RusAme-Timeline life

Russia laughed in to the cold air of his home. "You DON'T?" He pushed his foot slightly deeper in to Americas skin, "You take MY poeple, hurt MY poeple, Come to MY home, what ME to submit, and think Im all ok with this?" He laughed, crying but smiling. He laughed once again, seeming more and more insain. He looked at America, his love that didn't love him back. "Shoot me, Please, SHOOT ME" He yelled at America. He could fell the blood. He would get stonger before he fell. He picked up one foot. Slamming his heel in to the center of Americas back. He grinned. "But at least I droped the pipe!" He said through laughes. "Dont try to get away, you wount. You came here, and I think you should stay here!" He laughed once again, running out of air because of his consat laugh.

America let let out another hiss in pain and gritted his teeth, "I'm sorry!" the spikes hurt, but he had them coming, he had taken everything from Russia and he was planning on destroying the whole USSR. He shouldn't be okay with this he was destroying his family. He let the tears he was holding back fall freely from his and cried out when the spikes went deeper, "I love you!" he sobbed, he didn't want this his boss did, and even though him and his boss shared the same beliefs, he didn't want to hurt Russia. He needed to take Russia back or his boos would be mad, he sobbed again. He loved the Russian so much, "I'm sorry." and continued to cry silently.

Russia froze for a hot second. He just stood trying to decide if America was telling him the truth or not. But what a time to tell him! "You Americans, think you can get out of anything with your looks" He didn't press his boot as hard. The blind rage fell from him. He felt the pain in his chest again, this was all some crule joke. "Thats a joke to you, Da? If your accualy love me, than you wouldn't try to do somthing like this America..." He count help but think all the way back in to the Tzar era. Him and America both loved the stars. And Russia still did. He once again shook out of weakness. America could still hurt him with out even trying. He knew at this point. That the USSR would fall or he would die. He cried above America, pushing him in to the floor and keeping him from seeing. "You are crule, America." He said quitly. It hurt becuse America was just making fun of him, he was hard to hurt back, it was like he could never get back at him for this.

He didn't want it to end this way, he doesn't want to defend himself because he had this coming, what his boss wanted he got and if he wanted the USSR dissolved, he would get it, no matter how much it would break or hurt him. He continued to struggle he said it again, "I may be a bastard but I''m not lying." he did love the other. He remember the times of when Russia helped him, to comfort him after he killed his counter part and he had promised the Russian that they would go to space together. He didn't know what Russia meant by looks and he more tears fell as he felt the blood drip onto the floor and said, "I do.....I ...love you."

Russ apicked up his leg and slammed the end of the heel down on his chest. "You are a filthy discusting pig! You can atleast affor to tell me the damn truth!" He scram at America, more tears comming from his eyes. Damn it, that was showing that was a open nerve. "It is nothing but crule to do that AMERICA" He yellled even louder. "YOU SAY YOU LOVE ME AND NEVER MEAN IT, EVER. YOU DONT CARE! YOU DONT EVEN KNOW HOW...HORRABLE THAT IS TO SAY!" He picked up his foot again and slammed it down on Americas neck. He looked down to see that he had let the hand with Americas gun go. He looked at him. Frezzing and taking his foot off of America. He walked a few steps, and stopped again. "If you love me, than you would not even try to shoot me" He said looking down and voice now lower as usual. He shook. If the USSR was going to deslove. He wanted to be alone when it did. But America would be the one killing him. He fell on to his knees. The pain of moving ctehing up with him

Alfred yelled out and coughed up blood as he felt the strong force of Russia's heel hit his chest. He let some tears flow from his face, not from the pain, but from the utter heartbreak that Russia didn't believe him. But after all this, he couldn't blame him. He whispered in the weak voice. "It' the truth, I'm sorry." he cared so much for the Russian, but couldn't bring himself to show it. He made a choking noise as Russia's hand wrapped around his neck more tears pouring out and with a cholked voice he said, "I'm sorry." He felt Russia's grip loosen when the and felt the gun heavy in his hand. He could feel the cool metal through his leather gloves and coughed up more blood. His bod hurt, he couldn't stand on the leg Russia had kicked and had to lean on the other as he got up. He didn't want to but he had to shoot Russia, "I'm sorry." he said, he saw Russia fall to the floor and again said in a whisper because his throat hurt, "I'm sorry." he brought the gun up with one hand and it made a clicking noise as he put a finger on the trigger. More tears streamed from his face and he shot; hitting Russia in the shoulder and again quickly in the knee and he let out a sob.

Russia smiled and fell on the floor on front of him. He didn't try to say anything, the metal tore past his skin and came out with small fragments of his bone on it. He didn't fell pain from that, no, to much pain everyhwere else. He couldnt help but scram at the one that hit his knee. He heard the bone pop before he looked down, even more chunks of white in the blood. He felt the sound of his own pain ring in his head. He sobbed out of pain. "See, I was right,Da?" He said, he tried standing up, but his leg woundt work. He knew that he would be killed. He pushed with his good arm and leg. Getting up and stubbling away. "Get the hell out of my home, You will never know how much I hate you" He bit back more cried, he somehow manged to get somehwere else. He fell on his bed, the sheets being covered in blood. He lost, he lost, America could pick him up and take him with him, not matter what. He looked at America, and lughed through teh shooting pain in his everyhwere. He smiled, not making a sound when he dug his fingers in to the shot wound, pulling the small silver, not blood red bullet out and tosssing it at the feet of America. "And you said that you loved me"

America closed his eyes as he heard the bones crack. He looked over and saw blood everywhere, what had he done? It wasn't his boss's fault, it was his own, he was the one who held the gun in his hand, he was the one who shot Russia. He saw Russia stumbling to the bed and felt his heart break, this is what his boss wanted, he couldn't refuse it. He said, "I'm sorry." over and over softly and his voice raspy. He said, "I' do love you..." he would have hope Russia understood. Russia would eventually pass out from the blood. he went over to where Russia was and said, "Please don't fight me anymore, I don't wanna hurt you anymore." but yet he just shot Russia in the knee cap and shoulder. "I love you." sounding desperate.

"anymore?" He asked, razing a eyebrow. Black spots danced over his eyes, there was more and more of them though. He looked strang, not at America. He hoastly was not sure if he was being truthful. He sighed, making the black spots go carzy. He giggled lightly. "You can stop pretending, I have no choice but to go now,Da?" He said softly. He didnt even know what to do anymore. The black spots get growing, and he got a bit dissy. He didnt even realize he had pass out, but they covered his enitre sight, like he was blind. He relazed that he would last this way. He loved america, or tried too. He went along, shot him, played crule jokes, and expected him to forgive him like he loved him back. His vison came back, but it was not normal, not real. A dream, he could fell the pain in his arm and leg, even though his sleep. His dream slef sat down and cried, he was younger, a teen? He saw himslef crying and the small, child America behind him. "Its ok" his dream America cooed at him. He continued crying. He wished America was telling the truth, he always had to love him. He made so meny mistakes. And hurt Russia, who he supsidly loved. His real life felt curled in to his black unitfrom, soaked with the blood to trun the black a unearthy gray color. His dream turned to black.

Once he saw Russia black out he let some more tears slip. Russia was injured because of him; what kind of sick bastard did this to someone they loved? He continued to hold the gun tightly in his hand and whispered, "I'm sorry Russia." He went over and picked him up; his leg hurting from when Russia kicked it and the holes from which the spikes left in his back stung but he began to feel them close and scab. He carried Russia bridal style; limping slightly. He looked at Russia's face, covered in blood, and whispered in a raspy voice, "I'm sorry." He continued to hold the gun in his hand just in case Russia woke up and showed resistance. He took small glances at Russia every 10 seconds, the guilt growing more everyime he did. He came out and there was a black car and men in suits came out. The asked him to give them Russia and America was reluctant to do it but did. They took out some chloroform and put it on a wet rag and proceeded to put it over Russia's mouth and nose to make sure he was really knocked out, and if he was, he would be now. "Let's go America, we have to get back to the States." America put on a brave face for the other's, his eyes slightly red from crying. He gave a curt nod and said, "Okay, let's go." he set Russia in the black car and drove to where their plane was landed in a hidden location. They put him into the plane and it was a few hours until they got to the United States. They landed and another black car waited for them. The whole ride if Russia moved they would cover his mouth and nose with chloroform and America would try to hold back tears and look out the window. They brought him to a secret location and tied him to a chair leaving Russia and America alone in the room, leaving America with orders to find out if Russia had nuclear weapons or not.

He was in his old home when his dream came back. He was chained up, in the basment with blood running past his leg. He turned his head, seeing the bodys of his old boss, the litte kids he killed and there skuls still un shatters across the concrete. He felt like he was going to cry again. He looked up, and saw the coat that America wore, and his face, no, it was America. He smiled a cold smaile at him, and lifted his arm, a silver gun now at Russia's head. He shook in fear, moving back and hitting the wall. America just walked a few more steps up to him and set his foot on Russia's chest, pushing down to har dand snapping a rib. He looked down at Russia. "But I love you, right?" America lughed and pulled the gun's trigger. He scram and fell dead. The blood rolling down his face. Sprinkled with white from his broken skull. He saw America sigh happly and drop the gun on to Russias now breathless chest. Walking out of his house.

Russia felt his head hurt over long time, not being able to wake up. He saw everything in a odd blur when he did. "M?..." He golted when he saw where he was, and turned his head, glaring at America. He twisted his hands, trying to get out of the ropes. He felt the buring pain in his head, along with his knee and shoulder. He shuttered, everything coming back in frames, like reading a book. He yelled at America. "Why the hell do you think this will make me tell you!" He pushed his face fowred at America. his voice craked and sounded his like was ether choking or had dried blood in the lungs. He whiped his head around, a wave of panic going over him. He eveutaly wore himslef out. His own drugged body forcing him to relax in the chair. He looked up at America from under his bangs the tips covered in red. He growled at him. "You might as well shoot me, Im not going to say anything..." His breathing more like shallow panting. He felt all the cuts reopen, his mind still a bit broken. He wished he could fall back asleep. "И ты сказал, что любит меня, я люблю тебя" He said, he oved America, America wanted him to hurt.

He aw Russia begin to stir in his sleep, he looked over at him his boss motioned to pick up the gun. America did and waited for Russia to wake up. His boss was watching from the window and felt his heart break, "I do love you, I'm sorry." he said very quietly so that that they couldn't read his lips or here it. "Where are the bombs Russia, we know you have them." he said with a straight face. He didn't want to bring in the motivation, it would probably kill him. "Where are they Russia!?" he said yelling at him. "You're gonna tell me everything you know!" he grabbed the hammer that wa provided and it burn him. It was very heavy and his eyes welled up with tears and his teeth gritted. He brought it up and it hit the side of Russia's head, "Tell me! Where are the bombs!?"

Russia cried softly, and scram when the hammer hit him. He felt the pain more slow and strong then the other pains. It made its way though him like a wave. He considered telling him. He winced though, closing his eyes. "And you said that you love me!" He laughed through his own pain. He bit the air, not being able to move anyother way. He gasped out of the pain, now out of his head and in to his chest. He looked at America. "I can't even tell you how discusted I am with you, You were a sweet little kid, now your a monster." He looked up at him, The red in his hair didn't look bad... He laughed at himslef. Thinking of how he looked when his love was beating him to death. He looked at the window. "The bombs...." He smield "They will be dystorying your home in no time~" He laughed, crying even in his smile, his chest feling like it was being hit will needles

America had un-shed tears in his eyes and said, "We all gotta grow up sometime Russia!" he was accusing him of changing, Russia had also changed drastically as well. After Russia killed his family, he as different, everything about him was different. His heart stopped when Russia said the bombs were headed this way, look like he would have to call up the big guns and said, "You're a lying bastard, you wouldn't dare sends those over here." Russia wasn't the only country part of the Soviet Union and guess what his men did. He looked pissed, "Don't you fucking dare joke about that!" bombs at his place? He couldn't imagine it and said, "I hope you know, you're not the only one we're interrogating, so everything you say will affect the others."

Russia laughed and repated. "Dont you dare fucking joke about that~ Well if were playing by those rules..." He sighed looking up at the ceiling. He kept his smiling and beeling face at the mention on his famly. "How rude..." He left it at that. He looked down to America. "Lets see....." He grinned. "You and me wanted to go to space,Da? Than I killed my famly. Than You killed your little brother, and than I became the USSR, You came to my home, took me away from the only place where someone donst want to kill me, shot be, beat me, and tell me you love me...." He laughed up in to the air. "This sounds like a fun game,Da?" He giggled. "I think we all know, that we are both, daring nations." He smiled at America. He would personly kill America if he was hurting his sisters, though. THe riping felling in his chest died down. To much had heppened to love America anymore. He could be sweet, caring, cute, flutry, but puled this and turned mean, discusting, crule. He looked at him, he had nothing to lose, right? "So, tell me about how you love me again?" He said, expecting to be hit with the hammer again

America felt another pang of guilt at the mention of his brother, he was gone but not forgotten, still traces of the the Confederates influence. He also felt rage and guilt towards Russia and yelled, "This isn't a fucking game you commie bastard!" he said it, he had heard his people say that to people, but he had never said it himself. He didn't hurt his sister, they were are their houses, but surrounded by he American military, no one would be harmed unless they tried to get out or something. He said, "We're both nations." he turned away and continued,"Then you should understand why I'm doing this." a tear slipped from his eye. It was him holding the gun, him threatening Russia, not his boss. But this was his boss's will and said, "I'm sorry Russia." he loved him, and he was sorry, his people's fear of the Soviet Union became his own. He feared the bombs and was paranoid. "I do love you, and I'm fight communism for your own good." he turned over to the Russian, his boss looking at him a bit annoyed, maybe it was for crying, or not injuring Russia further or maybe he had screwed up again. His people always wanted more, and so he tried for that, whatever he brought back they wanted more and it was never good enough, he was never good enough. "You wouldn't set off those bombs Russia, you're vindictive but not stupid, I know you."

Russia smiled. "Da, you are good at this game!" He smiled softly. Being genuin in his pained tone. He looked back up at America. "I know that you have no issue setting off your bombs though" He said softly, the pained tone getting more and more warped, twisting his smile in to a pianed midly insaid laugh. "Shoot me, I dare you, If you would have ever loved me, you shoudl have not tired me to a chair and shot me, teased me, beat me, druged me..." He looked at him, and he expected him to love America back! He rested his head on the back of the chair. He was going to lose this, no matter what he did. He felt the taring felling his in chest die down the second he said that. He would lose agnst America, He would be the second best now. He choked on his own breath. He looked up, hanging his head behind him. "America..." He started. "If you let me out, I dont hurt you, you will hurt me back....if you make me stay, I cant hurt you, yo ucan only hurt me..." He forwed a deoessed frowen. He swalloed his pride. There was none to start with. His beck hurt and a heavly bleeding stop formed where America hit him with the hammer, still felling fuzzy from the hit. He rubbed the sh=pot on the endge of the chair. "You dont know your own power, America..."

America felt a twinge of anger when Russia sounded so happy and genuine about him being good at 'the game'. America snapped his head to him and said, "I just wanna get rid of your government, I don't wanna wipe you off the face of the planet!" he felt hurt at the accusations that and said, "Like I said! You're a country too! So you should know why I'm doing this! I don't want to do this! Just like you didn't want to kill your family! Just like I didn't want to kill my brother! we can't decide on our own!" he let more tears follow and his boss looked pissed pointing to his watch, signifying to hurry up. America couldn't do it. America had grown so powerful in such a short amount of time, he was young and reckless and couldn't control his own power. Russia could, Russia had slowly grown into power and had gotten accustomed and learned how to use it. He let the power get to his head, "I don't wanna hurt you." he whispered, "But I refuse to let continue to be a communist nation."

Russia took a long second, his face draining of any expression. He eventually hung his head in to his uniform. He cried softly. "D....Da, High of power can;t last forever..." He said, looking up with a depressed smile. He could have been refering to himslef or America when he said that, not really caring witch America saw in it. He stopped fighting. His stopped moving his arms and tring to get out. He stopped shifting his legs from the rope being to tight, he just...stopped. He cried still, his boss would not aprove of him crying, ever. He looked at America. Shaking slightly. "I give up..." He stofly said, teh riping in his chest dancing cirles around him. He looked at the deperson in the wall, were he knew a window was.

America shook with sadness and just pure angst he looked at Russia's bleeding head and the gunshot wounds he had given him. He said, "No.....it doesn't, but I'm gonna make it last and unfortunately, your time of power is already up." he let another tear fall from his face. He had done Russia so much wrong, so much hurt and pain he inflicted on who? The love of his life, that's who. He was a sick and twisted bastard, all those fake grins and laugh covered up how much of a slave he was to his boss and country. He heard Russia crying quietly and it broke his heart again. He always seemed to make Russia cry, it was the only thing he was good for. He looked at Russia and then Russia said it, 'I give up.' relief, guilt and angst washed over him. "T-Thank you.......I'm sorry....I'm so so sorry." he looked at his boss with a saddened expression and gave him a curt nod. His boss smiled and America wanted to beat his face into the ground.

Russia cried more hearing America. He winced through it. "I love you," He said almost too softly "I can prove it..." He took another sharp breath in. "...Because I just gave *sob* everything away for...y..ou..." He said, shaking and wishing he was dead. He was never going to be as powerful ever again, it would never get better from now on, and he wound just get weaker and weker, and eventually deslove. He had just sped this up by giving in and out to America. He looked up at the celing, sobbing slighty. The the cloth of his uniform snagging and taring on the handcuffs.. He looked at America. "I want to know..." He said breath hitching "...where you lying?' He asked, still having his voice warped by the sobs coming out of his mouth.

America let out few more tears and his boss looked angry again; now it was just for his crying. He head snapped back to Russia when he faintly heard Russia say something that sounded like 'I love you.' no, not after all of this. Hearing it hurt, because he knew he didn't deserve it, he knew that he deserved to hear, 'I hate you!' He said almost, whispered, "W-What?" he had finally knocked communism out, the Soviet Union has been dissolved. Damn it he felt lower than shit. He heard Russia and he let out a sob, "You can't love me, why the hell don't you hate me!? I just took everything from you!" he threw the gun on the floor and pointed his finger at him in disapproval. He let out a choked sob, "I'm sorry Russia-" and he his boss gave him another look, "-but this was for your own good." Russia's people deserved to have the freedom of choice and the chance to live freely. His boss left and he and he looked over and said, "I'm sorry Russia, I love you." He moved a hand over Russia's cheek and wiped off some of the blood and looked at the beautiful violet eyes.

Russia continued letting out choked sobs. He turmbled under Americas hand, he couldn't help the bit of fear created by this. He wanted to look up, but didn't. He felt the ripping in his chest starting to subside. "My own good...." He reapeted softly. He didn't try to speak, it would come out of ether growles or sobs. He wanted to bite Americas hand off, but didn't he swear hecould feel fire buring the flags of the USSR. His breath hitched. "And my sisters are safe?" He asked America. He just beat the hell out of Russia who he loved. He looked up. "Untie me, let me go, please..." He said a bit louder. He wanted to run in to a corner and just sob. He shifted inside his black unitform, the hammer and sickie on his chest being wlecom, he wanted to be powerful again.

America felt Russia's warm cheek through his gloved hand and said, "Yeah....I'm sorry, I couldn't let it go on, it was for the good of your people." the people would be free to choose what ever they wanted. What to eat, what occupation, and freedom of speech. He nodded and said, "They're back at their houses." he could at least be honest to him, "They were always there." he moved away from Russia and took a glance out the window to see if anyone was still there, only some secret service members he said, "I love you Russia, and you have every reason to hate me and be grateful, I'm sorry, I didn't mean for this to happen." they were supposed to go to space together, they were supposed to go into space and catch the stars and land on the moon. He heard Russia ask to untie him and so he went over and loosened the straps on the arms and legs so that they weren't so tight, "I can't let you out until me boss says so." he walked back leaning against the wall, the feeling of guilt and repent tightened in his chest.

"You Americans," He pulled at the straps. "You beat me up, I give up, and you think im still a threat..." He finaly pulled the ropes on his arms off. He sighing, the buring from the roped gone and the blood rushing back to his hands. He used his hands to whipe his eyes. Moving slow as to not gave anyone the idea he was going to try something. He looked at America, "That is good..." He said softly, before putting his hands up and barring his face. The black of his gloves covering his sight. He murmmered to himslef. "Damn it......What am I going to do now?" He asked himslef. He shook a bit, shurring and starting to cry again. He gave everything up, everything he once had, was gone, forever. He winced, what did he just do? He could have taken more, untill america killed him. Or was it just the sight of seeing his love beat him. Hate him and told Russia he loved him. He kept to his chair, now covered in blood. He lifted his face, the cloth of the clover flaked with dried blood from his eyes and face.