[Fan Fiction] In Remembrance I Relive [6/?]
Title: In Remembrance I Relive
Author/Artist: Sami-Fire (Me!)
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Prussia, Germany (not in this chapter), Russia (Finally!)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Clusters of foul language and allusions to rape (A little bit here and a bit stronger than before, but just wait till next chapter...). Also, AAAAAAAAAAANNNNNGGGGSSSSTTT, mental breakdowns, and some odd concepts.
Summary: Prussia's past comes back to haunt him in an almost literal sense, causing him to take stock of his current life. He doesn't like what he sees.
"Gilbert, perhaps you should listen to some things I have to say before we go any further with anything." Ivan sits on his bed, eyes completely fixed on Gilbert, even moving his head to follow him when he wanders from side to side of the room, unable to sit still for even a moment. "Why don't you sit down?"
"If it'll make you feel better when you shoot me or rape me or whatever the hell it is you want to do, fine. What've you got to tell me?" Gilbert sits down in a chair loud enough to make a decent-sized thud when he lands.
Ivan just continues to look at Gilbert. "Would you like some vodka? You look like you could use a drink."
Gilbert keeps his answers as brief and blunt as possible. "Like hell I would. That stuff is disgusting. Now cut the bullshit and tell me what you wanted to say. And make it quick.”
"To each his own," Ivan says with a shrug. "I suppose it's too late for me to be drinking, anyway. Or too early. I'm not even sure what time it is."
"I said, CUT THE BULLSHIT!" Gilbert stands up in his impatient fury.
"Please sit down, Gilbert. Or do I have to tie you there?" Ivan sounds calm as always, despite the little threat.
"Whatever makes it easier to do your job," the indignant Prussian grunts, not actually following the request.
Ivan sighs and rubs his forehead. "Please, just... sit down." Gilbert does so, muttering to himself and fuming. "I need to tell you this, Gilbert: times have changed. I'm not like that anymore. I don't want to kill you. I don't even think my old self could kill you, even with all that I did." He closes his eyes at the mention of his old self, as if thinking back on his actions. "I know I can't undo everything I've done. All I can do is apologize for what I've done and try to make things better for those I've hurt, like you."
Gilbert stares at Ivan in complete and utter disbelief. "What? What are you talking about? What the hell do you mean you can't kill me?!” He pops out of his chair again, brimming with rage. “You were more than willing to bring me as close to death as possible back then, so why won't you do it now?!"
"Did you listen to a word I said?" Ivan is the one doing the staring in disbelief now, letting his irritation slip into his voice. "Time has passed, Gilbert! It's not 1990 or the 1960s or the 1940s anymore! I'm not the same! I don't want to kill you!" The last outburst of emotion is more out of frustration than anything else.
"Damn right, time has passed!" Gilbert lunges toward Ivan, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him close, getting in his face. "And it's left me behind with NOTHING! You showed me that yourself! I barely had anything when I was with you, and believe it or not, I have even LESS now!”
The Russian opens his mouth to speak, but Gilbert just rambles right over him. “I don't even have a country or people or any semblance of power anymore, and YOU were one of the people who helped to take all that away from me!” He's getting so worked up that tears are starting to well up in his eyes. “I don't want to sit around in my brother's basement anymore, wasting away! That's just existing, not actually living! I don't actually do anything! FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED!" He shakes Ivan to punctuate each word.
Ivan shoves him back with one huge hand and a bit more force than he intended. "Please sit down," he repeats once more, his voice lowering ominously as he struggles to keep control of the situation. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. I can't do that for you. I can't think of anyone else who would, either." He quiets down for a moment, thinking. "Tell me, Gilbert. How did you get here so quickly? We nations have our own special way of getting from place to place. You used that, didn't you?"
Gilbert nods slowly, not dropping his glare. Ivan continues his speech, completely unfazed. "Well, doesn't that prove something to you? Only those like us can do that. Isn't that compelling enough evidence that you're still a nation, somewhere?" No response, but it’s not as if he really waited long enough for one. "I think you have more than you realize. In fact, I highly doubt that you have nothing. You have a home and a brother who must be worried sick about you, and perhaps even more than that. Of course, I wouldn't expect that to be enough for you."
"Are you trying to talk me out of this?" Gilbert can feel his resolve wavering and that voice speaking up inside of him, quiet but distinct: I want to live.
"I suppose you could say that. I think you're being a little over-emotional, you know? Perhaps you ought to rest and wait till your mind is clear.” Ivan yawns at the mention of rest; he’s been awake too early for too long. “Maybe then you'll know whether you really want to go through with this."
"And what if I still do?" There isn’t even a question in Gilbert’s voice. The “And what if” sounds largely rhetorical, a disguise for the firm “I still do.”
Ivan sighs again and shakes his head. "I can't do that, Gilbert. You ought to stop asking." An edge reminiscent of his old methods of intimidation slips into his voice. That is not a suggestion; it's an order. “Are you so dead set on your path that you’ve forgotten how ‘special’ Nations are when it comes to death? Even if I did kill you, you’d just heal up and come back, since you’re tied to a healthy country. You, of all people, should know that.”
