Trigger warnings! Torture, major and minor character death, rape, depression, forced eating, suicidal thoughts, and probably many many more! I will try and put specific warnings on each chapter, but it has been many years since this was written and i can't remember what is in it really, so if you see something that you think should have a trigger warning could you please leave a review on that chapter and ask me to add one, and I promise you I will. I am trying to make up for my youth when I didn't think trigger warnings were important, so thank you for helping me!

Russia walked in the barren terrain, easily stepping over burnt and mangled bodies. The bomb had done its job well, better, even, than he had expected. If he were not immortal, the lingering effects would have surely killed him long ago.

A lone figure was off in the distance. Ivan already knew who it was. He got closer, and saw Alfred trying in vain to find a living soul. He finally sat down, defeated.

"You should have surrendered, Jones. It wouldn't have been this way."

Sitting on the ground, America continued to look around, refusing to look at the person who had destroyed his land. Where there was now countless, radiation burned bodies were previously fertile farm land filled with abundant wheat, canola and sunflower fields.

His eyes were wide as his brain finally caught up with the severity of the situation. Not only was just this one part of his beautiful country destroyed – and by nuclear bombs nonetheless- but so was the majority of it. New York, San Francisco and everything in-between had been cruelly destroyed by the man who was standing before him.

Finding his heroic courage, America slowly stood up, lifting his eyes to look at Russia only when he was standing up completely. "No you should have surrendered. I at least would have had the decency to leave you alone and not nuke your fucking excuse-for-a-country!"

"Out of the two, at this moment I would much rather live in Russia than," he looked around at the land, filled with dust and blood, at a gnarled tree that used to be beautiful and green and now was a dead log, at the orange orb in the sky that was the sun, but now the light was filtered through the debris-filled air, and finally at what was once a building known around the world for its meaning. It once stood for freedom, its columns filled people with a sense of self-worth. Now it just stood as an eyesore, "here." He finished.

It took all of Alfred's willpower at that moment not to punch the smirk off of Russia's face. Instead, he took his anger out by reaching down, picking up a rock and throwing it as far as he could behind him.

"If it wasn't for you..." he couldn't even finish the sentence, his mind running with too much rage. "Do you even realize how many innocent lives were lost because of your idiotic scheme? This was supposed to be between the two of us, Braginski, not our people." His glare was intensified by his cracked glasses and the smears of blood and dirt across his face and torn up uniform.

A serious look on his face, Russia bent over and picked up a handful of dirt. When he stood up, he let it fall through his fingers, the wind carrying it away. "So you are saying that you did nothing of the sort? Are you really saying that you killed none of my innocent people? Had the situations been reversed, you would have done the same thing. We both know that."

As he continued to glare, America went closer to the communist and grabbed a hold of his immaculate uniform, pulling Russia's face closer to his own. "How dare you assume that I'd be just as vile as you, commie." He spat in Ivan's face, narrowly missing his right eye. "What we both do know is that I'm a hero, and as one I would never do anything that you did to my people."

Without blinking, Russia took off one glove slowly, and wiped off the spit from his face. Then, with the exact same, slightly remorseful face, he looked America in the eye and said, "Just like with Hiroshima and Nagasaki?"

After letting go of his collar, America stepped back a bit, his face blanching. The bastard knew that was a low blow, judging by the small smirk on his face. "That's different. Japan bombed Pearl Harbour first, I was just retaliating." He said, his eyebrows furrowing together in anger. "This is completely different."

"You did it to end the war. I did it to end this one." He looked around. "This was once a beautiful country. It can be again, you know." He sat on a broken wall. This was most likely once a building, but now it was almost nothing.

"It will be, because I'm going to stay here and rebuild it. I bet England and Canada wouldn't hesitate to help me either." He clenched his hands in anger, leaving red crescent moons on his palms.

"Yes, that would be good. Stay here, and bring England and Canada. That way, I would only have to send one bomb instead of three." He let that sink in, watched America's face change to horror, then back to anger. He opened his mouth to respond, but Russia cut in. "Or, you could come with me, and I will let them live. Your choice."

America glowered at Ivan before looking to his feet. Now he definitely was between a rock and a hard place. Did he give up his freedom, his pride, his Americaness and go with Russia, keeping England and Canada worried yet safe, or did he force his allies to help him rebuild his country while risking all three of their lives. There was only one thing a true hero would do: sacrifice himself for the good of all.

Slowly he raised his head again looking over the expanse of broken, dying land before staring determinedly in Ivan's frigid purple eyes. "I'll go."