Here I am with yet another late update! *cries* However, this is by far my longest chapter yet, so hopefully that will make up for the long wait. :)

Also, just so you won't be confused by this, I have a headcanon that when a nation's government is completely destroyed (like when Russia's Kremlin collapsed), that nation becomes disconnected from their citizens. I think that most nations can feel the presence of their citizens in their head, and their presence keeps the nations relatively sane and human-like even in extreme times, so...when a nation is disconnected from their citizens, well...nearly anything could happen. ;)

Also, today, August 23, 2015, is the 26th anniversary of the Baltic Way! Long live Lithuania, Latvia, and Estonia!

"Oh no, Latvia, what have I done?" said Estonia, face drawn, extending a trembling hand out towards the young boy lying on the floor.

Latvia sucked in a breath. Is he going to hurt me again? "D-don't get near me, please!" He desperately moved backwards, body sore and aching. Though his eyes were watery with pain, he could still see Estonia freeze in horror, then turn and flee. Latvia felt the vibrations from the Estonian's frantic footsteps through the cold, hard floor.

O-ow...hurts...Latvia grimaced, whimpering as he gingerly attempted to sit up. His back throbbed with a dull ache, and the Latvian knew he must have bruises from being so violently pushed to the ground. Why did Estonia do that? W-what did I ever do to him? He rubbed his tired eyes and stifled a sob, exhausted and unsettled.

He heard a quiet thump a few feet away from him and he slowly turned towards it, breath catching in his throat. Is Estonia coming back to apologize?

Nope. Instead, Latvia found himself face-to-face with Russia.

"Eek-!" Latvia began to yelp, but was stunned into silence by the large nation's appearance. The Russian was still unconscious, eyes rolled back in his head and mouth open slightly. His head had turned towards the Latvian, and his unseeing eyes bored into Latvia's with such intensity that the young teen didn't dare move.

Like a snake, one of Russia's arms moved towards the Latvian, traveling along the dirty floor until stopping only a few inches from his leg. Latvia's eyes grew wide as the Russian's bloody fingers wiggled, then stretched towards him.

"A-ah…" Latvia breathed, staring at the hand in horror. Burned and battered, Russia's fingers stuck out at weird angles, almost reminiscent to the way Lithuania's fingers had looked after Belarus had broken them decades ago. Latvia shuddered, and, as if suddenly struck by the full terror of the situation, he leaped up, heart pounding in his chest. This is scary! I-I've got to get away from here!

Sucking in narrow, tremulous breaths, Latvia raced away from where he had been sitting and made a beeline to the nearest hiding spot - the table in the center of the room. Lifting the tablecloth in a panic, he slipped underneath and huddled by one of the table legs, mind racing. W-what the heck did I just see? What's going on with Russia?

Panting and trying in vain to slow his trembling hands, Latvia replayed what had just happened over and over in his mind, struggling to make sense of it all. He was just musing that the nuclear bomb must have had something to do with it when an frantic, urgent voice caught his attention. Who's that...Estonia?

Latvia cautiously peeked out from underneath the table, heart pounding in his chest. His nervous gaze landed on two shadowy figures; one shouting and shaking the other by the shoulders, the other struggling to keep his balance. It took a moment for the full impact of the scene to hit the Latvian, but when it did, the young Baltic couldn't help but to let out a soft yelp.

E-estonia...what's he doing to Lithuania? Why's he yelling at him like that? A cold shiver went through Latvia's spine, and he began to tremble. Estonia's posture, his frenzied voice, the frantic way he shook Lithuania back and forth…it all seemed way too familiar to Latvia for some reason. Has something like this happened before?

Suddenly, images of Russia began to flood Latvia's mind; images of Russia yelling at Lithuania, shaking him, beating him…In a flash, Latvia covered his eyes with his hands, choking back tears of fright. N-no! Estonia's not acting like Russia...is he? He moved back under the table, whole body trembling. This can't be! He would never act like that!

Latvia took in a quavering breath and rubbed his exhausted eyes with his hands, thinking of how Estonia had pushed him to the ground just minutes earlier. He shuddered, curling in on himself. This...this can't be!

And then he heard Estonia yell, his voice echoing throughout the bomb shelter, something...something about no food?

