Story: My Transition

Chapter One: Ivan's Death

Word Count: 6,848

Warning: Violence, blood, gore, OC's, character death. Slight RusAme.

Ivan looked around the room at the G8 meeting that was in full discussion, it was nice to see everybody talking like they were currently, it was fun to see everybody. But today he had been bored enough to look around to room and think about how his fellow countries came to be how they were. It was said that there had been people to represent them before now, that somehow they could be reincarnated if they somehow died as a nation. Ivan didn't know about that, but he did know that it was true that to become a nation a human had to die, whether that human had previously been a nation and was reincarnated was unknown.

Still, he felt he could guess how some of them had died. England had most likely died in the black death, the man always got much too tense if he heard any reference to it, he probably did have signs of it, which would be why he always dressed to cover quite a bit of himself, and he was somewhat delusional which could have been from the last stages of the illness. His obsession with the dark arts were medieval, so it wasn't too far of a stretch.

Francis... well, honestly Ivan would have suspected some sort of STD, but Francis had been around a long time and hadn't disappeared for a long while, so it had been before AID's came into being. Then again, seeing as he had a scar across his chest - Ivan had seen the other naked plenty of times, since the other seemed happy with removing his clothes - he had obviously been murdered, perhaps in a great war?

Germany, as far as Ivan understood it, had died soon after Germany was actually Germany, of what Ivan wasn't quite sure of what, just knowing the time period satisfied any curiosity on the subject. Germany wasn't exactly somebody Ivan found interesting in the strictest sense of the word. Ivan wouldn't be surprised if he was killed by somebody below him who was sick of him being so strict on things.

Italy had told Russia himself that he had died of eating too much uncooked pasta and it had made his stomach explode, though thanks to some doctors when he became a country they sealed it back up so he could eat again. He gave Ivan a long speech about how it was bad to eat pasta without cooking it first, and how bland it had tasted.

Japan, well Ivan never really gave it much thought since he disliked the other nation and didn't care how he died. Ivan was sure the other had died during the war when the nukes were dropped on Hiroshima and Nagasaki.

He felt like he was forgetting someone... oh yes, Canada, that was easy, considering the scars along the others wrists that he usually kept hidden, suicide.

Ivan felt like he could probably at least make an estimated each of the countries deaths really, if he didn't absolutely know them. But there was one that was stumping him. Looking over the the loud obnoxious laughter, Ivan had to think, he didn't want to just come up with something random, while he was not found of the American, he had been a worthy opponent while they were enemies. So it felt almost cheap to just guess. The other didn't have any marks Ivan had seen that could cause death, though considering America almost always wore that bomber jacket of his, that didn't really mean much. Ivan tried to recall any time he had seen Alfred wearing less.

There were times during the war the other wore a tank-top and shorts, but he'd never seen the other shirtless or less than that even. Ivan tried to recall when everybody had went swimming once, but as far as he could remember Alfred still kept on his tank-top and short even while swimming. It made some sense, since the other was often self-conscious about his weight. Perhaps the other died of diabetes? No, that sounded too perfect.

Alfred was young too, so it probably wasn't anything natural, but Ivan didn't even know when the other had died even, so that made it even more difficult to think. If he knew the time period that would help him guess at the cause. Humming quietly to himself, he entertained the thought of asking, but most countries held such information close to them, as though sensitive about such things. Ivan never understood it, they had all died somehow, it wasn't a secret and they had all gone through death one way or another, the exact details weren't that important.

He supposed that he could try asking Alfred. The other was usually very open... and loud, but he usually could talk on end and Ivan felt that he couldn't even hazard a guess as to what the others cause of death might have been. Sometimes it was sad thinking - that sometimes they died so young, like Sealand or Latvia, and of course America. It happened sometimes though. Nodding slightly, Ivan decided that he could try asking America, and if that did not work, he would stalk the other until he got his answer.

With that plan in mind, Ivan waited patiently until the meeting was called to a close, sometimes he would walk out with France to creep the other out, but this time he stood and followed Alfred out the door. The blond teen seemed anxious to leave like usual however, and he was actually difficult to keep up with. "America." Ivan called, causing the man he had called attention to pause in his brisk walking and look over his shoulder curiously.

"Oh hey Russia, what's up?" They usually didn't chat much outside of official business.

