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Jump	By : ArcadiaEclipse Category: +G to L > Hetalia: Axis Powers Views: 6243 -:- Recommendations : 2 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia: Axis Powers. I make no money from my fanfiction.

Chapter List
- 3
- 4
Warnings: Yaoi (RussiaxAmerica), AU, angst, language, rape, death, hurt/comfort and explicit sexual depictions ahead. This fanfic is intended for adult readers only.
Notes: Yes, this took forever. Sorry about the lag, I really did just fall out of love with anime and I have been exploring other fandoms lately. If anyone is still reading this story I hope you enjoy the final chapter.

~ * ~ Jump ~ * ~
Chapter Four
By Arcadia Eclipse

                By the time that Alfred awoke he could feel the vibrations of the train car indicating that they were once again traveling deeper into Siberia. Even without his glasses the American could clearly see that Ivan was in the process of dismantling and cleaning his gun by the light of a small lantern swaying from a hook driven into the far wall. The methodical strokes of the Russian’s hand trailing a small cloth over his gun barrel only ceased when his captive pushed himself up into a seated position and Alfred groped for his glasses on the older blonde’s wooden trunk. Instead of improving his current disposition, the sudden clarity offered by his lenses only made this nightmarish reality bleaker in the American’s eyes.
                “…I don’t know when now is anymore.”
                Alfred shifted slowly upright on the bedding but ultimately the cold drove him to tug Ivan’s blankets up over his nude shoulders after a particularly fierce shiver tore through his aching body. It wasn’t difficult to read a hint of confusion in his companion’s eyes as the larger man paused cleaning his weapon long enough to regard him from across the train car, but Alfred never clarified his comment, preferring to let Ivan mull his words over for a few minutes in vain translation. Sure, it was childish of him, but Ivan’s English was spotty enough that the Russian might not realize his young lover was actually fucking with him out of spite now if the smaller blonde spoke cryptic or even broken sentences.
                “When…now is?”
                “Yeah, I don’t know when.”
                “…I do not understand Alfred question.”
                “It’s hard to explain.”
                In reality, Alfred had just lost track of what day it was. Twisting the English language was a petty way of enacting revenge against his captor, but Alfred had no other poison to use and his crippling fear had somehow evolved into a wretched hatred for the other man over the last few hours. The words that he spoke now were curt and didn’t appear to invite the Soviet to request clarification or even try to pacify the smaller blonde with kisses and forced intimacy. Even if Ivan had wanted to spend another hour cradled in the warm circle of Alfred’s thighs they were quickly nearing their next destination on the supply route and sex would have to wait.
                “Today we come for town. I bring here food and supply, but for Alfred must stay on train.”
                He watched the teenager wordlessly draw the blankets up higher about his shoulders before lying down again, apparently resigned to another dismal day spent in the train car all alone. The silence wasn’t exactly reassuring to the Russian given his lover’s previous escape efforts, but after watching Alfred lay motionless with his back to the older man Ivan finally frowned and spoke up again sternly.
                “Alfred will stay, yes?”
                “It’s not like I have a choice, right? Can’t hop on the next flight home and see my family.”
                “No,” Ivan smiled wryly. “You cannot.”
                Alfred closed his eyes and feigned sleep for the next hour as Ivan reassembled his gun and then dressed for an outside excursion. The older blonde did not try to keep his motions silent, however, and Alfred took this to mean that Ivan’s keen ears had assessed his captive’s breathing and the Soviet wasn’t fool enough to believe that the teenager was actually asleep even as Alfred lay there motionless beneath the bedding with his knees hugged protectively to his chest. As soon as their train pulled into the station, Ivan opened their car door quietly and for a moment Alfred could almost feel the Russian’s gaze as those piercing violet eyes locked onto the back of his supposedly-sleeping lover.
                “Stay.”
                There were no sweet goodbyes, no reluctant caress from the soldier, just a one-word command that his human property was forbidden from being adventurous that afternoon. Alfred continued the ruse of being oblivious in his sleep, but both of them knew that it was a lie and Ivan’s command was as good as law to keep the teenager where he lay in the relative safety of the train car.