Gilbert growls, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. "Shut up! I don’t have a country anymore!” All that gets him is an exasperated sigh from Ivan. “So what am I supposed to do? Go back to my basement and rot there till the end of time while the world passes me by? I don't want that kind of life! That doesn't even count as a life!"
"Maybe you do have things to do and you just refuse to see them," Ivan suggests. He cuts off Gilbert before he can go into another tangent. "But you do have a point. Perhaps you shouldn't go home tonight. I think you're a little too unhinged right now to be on the streets."
"Look who's calling who unhinged," Gilbert quips, a smirk showing up for the duration of the sentence before disappearing.
The irony is not lost on Ivan one bit, a rueful smile twitching at his lips. "It makes me so sad to see you like this, Gilbert. What happened to that determination you used to have, that insistence that nothing could break you?” He waits for an answer and gets nothing but a stare from the Prussian. “It seems that, at last, something has broken you, and I feel quite sorry about it."
Gilbert's tears betray him, and he wipes those filthy traitors off his face before they can get too far. "I had that determination when there was something to hold onto, even if it wasn't all that much. Anything I had then is gone now. I don't want to just lie around in that basement with nothing to do or no one who needs me.” His sorrow shakes in his voice despite all attempts to keep it steady. “So, please... just finish what you started. It's what I want. I'll be free, then..." He drifts off, drowning in a mournful haze of his own making.
The Russian replies with a quiet but clearly frustrated, "No, Gilbert. Just... no." Ivan is the one who stands up and grabs Gilbert's shoulders this time, trying to be gentle with his grip. "I think it would be a good idea for you to stay here tonight. I have plenty of guest rooms, so you can pick which one you want. A good night's sleep works wonders, wouldn’t you say?" He's using that old trick of suggestions-as-commands again. It is still quite effective, even after all this time.
"You want me to WHAT?" Gilbert swallows hard, trying to suppress a case of the shakes. "You want me to stay here?"
"Da. Yes. There are no strings attached whatsoever. It's just a service to an old friend who has fallen on hard times." Ivan pats Gilbert's head, causing the latter to wince and try to pull away, trapped by the other hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps I'll take you to a room right now. We could both use some sleep." He takes Gilbert's hand and leads him along, keeping a firm grip as the smaller man tries to pull out of it. When they reach the guest room, Ivan pushes Gilbert in with a light nudge. "Please sleep well, Gilbert. Rest your mind." He shuts the door before Gilbert can try to run out.
Author/Artist: Sami-Fire (Me!)
Character(s) or Pairing(s): Prussia, Germany (not in this chapter), Russia (Finally!)
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: Clusters of foul language and allusions to rape (A little bit here and a bit stronger than before, but just wait till next chapter...). Also, AAAAAAAAAAANNNNNGGGGSSSSTTT, mental breakdowns, and some odd concepts.
Summary: Prussia's past comes back to haunt him in an almost literal sense, causing him to take stock of his current life. He doesn't like what he sees.
"Gilbert, perhaps you should listen to some things I have to say before we go any further with anything." Ivan sits on his bed, eyes completely fixed on Gilbert, even moving his head to follow him when he wanders from side to side of the room, unable to sit still for even a moment. "Why don't you sit down?"
"If it'll make you feel better when you shoot me or rape me or whatever the hell it is you want to do, fine. What've you got to tell me?" Gilbert sits down in a chair loud enough to make a decent-sized thud when he lands.
Ivan just continues to look at Gilbert. "Would you like some vodka? You look like you could use a drink."
Gilbert keeps his answers as brief and blunt as possible. "Like hell I would. That stuff is disgusting. Now cut the bullshit and tell me what you wanted to say. And make it quick.”
"To each his own," Ivan says with a shrug. "I suppose it's too late for me to be drinking, anyway. Or too early. I'm not even sure what time it is."
"I said, CUT THE BULLSHIT!" Gilbert stands up in his impatient fury.
"Please sit down, Gilbert. Or do I have to tie you there?" Ivan sounds calm as always, despite the little threat.
"Whatever makes it easier to do your job," the indignant Prussian grunts, not actually following the request.
Ivan sighs and rubs his forehead. "Please, just... sit down." Gilbert does so, muttering to himself and fuming. "I need to tell you this, Gilbert: times have changed. I'm not like that anymore. I don't want to kill you. I don't even think my old self could kill you, even with all that I did." He closes his eyes at the mention of his old self, as if thinking back on his actions. "I know I can't undo everything I've done. All I can do is apologize for what I've done and try to make things better for those I've hurt, like you."
Gilbert stares at Ivan in complete and utter disbelief. "What? What are you talking about? What the hell do you mean you can't kill me?!” He pops out of his chair again, brimming with rage. “You were more than willing to bring me as close to death as possible back then, so why won't you do it now?!"
"Did you listen to a word I said?" Ivan is the one doing the staring in disbelief now, letting his irritation slip into his voice. "Time has passed, Gilbert! It's not 1990 or the 1960s or the 1940s anymore! I'm not the same! I don't want to kill you!" The last outburst of emotion is more out of frustration than anything else.