"I was hoping that I could ask you something."

"Um sure, what's on your mind?" Alfred turned to face him fully.

"How did you die?"

"What?" Alfred blinked.

"How did you die, you know when you were human, before becoming a country?"

"I know what you meant!"

"Then why did you ask?" Ivan asked, tilting his head slightly. "Honestly America, you can be so silly."

"You calling me stupid?"

Ivan giggled slightly, "I will buy you ice cream."

"What?"

"I will buy you ice cream if you tell me, you like ice cream yes?"

"I do..." Alfred smiled widely, "Alright, I'll tell you if you tell me how you died and get me all the ice cream I want for today!"

Ivan pursed his lips, thinking a moment before nodding, that would be easier than stalking America for who knew how long. "Alright, it is a deal then."

"Awesome, I've been wanting some bubblegum ice cream for like ever! This one place has it too and like a bunch of other flavors, come on!" Alfred said, instantly brightening up and starting away, Ivan smiled and followed, feeling pleased that it only took a bit of bribing with ice cream to get the American to say how he had died.

Alfred had gotten about three gallons of different colors and flavored ice cream. Ivan patiently waited for the American to get settled on the hotel couch of Alfred's room. The American had put two tubs in the fridge and was opening the third, grabbing a spoon and starting to eat out of it just like that, shifting to sit criss-crossed, looking at Ivan who sat on the chair across from him as he pulled the tub of ice cream onto his lap. "Sooo... you going to start this?"

"As long as you promise to tell me your story as well."

"Of course, I did make a deal with you, I'm not going to go back on it! Jeez." Alfred rolled his eyes. "And all of it, okay? I want to hear your life story. No skimping on the details! I wanna hear everything."

"You sound more interested than I do." Ivan smiled.

"What can I say, I dunno how you died... did you freeze to death?"

"Nyet, I did not." Ivan shook his head. Alfred nodded. "Well I do not know where to start really..."

"Well how old are you?"

"Ah... ten?"

"What? You are not ten." Alfred frowned.

"You count how many years you live, yes?"

"You could how many years from when you were born until you died!"

"Oh, silly me. I believe... ah..." Ivan thought for a moment, "I believe around twenty... I do not remember the exact number. But I remember when I was ten!"

"... Does that have to do with you dying?"

"Da!"

"Oh... okay, continue then."

He looked up at the man who was holding his hand and had led him to this place. "Alright, this is where you are going to be staying for awhile, do whatever you'd like." Nodding, the young boy looked around, letting go of the hand. The room was filled with toys of every shape and size and there were a lot of other children around his age all moving around and playing with things.

A lot of them were in groups too, mostly of two to five. He knew that the man had left him alone, but he paid that no mind as he stood by the wall nervously, looking at a group playing tag. He had been told he could do whatever he wanted. He spotted a boy and girl playing with some blocks and walked up to them.

They had plenty to use and they were building a small city. Ivan had never seen so many colors and shapes in such a small area. When he got closer, they looked up at him. He was new. Shifting a bit he looked at the boy, then the girl, then to the blocks. "Ah... could I play with you?" He asked hopefully.

The two blinked up at him a moment before the girl nodded, "Well sure, what is your name?"

"Iv-" He stopped, he was told that here, he no longer had a name. That names were for children who had parents who loved them. "I mean one." He had been given the number, the man had said that was who he was now. At least it was an easy number to remember.

They both frowned and the boy shook his head. "You cannot play with us."

Ivan frowned, looking down and nodding. It was not the first time he had been denied playing with others. "Oh... okay." He turned and walked away. Perhaps he could find somebody who wanted to play with him, there were a lot of people there.

Walking up to some children standing in a circle and playing with a ball, he stood nervously to the side for awhile, wondering if they would let him play along. After a moment a girl noticed him and smiled, waving him over.

Smiling, he stepped forward with the invitation. He was so thrilled that he was able to play, the large ball bouncing sometimes coming his way so he could catch it and push it towards somebody else.

It was fun, though he was disappointed when the ball passed by him and he had to sit out until a new game began. He wasn't the first however. And he was so excited when one of them started talking to him. "Hi!" The girl who had waved him over said as he sat down next to her.

"Hello." He muttered, smiling back at her. "This is fun."

"It is my favorite!"

"I would rather play with the blocks but it is still nice."

