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English
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Part 4 of After Everything
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Published:
2023-11-11
Completed:
2023-11-12
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4,201
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2/2
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Interlude 2: When the World Went Broken

Summary:

An interlude that's less of a backstory and more 'OMG sussss'

Prepare for confusion. Like, a lot of confusion.

(CH AU)

Notes:

DISCLAIMER: This is the fourth (already???) story in a series. Read the story(s) before to avoid confusion, awkwardness, and above all: sPoiLErs!!! :OOO

Chapter 1

Notes:

Please ignore this atrociously short chapter, rlly need a quick short break thing from longer writing to get everything else sorted out-

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

China looked up, just in time to see Soviet pausing besides Russia's dresser, staring down at a small object.

He carefully approached him, peering from besides him-

It was a small book.

No, not a book- at least not in the traditional sense.

It was a diary.

Russia's diary.

And China found Soviet looking back at him, eyes cautious and questioning.

"Should we read it?"

And normally, reading someone else's diary is a big no-no.

But...

"I don't think there's ever going to be a good time, but- this is probably the best." China sighed, sitting down besides Soviet on the bed-

Russia's bed.

He leaned forward, watching as Soviet cautiously held the leatherback book- as if it could crumble away at any moment- and opened it up to the first page.

Notes:

so idk at the beginning i thought all interludes would connect to the file-thing but then the third interlude... happened and i was like wtf but then i was like 'omg what if those memories/moments are from the files' and then i was writing this and originally china and sovi were supposed to be gathering info for a file on rus and ame but then i was like aujhdqwduewudhuefygyufguergfue and didnt include that but srsly oh well i dont rlly care

And that, my friends, is a quote from someone who's written so much in such a short span of time, that their brain has failed to function.

Let me be the sacrifice. Learn from my mistakes.

Tale your goddamn time when writing things.

And please forgive me for how short this chapter was, I need some time to heal

Chapter 2

Notes:

and i'm back in business :D

enjoy this sus-ness

and bc of the length of this, im taking an extra day off from posting, so y'all can split reading it over a few days or hover around this page menacingly-

(See the end of the chapter for more notes.)

Chapter Text

At once, America slammed his hands down on the desk, the woman's eyes widening.

"HELLO THERE!" he screeched "IS THIS WHERE WE PURCHASE CHILDREN????"

Russia quietly face palmed in a corner.

"N-no sir-" the woman choked out "We- we don't sell children-"

"I THOUGHT THIS WAS WHERE WE COULD ACQUIRE A HUMAN CHI-"

Russia shoved him away "What the idiot meant was- we're interested in adopting a child."

The woman relaxed noteably, still sending a concerned look America's way-

He looked pleased with himself for causing such chaos.

"Uh... that's fine, we can go to another room and talk about it- But to start off, do you have any preferences?" the woman asked carefully.

Russia nodded and opened his mouth, but America beat him to it.

"A young child! Not, like, a moody teenager, because we've already dealt with enough melodrama, and also, you spend less money on little kids I think-"

Russia kicked him, before looking up with a surprisingly calm expression "We'd like a daughter."

The woman smiled, already having someone in mind-

.

.

.

Dear Mother,

I decided to start this diary since recent events have begun unfolding. And I've decided to write this to you, whether you can hear me/read my writing or not. It comforts me, in a way.

Me and America decided to adopt a daughter. After a crazy show he put on, like usual, drawing everyone's attention and making himself look like an actual lunatic, I managed to calm everything down. Then, we met the children. They were all so sweet- and they all wanted, and deserved a home, but- I would be lying if I said that one didn't immediately catch our eye.

Her name is Alaska. She has huge, violet eyes, and a soft-spoken voice. She needs love, and comfort, and I think that even though she seems quiet, she would enjoy all the beautiful chaos America can cause. I think Canada and Ukraine would have fun babysitting her, and that France would love her at first sight.

As for Dad.. we decided to tell him. He was more quiet than I expected, almost contemplating the idea. But after we showed him a photo of Alaska... he asked us to take DNA tests. I can't understand why. He kept talking about her eyes, and insisting on a DNA test. So a DNA test, we shall do! I don't know why, but thankfully, the poor lady at the adoption center seemed understanding enough.

We're patiently awaiting the results, and- in the mean time- visiting Alaska as often as she can. She's warmed up to us so much, even though she's always quiet, I can tell she feels comfortable around us. Even America. The idea of having a child... raising a child... it's so, so much.

But raising Alaska? I only wish you were here to meet her.

