When Fear Takes Hold

Fresher Air

The silence is always there. The window never opens to let in any trace of the outside world, the coughing from the room next door has long since ceased, and even the nurses move like shadows around him, their footsteps never breaking him from his trance. The silence is his constant; the one thing that never changes. He has grown to like it, because never before has he been allowed so much time to his thoughts.

Ivan still can't walk. There is nowhere to go. Ivan can't bring himself to talk. There is nothing to say. Ivan can't bring himself to feel, not even the slightest bit of emotion. Even as his door creaks louder that all of the other times, and heavy, unfamiliar footfalls ring through the room, disturbing his beloved silence, Ivan does nothing.

Strawberry blond hair and sky blue eyes come into view. Alfred hadn't changed much, from the light freckles on his nose to the wooly, brown air force jacket draped over his shoulders.

"Damn, it's like a cave in here!" He strides over to the window and throws open the blinds. Ivan feels himself reflexively flinch away from the light. Alfred turns with a well practiced smile on his face. He holds Ivan's pipe in his hands and awkwardly sets it on his night stand.

"When did you take that?"

"Couple months before it all went down. I wanted to see how long it took you to notice and blame me. I kinda forgot about it though." Alfred scratches the back of his head. "How you holdin' up buddy?"

Ivan actually scoffs, "We are not buddies you capitalist pig." That almost sounded like Russia.

Alfred's face sours but he continues anyway, "Right. How long have you been in here?"

"Since they first brought people in."

"Have you even left your room?"

"No."

"Why?"

"Can't walk."

Something within Alfred changes; he almost seems to soften. "What about a wheel chair? Could someone take you around?"

"I suppose."

"No one has taken you?"

"I haven't even had any visitors, Alfred."

There was a moment of silence.

"Not even your sisters?"

"I told them to stay away. They are better off with their people, on their own land. We all are, being here isn't helping anyone."

Again there is a moment of silence before Alfred storms out of the room. Ivan thinks he has actually gone, but seconds later, the American strolls back into the room pushing a wheelchair.

"Where would you like to go?"

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There, Ivan thinks to himself, goes the last of my dignity. He very much disliked being pushed around by the American, and even more the amount of noise he made, disturbing the peace as his voice echoed through the halls. Alfred went on about general happenings both inside and out. The nurses payed no mind, but when they passed others, they would often be greeted with a wave or a chuckle.

Ivan looks down at his arm where he had unhooked himself from his IV and dimly wonders how long it would be until his fever spikes or for the pain to begin gnawing at him.

Swift footsteps approach them from behind, and they turn to find Feliks with an amused look on his face.

"I thought this hallway felt colder," the Polish man teases. He cocks his head causing his straight, shoulder length golden hair to shift around his face as he peers, intrigued, at the Russian in the wheelchair.