She nodded happily, holding out her hand, Ivan smiled and took it, shaking it. "My name is M- ah... twelve."

He was glad he was not the only one mixing up the new names. "Mine is one." He said, taking his hand back.

"One?" She tilted her head, a frown forming. She shook her head. "You cannot play with us then. Go away."

"O-Oh... I see... okay." He nodded, feeling a bit worse than before, he had been hoping to play another round. It was only after hearing his name that she did not like him. Standing up he walked away. Maybe she wanted his number. Could he change it? No, he was told that One was who he was. How could he change that? He would have to ask.

He was told he could not change it, and at least a week went by and he could not find anybody who wanted to play with him. Nobody even talked to him, they avoided him more than anything. It became a pattern. Him waking up, eating, a man leading him out of his room and into the school to learn. Sitting at a small table that nobody sat at once they realized he sat there and watching everybody play during recess. Then came lunch where he watched everybody talking with their friends before going back to playing until class started again. Then he'd be shown back into his room to eat dinner and sleep until it repeated.

Thankfully, he was told when his birthday was. It was a nice thing to know. And sometimes he would try and talk to some people, but they would never speak back to him, sometimes even running away, or if they were bigger, pushing him to the ground and telling him to leave everybody alone.

Two birthdays had past before he knew it and he was still friendless in this place that everybody seemed to have a friend in. It was lunch time, he was playing with his sandwich when he saw somebody out of the corner of his eye. Looking up, he saw twenty-one. While Ivan had never met him personally, it was surprising how much he learned about everybody without having to speak to anybody.

Still, he had never had anybody approach him before, twenty-one standing at the other side of the table from where Ivan was seated. The boy was a year older and he was still taller then Ivan, most people were. Perhaps it would be to beat him up for trying to engage with somebody earlier. It wouldn't be the first time.

"Hi..."

Ivan blinked at the word, waiting for the insults or physical injury that was coming. "Hello..." His voice sounded strained even to himself, but Ivan had hardly spoken to anybody. There was a long moment of awkward silence.

"Can I sit?" Ivan blinked, wondering if he had heard right, but he nodded. Twenty-one sat down across from him, giving a small smile. Silence filtered between them, the other boy eating but Ivan just staring, expecting the other to leave but hoping it was all true. They started fidgeting the longer Ivan stared at him. Finally it seemed the silence became too much to bare. "Twenty-one."

"What?" Ivan blinked at the blurted name.

"Ah... that's my name, I mean... I'm Twenty-one."

Ivan nodded, "Yes, I know."

"And you're one right?" Ivan stiffened, looking at the male across from him. His name was what had driven so many away. Still, he nodded painfully. "Cool, that will be easy to remember! I'm usually bad with remember who is who."

"You are not going to run away?" Ivan blinked.

"Um... no... why would I?" Ivan nodded his head. "Hey, if you do not mind me asking, why do you smile all the time when you're by yourself?"

"It is habit now... I smiled because I thought that it would help to make some friends." So much for that plan, it just scared most them off even more it seemed. "I had forgotten I was smiling until you mentioned it."

"Yeah? Can you frown?" Ivan thought about it, trying his hardest to comply to the request, looking up at twenty-one to see if it was working. "No, you're still smiling a bit." Ivan sighed, letting it go.

"Sorry."

"No reason to feel sorry. I wish I could smile all the time, but that sounds tiring." Ivan felt his smile soften, not fall but... soften as he listen to the other speak, talking back to the other every once and awhile.

It was nice to have a friend after so long, and in fact Twenty-one was a friend, and another year past, the older usually opting to spend time with Ivan then with anybody else. Though nobody else was his friend, Ivan was happy with just having Twenty-one. He was nice and kind and as another year rolled around they were spending most their time with each other and even sharing kisses.

Two more additional years however and Ivan was sixteen and easily towered over everybody, which didn't help his case any. Still, it was on his sixteenth birthday that him and Twenty-one started to sleep together in all meanings of the word. It had been awkward at first, since neither knew what they were doing, but still pleasing and it only got better.

It was when he was seventeen that things started going downhill. It started like any day, Twenty-one wasn't with him during lunch, instead choosing that day to hang out with his friends - because he insisted that he needed friends. Ivan didn't mind since it didn't happen every day like it used to afterall.