"Damn right, time has passed!" Gilbert lunges toward Ivan, grabbing him by the shoulders and pulling him close, getting in his face. "And it's left me behind with NOTHING! You showed me that yourself! I barely had anything when I was with you, and believe it or not, I have even LESS now!”
The Russian opens his mouth to speak, but Gilbert just rambles right over him. “I don't even have a country or people or any semblance of power anymore, and YOU were one of the people who helped to take all that away from me!” He's getting so worked up that tears are starting to well up in his eyes. “I don't want to sit around in my brother's basement anymore, wasting away! That's just existing, not actually living! I don't actually do anything! FINISH WHAT YOU STARTED!" He shakes Ivan to punctuate each word.
Ivan shoves him back with one huge hand and a bit more force than he intended. "Please sit down," he repeats once more, his voice lowering ominously as he struggles to keep control of the situation. "I'm sorry, Gilbert. I can't do that for you. I can't think of anyone else who would, either." He quiets down for a moment, thinking. "Tell me, Gilbert. How did you get here so quickly? We nations have our own special way of getting from place to place. You used that, didn't you?"
Gilbert nods slowly, not dropping his glare. Ivan continues his speech, completely unfazed. "Well, doesn't that prove something to you? Only those like us can do that. Isn't that compelling enough evidence that you're still a nation, somewhere?" No response, but it’s not as if he really waited long enough for one. "I think you have more than you realize. In fact, I highly doubt that you have nothing. You have a home and a brother who must be worried sick about you, and perhaps even more than that. Of course, I wouldn't expect that to be enough for you."
"Are you trying to talk me out of this?" Gilbert can feel his resolve wavering and that voice speaking up inside of him, quiet but distinct: I want to live.
"I suppose you could say that. I think you're being a little over-emotional, you know? Perhaps you ought to rest and wait till your mind is clear.” Ivan yawns at the mention of rest; he’s been awake too early for too long. “Maybe then you'll know whether you really want to go through with this."
"And what if I still do?" There isn’t even a question in Gilbert’s voice. The “And what if” sounds largely rhetorical, a disguise for the firm “I still do.”
Ivan sighs again and shakes his head. "I can't do that, Gilbert. You ought to stop asking." An edge reminiscent of his old methods of intimidation slips into his voice. That is not a suggestion; it's an order. “Are you so dead set on your path that you’ve forgotten how ‘special’ Nations are when it comes to death? Even if I did kill you, you’d just heal up and come back, since you’re tied to a healthy country. You, of all people, should know that.”
Gilbert growls, getting more and more frustrated by the minute. "Shut up! I don’t have a country anymore!” All that gets him is an exasperated sigh from Ivan. “So what am I supposed to do? Go back to my basement and rot there till the end of time while the world passes me by? I don't want that kind of life! That doesn't even count as a life!"
"Maybe you do have things to do and you just refuse to see them," Ivan suggests. He cuts off Gilbert before he can go into another tangent. "But you do have a point. Perhaps you shouldn't go home tonight. I think you're a little too unhinged right now to be on the streets."
"Look who's calling who unhinged," Gilbert quips, a smirk showing up for the duration of the sentence before disappearing.
The irony is not lost on Ivan one bit, a rueful smile twitching at his lips. "It makes me so sad to see you like this, Gilbert. What happened to that determination you used to have, that insistence that nothing could break you?” He waits for an answer and gets nothing but a stare from the Prussian. “It seems that, at last, something has broken you, and I feel quite sorry about it."
Gilbert's tears betray him, and he wipes those filthy traitors off his face before they can get too far. "I had that determination when there was something to hold onto, even if it wasn't all that much. Anything I had then is gone now. I don't want to just lie around in that basement with nothing to do or no one who needs me.” His sorrow shakes in his voice despite all attempts to keep it steady. “So, please... just finish what you started. It's what I want. I'll be free, then..." He drifts off, drowning in a mournful haze of his own making.
The Russian replies with a quiet but clearly frustrated, "No, Gilbert. Just... no." Ivan is the one who stands up and grabs Gilbert's shoulders this time, trying to be gentle with his grip. "I think it would be a good idea for you to stay here tonight. I have plenty of guest rooms, so you can pick which one you want. A good night's sleep works wonders, wouldn’t you say?" He's using that old trick of suggestions-as-commands again. It is still quite effective, even after all this time.
"You want me to WHAT?" Gilbert swallows hard, trying to suppress a case of the shakes. "You want me to stay here?"
"Da. Yes. There are no strings attached whatsoever. It's just a service to an old friend who has fallen on hard times." Ivan pats Gilbert's head, causing the latter to wince and try to pull away, trapped by the other hand on his shoulder. "Perhaps I'll take you to a room right now. We could both use some sleep." He takes Gilbert's hand and leads him along, keeping a firm grip as the smaller man tries to pull out of it. When they reach the guest room, Ivan pushes Gilbert in with a light nudge. "Please sleep well, Gilbert. Rest your mind." He shuts the door before Gilbert can try to run out.