Sitting up in a rush, Latvia frantically stuck his head out from under the table again, the tablecloth nearly covering his eyes as it draped over his head. Mind racing with worst-case scenarios, he just barely caught Estonia, his angry, red face uncomfortably close to Lithuania's pale one, shouting again:

"It's not that just there's not enough food; there's no water either!" Estonia shook Lithuania harder, until even Latvia could tell that the Lithuanian was barely able to stand. The older Baltic's head wobbled as he struggled to speak, only be interrupted by Estonia adding, "We're going to die soon if we can't do something about it!"

Latvia's jaw dropped, and he let out a startled gasp. N-not...not enough food? We're going to die soon? Fear hit the Latvian in a flash, and the young Baltic began to hyperventilate, breathing faster and faster through his nose. I...this can't be true! Estonia would've told me if there wasn't enough food! He definitely would've! Or... a shiver shot down Latvia's spine as a terrible thought entered his head - maybe he didn't want to?

The young Baltic's stomach began to ache with worry. Estonia has been keeping a secret from me...maybe this is it? He acts weird every time the subject of food comes up, and he didn't want me to go with him to the food shelves, or talk with Lithuania about the fallout shelter...Latvia put his head in his hands in a panic, breathing heavily. No matter how hard he tried to prove himself wrong, all the evidence pointed to the same thing: No food or water! There's really not enough food or water; and we're all going to die; all of us are going to die in this scary little room with no happiness or peace of mind ever again!

A small whimper escaped his lips, and the exhausted Latvia curled up in a ball, eyes dripping with tears. We're all going to die...we're all going to die...I won't ever see the outdoors again, or snow, or rain, and...and life will never get better; I'll never know life outside of this horrible captivity in an insane man's house... He let out a tired sob, eyes shutting on their own accord. Nestling his head in his arms, he tried to ignore the coldness of the room...or was that the cold feeling of hopelessness that rushed through his body? I don't want to die! I don't want to die here!...I-I need to see my country one last time! I need to see my people again - the citizens of Latvia! Oh, please, no, no...

Mind overwhelmed with exhaustion and sadness, the young Latvian fell into the blackness of a deep, yet troubled, sleep. As he slept, he did not see Lithuania collapse, crumpling to the floor with one last, "E-estija…". He did not hear Estonia's mournful cry as the blond Baltic saw the damage he had done to his fellow nation, or the splashing of water falling from the tank on the ceiling.

And he definitely did not hear Russia let out a shuddering sigh of loss, unconscious as the large nation was, chest rising and falling with the motions of his quiet sobs.

Russia saw only blackness for the longest time; claustrophobic, desolate blackness that surrounded him for as far as he could see. And then-

He fell down, down, down as if someone had forcibly pushed him. Screaming in fear and confusion, he fell through what seemed to be a wind tunnel for ages upon ages until he landed with a bump on a cold, marble floor. The panicky chatter of hundreds of people immediately washed over him as Russia gingerly opened his eyes. Wh-where am I? What's going on?

Pushing himself up to a sitting position, Russia nervously looked around, wary of what he would find. He blearily gazed at the beautiful marble columns lining the walls, the exquisite chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, and the crowds of people swarming through the long, tunnel-like room...

The Leningrad metro, his cloudy mind finally realized. I'm in the metro. But...something about this place didn't feel quite right. Why doesn't it feel right?

Russia felt someone tugging on his arm, and he turned around in a rush, eyes widening as he saw the disheveled-looking girl who stood in front of him. Her school uniform - a black dress with a lacy white apron - was wrinkled, and her white stockings were ripped and brown with dirt. It seemed as if she had rushed out of school towards the metro, falling down multiple times in her haste. But why would a schoolgirl run away from school? Russia wondered, narrowing his eyes. Did...did something happen? He tried to remember a catastrophe, something terrible that would've caused this little girl to run to the metro in such a hurry, but his mind was blank; he couldn't remember anything that had happened before the past five minutes. An eerie chill swept through his spine, and Russia shivered involuntarily.

"E-excuse me, Comrade?" The girl stuttered out, practically trembling. Her eyes were wide with fear, and tears streaked her cheeks."D-do you know where my babushka is? She was supposed to meet me at our a-apartment after school, but then..." The girl sniffed, then wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Russia looked closely at the girl, who seemed like she would start crying again at any moment.