He had finished with lunch and was walking around, not really having anything in mind of what to do or where to go in his time before class started. However, as he was walking around he noticed Twenty-one talking to the people he normally did, that wasn't the strange part. It was just... different somehow.

Pausing, Ivan watched them for a moment before one of the boys - Fourteen if he remembered correctly - grabbed Twenty-one's shirt collar before slamming Ivan's lover into a wall, the head recoiling and Twenty-one clearly in pain.

Letting out a deep growl, Ivan ran towards them, ignoring the occasional person who moved out of the way before he got to Fourteen who was holding Twenty-one against the wall, hands around the other's neck and yelling something - Ivan didn't care what.

He grabbed Fourteen's shoulders, ripping him away from his lover and only friend, turning him so he could punch the other in the face. He should have remembered there were two others there, Six reacted immediately and latched onto one of his arms, the one he had just pulled back to hit Fourteen again.

Ivan easily twisted his arm out of the grip, thankful for all the lessons he got in fighting that he thought he'd never use before using the same hand to smash up into the man's jaw hard enough to knock Six onto the ground, laying there in a momentary daze. Of course then Fourteen wrapped an arm around Ivan's neck from behind.

Letting out another growl, he grabbed the hand around his neck before flipping the other over him into Six, making them both let out a sound of pain. Ivan whipped around to glare at Eighteen, who stood there looking petrified. Ivan left him, turning back to his Twenty-one who was on the ground on his knees and elbows, one hand on his neck and violet coughs racking through him.

Ivan glared at the two men trying to get up. "O-One... " The spluttered name made him look back. "L-Let's just go." Giving one last glare to the boys standing, he stepped over and helped Twenty-one up carefully. Six and Fourteen still looked like they wanted to start something, but Twenty-one just shook his head, playing mediator it seemed.

They curled their lips but left. Ivan guided Twenty-one over to sit down, getting some water for the other which the other drank thankful awhile before speaking. "One." Ivan turned his gaze away from Fourteen to look. "Don't kill them."

Ivan blinked, "Kill? Why do you think I would?" That word... a word that was painted with blood just with the sound. He knew what it meant. Death. To make another human being die. He would never.

"You looked like you were going to." Twenty-one said, his voice still so raw. Kill? Ivan had never given the thought. Surely it was not impossible, he did know how, but that did not mean he would. Twenty-one had said he was capable of it though, and Twenty-one never lied.

"They tried to kill you." Ivan growled, the realization hitting him. Fourteen had tried to kill his lover. He felt something dark fill into him that reminded him of how dark the world had been before he had Twenty-one, but this time it was combined with a deep seeded hatred.

"There's that look, I'm fine One! Look, see." Twenty-one brought Ivan's hand up to touch the bruising neck, soft smile in place even after coughing through the sentence. "I'm alright, I'm not dead."

Ivan felt his anger drip away quickly, leaning forward to put his head against the other's shoulder. "You cannot die. Please, you cannot."

"I'm right here, so it's okay." Ivan sighed as he felt a hand run through his hair. "It's all going to be okay." For that moment Ivan wanted to believe him, he desperately wanted everything to be okay. However, he knew that if Fourteen ever tried laying hands on Twenty-one, then they would all find out just willing Ivan was to murder.

It wasn't the last time though, but Twenty-one didn't get strangled, he was pushed around and picked on a lot and Ivan made sure to hurt whoever so much as looked at the other wrong despite how Twenty-one always tried to pull him away and say it wasn't worth it.

Things calmed down though, and people soon realized that Ivan would hurt anybody who bothered Twenty-one. But that also made people more afraid of him and his lover. He was used to it, but his lover... well, he was often lonely and saying he wished he could have his friends back.

Ivan didn't understand his sorrow since his 'friends' had nearly tried to kill him, but he tried to be supportive. They grew through the years though with nothing really noteworthy other than that.

Of course, then came a day that everything changed. That day came about ten years later when Ivan was the age of twenty-five. It was when his lover was found dead, murdered. His throat had been slit open with a knife. Ivan didn't go to school for nearly a week, just staying in his room and not leaving it at all.

But one night near the end of the week, Ivan stopped lying in misery in bed, wishing death would just come and kill him. It was obviously not going to happen. And he needed things to do.