With all my love,

Russia

.

.

.

"No, no, pigs aren't bad animals! Everyone just hates them! For no reason!" America protested as Alaska shot him a surprisingly incredulous look, glancing up from her 'Animal Noises' picture book.

"They're FAT. And SMELLY." she insisted, shaking her head.

America made a pouty face "But they say Oink Oink! That's like, the coolest animal noise ever! Oink Oink!"

"Nooo! The best noise is-" Alaska inhaled deeply "mmooooOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!"

America drew back, giggling "you COW-!"

"Pig!"

"OINK OINK!"

"MOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!"

Russia watched from a distance, a hint of a smile on his face. Alaska being quiet had been a temporary façade.

As it turned out, she was one of those 'introvert until around friends' people, who were quiet and shy and scared- but around people they knew? Alaska was the most perfect, gleeful little gremlin they never knew they needed.

But now they knew, and Russia couldn't wait for-

His phone buzzed.

He glanced at America and Alaska- now moving on to dogs and cats- before checking his notifications.

A message from the lab.

The DNA results had come in.

.

.

.

Dear Mother,

I'm beyond shocked. Dad's knowledge scares me sometimes.

As it turns out... Alaska is.. related? To me?

I'm having trouble processing this, but it turns out that my grandfather- the Russian Empire, had children besides Soviet. And one of those children- there's a gap in the identified family tree so we don't know who- is Alaska's parent.

So. Uh. She's my cousin? When I told her that I was related to her, she looked confused, and then reminded me that I told her I could be her Dad.

I don't know what to do at this point. Dad seems oddly relaxed about this, almost relieved. Probably because he was right- and because we're not adopting an absolute stranger.

Maybe this is a good thing! And now there's definitely no way that we're leaving Alaska behind.

America is growing impatiently excited. He's decorated the entire apartment, and taken it apart, and decorated it again. We just have to break the final news to Alaska.

I'm mildly overwhelmed, but still excited.

Still wishing you were here to see,

Russia

.

.

.

It was raining by the time they reached their apartment, and Alaska was silent as she stared out the window, watching the water droplets slowly make their way, sliding down the now blurred barrier.

Russia was driving. He was mildly terrified, because he wasn't the best driver- especially not in rain, but he was trying to stay calm.

And America kept sending Alaska quick looks.

The mood was oddly solemn.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, Russia managing to park his car... somewhat straight, America reached for his umbrella.

They both walked out together, before turning to the backseat, and opening the door.

Alaska looked up with deep, violet eyes, as America held out his hand.

"It's time to come home." he said softly.

And Alaska paused-

Before smiling softly, taking his hand, and accepting the protection of the umbrella, all three people safe under a single cover as they made their way home.

.

.

.

Dear Mom,

Alaska is home! We wanted her to feel safe, give her room to adjust-

She has her own bedroom, which we decorated with things the people at the adoption center said she liked. Furniture and walls in various shades of blue, with small, brighter yellow objects scattered around. Glow in the dark stars on the ceiling. Boxes and containers that everything can fit into perfectly.

I can tell that she wants to fit in immediately, she's frustrated by her own hesitation, but I understand how big this jump is for her, I want her to understand that she can take all the time in the world.

We'll be waiting.

But I'm not sure we'll have to wait much longer.

Yesterday, when I went to wake her up, she called me Dad.

She called me Dad!!

America was so jealous, but I'm sure she'll adjust to him as well.

We haven't called over the rest of the family, since we need to give her space, but she's been growing more and more talkative, asking questions about Soviet and China and Britain and France-

Asking why we're both dads and one of us isn't a mom, accepting America's invitation for him to be Papa (he almost cried), asking why there are so many couches and why the sky keeps changing, and why there are so many windows, and why we always smile when she talks-

Alaska watched TV with us yesterday. It was just a documentary about polar bears, but she was captivated from the very start. She loved it.

I think she would like having more plush toys. And I'm sure America would be glad to go toy shopping with her. He'd probably be responsible for half the items in the cart-

I still can't stop smiling-

-Russia

.

.

.

Alaska fidgeted shyly, head bowed.

"My- my name is Alaska..." she said softly, clinging to Russia's leg "And- this is my Daddy, and- my Papa."

China smiled, lowering his head so he was almost right at her eye-level "Hello there Alaska. Welcome to the family."

It was all down-hill from there. In an 'easily sliding down the hill' way, not 'tumbling into uncontrollable oblivion'.

