Red Ascent: Sequel to Red Fall 17-19/?
It was getting colder, Alfred noted.
Though the snow had slowed to the occasional flurry of flakes, the temperature continued to drop as the afternoon progressed.
Heavy, warm breaths instantly turned to wet vapors as he exhaled, the whisps skittishly dissipating after only a few seconds of ephemeral life.
He sat on the back steps of the dilapidated tavern, the rotting boards moaning loudly under his weight. He could do nothing but wait for Toris to return, for he knew very well that he was not welcome inside.
Still crying, the American had broken his embrace with the Lithuanian, roughly wiping his own tears away. Once again sparing him a small smile, the brunette had brushed a stray drop away, cupping Alfred’s pale face with a calloused hand.
I forgive you, America.
Those words had meant everything, defining the blonde’s crumbling world and consciousness. They had provided him stability, a hand to pull him from the frozen darkness of the broken past. The pure fire once again began to burn, the flame feeble and small, but still there.
However, forgiveness was not free from everyone.
Glares infused with the frigidity of the Arctic’s most barren plains had accosted him, the gazes upon him violent and hateful. Countries had vibrated with anger, their faces marred by searing odium and disgust. Swallowing another strangled sob, Alfred had looked away, shifting behind Toris in shame and gnawing guilt.
We will never forgive you, the looks had spat viciously.
And I don’t deserve any, the blonde had acquiesced with his tear-streaked countenance.
“Toris; meeting-NOW,” a crimson-smeared Frenchman had hissed, his tone drawn tight and strained. Said brunette gave Alfred’s hand a tight, comforting squeeze;
I won’t leave you, it had promised.
Exhaling another puff of moist mist, the American blew on his numb hands; the discussion had been going on for more than an hour, and every cell and nerve in his body ached with icy stabs of pain.
Good, he thought.
Maybe it would freeze those-those compulsions that licked through his veins like black fire, the uncontrollable encoding that overrode all lucid thought or action.
“They say I’m stupid.”
The slightest inclination of his head was the only indication Alfred gave that he heard. He saw the tails of Toris’s heavy coat out of the corner of his eye, the scuffed and battered boots dull and cracked in the slowly ebbing light.
“That I can’t trust you and there’s no proof that you’ve changed; more evidence against it, in fact, given your little display,” the Lithuanian said, his thoughts in some distant place. The steps protested loudly as he sat, huddling close to the blonde for warmth.
“But they just can’t see it.”
A sole eye met the blonde’s azure ones as Toris set a bottle down on the wood, two glasses meeting the surface with a clink.
“Your eyes; they tell you a lot about a person; I see a spark there, just like I used to,” the brunette reminisced, his voice soft and warm with happy rememberings. A frown twitched at the corners of his lips, his expression marred as he quietly added, “Like I used to before him.”
Alfred remained silent, his frost-speckled cheeks sparkling in a dying ray of sun. He wanted to ask about what had happened, what had occurred in the now lost twenty years. He wanted to know what had happened to Toris’s eye and what-what had happened to-
Eng-
No; he couldn’t go there yet. Merely thinking of it riled the venom in his blood, tempting the empty, dead feelings to return.
He didn’t know if he would be able to stop it next time.
The American gripped his chest with a frozen hand, feeling the muted beating of his hearts beneath the slightly shaking fingers.
“I feel them.”
The brunette looked at him expectantly, knowing there was more to be said.
“They’re watching us, aren’t they?” Alfred said with a thin smile, one that possessed only a little mirth, “The other countries; I can feel them, just like I used to. Nothing major really, just a-a sensation, a feeling. Engl-I mean, um, someone used to tell me it was the only spiritual control I ever had. They want to make sure you don’t get hurt; I don’t blame them.” The blonde laughed acrimoniously, short and hard.
“The only one I can blame is myself.”
The wind whipped across the ground, catching playful flecks of white and throwing them into the air in gusty spurts. Silence dominated the atmosphere, pressing down hard on the frigid pair.
“Then you’ll make up for it; starting now.”
Alfred looked at the brunette in surprise, cerulean pools wide with shock.
“Join the Resistance,” Toris said, speaking more to the space in front of him than his companion, “With your knowledge, we’ll be able to destroy this rotten world from the inside; the ‘land of the free’ will once again be so.”
A familiar tune floated through the American’s ears, tears glazing his eyes as the music wrapped itself, layer upon layer, around his heart.
“But I can’t remember anything anymore,” Alfred barely whispered, the song still ringing in his mind.
“But you will,” the Lithuanian said, his voice strong and saturated with trust and hope, “I believe in you.”
There was only a brief moment of contemplation.
“Then let’s fight to win, eh, comrade?”
Toris laughed, the sound rich and vibrant; Alfred’s heart warmed at the tone.
“I’d been fine if I never heard that word ever again,” the brunette chuckled, leaning backwards on his arms, “but, ah, I have something to celebrate with.” He lifted the bottle, swishing the clear contents inside, “Only the best.” Pouring two cups, Toris presented one to the American, who took his glass with a grin. Taking a mouthful, the America began to cough and sputter.
“Jesus H. Christ, Toris, this stuff will take the top of your head off!” The Lithuanian only smiled wider, sipping calmly at his own drink.
“I like to think of it as ‘spirited.’ Besides, that’s the best it gets when it’s made in an old, peeling bathtub. Anyway, shall we have a toast?” Receiving a nod in assent, Toris raised his glass to the last flickering flames of the sunset.
“To a bright, peaceful future; may our eternal darkness and night be finally ended.” The words flowed across Alfred’s consciousness as he clinked glasses with his partner.
May our eternal darkness and night…
Eternal darkness and night…
Night…
Night…
The American barely felt the glass slip from his hand as the realization came upon him, the glass shattering garbled and muted in his ears.
Ivan.
Ivan was coming back-coming back by-
I will be back by nightfall.
“-fred,” some was shaking his shoulders, “What’s the matter? Answer me!”
“Ivan,” the blonde whispered, mumbling through numb lips as tremors coursed through his entire body, “he’ll be back-back by nightfall. He doesn’t know-know I’m gone; if he comes back and I’m not-”
His couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think; the Russian would come and find him, it didn’t matter where he was, he would be hunted down. But where he was right now…
Ivan would find the Resistance.
And everything would be ruined.
Shooting to his feet, Alfred frantically looked around, his eyes indiscriminately darting about.
“You’re in danger,” the blonde blurted feverishly, “I have to go-I n-need to get back; he can’t-can’t, can’t find you…”
As he began to sprint away, the brunette caught him by the wrist, his sole sight filled with fear and sorrow.
“Promise me,” he said, lowly, furiously, “you’ll come back; that you won’t forget.”
“I won’t forget,” the American barely breathed.
Toris leaned into him, his lips only just brushing Alfred’s forehead.
“I believe in you.”
And with that, the blonde ran into quickly darkening forest, the few remaining embers of light laughing at him as he went.
~~~
It was a blur from then.
All he knew to do was run, and that he did.
He couldn’t remember how he got back into the fort or how he avoided all the guards, but somehow he did. Blinking dazedly, he realized that he was staring at the door to his room, his breath coming in sharp, heavy pants and gasps. With trembling fingers, he managed to fumble knob until the door opened and he slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind him.
Nothing appeared to have changed.
The curtains and the body-shaped mass of pillows had remained unmoved, untouched, the new inklings of night twinkling through the slightly parted drapes. Letting a shaky sigh tumble from his still-numb lips, he began to tear at the knots on his boots.
He had made it.
Throwing the old clothes back into the bag in the armoire, a wave of sleepiness washed over him. He didn’t realize just how tiring the day had been.
Swaying over to the bed, he crawled under the sheets, his eyes heavy with thoughts of dreamless rest. Settling into the soft mattress, the American allowed his lashes to flutter before closing his weary eyes. He could almost feel the blankets wrapping around him, a warm and soft embrace that cradled him like a child, lulling him to sleep.
Squeeze.
“Mother is sure that the little patriot has a good reason for being late, da?”
Though the snow had slowed to the occasional flurry of flakes, the temperature continued to drop as the afternoon progressed.
Heavy, warm breaths instantly turned to wet vapors as he exhaled, the whisps skittishly dissipating after only a few seconds of ephemeral life.
He sat on the back steps of the dilapidated tavern, the rotting boards moaning loudly under his weight. He could do nothing but wait for Toris to return, for he knew very well that he was not welcome inside.
Still crying, the American had broken his embrace with the Lithuanian, roughly wiping his own tears away. Once again sparing him a small smile, the brunette had brushed a stray drop away, cupping Alfred’s pale face with a calloused hand.
I forgive you, America.
Those words had meant everything, defining the blonde’s crumbling world and consciousness. They had provided him stability, a hand to pull him from the frozen darkness of the broken past. The pure fire once again began to burn, the flame feeble and small, but still there.
However, forgiveness was not free from everyone.
Glares infused with the frigidity of the Arctic’s most barren plains had accosted him, the gazes upon him violent and hateful. Countries had vibrated with anger, their faces marred by searing odium and disgust. Swallowing another strangled sob, Alfred had looked away, shifting behind Toris in shame and gnawing guilt.
We will never forgive you, the looks had spat viciously.
And I don’t deserve any, the blonde had acquiesced with his tear-streaked countenance.
“Toris; meeting-NOW,” a crimson-smeared Frenchman had hissed, his tone drawn tight and strained. Said brunette gave Alfred’s hand a tight, comforting squeeze;
I won’t leave you, it had promised.
Exhaling another puff of moist mist, the American blew on his numb hands; the discussion had been going on for more than an hour, and every cell and nerve in his body ached with icy stabs of pain.
Good, he thought.
Maybe it would freeze those-those compulsions that licked through his veins like black fire, the uncontrollable encoding that overrode all lucid thought or action.
“They say I’m stupid.”
The slightest inclination of his head was the only indication Alfred gave that he heard. He saw the tails of Toris’s heavy coat out of the corner of his eye, the scuffed and battered boots dull and cracked in the slowly ebbing light.
“That I can’t trust you and there’s no proof that you’ve changed; more evidence against it, in fact, given your little display,” the Lithuanian said, his thoughts in some distant place. The steps protested loudly as he sat, huddling close to the blonde for warmth.
“But they just can’t see it.”
A sole eye met the blonde’s azure ones as Toris set a bottle down on the wood, two glasses meeting the surface with a clink.
“Your eyes; they tell you a lot about a person; I see a spark there, just like I used to,” the brunette reminisced, his voice soft and warm with happy rememberings. A frown twitched at the corners of his lips, his expression marred as he quietly added, “Like I used to before him.”
Alfred remained silent, his frost-speckled cheeks sparkling in a dying ray of sun. He wanted to ask about what had happened, what had occurred in the now lost twenty years. He wanted to know what had happened to Toris’s eye and what-what had happened to-
Eng-
No; he couldn’t go there yet. Merely thinking of it riled the venom in his blood, tempting the empty, dead feelings to return.
He didn’t know if he would be able to stop it next time.
The American gripped his chest with a frozen hand, feeling the muted beating of his hearts beneath the slightly shaking fingers.
“I feel them.”
The brunette looked at him expectantly, knowing there was more to be said.
“They’re watching us, aren’t they?” Alfred said with a thin smile, one that possessed only a little mirth, “The other countries; I can feel them, just like I used to. Nothing major really, just a-a sensation, a feeling. Engl-I mean, um, someone used to tell me it was the only spiritual control I ever had. They want to make sure you don’t get hurt; I don’t blame them.” The blonde laughed acrimoniously, short and hard.
“The only one I can blame is myself.”
The wind whipped across the ground, catching playful flecks of white and throwing them into the air in gusty spurts. Silence dominated the atmosphere, pressing down hard on the frigid pair.
“Then you’ll make up for it; starting now.”
Alfred looked at the brunette in surprise, cerulean pools wide with shock.
