused a twinge of jealousy to shoot through him; normally, he and the bespectacled boy were close, but for the past few years, he felt like the two of them were growing more and more apart.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the door creak open. Feeling a bit nervous that he was about to be caught drinking, he didn't turn around Hoping that he was right, he hesitantly called out, "Miss Ukraine? Miss Belarus?"

"Nyet."

Damn it! He was never that lucky.

"Hello, Mr. Russia, sir." That's it, Raivis, start off speaking formally. Go slow, and don't say anything stupid. Remember what Lithuania told you.

"I noticed you've become quite the drinker, little Latvia." For once, Russia's voice had no malice behind it.

"I'm sorry, sir."

"Don't be. It's quite adorable, actually."

"Umm, thank you?" Latvia wasn't sure what to make of this situation. Ever since Gorbachev came to power, the cold Nation had become even harder to read.

The small blond flinched when Russia sat down next to him, pulling him onto his lap.

"You see, Raivis," he started, weaving his hands through the younger boy's hair, "you remind me a bit of myself, when I was much younger. You even look a bit like me, haven't you noticed?"

Disgusted, Latvia let the words he was trying so hard to suppress pour from his mouth. "Oh, really? So you were small and weak once? Did Mongolia subjugate you like you did to me and the others? Like you do to Lithuania when you take him down to the basement? You are nothing like me, and you don't have the right to compare yourself to me!"

Suddenly, the hand gripping Latvia's hair tightened drastically.

Oh no. The blond realized too late that he might have gone too far. He whimpered when Russia got up and walked further into the kitchen, dragging him by his hair.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Russia, sir! I'm so sorry! I've had a few drinks; I wasn't thinking clearly!"

"No, Latvia, you've made your feelings very clear. I didn't know you had that much of a backbone." The large man stopped when he reached the infamous basement door. "I definitely need to fix that."

I see. So it's come to this. Latvia narrowed his eyes. He was going to experience what Lithuania had gone through many times before him. I knew this was going to happen someday. Wiping the tears from his eyes, he forced his expression to turn stoic. I will not apologize for anything, anymore. I will not scream. I won't give him the satisfaction.

Repeating this mantra in his head, he clenched his fists and closed his eyes when Russia led him down the stairs. As soon as they were at the bottom, the tall man let him go, presumably to close and lock the door.

When he came back down, Latvia opened his eyes. Sapphire met cold amethyst in a rare display of defiance. There's no going back, now. He had been under Russia's foot for too long; his people—and himself—were getting tired of it. Though he had been a shaky, nervous wreck for years, the constant oppression had hardened his mind. He still shook (he supposed that was a reflex), but he didn't flinch every time Russia entered a room.

He was pulled back to reality when Russia spoke. "Take off the uniform."

"What?" This was new for Latvia. Normally, if the large man wanted to beat him, he would do so without any warning.

"Are you deaf, boy? I said to take everything off. I don't want any blood getting on that uniform; it was expensive."

"No." Latvia couldn't care less if blood got on his clothes. He wasn't about to strip in front of the man who had an unhealthy obsession with him and the other Baltics.

"I was hoping you'd be obedient, like you used to be." Russia shook his head. "You leave me no choice."

Before Latvia could react, he found himself slamming into the wall. His head spun, and he coughed, out of breath. He barely got his breathing under control when Russia kneeled on his legs and pulled his shirt open, not caring about the buttons.

"You see what you made me do?" he asked, his voice quiet, but menacing. "Now I'm going to have to buy you a new shirt. You know I can't afford that." His expression turned uncharacteristically sad as he tossed the ruined garment aside. "That was my favorite uniform of yours, too. Oh, well, I could always make Katyusha sew new buttons on it."

Latvia wasn't sure how to respond. He was quickly losing the feeling in his legs, and his head hurt from being slammed against the wall. All he knew was that he wasn't going to apologize.