Though accepting the Axle Power's request to be present might have made just the right conditions for the latter-

France loved Alaska with an instant motherly instinct, constantly hovering around and giving her little hugs and always asking whether she needed anything-

Britain was more quiet and reserved, but his eyes still softened everytime Alaska looked his way.

China was excited, and eager, but barely managing to control himself, trying not to scare the child with his endless enthusiasm.

Soviet was quiet. But Alaska was instantly drawn to him, climbing up, onto his lap, looking him in the eyes, and just.. sitting there.

It was getting a bit weird, how long they sat there, staring at each other, with strange comfort and... almost.. familiarity.

But before long, France snatched her away, and Soviet smiled.

He SMILED.

And then, obviously, came the gifts.

Britain and France had bought Alaska a hoard of various clothes (Russia had a feeling that Britain had been absent from the shopping), and ribbons for her hair, and headbands, and pairs of dress shoes-

The end result was Alaska sitting on the floor, surrounded by piles of oddly fancy clothes, looking almost like a doll.

Then, Soviet and China, smiling brightly at each other, pulled out a single box, covered with dark blue wrapping paper and a shimmering yellow ribbon.

Alaska carefully approached it, eyes wide as she gently undid the ribbon, and carefully ripped through the paper, lifting the lid-

and gasping.

.

.

.

Dear Mother,

Today we brought Alaska to visit Soviet, China, Britain, and France.

And even though we insisted they shouldn't, they all still got Alaska gifts.

France and Britain- but certainly mainly France- bought Alaska a whole ton of clothing and accessories, which thankfully relieves the need for America to drag me clothes shopping.

But Soviet and China...

They gave her two stuffed bears that they called... Bushy Boo? And Fudge-y Wudge.

And apparently, Bushy Boo was mine? And I played with the Fudge one too? I remember them.. a bit.. mainly from photos that China- embarrassingly enough- shoved in everyone's face, but-

Bushy Boo? Did I name it that? Why would I name a stuffed polar bear Bushy Boo??

As annoying as it is, Alaska loves both bears- especially Bushy Boo- and won't let them leave her side.

I'm so happy, seeing her being.. well... a child.

It feels surreal sometimes, living in a home with America, and my daughter.

Our daughter.

We've been through so much... all the gang chaos, and the mess with Third Reich, and... everything-

It's all in the past now, and, the world feels...

peaceful. Normal. It's strange, in some ways. It feels beautiful and perfect, and yet..

When has life ever been perfect? When have I wanted life to feel perfect? It just.. doesn't feel right. And I don't know why. I should be happy that everything's calmed down, that I get to live a happy life with America, that all the chaos and pain and suffering is behind me.

But... I don't know how I feel.

I'm happy. But there's something else. Some strange feeling in between.

And I don't think I like it very much.

But still, the happiness is there, and so is the love.

So I'll keep living my beautiful life, with beautiful people that I love.

And I'll see where it takes me.

Wishing you could be here,

Russia

.

.

.

America grinned brightly "Yes! And you know what?"

"hm?" Russia asked absent mindedly, already drifting away in nervous thoughts about the 'giant party'

"You should wear a dress!"

And that quickly caught his attention-

"What????"

"It would be so cute! You'd look awesome in a dress!"

"I'm a man! I'm not going to wear a dress!" he protested.

"We could match! I could wear a beautiful, elegant suit-"

"I'm not wearing a dress!" Russia protested once again, Alaska poking her head into the living room to see what was amiss.

America smirked "Alright, fine then. How about we do rock-paper-scissors-shoot? If I win, then you have to wear the dress. If you win, then I'll be the one wearing a dress."

Russia raised an eyebrow "You're really willing to take that chance?"

"Without a doubt."

Russia shrugged "Alright then."

Alright-

.

.

.

Dear Mother,

The most ridiculous thing happened yesterday.

China and France planned another crazy family/ex-enemy/gangsters/everyone we know meet-up/party thing, and invited me, America, and Alaska. America insisted on me wearing a dress, for whatever reason, and we did rock paper scissors shoot. He was so confident, didn't even consider the possibility of losing! And guess what happened? He lost!

His dress- the one he grumpily agreed to wear- is shimmery, and deep blue, and sparkly, and matches Alaska's dark blue and white dress.

I went in a suit. Everyone was hysterical about it! I wish you'd seen him, stomping up to everyone, sunglasses resting on his forehead, pale blue eyes narrowed almost challengingly, as if daring someone to laugh- and they all did! Canada wouldn't stop cackling, and I'm just about certain he took multiple photos, just to tease America with later.

