12 chimes of the old antique clock told the hectic man it was 12:00. And for this, the countries would have his head. He was going to be late....yet again. Ivan shook his head, and continued his spasmodic pattern of running, then turning back, then stopping, then running again. Any average person would signify this as out of the ordinary, something that should immediately be reported to the authorities, but for Ivan, that wasn't the case.

This was simply an ordinary day in the life of Russia.

A shrill and feminine voice interrupted his thoughts, as he heard a litany of curses from the ever so familiar person that was chasing him.

His pastel scarf softly fluttered behind him as he ran farther and farther down the long corridor, closer and closer to the double wooden doors that laid ahead. Just as Ivan was about to reach out a pale hand to the door knob, a figure pounced onto him, wrapping their arms around his neck, and pulling him back.

"Rossiya!" He heard a sing songy voice screech. He had been so painfully close to reaching the door, but it was too late. He felt nails dig into his neck, stinging his skin. Ivan tried to claw away at the hands gripping to him, but they were anchored to his neck.

The figure tugged the Russian back, causing him to swivel to the right, and topple down to the ground.

Russia's head hit the floor with a clunk, and he felt a heavy force settle on top of him. Stars and flashes of color danced in his vision, but he was unable to make out the grinning figure upon him.

He watched as a knife twirled through the figure's fingertips. Suddenly, the figure swung the knife down, causing Ivan to cringe. The knife landed in its target, Ivan's scarf that laid upon him. He was now trapped.

The figure leaned down closer to his face, shiny platinum blonde hair tickling his face. Crazed violet eyes pierced his, and a large Cheshire Cat grin was spread upon their lips, a row of glimmering teeth on display.

"Oh, don't run away from me brother," they giggled, reaching down to brush a finger across his cheek.

Any country or person that knew the Russian nation, would claim he was a fearless man, the one that every man fears. But now, he was pathetically giving up his title to the one, and only one, who scared him.

Natalya Arlovaskaya, the nation of Belarus, was the only one who could make the strong nation tremble pathetically.

Russia let a squeak tremble from his lips, and Natalya tilted her head to the side, letting her crazed grin grow bigger.

"Do not be scared of me dear brother Rossiya," she whispered. She pulled her head back from the terrified nation, and let another disturbing giggle escape from deep within her. She then proceeded to pull out a small navy blue box covered in delicate felt from the many folds of her swirling blue dress.

She delicately opened the box, and faced it toward the shuddering nation, to reveal a golden-banded ring, with a tiny white pearl on its top.

"Now, let us become one!" she exclaimed, holding the ring close to Ivan's face. His violet eyes widened with fear, and he reached up, to shove away the ring in his little sister's hands. Belarus's hands didn't budge, and she shoved it closer to him.

"Marry me!" She demanded, growing angrier by the second.

Ivan managed to let a terrified shriek escape his mouth. "L-leave me alone!" Russia screeched with fear, squeezing his eyes shut.

Natalya cupped Russia's cheek in her pale hand, and pulled him closer.

"Nothing can stand in our way Ivan. So let us become one now!" She threw her head up to let out a shrill and eerie laugh, before snapping her head back down to her lover. "You should know that we will be married Russia, so stop resisting. We have done this for years on."

Russia suddenly let his eyelids slide open, his body starting to unfreeze a bit.

For...years on....

She was correct. Ever since the two nations were kids, Belarus had always been chasing him down, begging him to become one with her. It had always been plain ridiculous, and a never ending nightmare for the poor nation. But she wasn't getting the message.

He'd always tried to be polite about it, giving her clear signs he was not or ever interested. But her crazed obsession for him was too strong.

Ivan felt his eye twitch, as a vein began to appear in his neck. A shade of red washed over his face, apoplectic features playing upon his once friendly expression.

Countless times, he had tried to warn her the relationship wouldn't work out, but she didn't listen. He gave clear gestures that he didn't want to marry her, but she would never see. She was so consumed by this...this crazy obsession, it seemed that was her reason for living.

No.

Ivan was so tired of dealing with this in his everyday life. He already had eyes for someone else special, and he didn't want to keep trying to push away Belarus just so he could finally be together with someone else. No other nation had to deal with this complete nonsense like he had to.

She was his sibling, not his lover. Siblings were suppose to look after each other, not love each other the way Natalya did. And for all those years, Russia let her push him around. But not this time. He was so tired of all of this. And for now on, he would never let her be stronger than him again.