“Join the Resistance,” Toris said, speaking more to the space in front of him than his companion, “With your knowledge, we’ll be able to destroy this rotten world from the inside; the ‘land of the free’ will once again be so.”
A familiar tune floated through the American’s ears, tears glazing his eyes as the music wrapped itself, layer upon layer, around his heart.
“But I can’t remember anything anymore,” Alfred barely whispered, the song still ringing in his mind.
“But you will,” the Lithuanian said, his voice strong and saturated with trust and hope, “I believe in you.”
There was only a brief moment of contemplation.
“Then let’s fight to win, eh, comrade?”
Toris laughed, the sound rich and vibrant; Alfred’s heart warmed at the tone.
“I’d been fine if I never heard that word ever again,” the brunette chuckled, leaning backwards on his arms, “but, ah, I have something to celebrate with.” He lifted the bottle, swishing the clear contents inside, “Only the best.” Pouring two cups, Toris presented one to the American, who took his glass with a grin. Taking a mouthful, the America began to cough and sputter.
“Jesus H. Christ, Toris, this stuff will take the top of your head off!” The Lithuanian only smiled wider, sipping calmly at his own drink.
“I like to think of it as ‘spirited.’ Besides, that’s the best it gets when it’s made in an old, peeling bathtub. Anyway, shall we have a toast?” Receiving a nod in assent, Toris raised his glass to the last flickering flames of the sunset.
“To a bright, peaceful future; may our eternal darkness and night be finally ended.” The words flowed across Alfred’s consciousness as he clinked glasses with his partner.
May our eternal darkness and night…
Eternal darkness and night…
Night…
Night…
The American barely felt the glass slip from his hand as the realization came upon him, the glass shattering garbled and muted in his ears.
Ivan.
Ivan was coming back-coming back by-
I will be back by nightfall.
“-fred,” some was shaking his shoulders, “What’s the matter? Answer me!”
“Ivan,” the blonde whispered, mumbling through numb lips as tremors coursed through his entire body, “he’ll be back-back by nightfall. He doesn’t know-know I’m gone; if he comes back and I’m not-”
His couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think; the Russian would come and find him, it didn’t matter where he was, he would be hunted down. But where he was right now…
Ivan would find the Resistance.
And everything would be ruined.
Shooting to his feet, Alfred frantically looked around, his eyes indiscriminately darting about.
“You’re in danger,” the blonde blurted feverishly, “I have to go-I n-need to get back; he can’t-can’t, can’t find you…”
As he began to sprint away, the brunette caught him by the wrist, his sole sight filled with fear and sorrow.
“Promise me,” he said, lowly, furiously, “you’ll come back; that you won’t forget.”
“I won’t forget,” the American barely breathed.
Toris leaned into him, his lips only just brushing Alfred’s forehead.
“I believe in you.”
And with that, the blonde ran into quickly darkening forest, the few remaining embers of light laughing at him as he went.
~~~
It was a blur from then.
All he knew to do was run, and that he did.
He couldn’t remember how he got back into the fort or how he avoided all the guards, but somehow he did. Blinking dazedly, he realized that he was staring at the door to his room, his breath coming in sharp, heavy pants and gasps. With trembling fingers, he managed to fumble knob until the door opened and he slipped inside, shutting it quietly behind him.
Nothing appeared to have changed.
The curtains and the body-shaped mass of pillows had remained unmoved, untouched, the new inklings of night twinkling through the slightly parted drapes. Letting a shaky sigh tumble from his still-numb lips, he began to tear at the knots on his boots.
He had made it.
Throwing the old clothes back into the bag in the armoire, a wave of sleepiness washed over him. He didn’t realize just how tiring the day had been.
Swaying over to the bed, he crawled under the sheets, his eyes heavy with thoughts of dreamless rest. Settling into the soft mattress, the American allowed his lashes to flutter before closing his weary eyes. He could almost feel the blankets wrapping around him, a warm and soft embrace that cradled him like a child, lulling him to sleep.
Squeeze.
“Mother is sure that the little patriot has a good reason for being late, da?”