"Ah, what-" Russia cleared his throat. For some reason, his mouth tasted like soot and burned meat. A baby cried in the distance, and a woman's voice, quavering and slightly out of tune, began to sing to the baby. Uletay na kril'jach vetra, ty v kraj rodnoj...

The girl coughed, a dry cough that was obviously holding back more tears, and Russia started. How long had he been staring into space? "Wh...what does your babushka look like?" he hurriedly asked.

"W-well, she's sh-shorter than you, and has gray hair, but she usually covers it with a scarf, and-"

While the girl spoke, Russia felt his mind began to wander. A strange cold feeling began to move through him, starting in his legs and moving up to his stomach, chest, neck…

The girl had bright blue eyes that were filled with tears, making them seem distorted and larger than normal. The pupils were contracted from the eerie light that filled the metro, but now, right in front of Russia's eyes, they grew bigger...

"A-are you okay?" The girl had stopped talking and was now peering intently at the Russian, who was staring fixedly at the child's eyes.

"Strange," Russia thought. Or had he spoken out loud? He couldn't tell the difference anymore. All he saw were the girl's pupils, which had now expanded to form an almost cloud-like shape, the blackness billowing out into something that closely resembled a mushroom-shaped cloud…

This isn't natural, said Russia. Or had he thought that? He didn't even know. The girl opened her mouth to say something else, but-

Pain! Burns! Bomb! Bomb! Bomb! Images flooded through Russia's mind, causing the large man to sway and yelp in shock. He shut his eyes tightly, trying to drown out the agonizing images, but they only became brighter. Buildings collapsing. Babies and little children burning to ash in front of Russia's very eyes, people running helter-skelter towards entrances to metro stations, knowledgeable of the fact that only those deep tunnels would offer protection from the ensuing storm... His own leader, Khrushchev, falling to his death from the disintegrating Kremlin, and the rest of his trusted government members, those who controlled Russia's every political move with the best interests of the USSR firmly in mind, falling out after him... And then, the same image he had seen in the little girl's eyes: the humongous mushroom cloud, billowing out over Leningrad, destroying all life within hundreds of meters of the explosion.

Screams flooded his ears. Whose screams were those? Were they the screams of the dying? Screams of the wounded? His own screams?

He opened his eyes in a panic to find the girl staring at him, mouth open in shock. She was saying something, but Russia couldn't hear her.

The girl began to fade from Russia's eyes, and her voice became muffled, as if coming from a long distance away. Russia's heart pounded as he struggled to focus. What is this? What's going on? He blinked twice, and the girl became clear again.

A man walked up to the girl: obviously some Communist big-shot, wearing military medals on his fancy shirt and holding a bag of gas masks in his hand. Russia chuckled to see a large dirt stain on the pompous man's pants, but the chuckling soon turned into gagging. His mouth tasted like burnt flesh.

"Here," said the man to the girl, "You have to take one of these." He handed her a gas mask, and she clutched it desperately, still staring open-mouthed at Russia. The man turned in Russia's direction with a confused look on his face. "What are you looking at?"

Russia never heard the girl's answer. Instead, what he heard was a deep rushing sound in his ears, reminiscent to a violent ocean or a downpouring of rain. Black spots attacked his vision for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day, and Russia braced himself for the all-too-familiar feeling of falling backwards into unconsciousness.

But he didn't black out. Instead, the image of his leader's fall to death emerged in his mind again, gradually becoming brighter and more defined until Russia could barely see past it. A voice - but who's voice? - whispered to Russia, its high-pitched tones causing the Russian man to flinch and clench his hands together in desperation. "You'll never sssee your citizensss again…"

Russia's eyes widened. "Wh-what do you mean…?" he whispered. But no one answered. Instead, the image - memory? - of Khrushchev and other Soviet officials falling to the ground with a plop faded in his mind, until Russia could see the metro and all the people in it clearly again.

The girl had left; she had most likely wandered off to look for her babushka. Russia briefly wondered if she would ever find her, then shook his head. A happy ending was hardly likely after a nuclear explosion.

A piercing headache suddenly attacked Russia, and he cried out in pain, his hands flying to meet the searing agony that pulsed through his skull. N-nyet! His pained gasps, once fast and frantic, turned raspy, and a dull ache formed in his chest. Trying his best to remain upright, he stumbled around, trying to find a place to sit where it wasn't so crowded, though he faintly recognized that there wouldn't be enough time to reach one before his inevitable collapse.

