Cold Heart, Hero Eyes Ch. 8

"SHUT UP, ENGLAND!!!!" America shouted in the back, while doctors were trying to hold him back from getting out of that bed and punching him right in the face. But what Russia said made America stop struggling with the doctors.

"Wait...what do you mean...just like us?" America was confused. And he definitely didn't want Russia to leave and fight. Canada was still holding England back from beating Russia senseless, but he had also stopped struggling when Russia had said his last statement. Russia looked over at America.

"Yeah. You might not remember but I'm sure England does." Russia looked over at England.

"When there was another America helping England win the war because there were people still on his side." England looked away. Russia then looked at America.

"That means there's another person just like us helping the North Caucasus try to win...I have to kill him or they will have their country." He spoke and then looked at England as he walked over to America.

"I need to go get ready to fight." He spoke and took America's hand.

"I want you to do something for me. Focus on getting better and...Go home."

"A-a-another...me? What the hell?" America could hardly fathom the idea.

"So...this means...there's another you now?" America's eyes widened behind his glasses. As Russia took his hand, he said,

"I promise to get better. But I'm not going home yet. As soon as I can get out of this bed...I'm coming to help you." He had a defiant look in his eye as he said that. Russia shook his head then turned to England.

"Take him home." England rolled his eyes.

"Gladly, if it gets him away from a killer like you" Russia nodded and turned to America.

"I guess I'll see you at the next world conference." Russia faked his smile and walked out of the room. He couldn't kiss America or touch his hand. It would be way too painful to leave then. England looked at America.

"I better make arrangements to transfer you to London. You're going to stay with me till your better."

"Woah, woah, woah. Woah. Don't I get a say in any of this!? I am my own country after all; I can make decisions for myself." America was panicking; he didn't want to go home just yet.

"Not in the state you're in you're not. You are coming with me until you are well enough to go home. And that is final." England stated.

"He's right Al, you just need to go home." Canada tried to calm his brother, who was starting to look pretty upset.

"No. I'm not going with you Arthur. I am my own country now; I'm not your little American colony anymore. I make decisions for myself. I know what I'm doing here." America said defiantly.

"Don't go all 'I'll be the hero' on us now America; you are in no condition to be doing that. God, why do you always have to be such a stubborn git about things?" England sighed and shook his head.

"Canada and I are going to Russia's house to pick up your things with Lithuania. And as soon as the doctors say you are able to travel, we are taking you home. We shall see you later, get some rest." England looked at Canada and they both turned to leave. America hated feeling so helpless....


Russia shook his head as he walked out of the hospital. He hated leaving America but he couldn't take the chance of having him hurt again. Russia flagged down a taxi and went home. Once he arrived he found England and Canada at his home getting America's things. Russia looked at England.

"Getting America's things?" He asked.

Canada answered him, "Yeah, so England can transfer him to London to heal some more." England had his back turned to Russia; he was trying to stuff everything of America's back into his suitcase.

"You know, I don't believe you wanted America to die. That's just England; he's a bit protective when it comes to him sometimes. Don't worry; it will all be okay soon." Canada whispered to Russia, trying to make the country feel a bit better about everything. Russia then remembered England's comment. His anger flared.

"Look here England..." He spoke softly. He saw the blond turn around.

"I had no intention of hurting your brother. That was the farthest thing from my mind, and if I wanted America dead...He would still be in the snow outside my house dead. I wouldn't have brought him to the hospital." Russia walked toward England.

"And...I love Alfred." He spoke with sureness in his voice.

"You what?" England scoffed at Russia's statement.

"You couldn't possibly love him. You two still hate each other from the Cold War. You couldn't possibly..." England trailed off when he saw the expression on Russia's face. He definitely wasn't lying.

"Well, uh, I guess that would explain the way that America was acting back at the hospital. And...This," England admitted, holding up America's ripped T-shirt that he had found while grabbing his brother's luggage. Russia looked away.

"Tell him I'll buy him another shirt," He muttered then became serious.

"I want to ask you and Canada a favor..." He trailed and took a deep breath.

"Don't let America out of your sight...don't let him come here...he will be killed if he does come."

"I understand," England answered; all of a sudden he was the perfect gentleman. Now that the circumstances had changed.

"But Russia, you know America is not going to go for this right? As soon as he is back to normal he is going to come here and try to be the hero...that's just how my brother is. But...we'll try. Right, England?" Canada admitted, and then asked his brother who just nodded.

"Well, we had better be off. Goodbye, Russia." England said. Then turned to leave, then Canada did the same, giving Russia a bit of a wave before walking out with England.



Back at the hospital...America was trying to think of a plan...a plan where he could get out and help Russia.



Russia walked down the hall to his room and began to pack his army clothes. He had called Lithuania to grab his sniper and handgun and put them on his bed. He grabbed them and wrapped the rifle gun strap around his torso and hung it on his back. He heard a click behind him and his body froze.