Breaking into the kitchen to get a knife wasn't hard in the slightest, and neither was finding the door labeled Fourteen.

"You know I often wondered if he screamed. Perhaps struggling and even calling for help? But with his neck being cut open like it was I suppose he did not even get a chance to call out. Then again, I heard that he was raped... perhaps he did try calling out, but nobody heard him." Ivan muttered, looking at the knife gleaming in blood before looking down at the man he had managed to tie to the bed after much struggling.

His body was shaking and there was a lot of blood soaking down into the blankets. Ivan didn't know what he was doing, but he didn't care as long as he caused pain. It was sickening the way that the skin pulled up around the cuts.

But he remembered Twenty-one laying on a cold metal slab while being moved out, eyes staring in horror, pain and pure terror, neck cut open to show the muscles beneath. "There, that is the look Twenty-one had on his face when he was pulled away." Ivan muttered, leaning up to stare into the others eyes. "They said there was no evidence on who killed him. I knew, you all were cruel to his after you learned he was my friend. He was the nicest thing in this world, and you took him out of it through pain and suffering." Ivan snarled. Was he really such a horrible person that the one good thing he could have had to suffer and torn away?

Fourteen shook his head frantically, making a noise behind the gag, tears running down his face from the pain. Ivan growled angrily before shoving the knife into the other's chest. There was a crack then the other sounded like he was choking before he stopped moving.

Ivan sat up, running his bloody hand through his hair and sighing. "Oops... I had not meant to kill you so easily... I wanted you to feel more pain." He pulled the knife out, looking at it. "Oh well... I will practice more on Six next."

It wasn't long before three more bodies were added to Twenty-one's death, and Ivan was actually quite happy to have learned a lot in such a short time. It was hard to kill a person if one did it right and he had wanted each one of them to suffer for what they did.

Ivan had left the knife with the last body, thinking that was the end of the whole ordeal. Everybody gave him looks that showed they knew he did it without a doubt in their minds. He would have been fine with that, he had no reason to hide it. It was when he was accused of being the one who killed Twenty-one that he felt the familiar burning anger engulf him.

That night he had wondered if he should kill for the small insult. It was not like they were the ones who killed Twenty-one, though Ivan had no idea how many were truly a part of it. But after awhile he decided it didn't matter. They had all been cruel to the only good thing in their entire world. And Ivan would kill every last one of them.

He felt empty. Even though he had kept his promise to kill everybody and indeed everybody was now dead, he thought that he would feel better after Twenty-one had been avenged. Instead, he felt hollow and cracked somewhere he couldn't reach, where he doubted anybody could fix it.

What was the point? It hadn't saved his lover and only friend. He still felt the ache of the loss on top of a sickening emotion that made him question why he had killed everybody. Perhaps if he had left them, they would have killed him, and he could be out of misery.

What did it matter though? What was life to anybody if Twenty-one wasn't there. At least now he would be killed though, finally. The staff had found out when he was the only one left, and they were kind enough to put him out of his misery.

Of course, not quickly. Sounded like they wanted to keep him alive as long as they could, to see how long a human could live with their chest being cracked open and their hearts pulled out. Maybe they were expecting him to live since he obviously was broken already. But they would be disappointed. His heart still loved Twenty-one, and while that was true then there was still good in him and he would die.

It wasn't until they had cut the last artery that he was allowed to escape from the physical pain that had taken over his emotional one.

Ivan blinked his eyes open, confused. Slowly he sat up, putting a hand to his chest and looking down. He didn't have a shirt on and his chest had a large hole. He remembered the pain that went with it.

Looking around, he was aware of the wind stinging his cheeks and back, and surrounded by snow all around him. He'd never actually been in the snow before, he had never imagined it to be so cold.

So this was death? Was his fate to be forever trapped in this cold and cruel world? Something stirred inside him though. He was Russia. A country, a place filled with so many people, more than he thought was possible.

He was alive and he was Russia. It didn't sound like something that would make sense when he thought about it, but it just clicked into place. What he was, why he was there. But it didn't make Twenty-one any less dead.

Wait, if the snow hadn't buried him completely that meant that he had not been out here long. Standing up he brushed off the snow on his pants legs as he stared up at the building nearly invisible in the howling wind. He felt that he had knowledge past what he had known. Suddenly he knew that what he was facing was where he had stayed for the last fifteen years of his life.