Russia lunged out and grabbed the girl's arm. Belarus jumped in surprise at the sudden contact, but still eerily smiled.

"No," Russia said calmly....almost too calm.

Belarus's smile disappeared, and she tilted her head the side, like a curious puppy. Russia sat up a little bit, but flinched when he heard fabric ripping beneath him. He looked down to see a small tear in his scarf from where the knife stuck through the soft fabric into the floor. His eyes widened, and his words got tied up in his mouth.

His precious scarf was ripped. His older sister had given it to him, and now it was ruined. He had been pushed over the edge at this point.

He snapped his focus back to his confused little sister, and gripped her arm tighter.

"I will never marry you....you...you monster!" Ivan barked, his knuckles turning white as he applied even more pressure to the girl's arm.

Belarus's eyes widened, and she tried to tug away from her brother. But he wasn't finished. He wanted to carve the message into her as deep as he could.

"No matter what you do, I will never marry such an inhuman thing like you! You'll die alone sister, and there's nothing you can do about it!"

He then proceeded to untie his scarf from his neck and throw it aside, so he could no longer continue to tear it on the knife. He let go of her arm, and placed both hands on her shoulders.

"I...hate...you!" Ivan screamed, shoving her back with all his might. He watched as the girl flew back and hit the wall with a bang, crumpling to the floor. Russia jumped to his feet, his face completely red, and a vein popping out from his forehead.

Suddenly, the doors opened, and Germany poked his head out in shock. Three other nations popped their heads out too, completely surprised. They'd never seen Russia mad, or as a matter of fact, stand tall above his own sister.

"Russia?" Germany gasped. "Where have you been? And what is going on?"

Russia ignored the German and proceeded to pull out his silver and slightly rusty pipe from his coat. His shaky hand pointed it toward the limp girl.

She slowly opened her eyes, and moaned, reaching up to touch a giant purple bruise on her forehead. As her eyes landed on Russia's infamous pipe, her eyes widened, and she let out a tiny squeak.

"I want you to feel pain!" Russia screamed, raising the pipe above her trembling form.

"Holy crap what's Commie doing?" Ivan heard the familiar voice of America whisper to the nervous German.

"Russia, stop this nonsense," Germany ordered.

Russia tilted his head to the side, scaring the Belarusian even more.

"Magic metal pipe of pain," he whispered sickly. And with that, he swung it down with all his might. As he was doing so, he heard feet shuffling across the carpet.

The pipe finally reached its target with a shattering force, but instead of hearing a feminine cry, he heard a masculine one. Russia pulled back his pipe and his eyes widened.

In front of the crippled girl, stood America, his arms spread out, shielding Natalya. His eyes watered from the pain, and he suddenly crumpled to the ground. In unison, the three other countries gasped, and gaped in awe.

Russia gripped the pipe angrily, and slipped it back into his coat. He swiveled on his heals, facing the other nations.

They all turned a ghostly white, and backed away from the door. Even Germany was as pale as a sheet, letting the angry Russian pass through the doors.

Natalya reached out a pleading hand to her brother, but he already disappeared into the meeting room. As she lowered her hand back into her lap, she felt pearly crystals drop from her eyes. Brother just hit her. Not just that, but he intended on harming her. She was left with simply a bruise on her head, but she could have been struck down by the pipe. She didn't, but someone else did.

She quickly stared down at the man in front of her. America was curled in a ball, clutching his sides, his teeth gritting with pain. His face was a ghostly white, and droplets of sweat dribbled down his scalp. Suddenly, she saw a single stream of blood snake its way through the American's hand. Her eyes widened, and she leaned down to get a closer look. Through the gaps between his fingers, she saw the color of red splattered across his sides. His body was trembling, and she heard his breaths stagger.

"Oh my god!" she heard a familiar voice scream. Belarus looked up and saw a hectic Britain standing outside the door.

"What in heaven's name happened here?!" The Brit exclaimed, walking up the trembling nation on the floor.

Belarus said nothing. She slowly got her feet, and backed away a bit. England got onto his knees, and shook America's shoulder.

"Are you alright, lad?" England asked, hoping for the American to respond. All that was returned was a small groan. Arthur bit his lip, and saw the stream of blood across his fingertips. He turned his head back to the meeting room.

"Canada!" He shouted, slowly getting to his feet.