But soon enough, even America stopped being all grumpy, and we all relaxed and had fun. There were so many people, and I'm guilty to say that I haven't been in contact with a lot of them- Vietnam was very anxious to speak to me, and didn't seem to find America in a dress to be a laughable matter, just because he's always so sweet and respectful-

Alaska began wandering off to meet new people, and me and America let her. We decided that since the entire area was filled with ex-gangsters, and a komodo dragon, who all knew her and would protect her- there was almost no way that any harm could come to her. Besides, France was keeping a close eye on her.

She climbed onto Soviet's back for a piggy back ride, and then trailed after China for a bit, moved on to OSEAN-

Before finding the Axles of Evil. I don't know who invited them, or whether they were invited. From what France told me, Alaska was curious at first, before getting a bit intimidated by their... ah.. natural... scary-aura. Luckily, France swooped in and saved her. I don't know what would have happened if France hadn't stepped in. I don't know whether I should be alarmed by the Axles interacting with Alaska, it- it makes me feel a bit uneasy, even though I know it really shouldn't, even though-

...

I don't know. I really, really don't know. People are confusing sometimes- all of the time. And I just don't know.

And I'd like to say that's it. I just don't know.

But that's not it. There's more.

There's always more, and one day, I hope to find it.

Hoping you've already found it,

Russia

.

.

.

Russia woke up with a yawn, rolling around and turning his back to America, who was lightly snoring, before sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

Then, he paused, glancing around stupidly.

There was not light flooding in from the window.

There was not the obnoxious ringing of an unfeeling, uncaring alarm, practically begging to get slammed in the face.

He... just woke up.

He blinked again. He didn't feel tired.

So he glanced around again, feeling a growing sense of utter bewilderment, before noticing a gleam on the dresser.

He stood up, wincing a bit at how stiff his legs felt, before leaning down, over the dresser, eyes widening.

Because on the dresser, was a feather.

A bird feather.

Long, white, smooth, all the little feather-spine-things perfectly lined up.

So...

uh...

What the DUCK?

Okay.. he had to think about this.

Possibilities?

1) A bird flew into the room and dropped the feather.

But- wha- what???? He would have noticed a bird flying in- maybe that's why he'd woken up, but- the windows were closed! Where was it now?

Maybe Ame-

He glanced at America, who made a soft rumbling noise, before giggling and whispering something about the "Hamburger God".

Nope.

So.... what?

What other possibilities were there?

Russia slowly picked up the feather, a sudden feeling of... peace washing over him. He turned it around in his hands, admiring the sleekness, and slight gleam it sent his way, even in the dark.

Russia couldn't help but smile to himself, letting one finger trail along the surprisingly soft edge of the feather.

Why did he suddenly feel alive?

For whatever reason, he found himself glancing up- and feeling disappointed that there was a ceiling- as if there was supposed to be something up there, something he could have seen.

Giving himself a small shrug, he returned the feather back to the dresser, and settled on the bed again, pausing before fully tearing his eyes away from it, and turning back to America, who now looked deeply distressed, whimpering and insisting that he "hadn't sinned once" and that he "deserved McDonalds, not Wendy's". A few moments later, he began shaking, now pleading for mercy-

Russia sighed and wrapped one arm around him, tugging him a bit closer, and combing one hand through his hair.

America instantly relaxed, snuggling up closer, whispering something about an angel, before his fitful dream faded, and his tense body simply went limp, and enjoyed what little time for sleep was left in the remainder of the night.

For some reason, even as Russia moved closer to America, he felt a sudden frown crossing his face.

He glanced back at the feather.

It was still there.

He looked at America.

He was still there.

Then, he let out a sigh of relief and closed his eyes tightly, silently praying for sleep to come take him.

It did.

.

.

.

Dear Mother,

The strangest thing happened last night- I woke up in the middle of the night, only to find a feather on the dresser.

Some strange, white, glowy feather, and it gave me such... weird feelings.

I showed it to America in the morning, and he was confused, but couldn't be bothered to care that much.

I decided to give it to Alaska, and explained that it might have come from a nice bird who dropped it off as a gift for her- but she said no.

She smiled at me, looked me in the eyes, and told me that it was an angel feather. And that it was from my guardian angel.

I've never been so terrified about something that should have been so sweet.

She handed the feather back to me. I'm hiding it in the back of this diary. I don't know what to do with it. I don't know where it came from.

And, for once, I don't think I want to know.

I don't think I ever want to find out.

Blissful ignorance has never sounded better.

Sorry for ranting so much- though I suppose that's what a diary is?