"O-ohhhh…" The pain moved down into his stomach, and Russia doubled over with a groan, head low to the ground. P-please let this be over...he blearily thought, feeling his throat fill up with bile that threatened to overflow onto the floor in a splattery mess.

The nausea passed, and while it threatened to come back, he was able to stand upright again for the moment. Upon regaining his unsteady stance, however, Russia found that the metro had changed considerably. While all the marble columns, exquisite chandeliers, and impeccable tiled floor were still clear in his sight, the panicked crowds of people had faded: some to pale, muffled colors, and others becoming nearly translucent.

They look like fog, Russia thought, trying to ignore the pulsating pain in his head and focus on the world around him. That old man...over there, with the old tattered jacket...he's like fog. He doesn't look real. Russia took in a gasping breath, for his nausea had just returned and his headache was even worse. That dark-haired boy with the red Young Pioneers scarf...he's fog, too. Blurry and translucent. What...what's wrong with me? Why am I seeing this?

A racking pain swept through Russia's head, and he stumbled, toppling forward. The cold metro floor flew up to meet Russia's unsuspecting face, and the resulting crash introduced a new pain into his body - that of broken teeth and split lips. Russia had no more energy left to groan now. His face was pressed down into the floor, and something really...strange was happening to his vision. The people around him - his people; the Russian people - they turned fuzzy, flickered once, then…

They all vanished. Russia's eyes were aching from the strain of looking up from his vantage point on the floor, yet even when he blinked a couple of times and gingerly shifted his position, there was no doubt about what he had just seen. The surrounding metro station was completely intact and bright, but the people who had packed the room...were no more.

What is this? What is this? Russia's breath sped up, his frantic panting irritating his split lip and causing the tile floor to fog up under his face. His citizens...had just vanished. This is bad! What is happening? He reached out in a futile attempt to bring his people back, to bring them towards him and reality itself. But nothing happened. Instead, Russia heard a low buzzing in his ears, and the world around him began to turn black. With a grunt, he fought to keep his consciousness. N-no, I-I have to save my people! I...I need my citizens! Without them...who am I? Who is Russia?

With one last sob of despair, Russia reached out one last, desperate time in the direction where his Russian people had just stood, but...it was all in vain. Suddenly, as if someone had just switched off the lights and sounds of the world, Russia's eyes closed and a muffling, overwhelming blackness overtook his vision.

And as the world fell away from him, Russia heard a single voice, singing a haunting, beautiful melody:

"Uletay na kril'jach vetra, ty v kraj rodnoj, rodnaja pesnya nasha,

Tuda gde my tebya svobodno peli, gde bylo tak privol'no nam s toboju."

Fly away on wings of wind, to native lands, our native song,

To the land where we can sing you freely, where it was so carefree for you and me.

First of all, if you haven't figured this out by now, that song is where the title of this fanfiction comes from! The song is from an opera by Russian composer Alexander Borodin, and it is very well-known and well-liked both in Russia and the rest of the world. The name of the song is "Polovtsian Dances"; look it up, it's extremely beautiful!

So, to explain the hallucination a bit more, understand that Russia's citizens did not really disappear from the metro. xD It only seems to Russia that they disappeared because this was his hallucination, and their disappearance is supposed to symbolize Russia becoming disconnected from his citizens. Now, he will not have a "human" side anymore, nor a government to guide him, so...look out! He just might turn insane… ;)

Historical Notes:

Metro stations used as fallout shelters - During the Cold War, there was a very real threat of nuclear war, so Soviet city planners designed metro stations that were very deep underground so that if a nuclear explosion did happen, people would just have to go down into the metro to stay safe instead of having to build bomb shelters themselves, like in the US.

A big thank you to the wonderful people who reviewed chapter 8: Shadows in the Light of Day, Typewriting Fangirl, Coffee and Sunshine, PioneeringAuthor, PRAUS, Tomoshibi-Chan, Mely-Val, Hannah, 47Zhou-Yu74, Summer Leigh Wind, and Slippery Tummy. Your reviews really mean a lot to me, and I hope you still will stick with this story even though I update slowly! :)

Please review! :)