                In the Soviet’s absence, there was truly nothing better to do than lay there anyway and mourn his situation with the occasional nap thrown in just to break up the monotony. Minutes turned into hours, and it seemed to the American that much of the day and even night must have passed before he heard the door to their train car open again heralding Ivan’s return. Although Alfred had wallowed in self-pity and slept for most of the afternoon, he still had no intention of greeting his captor or even opening his eyes as the tall Soviet loomed over his prone body.
                “Alfred.”
                Silence.
                “I know Alfred does not sleep.”
                The boy might have persisted a little longer in his pretend dreamland if he didn’t detect that faint, yet familiar hint of malice lacing Ivan’s words. It wasn’t exactly a growl, but it did bring the reluctant blonde to sit up and blink wearily in the dusky train car. What he didn’t expect was a pair of big, bright eyes staring right back at him. Alfred jolted upright, fumbling for his glasses again.
                “Wha..? What the hell?”
                “She say name is Tatiana. She look like Alfred, no?”
                With his glasses in place the American could now make out the form of a little girl, certainly no older than three or four years old, but she remained completely silent as she crouched beside Alfred on the floor. She was obviously fearful given her current predicament, but like Ivan’s other prisoner she didn’t dare attempt to run away so long as the enormous soldier loomed over her trying to gauge his lover’s happiness.
                “You… You kidnapped her?”
                “Tatiana is Alfred child now,” he said definitively, smiling down at her and even stroking the little girl’s hair with uncharacteristic tenderness. “We are family now. Alfred want family.”
                “I didn’t want a fucking daughter, Ivan!”
                The Russian’s jaw clenched in frustration, looking first to the little girl that he had stolen from her inattentive mother then back to the frantic teenager before him. Although his love for the American had devolved into an unhealthy obsession, he often struggled to understand what his beloved captive wanted. Freedom, of course, but the Soviet was unwilling to humor the idea of releasing this beautiful, obstinate boy back into the world if it meant losing him forever. Alfred Jones just needed to be tamed.
                “Alfred…does not want girl?”
                “Dude, of course not! She’s someone’s daughter! They’re probably worried sick not knowing where the fuck she is! You really don’t give a shit, do you? You just take whatever you want!”
                For a long, painfully silent moment Ivan simply stared at the teenager trying to gauge what it was that this perplexing young man wanted from him. Alfred had begged Ivan to be released to his kin, but clearly the younger blonde was uninterested in having a daughter and forming their own little family of sorts. It was an unfortunate mistake on Ivan’s part, but such mistakes could be easily corrected.
                “I am sorry. I make mistake on bring daughter. Next town I find son for Alfred.” He never waited for his lover to respond, placing one hand on the terrified child’s mouth to silence her as his other hand cupped the back of her small head and then twisted, breaking the little girl’s spine cleanly and watching her tumble to the floor of the train car motionless. “Boy is better, yes? Alfred will like son very much.”
                There was no response from the blonde teenager. Alfred’s eyes were fixated on the child now lying there beside him, her body warm but unmoving even as one of his hands rose shakily to fall on her little shoulder. She was clearly dead. He hadn’t really expected the girl to be alive after Ivan attacked her; the Russian had always been deadly efficient in the short time that Alfred had known him and it wasn’t like this was the first time that Ivan had killed right in front of his skittish lover, but somehow the sight of her little body splayed out on the floor was different than the Russian soldiers that Ivan had killed without mercy. She was an innocent. A child.
                Her eyes remained open and fixed upon the wall, and to Alfred she seemed like a porcelain doll whose owner had lost all interest in play. She seemed to stare through him, and even though he knew she lived no longer something in her eyes unsettled him and made the blonde turn his head away to escape the glassy stare that aimed to pierce him through and through. Only when the bedding shifted and a very large, warm hand settled upon his thigh did the American turn back to see Ivan crouched over him with a smirk. Clearly the little girl’s untimely death had no impact on the Soviet, and Alfred fought the urge to retch when Ivan pressed him into the comforter below and reached for his clothed manhood.
                “Death make Alfred hard. Always hard after death, yes?”
                What possessed Alfred to ball his hand into a fist and deliver it into his captor’s jaw he would never know, but Ivan barely flinched from the strike and afterwards his gaze darkened. It was at once both satisfying and ominous for the teenager who now cowered beneath his lover in fear of repercussion, but Ivan showed restraint for now, rising up from the floor again to grab hold of the little girl’s ankle and drag her across the wooden floor towards the train car door. Alfred didn’t need to watch to know what Ivan was up to. There was the familiar rumble of grating metal followed by the rush of wind and a final thud as the train car door slid shut once more, and although his eyes squeezed shut through it Alfred couldn’t avoid the mental image of a lost child tumbling down the snow drifts into obscurity. Only when Ivan resumed his position of dominance atop the smaller blonde did the teenager open his eyes again to focus on his tormentor.
                “Please leave me alone?”
                “Not yet.”
                In retrospect, Alfred could have clothed himself while Ivan was off gathering supplies, kidnapping and who knows what else. It might have delayed the invasion of his flesh for a few precious seconds, but instead he was still nude beneath the blankets and once Ivan forced his hips between the American’s thighs there was little hope that his captor would slow down. Ivan Braginski was many things but a gentle lover was not one of them, at least not in Alfred’s limited experience. For lack of any better alternatives, Alfred countered the soldier’s forceful kisses with a tentative brush of his own lips that suggested far more fear than affection for his tormentor. Ivan never seemed to care what the teenager’s motivation might be so long as it produced the desired result.
                Ivan never shed his uniform, only unbuttoning his slacks and drawing his erection out from the fabric folds to rest heavily on Alfred’s inner thigh while the Soviet fumbled in his pack for ointment. The American was still a bit slick from their previous encounter, but Alfred was soft and delicate to Ivan- worthy of taking the utmost care to keep him in top condition for future rounds of intimate invasion. Slicked and ready, Ivan began sheathing himself inside the teen which drew a quivering gasp and accompanying shudder from his captive, but after his initial reaction to being penetrated Alfred refused to look up at his lover, focusing somewhere on the train car wall instead of giving Ivan the satisfaction of eye contact and soft lips for kissing.
                At first Ivan was perplexed, thrusting languidly into the teen but the lack of engagement soon had him gritting his teeth in annoyance. This was a side of Alfred Jones that he had not witnessed before and didn’t care for. Without warning, the larger man suddenly withdrew to the very tip of his shaft and then drove the immense length fully into his prisoner’s body in one piercing thrust intended to either force Alfred to return his attention to the soldier atop him or else deal with the painful consequences. Alfred bit his lip but didn’t look up and Ivan repeated the motion again with a similar result.
                “…Look to me.”
                Silence.
                “Look to me, Alfred, or I will make hurt.”
                Ivan could deal with a moody, frightened or even angry lover, but being ignored during sex was an entirely new experience that only seemed to deaden any pleasure derived from the American’s body splayed out on the bedding below. Given the lack of attention from his lover, Ivan had no qualms about suddenly pulling out completely and grabbing Alfred’s arm to forcibly roll the boy onto his stomach and bend his arm backwards pinning him to the sleeping roll completely. Not surprisingly the American was unable to withhold a note of startled surprise, but it was too late. Ivan was already shoving a handkerchief into the boy’s mouth and leaning over his naked back to growl malevolently in Alfred’s ear.
                “Oрать...”[i]
                Pain, sharp and white-hot flooded through Alfred’s veins like a poison, and although he hated the man atop him and wanted nothing more than to lay there unresponsive the Soviet was purposely drawing a series of increasingly pained screams from the blonde impaled upon his shaft. It felt like Alfred’s bowels were being purposely rendered in two, but Ivan neither slowed his breakneck pace nor even fondled Alfred’s half-erection to take the boy’s mind off of the abuse. Clearly he didn’t care if his prisoner came or not; Ivan focused solely on his own pleasure, snapping his hips forward with jarring thrusts until his body climaxed pushing semen deep into the bleeding hole in which he remained buried.
                Only now when the soldier collapsed atop his prone captive did Alfred’s screams devolve into pitiful whimpers. The American had been uncooperative and needed to lean his lesson, but Ivan was not completely heartless- he did press an apologetic kiss into the base of the boy’s neck from behind. Now that they were finished he released his grip on Alfred’s arms and removed the handkerchief from the boy’s mouth before pressing a gentle yet searing kiss to the corner of his unwilling lover’s lips.
“Alfred is beautiful when make cry.”
                “Just… get off me, dude?”