He heard a pair of feet scamper across the wooden floorboards, and a blonde man appear at the door.

"England?" Matthew responded. Before he could ask why he called him here, he saw his brother on the floor, clutching his sides and curled in a tight ball.

"Quickly now. Let's get him to his feet and get him to the bathroom to see the damage," England ordered, reaching down to pull Alfred's arm from his side, and around his shoulder. Canada scrambled to his side, and put Alfred's other arm around his shoulder.

Adjusting Alfred's weight between the two, they proceeded to walk the other direction toward the bathroom.

Before they disappeared from her view, Arthur turned his head to the Belarusian and called, "Just tell them to proceed with the meeting,"taking a left toward the bathroom.

As soon as the three entered the bathroom, she let a tiny sob escape her lips.

She held a hand to her mouth and muffled another sob. How could brother do this to her? Brother loved her and had protected her. He always was so happy that she was there to help him when they were little, and seemed content enough from the company she'd sometimes give him.

He was such a gentle giant, and such a sweetheart. Never in her life, had she seen those features on his elegant face, and never had she seen his infamous pipe lash out, intending to hurt her. When they were little, she'd always remember Russia telling her she was brave and so strong. He always told her she was pretty, just like a princess, and would make a man happy one day. She'd never heard those words leave his mouth. He'd never called her a monster or told her he hated her. Those words were new to her ear, and it still lingered.

All she wanted was his love. All she wanted was his attention. Why wouldn't he understand that?

He was one of the only ones who truly understood her. That was why she wanted him all to herself. That was why she kept trying each and every day. He never put up a fight against her when she tried in the past.

And she never heard his voice like she just did. It was so loud, so threatening, so...so terrifying.

Suddenly, she felt a new feeling stab her heart. What was it? It felt so familiar to the broken girl, and yet so new.

Watching her brother storm away from her gave her a foul taste in her mouth.

Could it be.....heart break?

She never felt this feeling. She was always so sure Russia and her would become one, and she never thought about what would happen if they wouldn't. And she never thought he would want to hurt her.

But he never actually did get to hurt her real bad. The American took the blow.

The thought of that suddenly chased away the crushing feeling in her heart. Why did he jump in front of her? Why did he suddenly take such a risk?

"What a stupid question. He did it because he's the 'hero'," Belarus angrily thought, slapping a hand to her face.

But still..... Why would he help her? He was the hero, claiming to rescue thousands of damsels in distress. But why would he help her out of all people?

America hated Russia, and had always been enemies. Why would he help the enemy? She always scared off everyone, and no one would dare approach her. She had remembered that even America had been distant from her. So why would he take the hit for her?

He was such a confusing man. She could never understand his personality, or what he saw in his ideas. No wonder Russia hated his guts. He was such an empty-minded idiot.

She told herself this as she entered the meeting room, but it didn't seem to fit correctly.

It seemed out of character for Alfred, and so sudden. Why was this suddenly an important thought to her? Why did that stick out?

__________________________

As a flood of nations pushed their way through the doors, and into the hall, Belarus watched Russia push through the crowd as quickly as he could. Was he scared of her again? She doubted it, after the little performance he put on in the hallway. She still couldn't chase away the stinging pain in her heart. How could brother do such a horrid thing? After all she had done for her beloved Ivan......

"Natalya?" She heard the familiar voice of her sister interrupt her thoughts. Natalya let out an aggravated sigh and turned her head to face her.

Her sister Ukraine had always been the most beautiful of them all, with her soft platinum blonde hair, and peachy bright skin. She was always kind-hearted, even when Natalya had threatened her to leave Russia alone many times all those years ago.

"I heard about what happened," she began. "And I'm as shocked as you about how Russia lashed out."

At the mention of his name, Natalya cringed for a second. His name made the bruise on her forehead burn a bit.

"Brother didn't mean it," she lied, brushing past Ukraine, crossing her arms.

Ukraine bounded after her sister. "Wait sister, I want make sure you're ok-" Ukraine stopped in mid sentence as her sister marched away from her, down the long corridor.

Natalya didn't want to bother talking to her sister. She was tied up with her own problems at the moment. The situation with Brother was suddenly beginning to melt away. All she wanted now was to make it up to him. She should be punished for angering brother like that.

But.....she didn't do anything wrong. She simply did what she always did, but getting different and more scared reactions from Russia in the past.