We can't have a real conversation- but I wish we could. I wish I was besides you, telling all this to you right now.

Hoping that one day we can have a real conversation-

Your son,

Russia.

.

.

.

Dear Russia,

I found your diary. And now I'm writing to you. I don't think you'll ever read this, and if I think this is somehow, magically, telepathically reaching you, then I'm probably insane.

Scratch that, I am insane.

Canada and Ukraine don't think it's a good idea for me to be around Alaska, they think I need to be alone.

But I don't want to be alone.

I can't be alone.

I hate it.

I hate it so much.

And I hate you, because this is all your fault, you morally right penguin. I could call you a thousand horrible names, and scream at you, and scribble, and rip these pages, but it will do nothing.

Because no matter what, I still love you. And now I'm crying. Hah. The things you do to me.,,

Alaska doesn't understand what's happening, but I do. I understand every bit of it.

And I hate you for it. But I still love you so much. And I want to be with you.

Why would you push me away like this? You're just like your Mom sometimes, you think you understand everyone, that you know what's best-

I bet you're real smug and happy right now, you think I wanted this?

Well you're wrong.

And I'm telling you that, right now.

And since you probably can't read this, I'm going to tell you again.

-America.

.

.

.

China inhaled sharply "A-America...?"

Soviet closed his eyes tightly "He's been writing here." he flipped through the remaining pages absentmindedly, pausing once he came to one with a feather bulging out, before snapping the diary shut "He's been calling for help this entire time, and nobody's bothered trying to hear him."

China gently placed a hand on his arm "It's alright... it's not your fault."

Soviet closed his eyes yet tighter "Well then who's is it? Who can I blame??"

"Sometimes you can't blame anyone. Things happen. Life happens. Or- or it stops happening- I...."

China paused.

Then, he looked at the diary "Are... are you going to keep reading?"

Soviet shook his head, looking deeply disturbed "No. I don't want this to continue. I don't want to see how it ends."

"Maybe, maybe it doesn't end. Just because it's not written, doesn't mean that it's over. Maybe it can go on and on forever, maybe we can-"

"China."

"We can be happy! We don't need a real ending, we can keep on living while we're still alive, we-"

"China, please stop-"

And China stopped.

He gave Soviet a questioning look.

But Soviet simply looked away.

The room fell to silence.

Because sometimes, there's nothing to fill it with.

The diary slipped from Soviet's hands, and he let it fall, not sparing it a single glance.

It flipped to a random page, and no one was there to read it.

,

,

,

Dear Russia,

Alaska came to visit. Ukraine thinks that I feel better.

And I do. I'm comforted by the fact, that you're finally coming back to me. Or I'm coming back to you. I can't tell which way it is anymore.

Why did you push me away like this??

I didn't stumble away, or take a step back.

I fucking fell and shattered into a million pieces.

I'm not like Third Reich, I'm not going to tape myself together into a spiky ball of hatred and slicing.

I'm not going to push the shards away and start anew.

I'm fucking broken.

Screw you.

I'm going to be screaming this in your face soon, and yelling at you, and wondering why you had to go and fucking do this, why you had to go ruin everything, you stupid hero-

I hate you so much.

I'm going to go make hot chocolate.

And I'm eating as many marshmallows as I want.

And there's nothing you can do about this.

I don't want what you did to be in vain.

But I can't really control that anymore, can I?

It's not fair, and- I can't believe I keep mentioning Third- but maybe he was right.

Maybe I need to kick Fate in the shins.

Or maybe I need to kick myself in the shins.

I'm really, really hoping to see you soon.

Alaska adores Canada and Ukraine.

And I can't wait to scream at you about how selfish you are, and then throw a freaking tantrum like the idiot I am, and then hug you.

I love you so much,
America

.

.

.

When Soviet finally, silently stood, and left the room- China following him- his foot pushed the diary, which opened to one of the last pages.

Nobody was there to read it.

But the writing was still there.

.

.

.

dear russia,

I'm sorry.

please don't hate me

i have to do this

i promise i love you

this is why im doing this

i really love you and care about you

im sorry

i know ur going to be mad

im sorry, im sorry, im so, so sorry

please forgive me

i dont care if you scream at me, and slap me in the face again, or won't talk to me for days or weeks or even years-

i love you

- america

Notes:

welll....

uh....

yey? :D

since this is longer, y'all get two days to wait until the next book comes out

can you guys survive on day without an update?

can I survive one day without posting...?

but oh well

this book was so sus omg

Series this work belongs to: