Russia wakes up to coughing. At first, he doesn't think it's worth getting up for. He flinches when he hears familiar voices begin to panic.
'I'm just imagining things again,' he thinks, covering his face with his aching paws.
Two small, warm hands brush against the almost bald patch on his side.
"Ruby?"
Russia squeezes his eyes shut and he starts shaking.
'I'm just making it up again. I have to be.'
"How did we get up here?" Russia hears Ukraine's voice ring from in front of him.
'But if it is fake, maybe it's better I just listen. I don't... I don't want to open my eyes to the dead stares again. Not ever again.'
"Russia? Can you hear me?" America asks, sounding frantic.
Russia takes a shaky breath.
"Rue?"
America's desperate tone forces Russia's eyes open. He hesitantly moves his paws and sees America standing in front of him.
America is standing in front of him.
Russia immediately buries his face into America's chest. He doesn't notice the way America flinches at the force. Emotions swirl violently in Russia's chest and he desperately searches for comfort. He tries to stand to get closer, only for his back legs to give out under him.
Russia meows loudly, again and again.
'You're actually here. You're okay! You're okay. You woke up. You're okay.'
"Woah! Rue-Rue, it's okay! It's okay. I'm okay," America soothes, brushing back his fur.
Russia pulls away and watches the crowd. He spots that all of them had woken up, some more comfortable than others. Many of them have scratches on their faces that drip blood down their cheeks. Brazil has a black eye, and many others have other facial bruises that seem to grow from nowhere.
Russia's heart drops. He watches with dread at how most of them move stiffly as if trying to avoid irritating injuries. His breath catches when he sees Texas weakly pulling up a sleeve of his jacket to show bruising on his arms.
"Where did this come from?" Texas asks no one in particular, his voice hoarse, "it wasn't here a second ago."
"I don't know," Alabama says, gesturing to Mississippi, "but we're pretty banged up too, so it ain't just you."
'They were getting hurt.'
Russia slinks back and whines. He covers his face again and backs up. His tail curls under him and he wants nothing else but to be able to apologize.
'I hurt you. I hurt all of you.'
"Ruby?"
Russia pulls further away, trying to disappear.
'I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt any of you. I just got so tired.'
"Ruby, hey, what's going on? Are you okay?"
Russia turns away, hiding his face in his front legs, which burns with cuts. He feels some of the injuries re-open but pays them no mind.
"Woah. Russia, you look like you're scratched up too. Did something happen?" Finland asks.
'I'm fine.'
'I hurt all of you.'
"I don't know about y'all, but this feels like some of them time shenanigans again," Texas comments with an unsteady voice, rubbing his arm.
Russia's head shoots up and the gears in his mind turn.
'It was like they were frozen in time.'
Russia mews.
"It was?" New Mexico asks.
Russia nods and lays his head on his arms.
"Okay, well, I don't remember any of it," South Carolina comments.
"Me either," North Carolina adds, her voice concerned.
"Neither do we," South Dakota says, holding North Dakota's hand.
"Russ? What about you?" Kansas asks.
Russia nods.
"You remember it?" Kansas furthers.
Russia nods again, ignoring the slight vertigo it causes.
'I should've been more careful. I'm sorry.'
"Wait, did you bring us up here?" Ukraine exclaims.
Russia hisses, alarmed.
'Quiet!'
"Don't hiss at me!"
"Maybe don't be so loud," Ohio interjects.
Russia meows in agreement.
"So you did bring us up here," Ukraine says again, more quietly this time, "but why?"
Russia scowls.
'To protect you.'
"Why would you ask him that?" Ohio says, crossing his arms, "it's not like he can talk."
"Well, I want answers."
"Guys," Kansas announces, "I don't think we should be getting this riled up about this."
"Yeah, Ohio," Alberta remarks.
"Hey! I'm not the one who's wrong here!"
"Stop it! All of you!" America demands.
The states fall quiet. Ohio sticks his tongue out at Alberta, who returns the favor.
"Cat dad?"
Russia turns to face a very distraught Florida who stares at his side.
"What happened to your fur? Did someone take it?"
Russia looks away as Florida feels around the bare spot on his side. It feels strange; the skin feels both ticklish and painful.
'No. No one took it,' Russia wants to explain, 'I just ruined it.'
Then, Florida buries his face in the spot.
"It's okay, Cat dad, it'll grow back. And it's still soft. It's okay," Florida promises, "and then maybe we can find who took it and make them say sorry."
"Flo?" Mississippi calls.
"Yeah, Sippi?" Florida replies, pulling his face away.
"It don't look like somebody took it..."
"What do you mean?" Florida asks curiously, "what else could have happened?"
"Well," Mississippi starts, looking to Alabama for some support, "sometimes cats can..."
"When cats get super stressed," Alabama amends, "then they can, uh, over-groom."
"What?" Florida asks, baffled.
"What we're trying to say is that Cat dad probably did it to himself," Mississippi finishes.
Mississippi and Alabama make eye contact and Mississippi shrugs. They both look lost for what else to say. Florida looks to Russia, tears in his eyes.
"But why would he do that?" Florida asks.
"I don't know," Alabama says with a stiff shrug, "maybe we can ask him when he's back to normal, okay?"
"Okay," Florida says, hugging Russia around the neck, "I love you, Cat dad. I hope you don't have to do that again."
'I love you too,' Russia thinks, gently nuzzling Florida, 'and I won't.'
Florida giggles.
"Your whiskers tickle my face," he says with a shaky smile.
Then, someone begins scratching him under his chin. Russia leans into it, purring. He turns a little and his eyes open to see America sitting beside him, scratching his face gently.
"It's okay, Ruby. We'll-"
America is cut off by the sounds of engines. Russia stiffens and grabs everyone he can get his paws on, holding them to his chest.
'God Damn it! Why are they back? Why are they here?'
"What-" Mexico starts in alarm.
"Shh!" New Mexico hisses before whispering something.
Mexico scowls and opens her mouth.
"Please?" Texas rasps.
'Oh no, he isn't getting any better.'
Mexico sighs and her face falls. She nods and goes quiet. Texas covers his mouth, his back shaking with muffled coughs.
'Please don't hear him. Please don't see us.'
"We have to be close!" An unfamiliar voice shouts from below, "that signature is still here."
"What if it's just that cat again?" A second counters.
"We don't know that, remember?"
The second one groans. Russia wraps his legs tighter around the group, and Texas clutches at his face, his expression one of terror. He bits his knuckles, his chest heaving. But Russia can't tell if it makes any noise at all.
"I say we go back for now and come back at dusk," the second voice says.
"But we're supposed to be scouting."
"We did! And I really don't want to stick around if it is just that giant cat."
"Then how would waiting until sundown help?"
The second voice sighs.
"I guess you're right. But I don't want to be here for very long."
Loud footsteps crunch underneath the tree and Russia flinches as they get closer.
"See, I told you," the first voice chastises, "no giant cat thing."
The people continue pacing around the area for hours, and Russia doesn't dare move. He doesn't allow anyone else to move either.
'What do we do now?'
If only he could ask.