It was also a science facility testing something... he didn't know what. But something nagged at him that he wanted to know. Ivan took a step forward before falling into the snow, legs stiff and uncooperative. He had just died, he had to take it slow.

Then he saw a figure approaching him, he didn't even bother trying to play dead, he did not care and the snow was much too cold to lay in. A man he had never seen before stopped in front of him, he was tall and wore a coat filled with holes, military hat sitting on top of his head.

His eyes were cold and harsh, but Ivan held them. This man... he should know him. Moving the coat aside, he pulled some things out. Ivan tensed, waiting for a gun, but instead he pulled out a pile of clothes and dropped it by him in the snow.

Ivan blinked, looking down at it. The things that caught his attention was a pipe and a pink scarf. He picked up the scarf first. "Winter..." He looked up at the man, though the figure was already gone.

Wrapping what he knew to be his scarf around his neck, he took a moment to bask in the strange familiarity the simple article of clothing gave him before starting to pull on the other clothes that were there, that promised to keep him so much warmer than what he was currently in.

Once he was done he slowly stood and stumbled towards the building, metal pipe clenched tightly in his hand.

He had killed fourteen more people in his exploration before he found a couple rooms he had not been in before. But he had found what seemed to be the room he was looking for. Looking through drawers he finally found a couple files that he was wanting.

Pulling them out he sat down on the table, kicking his feet back and forth. It was so warm in here, but without his heart in his chest his blood wasn't warming up like it should have been. He'd have to find that next. Opening the file he looked at his portfolio.

Ivan, his name was Ivan Braginski. Suiting name. He liked it. He had been found on the streets and it said that he had no signs of a serial killer. Interesting thing to have in a profile, especially when obviously was a killer.

Putting the profile aside he picked up another folder, opening it and reading what this whole experiment had been about. Twenty-one children around the age of ten were picked to participate at random. They would be monitored and put through environments similar to school.

One child who had no obvious psychosis would be put in a room with twenty other children who would all be told that child would grow up to kill each and every one of them to see what would happen.

Chances were that the child would be killed by the some of the twenty others. But if the one child killed the others, it would point towards anybody being able to become a serial killer depending on their environment.

Ivan hummed thoughtfully, an experiment on nature vs. nurture. He frowned, standing to look through some files and sitting down to read when he found the page to show progress. It turned out that originally Twenty-one had been sent to spy on Ivan to see who he was going to kill and what his plan was.

That would explain why Twenty-one's friends suddenly turned on him. Pulling out another file he looked through it a while before finding the page he was looking for. There was a lot to go through, he was just glad the system was something he understood. Seemed like Twenty-one had said he was no longer going to play spy.

Ivan ignored the note that he himself had made 'progress' by attacking them. So... what went wrong? Pulling out a couple more folder and searched through them. His was getting near the end of it all. Apparently after fifteen years they were going to lose funding since the experiment was obviously not going anywhere.

Closing the folder he glared at the open door where a body laid dead. The main scientist believed that there would still be a chance that the experiment would work, but hypothesised that Twenty-one was somehow preventing things from happening, after all he was nice and while everybody acted cold towards him for choosing Ivan, they would sometimes listen to him. He was good with speaking.

So he was killed by one of the guards. Ivan wrapped his arms around his knees, bringing them towards him. Thinking back he supposed it was very possible that he would have killed them all after years of being cut off, though he didn't know for a fact. Either way, he supposed that Twenty-one being there did help him get through. But once he was gone... that was what made him want to kill.

It wasn't the fact that people were cruel to him that made him upset, he had grown up with it and thought it was just normal or what he deserved. But when given something good... and then that good taken away... that was what had instilled the urge to destroy everything.

The thing he most regretted was that he had killed all the staff quickly and none of them had learned their lesson before dying.

"Wow..." Alfred muttered.

"When I finally got to understanding things, it was the Cold War."

Alfred nodded. "Yeah. Still, growing up in a lab. Explains why you don't understand some social interactions huh?" Ivan smiled lightly.

"If you say so." He said, looking over at Alfred, he was sitting on the couch next to the other. He had broken the chair he had been sitting in remembering all the anger. Alfred had said not to worry about it.

"Um... c-could I..." Alfred shifted a moment, a bit closer before cautiously putting a hand on Ivan's chest. Ivan blinked at the other, chuckling.