"Oh cmon bro! I think that's plenty of bandages!" She heard a voice echo through the hallway. She turned her head. About 7 feet behind her, a door with a metal plate that read 'lounge', was where she heard the voice.

She swiveled on the tips of her heels, and walked towards the door, and tilted her head to the side to peek inside.

She felt a blast of cool air on her face, from the AC in the corner. The walls were painted a navy blue, and crimson red carpeting was spread across the floor.

In the center of the small room, sat two puffy couches, one of them holding two men.

"Do you want to bleed to death all over the floor?" Canada sighed, wrapping yet another layer of bandages around his brother's chest.

America sat next to the Canadian, his legs crossed, and an irritated expression upon his face. His bomber jacket was neatly folded on the arm of the couch, and his tan suit and green tie were flung to the side next to him. As the Canadian finished another layer of bandages, the American lifted his white button-up shirt a bit higher, as the Canadian prepared yet another strip of bandages.

"At least hurry up Mattie! I don't wanna miss the rest of lunch break! I need to eat my burger! I've be been waiting all morning for it!" America whined, nibbling at his lip.

Canada rolled his eyes, and tightened the bandage, making America cringe in pain. "Sometimes I worry about you brother! You're so addicted to sugar and gluten!"

Before Canada could continue his rant, his eyes landed on the Belarusian girl, and he let out a shriek, springing back and rolling over the back of the couch.

America craned his neck to peek over the couch, and let out a thundering laugh. "Ah cmon Mattie! It's not a zombie, it's just Natalie!"

Belarus scowled, and coldly responded to the American. "It's Natalya, pea brain. And, don't call me by my human name."

America couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "S-sorry Belarus," he laughed, pulling down his shirt, over the thousands of bandages his brother placed there. Before the milky whiteness of his shirt devoured the bandages from sight, she noticed a small crimson hue just barely decorate the cloth.

Oh right....brother struck him with the pipe. She merely forgot when she was so caught up in confusion about brother's behavior.

Alfred noticed her gaze on his injury, and he flashed her a friendly smile. "Oh, it's nothing. It was pretty painful at first, but as the hero, I didn't let it strike me down."

Her frown increased, and she placed her hands on her hips. "It looked like you were struck down when he hit you. You're just pathetic America," she said, entering the room just a bit. Alfred's smile dissolved, and he simply shrugged his shoulders. "Yeah, but it hurt!" he defended, slowly getting to his feet. Canada popped his head out from behind the couch and flashed his brother a frown.

"And where do you think you're going?" Canada demanded, bringing his arms up to rest on the top of the couch.

"Take a chill pill Canada! I'm just standing up!" America responded, raising an eyebrow at the trembling nation.

"But I'm not finished tending to your wound!"

America lifted a hand to slap his face. "Seriously? I think that you've put on at least 25 layers. If you put on any more, you're gonna suffocate me."

Canada exhaled a loud sigh, and got to his feet cautiously. "Fine, fine! Sorry for caring about your well being!" Canada complained, circling around the couch to his brother. "You can care about me all you want," America began. "You just don't need to go overboard."

Matthew grunted in anger, and walked toward the door.

His frown disappeared as he passed by Belarus, and he let out a squeak, running through the door, into the hall.

America groaned, and placed his hands on his hips. "He can be a bit of a handful sometimes," he sighed. Suddenly, his firework blue eyes traveled up to her forehead, and landed on the bruise.

"Do you want some ice for that?" he offered, taking a step closer to Natalya. Belarus took a step back. "Nyet," she snapped, her head sinking down to her chest, the curtains of her hair covering her eyes.

"Are you sure? It looks pretty bad," Alfred asked, reaching out to touch her shoulder. She quickly swatted his hand away and shook her head. "No means no!" She snapped.

Alfred retracted his hand, and bit his lip. Suddenly, he turned around, and strode over to a shiny gray mini fridge in the corner of the room. He leaned down and opened the door, a cold blast of air greeting his face. He reached in, hesitated, then pulled out a small pack of something she couldn't make out.

He then proceeded to cross the room towards the sink in the back, taking a paper towel and ripping it from its roll.

The American wrapped the pack in the paper towel, and tightly held it in his hand.

"What are you doing?" Belarus asked, as Alfred walked back over to her. America reached over and brushed her bangs from her forehead, placing the pack on the bruise. She cringed at the coldness, and backed away just a bit. Alfred stepped forward and placed the ice pack on her forehead again.

