Book 4 - Spring

XXX - Bitter Wine

'What do I do now?'

Russia looks around the room, noting dust on the windowsill and the mess of blankets at the foot of the bed. The air smells a little stale, and an imprint of a bird is stamped on the window from some poor animal's mistake in its path.

"Well?" America starts, "What are you doing in here?"

'Ukraine dropped me in here.'

"I wanted to explain," Russia starts.

"What? Explain why you didn't tell me anything?" America laughs and pulls at strands of his hair. "It's not like that's new."

"Meri..."

Russia reaches out his hand, aiming for America's shoulder. America swats it away, not meeting his eyes.

"What?" America snaps, "what are you going to hide from me now?"

"America. Stop yelling at me. I-"

"No!" America cuts in, his head jerking up to stare into Russia's eyes, "I'm mad! I- How did I not know? Why was I not told? And you knew about Dixie?"

"America!"

"What?" America shrieks.

"You aren't listening to me," Russia pleads, "please stop yelling at me."

"Why?"

"Because this isn't my fault!" Russia shouts.

America stares back at him and shards of laughter fall from his mouth.

"What? That you didn't tell me anything?"

"I was not the only one keeping secrets!" Russia blurts out.

'Shit. That is not what I meant.'

Russia's shoulders hunch and he pulls away slightly. America stares him down, no change in his expression. Russia's chest tightens.

"So you are keeping secrets!"

"No! I- No, I'm not. I wasn't."

America growls and leans forward.

"What didn't you tell me then?"

'What?'

"I..."

"Right. You won't tell me now, will you?"

'Is this about Dixie?'

Russia tries not to lose himself in the memories of the bitter wine he shared with Dixie. Russia shakes his head.

"It's not my place to."

America scoffs.

"What can you tell me?" America hisses.

"I did know that Dixie was having... issues. But I didn't know about this."

'He wanted me to replace him,' Russia recalls, a pit in his chest opening.

'He wanted me to replace him. He thought he wasn't worth the effort. He thought he deserved it.'

Russia swallows the lump in his throat.

"Right. How specific," America says sarcastically.

"Okay," Russia bites, "how is all of this my fault?"

"You knew!"

"Did I know all of this? All of it? How?"

"I..."

Russia straightens up, rolling his shoulders back. He meets America's stare with a steady, determined look.

"You keep yelling at me like I am at fault. I wasn't sure about his healing factor, but he could have told you. I didn't know he was hiding injuries," Russia says calmly.

"Then why did you tell me he just didn't want me to know?"

"I was talking about something else."

"What were you talking about?" America pushes.

'Do I tell him? He said I could tell him.'

"He was telling me how he felt like he didn't belong."

"And?"

Russia shakes his head.

"You'll have to ask him. I don't feel like I can say anything else."

America snarls.

"Right."

"America."

"What?"

"This isn't my fault."

"I know!"

"Then why are you yelling at me?" Russia asks, biting back irritation.

America's poisonous stare melts and he curls up on himself. The anger that burns Russia's chest cools. Russia sighs and places a hand on America's back. He notes the shaking in America's shoulders with a pang in his chest.

"Stars?"

"What?" America replies, his voice cracking, "what do I do now? Do none of them trust me? Do none of my kids trust me? None of my family?"

Russia falls quiet.

"Do you trust me?" America asks, meeting Russia's eyes.

"Yes," Russia answers immediately.

"Why wouldn't they?"

"I don't know, Stars," Russia mumbles, pulling America closer to him, "But I don't think that is the only thing going on."

"What do you mean?" America asks, curling up into Russia's lap.

"Some of them said they thought you knew," Russia recalls, "and Dixie knew you would stop it if you knew."

"And he didn't think he deserved it to stop," America finished.

Russia nods sadly.

"I don't- I thought- I..." America trails off into sobs.

Russia sits still, ignoring the burning in his legs. America grabs his shirt and sobs, his whole frame shaking violently.

'Oh Meri...'

Russia pulls America up to his chest, and America grabs him tightly. Russia rocks slightly, cradling America's head.

"It's going to be okay."

Russia runs his hand through America's hair, humming softly until America's shaking stills.

"I... I don't know what to do," America admits, "What now?"

"First, we need to calm down."

America laughs for a moment.

"And then what?"

"Convince Dixie that he isn't worthless."

America sighs, pushing himself up and off of Russia.

"Could you help me with something?"

"What?"

"Could you do that," America gestures with one hand, "that magic thing?"

Russia nods, reaching for the valve in his chest. He opens his eyes and the world fades as flickering light blue flits under him. Russia glances out the window and funnels some of the strands into his hands. His eyes feel bright, and he feeds America's light with the strands.

Once America's light steadies, his hand is grabbed.

Russia blinks, and the magic fades.

"Thanks," America says, rubbing his face, "but I'm too tired to do the healing thing right now."

Russia nods.

"Should we go downstairs?" America asks.

"Yes. I can ask Ukraine."

"Is he still here?"

"He's probably waiting outside."

"I heard my name?" Ukraine asks, opening the door.

"Could you help us back down to the couch?"

"Okay."