When he looked at Russia again, the cold look returned to his face. "Do you want to finish, or are you still going to be stubborn?"

The younger boy didn't want the violet-eyed man to remove his pants, but he didn't want to submit to him. The latter thought won the internal debate, and he responded with an equally cold, "No."

Russia tilted his head. "Very well."

He got up, much to Latvia's relief. That relief tuned to disgust when he saw and felt the older man sliding his pants off. Please tell me that's it; I don't want him touching anything else. His stomach squirmed when he realized how dangerous this situation was for him.

Fortunately for him, after he was left in his underwear, Russia turned away, rifling through a cabinet for something. When he found it, he kneeled back down next to Latvia, presenting the object to him.

"I wasn't planning on you coming down here, so I didn't clean it from when my Litva visited last week." He shook his head as he uncurled the whip.

Latvia's eyes widened when he saw flakes of dried blood fall off of it. So that's what he's been doing to Lithuania.

His head snapped towards Russia when he felt the older man pull him to his feet and slipped something onto his wrists. He narrowed his eyes when he realized that his hands were being tied together with rope, then tied to the banister of the stairs.

"Litva is used to this, so he knows not to run, but since this is your first time, and I don't know how you'll react, you'll have to be tied to the banister. My apologies."

Apologies my ass; you're not sorry at all!

He was abruptly—and painfully—snapped out of his thoughts when he felt the whip slam into his back. He resisted the urge to cry out. No. Do not scream for him. As the lashes became more frequent, and more forceful, he bit his lip to keep from screaming. However, he did allow himself to cry, albeit silently. The only thing keeping him silent was remembering the people who were sent to forced labor camps in Siberia and concentration camps during the Holocaust. They suffered a lot more than you. This is nothing compared to what they went through. Remember them, Raivis. Don't forget their pain. With every tear that fell from his eye, he recalled a citizen of his country who died during that horrible era. A man, shot execution-style just because he was Jewish. A child, dying because he couldn't take the cold of Siberia. A mother, selling her body to members of the NKVD to get medicine and food for her children. The list went on and on, and Latvia remembered them all. He had spent some time in Siberia, and in a concentration camp, when Russia and Germany were extremely angry with him, and he knew the horrors. No one knew who he was; he was treated just like everyone else. The only difference was that he couldn't die.

When he finally awoke from his daze, he realized that the blows stopped falling. He could feel the blood dripping down his burning back, and he wondered how many times he was whipped. He felt Russia untying him from the banister, though his wrists were still bound together.

"You didn't scream once, little Latvia." The large man shook his head, his eyes shining in the semi-darkness. "I'm very surprised. It's no fun if you don't make any noise."

If Latvia didn't know any better, he'd think that Russia was pouting. Before he could blink, he found himself being pressed up against the wall, his face being uncomfortably pushed into the concrete. Though he couldn't see what was going on, he heard Russia using his free hand pull something from one of his thick coat's many pockets.

Suddenly, a burst of pain exploded from one of the gashes on his back, and he felt more blood pour from it. He reflexively whimpered, but bit his lip before he could scream.

"What are you doing?" he managed to rasp.

"Oh, just making these nice cuts deeper, so they will last longer," Russia chirped cheerfully. "Your blood is so pretty! Who knew Natalia's knives cut through flesh so well!"

As the rest of his cuts got the treatment the first just received, Latvia gasped, thrashed, and kicked, but he never screamed. He started to get dizzy, but knew it would be awhile before he passed out. Please let him get bored soon; I don't think I can keep silent much longer.

Luck was just not on his side, today. After Russia threw the knife on the ground, Latvia was turned around and pushed roughly against the wall, agitating his fresh injuries. Unable to stay quiet, he let out a pained whimper, his legs shaking. "Please, isn't this enough?"

"Ah." The violet-eyed man smiled, letting his subordinate drop to the floor. "That's the Raivis I know and love." He nudged the now-trembling boy with his thick boot. "Your eyes are still strong. That must be fixed. We can't have rebellions in the Soviet Union, now, can we?"

He walked back over to the cabinets and looked through them until he found what he wanted. Latvia couldn't see what it was until Russia sat down next to him.

A needle? The small blond was confused. Because he was trying to determine the possible tortures that could be inflicted on him, he missed the warning signs of Russia climbing on top of him. The tall man's legs rested on top of his own, pinning them to the floor, and one hand pressed the back of his head into the wall, holding his left eye open.

Latvia realized too late what was about to happen. Before he could flinch away, Russia plunged the needle into his exposed eye.

This was too much for the small blond. He screamed in agony, curses in every language he knew spilling from his mouth. "Stop it!" he begged, not caring if he sounded weak. "Why would you do this?"

"Brother?"

Latvia heard Ukraine's voice coming from upstairs.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing of your concern, Katyusha." Russia turned towards the stairs, though he kept the needle in Latvia's eye.

"I heard some horrible screaming. You're hurting one of them, aren't you?"

"Leave, Katyusha. This has nothing to do with you."

Seeing that Russia was distracted, Latvia decided to make a bold move. "Miss Ukraine!" he called as loud as his throat would let him. "It's Raivi—"

Suddenly, pain burst in his head, though it had nothing to do with his now-blind eye. He could see faint images in his mind: OMON and other combat groups attacking the Latvian Interior Ministry in Riga, fighting breaking out in the Barricades, a man being killed, and more. As the pictures continued to flash across his undamaged eye, he could smell the smoke and hear the screams of his people. As time went on, he saw four more people die, one of them being a schoolboy.

Latvia didn't know how long he was held captive by the visions, but when he finally became coherent, he realized that Russia held him close to his chest, his hands rubbing circles on his back. Blinking back tears, he noticed that the needle was removed from his eye, though he couldn't see out of it, and that his wrists were unbound.

"I'm sorry," the large Nation murmured, pulling him closer. "But you and your people had to learn. You can't break away from me that easily; I don't want you leaving me. Ever."

Though he still felt sick, and his injuries burned, he managed to pull away from Russia's grasp. "You're sorry? Sorry for your forces attacking my people? Five of them died, Ivan. One of them was just a boy." Shakily getting to his feet, he glared down (for the first time in his life) at the older man, his undamaged eye burning with anger. "Did you apologize to Toris when your military attacked the Vilnius TV tower last week? What about Eduard? Did you say 'sorry' to him when a third of his population was sent to the Gulags after we were annexed? And, oh yeah, did you apologize to your own people back in 1905 after you gunned God knows how many of them down in St. Petersburg? I don't think so. You're not sorry, and you'll never be sorry!"

Just as he finished speaking, a wave of dizziness hit him and his legs gave out, sending him to the floor. Shivering, he curled up into the fetal position and cried. He did not resist when Russia picked him up; the events of the evening had exhausted him. His back burned and his damaged eye throbbed; all he wanted to do was sleep.

The tall man finally spoke when he opened the door that led out to the backyard, letting the frigid air in. "No matter what I do to you, there's still fire in your eyes, and in your voice. Maybe a night outside will revert you back to your obedient self, and extinguish that fire."

Suddenly, Latvia found himself being tossed outside, landing painfully in the semi-frozen snow. Before he could scramble to his feet, the door was slammed. When he tried to open it, he realized that it was locked.

Tears filled his eyes as he hopped from foot to foot, the snow making it impossible for him to stand. After awhile, he collapsed, the cold too much for his practically naked body.

He shivered violently, wrapping his arms around himself. Cries tore from his throat when he realized that there was no protection from the ice. Panicking, he crawled to the door and scratched at it, hoping Russia was still in the basement. As he became more desperate, he clawed the wood more violently, not even caring when his nails and fingertips cracked and bled, smearing blood all over the bottom of the door.

The cries turned to screams when more snow began to fall, the flakes large and continuous. He screamed until he lost his voice. Coughing violently, he noticed that his heart rate sped up, though his respiration rate decreased. He squinted his working eye and noticed that his skin was puffy and blue.

Make it stop! he screamed in his mind. I want to go back inside! This hurts so much!

Suddenly, his mind went blank. When he was able to think again, he realized that he had no idea who or where he was.

Why am I out here in my underwear? Where is 'here' anyways? Am I in Siberia? Am I Russian? No…I'm Latvian. Yes, that sounds right. I think my name is Raivis. Where are the rest of the people in my camp? What happened to my mama? It's so cold! I don't want to die! Please, mama, help me! It hurts so much!

Faces appeared in his mind, visible for only a few seconds. He saw a tall, intimidating man, two women, and two young men. The last two faces stayed longer, so he was able to see their features clearly. The taller of the two had neatly-cut blond hair, glasses, and intelligent navy eyes. The shorter one had wavy brown hair and blue eyes, a kind expression on his face. Eduard…and Toris. …Estonia and Lithuania.

Raivis gasped, all of his memories returning to him. I am Latvia. Russia threw me outside. I…I'm so tired.

He felt his thoughts and organs slowing, but he stretched his arm out, trying to reach the door one last time.

"To…ris," he whispered, his throat burning. "Eduard…I'm…so sor—"

Before he could finish the sentence, his body shut down.

/

Lithuania zipped up his thick coat and walked downstairs to the basement. Shuddering at unpleasant memories, he quickly grabbed one of the shovels and opened the door leading outside.

That's odd, he thought. The door was caught on something, and refused to open all the way.

Sticking his head through the opening, his body froze when he saw what blocked the door. A hand. Raivis wasn't in bed last night. Russia said he was locked in the basement, but he's not here.

Panic overtaking him, he forced himself through the door. He grabbed the pale hand and pulled it. After a few tugs, his worst fear emerged from a pile of snow.

No! He didn't! But he did. Russia had locked Latvia outside, most likely all night, wearing nothing but a pair of thin boxers.

He cradled the younger boy's limp body in his arms, his eyes watering. "Raivis?" he asked. "Come on Raivis, wake up. Please, Raivis."

When he shook the boy, his head lolled to the side.

Realizing the severity of the situation, he quickly stood up and rushed back inside. But not before he saw the blood on the bottom of the door, as well as more in the snow where his friend was buried.

Kicking the door closed, he gently placed Latvia on the floor and turned on the lights. Sitting down, he assessed the small blond's injuries. The most obvious were the deep gashes on his back. He whipped you? No! This wasn't supposed to happen; I was supposed to be the only one who received that treatment!

Blinking tears out of his eyes, he continued looking for blood. He found more around the boy's fingernails, which were severely cracked. You were so desperate to get inside, weren't you. I can't imagine how much pain you were in.

Seeing his friend like this was too much; he pulled Latvia against his chest and cried, not caring if he got blood on his hands or shirt. I'm sorry I wasn't able to protect you. He had heard what happened in Riga while he and Estonia were running errands and rushed back as soon as they could, but by that time, it was too late.

If I had known that this was what he would do to you, I would have broken the door down.

He looked down again, and realized that there was something…off…about Latvia's left eye; it was puffier around the corners than the other. Gently pulling the lid up, he was met with a sight that sickened him even more. His friend's normally beautiful pale blue eye was now cloudy and dull.

Letting the lid fall back into place, he kissed the boy's forehead. He hurt you so much.

He was snapped out of his thoughts when he heard someone run down the stairs.

"Hey, Lithuania, what's taking you so long; that pathway's short!"

The joking smile fell off Estonia's face when he saw what (more like who) his friend held in his arms.

"L-Latvia?" he stuttered, dropping to his knees. "What happened?"

"Russia locked him outside, all night," Lithuania responded softly. "He was also whipped, and I think one of his eyes was blinded, somehow."

"This had something to do with what happened in Riga yesterday." This wasn't a question.

The brunet nodded.

"Will he ever wake up? Nations can't die."

"As soon as his injuries heal themselves, he will."

"How do you know that for sure?" Estonia pressed. "What if he stays like this forever?"

"This happened to a…friend…once. He healed eventually; all he needed was time." Lithuania gently stroked Latvia's hair. "The same will be true for Raivis."

The bespectacled boy slowly nodded. "Very well, I will not worry." He paused, pointing at the angry red slashes all over his friend's back. "However, those must be taken care of. I can see that they are too deep to heal rapidly."

Standing up, he walked over to one of the cabinets and rifled through it until he found what he was looking for: a needle and some thread.

Kneeling back down, he turned to Lithuania. "Lay him face down, please."

The eldest Baltic did what he was told. He watched as Estonia skillfully sewed up the gashes, fascinated by how neat his stitches were.

"Don't look so surprised," he said wryly. "I always help Katyusha with the sewing."

Grimly smiling, Lithuania nodded, catching the hidden meaning behind those words. "Russia would torture you if he ever found out."

"I know," was all the blond said, adjusting his glasses. "Once we're fully independent, I won't have to worry about that."

Narrowing his eyes, the brunet nodded once more. "Take Latvia upstairs, and watch him," he instructed. "There's something I need to do."

"Are you sure about this, Toris?"

"Completely. This has gone on for too long."

"Well then, I wish you the best of luck." Estonia nodded once, just a sharp flick of his head, before gathering Latvia up in his arms and leaving the basement.

Once he was sure that the bespectacled boy had made it to their bedroom, Lithuania strode to Russia's main office. Without bothering to knock, he threw the door open.

"How could you?" he demanded, his stomach churning in apprehension. Will he let me talk?

"How could I, what, Litva?" Russia tilted his head to the side.

This only added fuel to Lithuania's fire. His nervousness evaporated, anger taking its place. "You know very well what you did. It wasn't enough for you to whip him, was it? You had to ruin one of his eyes, and then throw him outside, nearly naked! You of all people should have known how cold it gets; we're in your own country! If he had been human, he would have been dead in a half an hour! But no, he was cursed to be a Nation, so he had to experience the agony of severe hypothermia over and over again until his body couldn't take any more!"

Lithuania stopped to catch his breath, but continued before Russia could say anything. "He's not just unconscious right now; he was out there too long for it to be that simple. He's in a death-like state at the moment, so his body can repair the damage."

"How do you know this?" Russia managed to interrupt.

"Remember when you, Austria, and Prussia, excuse me, East Germany, partitioned Poland all those years ago? After you wiped him off the map, he fell into a state similar to this." Lunging forward and grabbing the tall man's scarf, he snarled, "For Raivis to have reached this state, you had to do some severe damage to him. You throwing him outside and leaving him to suffer was the equivalent of ripping apart an entire country. What do you have to say to that?"

"I did not know."

"What?" Lithuania wasn't expecting this.

Russia's eyes filled with tears, a sight that unnerved the younger man. "I did not know that he'd be out there all night. I even left the front door unlocked. If he just walked to the front of the manor, he would have been safe."

"You're forgetting there was a snowstorm last night. He would have lost all sense of direction."

"But surely he would have been smart enough to figure it out."

"Do not blame this on him!" Lithuania hissed. "Even if he wanted to try to find any other open doors, his sight would have been affected since you blinded one of his eyes."

"Sight has nothing to do with it! Maybe he's not as intelligent as I thought. I always suspected he was the least competent of you Baltics."

Before Lithuania realized what he was doing, he drew his hand back and slapped the violet-eyed man across the face. Without looking back, he spun on his heel and walked out of the office.

But not before he heard Russia's choked sobs, and his anguished, "What have I done? Everything's fallen apart!"

/

It had been two weeks since Lithuania found Latvia, and he still hadn't woken up yet. Estonia was the one who watched over him the most, though Lithuania visited often. At the moment, he was lying on their bed, waiting for the grogginess of sleep to leave his body.

His eyes snapped open when he felt the blankets shift. "Latvia?" he asked, his voice optimistic.

The boy's eyes were open, and Estonia could see that the discoloration of the left one was still there. Will it be permanent? Did Russia damage it that much?

"Mama?" Latvia whispered, barely audible. "Is that you?"

Estonia's mouth dropped open in shock. What's wrong with him? When he finally found his voice, he responded with, "Nations don't have mothers, Raivis. Remember that."

Something doesn't seem right.

"Your name is Eduard, right?" he asked, tilting his head and blinking his eyes. "And I'm Raivis? I recall that we are Nations, but how can that be? It seems so far-fetched!"

Raivis, what has he done to you? Estonia closed his eyes, taking deep breaths. Think, Eduard. There must be some way to get him back.

He opened his eyes when he felt a light tug on his shirt. He looked down, and saw Latvia's wide eyes staring at him. "I've been sleeping for a long time, haven't I? I feel so gross."

"I'll run a bath for you."

"Thanks." The small blond looked down, blushing. "Would you mind, um, helping me? I don't think I can walk, just yet."

"Sure." Estonia himself blushed; the entire situation was just awkward, to him.

"Plus," Latvia's tone got darker, "I don't want him to come in. He might hurt me again."

The middle Baltic pinched the bridge of his nose. He's so fearful; it's like he's reverted back to the way he was in the 1940's.

/

Once Latvia was in the tub, Estonia began the uncomfortable (at least for him; Latvia seemed just fine) process of washing him. He had removed the stitches on his back beforehand, and was relieved to see that the gashes were healed, though they left obvious scars. His friend's skin was still abnormally cold, but Estonia assumed that it would get warmer with time. The only thing he was worried about was his eye. He knew that Nations wouldn't grow back limbs if they lost them, so he assumed that eyes were the same. This didn't stop him from hoping that it would heal one day, though.

Sighing, he passed the time by singing quietly in his own language. He stopped when he heard Latvia gasp.

"I remember now," the small blond whispered. "It's all clear to me." Staring directly into Estonia's eyes, he continued, "I did it, Eduard. I finally stood up for myself. I might have suffered because of it, but it was worth it."

Estonia listened as Latvia told the story of his night outside and what happened before it, saying nothing, only listening. After he was sure his friend was finished, he hugged him fiercely, not caring that his clothes got wet.

He had to listen to the story again, when Lithuania found them minutes later, but he didn't care. Afterwards, the brunet told them about how he yelled at Russia, and how he was able to, in his words, "finally slap the bastard", without the fear of being whipped. The three of them embraced each other, laughing and crying at the same time. They could sense that freedom was coming; all they had to do was wait. Estonia didn't mind this; as long as the three of them were together, he'd be content.

He smiled his first, genuine smile in months and hugged his two friends closer.

End.

Historical notes:

Lithuania declared (and restored) its independence on March 11, 1990. It was the first Baltic country to break free from the Soviet Union.

* A note for this story: though Lithuania declared its independence way before Estonia and Latvia did, I don't think Toris would just get up and leave his friends. Plus, I don't think Russia would give him up that easily, and would keep him as long as Eduard and Raivis were there. The same goes for Katyusha and Natalia. (That's just my logic. –Shrugs-)

Estonia announced and restored its independence on August 20, 1991.

Latvia announced its independence from the Soviet Union on May 4, 1990. However, it was not recognized as independent until August 21, 1991. It was the last Baltic country to secede from the USSR.

Though all three Baltic countries were annexed by the Soviet Union in 1940, they were occupied by Nazi Germany from 1941-1944.

In 1939 and 1940, mass deportations of people from Estonia, Latvia, and Lithuania occurred. These people, men, women, and children, were sent to forced labor camps in Siberia. They lived in uninhabitable conditions and were treated cruelly. Because of this, many died. It has been estimated that Estonia lost about a third of its population to the Soviet labor camps and Nazi concentration camps.

On January 13, 1991, the Popular Front (an anti-Communist, pro-independence group in Latvia) called for people to start building barricades in the streets. (Earlier in the day, Soviet helicopters tossed leaflets over the crowd, threatening to use force to violently regain control over the country.)

On January 20, 1991, OMON (the special units of police within the Soviet Ministry of Internal Affairs) and other unidentified combat groups attacked the Latvian Interior Ministry, in Riga. Two policemen, a schoolboy, and a cameraman were killed. Another cameraman died later of his injuries. Four policemen were injured, as were five participants of the Barricades, a Hungarian journalist, and a Russian journalist.

On January 13 (also in 1991) in Lithuania, Soviet forces surrounded and attacked the Vilnius TV tower. Thirteen Lithuanians were killed by the Soviet army, and this date is sometimes referred to as Bloody Sunday, in Lithuania.

On January 22, 1905, a crowd of working-class petitioners (who were men, women, and children) marched to the imperial palace in St. Petersburg, Russia. They intended to meet the tsar, Nicholas II, and present him with a long address. They did not know that the tsar was actually on vacation. Without Nicholas's knowledge, security officials dispersed the crowd by shooting into it, killing over a hundred people and injuring many others. This date is known as Bloody Sunday.

*Note: I mentioned this in the story because in one Hetalia comic, titled 'About the Fact that Russia's History is Too Scary', it is implied that on Bloody Sunday, Russia was one of the people who shot into the crowd, meaning he killed his own citizens.

(If anyone is interested, here is the link. Just remove the spaces. h t t p : / / a p h . s t a r r y – s k y . c o m / r u s s . h t m l )

Medical notes:

In this story, Latvia suffers from the effects of extremely severe hypothermia. (I got this information from a few articles online.) As the temperature decreases, further physiological systems falter and heart rate, respiratory rate, and blood pressure all decrease. Difficulty in speaking, sluggish thinking, and amnesia start to appear; inability to use hands and stumbling is also usually present. Cellular metabolic processes shut down. Below 30 °C (86 °F), the exposed skin becomes blue and puffy, muscle coordination becomes very poor, walking becomes almost impossible, and the person exhibits incoherent/irrational behavior including stupor. Pulse and respiration rates decrease significantly, but fast heart rates (ventricular tachycardia, atrial fibrillation) can occur. Major organs fail. After this, death occurs.

Now for notes/ my head canon:
Ugh, Russia was so difficult to write! I wanted to make him seem a bit sympathetic, yet insane. (Poor, poor Latvia…) I hope he wasn't portrayed too horribly. I wanted him to seem like he was shifting back and forth between kind and extremely cruel.

As for Latvia himself, I was getting a bit tired with how much he's been wimpified in fanfiction. (Though I have nothing against that; tiny, wimpy Latvia is adorable, XDD!) However, I thought that, especially during the 80's and 90's, he'd be more cynical, pessimistic, and well, moody. (He is a young teenager, after all.) I like to think that, deep down, Latvia is very strong. (At least in spirit.)

For some reason, I just can't see Lithuania being a drinker, XD. I know that his country has the highest suicide rates in the world, and that a lot of it has to do with alcohol, but I just can't see Toris becoming an alcoholic.

Haha, yes, I threw in some implied UkraineXEstonia, XDD. (I like that pairing, for some reason...)

I hope the explanation of Latvia's state after Lithuania finds him is logical.

Translations:
Litva: Lithuania (Russian)

I know the A/N was long, but I hope you enjoyed this one-shot.