"You should take care of yourself more Bela," America whispered, refusing to make eye contact. She slowly raised a hand to the ice pack, and held it to her forehead, so the American could let go.

"I've seen the way Ivan treats you," America began, taking a step back to give the Belarusian a bit of space. "And it's just so unfair."

She tilted her head and shot him a confused look. "You've done a lot for him Belarus. And he pushes you away when all you want is his love. You're his sibling, and that's not what brothers are supposed to do. And he...he was gonna hurt you."

"Why are you saying this?" Belarus growled, taking a step closer to the American. Alfred looked at the girl with sad eyes. "You're hurting yourself over Russia," he explained. "And I've seen you do nice things for him. Like when you decorated the courtyard in sunflowers and daisies and cornflowers for him, or when you dressed in that pretty white dress for him."

He was correct. She did all those things for him. But when she decorated the courtyard with flowers, later that day, he had doused it in fuel and struck a match, burning down the display of color in an instant. And when she dressed in that gorgeous white dress that costed her her favorite blue bow, Russia threw dirt at her, ruining the fabric of the dress forever.

She'd done many nice things for him, but he would never want to accept or return them. It didn't matter to her in the past, but now....but now thinking about it.....

It was cruel of him to do that.

Natalya's eyes began to water, and she let out a small hiccup. Then, she sank to her knees, and began to cry. America's eyes widened, and he quickly sank to his knees beside her.

"Oh Belarus. P-please don't cry. I-I'm sorry about reminding you of that." He assured, placing a hand on her trembling shoulder. Her crying did not cease.

America nervously bit his lip. Russia may have hated her sister for wanting to marry him, but if Commie figured out that he made his sister cry, he'd skin the American, and wear his flesh as a scarf, or coat, or something creepy like that.

"Uh-Uhm here! Watch this Bela!" He exclaimed. He threw his fist into his side, where his injury lingered.

His eyes widen, and he clutched the area desperately, groaning in pain. Belarus continued to cry, but managed to put together a sentence. "What...Wh-what di-did you do...do that for?" She hiccuped, vigorously wiping away at tears.

"I thought you liked pain ," Alfred wheezed, rolling over on his side. This only made Belarus cry even more.

"Way to go Smooth Jones," America angrily thought. He managed to upright himself, and face the girl again.

"Wh-why....why doesn't Brother love me?!" Natalya exclaimed, letting out another loud sob.

America's eyes widened, and he scooted a bit closer to the sobbing girl.

"Oh Natalya....you...you didn't do anything wrong," He assured. Suddenly, her sob's ceased.

Belarus stared up at the American, incoherently titling her head to the side.

"Belarus....your Brother...just...just doesn't love you that way. And he was just angry you didn't see that."

Natalya's face turned bright red, and before she could snap at him, he continued to speak. "I know you want to marry Ivan because he cares about you. But....he doesn't want you like that. And he obviously doesn't care about you. You can't keep holding onto him, or you're gonna get hurt."

Her eyes widened. "Is that...why you jumped in front of me?"

America nodded. "Siblings shouldn't treat each other like that...it's wrong. You can't keep holding onto Russia. You need to find someone who will love you for who you are, and care for you. Please...don't keep hurting yourself for him."

Alfred slowly got to his feet, and held out a hand to Natalya. She hesitated at first, but let her hand fall into his.

He slowly pulled her up, and squeezed her hand.

"Can you promise me that?" he whispered. Belarus stayed silent. His hand....was warm.

She felt the warmth leave as his hand slipped away from hers. He turned away and walked toward the couch, scooping up his clothes, and heading for the door. He passed her without a word, and disappeared through the doorway. She only stared at the doorway, wiping away one last tear.

Why did he care? He was an arrogant loud mouth who was nothing more than a conceited gluten. But maybe.....

Belarus stopped dead in her tracks and scolded herself. She shouldn't care about his behavior or personality. He was her bother's enemy, so he'd become hers. It would satisfy brother if she liked what he liked. She'd do anything for him. She had dressed like him, talked to the same people as him, liked the same things as him, and even drank a whole bottle of vodka like he did.

But still......

Doing what she normally did had made the Russian lash out at her.....

Why was this so confusing? She simply just wanted to become one with her Brother. But it was like solving an endless maze, with thousands of unpredictable obstacles.

"Can you promise me that?" his voice reminded her in her mind. She slowly sank back down to the floor, and curled up into a small ball. Letting the ice pack plop to the floor, she folded her arms over her knees and sighed.

She didn't know what she wanted to do at this point anymore. If Brother lashed out at her, then he may do it again. And adding onto the fact that he never got to hit her with his pipe, he may proceed to do it to her at the hotel they were booked in, 2 times harder than before.

And she didn't want that to happen, even if it were to satisfy brother. Maybe....just maybe....the American was right. She refrained from laughing. How could that idiot be right about anything?

If he thought a super hero could stop global warming, then he had another thing coming at him.

Perhaps, but still....

Siblings...shouldn't treat each other that way. He had seen how Canada and America got along, and they were both loyal and friendly to each other. While Russia.....he always ran from her and was cruel to her.

And at that thought, she felt herself flinch.

Russia...was no longer on her mind.

____________________

Who knew one small incident could strike up such thoughts in her mind. Her mind was still holding onto that one thing the American had said. Siblings shouldn't treat each other like that! As she strolled down the hall away from the meeting room, the sun setting from out the stained glass windows, she reflected on her life's work. She really was dedicated to marrying her brother. She had done absurd things for his approval. And now thinking about....it was plain ridiculous.

Suddenly, she saw someone flash past her, messy papers gripped in his hands, blonde hair flying everywhere. She saw the flash of a pair of firework blue eyes for just a moment, then they disappeared. She watched as America grew smaller and smaller, eventually disappearing behind the exit. Of course he was in a rush. Russia was hunting him down for defending her.

Without warning, a new thought popped in her head.

What if.....Russia had never deserved her love?

He was always so cold and cruel towards her, not showing the brotherly love that she'd seen between Alfred and his brother. So...why had she tried so hard?

Why did she want to marry Russia?

That was obvious to her. He cared about her and was gentle and was kind.....

No he wasn't. He told her he hated her, he tried to hurt her, and called her a monster....

Belarus stopped walking, and stared out the window. Why....had she wasted her time? After all those years, he never loved her like she thought. And now, here she was, finally realizing the truth. She turned her hands into fists, and desperately swallowed the thought. Why was he so cruel? She just showed him her undying love. Why couldn't he at least be nicer?

Why couldn't he be more friendlier like America?

America......

America....was different than brother. He was friendly and seemed open to everyone. But why? She had always seen at least one person insult the American. So why was he always so friendly to everyone? Why was he nice to her? He had said it himself. He didn't want her to hurt herself over brother.

Did that mean.....he cared? Her fists disappeared, and she dropped to her knees. America cared? Russia never cared...but he did. America had tended to her wound, tried to cheer her up, and protected her. Those...those were all the things she had hoped from Russia. And she would have never guessed America would have all those things.

She froze.

What if.....she could love him instead?

That was absurd to think about. He was the enemy, and Brother would be furious.

But...she didn't care what he thought anymore. Brother hated her. He had said it himself, so why should she keep trying to satisfy him?

America was sweet, and caring. She suddenly realized how.....handsome he was too. She never had even thought about what a struttingly handsome gentleman he was until now.

He was adorable with his little ideas and was so loyal to the ones he cared about, like Canada.

He suddenly....seemed so perfect. While Russia was so cold, and ran from her, Alfred always smiled, and wasn't afraid to touch her.

And he cared.

He saved her from pain, and even hurt himself in an attempt to make her feel better. That was something Belarus had always wanted. All she wanted was someone to love...and someone to love her back.

And America cared. Why hadn't she noticed this before? She would have never guessed that one simple incident would shift her thoughts like this.

He cared about her, and he could protect her. He was strong, with bulging muscles pulsing with super strength. He wouldn't let anyone hurt her. But she would also protect him. No one would hurt him or push him down. Not even Ivan.

And no one else would have him either. She wanted him all to herself. She wanted, no, she needed him. She needed his kind voice, and those gentle eyes. She wanted to satisfy him and make sure that he knew that she loved him and cared.

A small and crooked smile creeped up the girl's cherry blossom lips, and she let out a small giggle.

In her mind, her target was switching, like an old projector. The ancient and rusted projector, old and faded from never changing its picture, slowly switched slides, from the cold hearted Russian, and landing on the American with a click.

Belarus slowly rose, the sun behind her casting a long and crooked shadow of the girl.

She was going to marry the American, and no one would take him away from her. Never.