"Well, hello Russia." Russia turned his head slightly.

"So you're the new country." Russia spoke coolly.

"Yes I'm North Caucasus, at least until they name me something different when we separate from you." Russia smiled. It was like looking in a mirror.

"So killing me...will make you have your own country?" He nodded. Russia dove and he began to shoot. Russia made a mad dash for the door, and he barely missed the bullet that grazed his coat.

"You are definitely a new country." Russia spoke.

"No sense of aim." That's when North Caucasus laughed.

"What's so special about that American? Don't you hate them? I should have killed America myself." Russia knew he was trying to play with his head. Unfortunately, it worked. Russia moved to shoot him but before he could even pull the trigger a bullet hit his chest sending him back into the wall. North Caucasus walked forward to Russia.

"Oh how the mighty Russia has fallen." He smirked and pulled a time bomb. He hit start and walked out of the house. He got out safely to see a car in the distance. He smirked when the house exploded, after he was a safe distance away and saw the car pull to a stop. He saw a brown haired man with his arm in a sling try to run to the house but was held back by a man with short blond hair.



"RUSSIA!" Lithuania was screaming, he wanted to run to his friend, but he was being held back by England. Even he had a horrified look on his face. Earlier today he had wanted Russia dead for trying to kill America, but after his confession, well he still didn't like him but he never wished this. Canada's mouth was agape with horror as he watched the majestic mansion go up in flame.
Lithuania broke out of England's grip. He ran to the mansion.

"Mr. Russia! Mr. Russia!" He yelled and ran into the ruined mansion. He began to search through the ruins. He couldn't find anything except...Russia's scarf that was burned. It could barely be considered a scarf now...

Lithuania's grasp on Russia's scorched scarf tightened as he fell to his knees. Sobbing in the ashes of the ruined mansion. Canada and England stayed back, they weren't that close to Russia, but they should let Lithuania have a moment to grieve.



Back at the hospital, America was flipping through the channels on the lame hospital TV, trying to find something to distract his mind. Then he came upon a news station, and they were showing some live footage of a mansion that had just exploded. America recognized it right away. The beeping on his heart monitor quickened.

"No..." he whispered, tears forming in his eyes.

"Russia..."



Lithuania, England, and Canada headed back to the hospital after being questioned by the police. England had to drive as Lithuania held the scarf in his hands. The car was silent through the entire car ride was silent. They got to the hospital and walked into America's room. The doctors were trying to keep him in his bed. England ran over to his brother.

"Alfred, calm down!" He yelled and America looked at him. Lithuania walked over to America and looked down.

"This was all I could find...I'm sure..." His voice caught in his throat.

"Mr. Russia would want you to have it." He whispered and handed America the scarf with his burned hands.

America looked down at the piece of scorched material in his hands, he couldn't even consider it Russia's scarf anymore, too much of it was missing. America lowered his head as he began to cry, he didn't even care how unheroic he was being right now.

He couldn't even save the one he loved; he didn't even deserve to be called a hero. Canada put a hand on his brother's back, trying to comfort him, but America just shook him off. He didn't want to be comforted right now. He wanted to grieve.

Lithuania looked down. England even couldn't take America's pained cries. He walked out of the room and took a breath. He looked up to the TV to terrorists celebrating Russia's death. It made him sick. That's when his eyes widened.

"A-America!" He yelled and looked into the room. He grabbed the remote and turned it to the channel he was watching.

"Look!" He pointed to the screen to a man who looked exactly like Russia. Lithuania looked at it and his eyes widened. America slowed his crying just to say,

"Why?" Canada forced his brother to look up.

"Look! I think it's Russia!!" America's now bloodshot eyes widened at the image on the screen. A small flicker of hope lit in his chest.

"Russia...?" he whispered. The TV went to Russia and he smirked evilly.

"So, what about the Russians giving up and giving you your own country?" Asked the reporter.

"Well..." He spoke in a different accent. "I am a proud man to say that we are now North Caucasus" He smiled. Lithuania looked away. It wasn't him. He had a Middle Eastern accent. He saw America look down.



North Caucasus walked off the stage smiling. He saw his boss walk up to him.

"Good job on killing Russia." The new country nodded.

"Yes I know." He smiled and his boss turned around walking away. North Caucasus smiled as he walked outside into the cold.



America looked down; a fresh wound had just been ripped into his already broken heart. That wasn't Russia, that was "the other one"; North Caucasus. America began crying again. Canada went over to his brother and said,

"We'll leave you alone for a while. Let's go find England, Lithuania."

"Right." The Baltic country sounded much stronger than America did at that moment. When the other two had closed the door to his room, America muttered to himself,

"North Caucasus, as soon as I get out of this hospital bed...I am going to find you, and as soon as I do...I am going to kill you. I swear on my country." He said that last part, making a promise to Russia's lost soul. His grip on the piece of fabric that was Russia's scarf tightened.