"Da, as long as you show me as well." Alfred nodded, hesitating a moment before straddling Ivan's lap. Ivan knew it wasn't anything sexual as Alfred started unbuttoning his coat, but he still got a certain thrill with seeing the young blond in his lap. It wasn't a common sight in the least.

Ivan was patient as Alfred opened his jacket, the other giving him a strange look when he saw he wasn't wearing a shirt. Ivan shrugged, "It is warm out." Alfred rolled his eyes in response, amused smile in place as he pushed Ivan's coat open enough to look at his left side. Ivan watched Alfred look at the gaping hole at all sorts of angles, almost worried about getting too close.

The younger could be so ridiculous sometimes. His insides would be much too dark to see unless Alfred had a flash light. Grabbing one of Alfred's warm hands he moved the hand to the opening. America took a shuddering breath, but the hand moved inside slowly on its own accord. The blond bit his bottom lip, looking up at Ivan as if wondering if it was okay. It did hurt a bit, but not as much as when it had first been taken out. Alfred rolled up the sleeve to his shirt to reach further, bomber jacket having been discarded earlier due to the heat.

Letting out a sigh of breath, Ivan laid his head back against the couch, watching Alfred's face in amusement. It was something between disturbed and fascinated. Then the blond jumped slightly, making Ivan hiss. "S-Sorry! I didn't expect for it to be beating."

"It is fine... just do not yank around so much. I can feel it." Alfred nodded, once more biting his bottom lip. Ivan felt Alfred's hand touch his heart again and made a small noise at the sensation.

"D-Does it hurt?" Alfred asked, looking worried.

Ivan chuckled, of course it hurt. "Only a little, but it is fine. Do not squeeze it or anything though, or pull it, it has a habit of falling out."

Alfred nodded at the instructions of what not to do. Ivan felt the warm hand carefully wrap around part of his heart though, not squeezing or pulling, just there. After a moment Ivan sighed, the pain leaving at the consistency of the touch. It was much better.

After a moment though, Alfred let go and slowly pulled his arm back out, making a face at the blood coating his arm. Ivan chuckled as the blond stood up, making a beeline for the sink. "Stop laughing, eh, that's gross! I am never doing that again."

"You make it sound like I would let you." Ivan continued chuckling, buttoning his coat back up, watching in amusement as Alfred scrubbed at his arm in the sink in the small sad excuse for a kitchen that was in the hotel room.

"It was weird feeling, especially when your lung moved okay?" Alfred snapped, pouring soup over his arm before resuming to scrub it.

"It was your own curiosity that got you it."

"I wasn't planning on sticking my arm inside you!"

"You are so funny, it is like this is the first time you had your hand in somebody else's chest."

"It is! You creep."

Ivan smiled. "Thank you America."

"Only you would say thank you for an insult." He muttered bitterly, drying off his arm once it was cleaned.

"No, not that, though sometimes your insults can be funny. I meant for not acting different around me."

"Hm? Yeah no, it doesn't matter what happened in your past, you're still the same dickwad as always." Alfred smiled, sitting down next to Ivan once again.

"Hm... nevermind I am reminded of my irritation for you."

"That's the spirit!" Alfred grinned.

Ivan sighed heavily. "Now, I have told you my life story, yes? It is your turn." Alfred pouted, but nodded. The blond was one to keep to his deals at least. "You promised to let me see how you died too."

"I know!" Alfred said, seeming irritated. "Y-You can't really see how I died really but..." Alfred hesitated a moment before slowly pulling off his shirt. Ivan looked the exposed chest up and down. Alfred wasn't fat as he everybody had assumed, no, he was on the side of the scale of too skinny to be healthy. It wasn't like he had starved, he wasn't that far gone, and he had muscles so clearly he wasn't that bad off. But it looked like any fat that might have been gained had turned to muscle, leaving not enough over.

Ivan leaned forward, confused by the strange balance as he put his hand to Alfred's stomach, there weren't any muscles there at least, and Ivan could see parts of the others ribs when he breathed in too deeply. His hip bone just a tad bit too visable to be normal or healthy. "I do not understand..." Indeed he didn't, he hardly ever say such a strange combination between starved and fit.

"Well that's why I'm here to explain it." Alfred chuckled.