                Initially Ivan was surprised by the American’s blunt request, but as long as the teenager remained within his train car the Russian had no genuine reason to deny his young lover a few feet of space when the boy was clearly not in the mood to be touched. At least Alfred was acknowledging him again. Slowly the Soviet rolled off of his captive, stroking Alfred’s hip appreciatively as the teenager pushed himself up from the bedding and dressed before making a B-line to the train car’s door. Living trapped within these four walls had already diminished his awareness of the date or even time of day. Only throwing back the car door revealed a dark wilderness without, and for a moment Alfred’s breath caught in his chest at the indescribable chill that threatened to overwhelm and eventually swallow him in a swirling cocktail of snow and wind.
                Behind him Ivan watched the boy with barely-contained amusement. Even the cold now pouring into their train car seemed to have very little effect on the Russian soldier still lying prone on the military bedding with an unfaltering smirk as he observed Alfred’s latest attempt at defiance.
                “I thought cold was great enemy of Alfred, but still you like for open door?”
                “Yeah,” Alfred shook off the mind-numbing chill and instead just stared out into the swirling abyss. “I’m gonna jump.”
                The Soviet tensed, but made no move towards his skittish lover just yet. Although Alfred’s British friend had been fiery and stubborn- jumping from the train car without a second thought, Alfred had already been given a dozen or more opportunities to kill himself in the same fashion if the urge was truly there. For that reason the taller blonde simply watched Alfred for now, silently gauging whether his unwilling lover truly had the determination to end his own life. When the American hesitated at the open doorway Ivan couldn’t keep his amusement out of the chuckle now bubbling up in his chest and even the older man’s tease was laced with hints of malice.
                “If Alfred will jump, go and jump now. Train grow full of much cold with door open.”
                “You… You are such a fucking bastard.” Alfred’s voice shook but not from fear. There was anger in the tears that gathered in the corners of his eyes while blue orbs glared accusingly at the older man. For his part, Ivan did sigh and slowly rose from the bedding fully intent on retrieving his captive from the chill, but as he approached Alfred gripped the metal doorway and swung one leg outside into the rushing wind. That alone made Ivan Braginski hesitate.
                “Alfred-“
                “I’m not fucking kidding, Ivan. I’m gonna do it!”
                “Alfred,” Ivan held his hands up to prove that he was unarmed while approaching the young American very slowly with a pained expression, “I do love Alfred. For much life of mine I not have someone for feel love to. For love me. I feel sorry I was…no good of you. But for reason I much love Alfred, I will take home.”
                Those words coupled with Ivan’s pained expression were enough to lift an enormous weight from the American’s shoulders and for once Alfred found himself standing straighter, no longer cowering before this man that frightened him to no end. Funny. Ivan was in truth only a few inches taller than the brash teenager, not the fearsome giant that Alfred had feared all these hours while trapped in the Russian’s company. Defeated and dejected, Ivan seemed more human than ever before when reaching out one large hand to where Alfred stood precariously on the ledge of their car ignoring the wind and snow blustering behind him as the train ambled on through the Siberian night.
                “Forgive me. Next town have weekly train go south. I will talk and make okay for train take Alfred to airport.”
                With relief now coursing through Alfred’s veins, the American nodded and even managed to produce a small smile for his captor when reaching out to finally press his hand into Ivan’s own. He was tragically unprepared when the taller blonde yanked him forward and all semblance of gentleness and sadness melted away instantly from Ivan’s demeanor as if the Soviet had never made sweet promises of freedom to the teenager at all. Ivan was cold and calculating all over again, growling something angry and threatening into Alfred’s ear as they grappled in earnest, but the cruel Russian words were lost on his prisoner and Alfred concerned himself only with thoughts of what freedom lay beyond these four walls.
                “You’re a fucking liar!”
                “No,” Ivan grinned into the back of his neck, but the motion only sent chills down Alfred’s spine as he tried in vain to pry the muscled steel of Ivan’s arms from around his chest and waist. “I do love Alfred. What I love I keep.”
                In desperation, Alfred slammed his heel full-force into the Soviet’s shin. At this point he wasn’t looking for escape so much as just making life difficult for his captor. It did have the effect of causing Ivan’s grip to lessen for a moment of unanticipated pain, and at that point instinct overtook Alfred’s sensibilities and the teenager lunged forward towards the open door yet again. Ivan’s grip may have faltered from the boy’s strike to his leg, but the Russian still managed to grab hold of Alfred’s sweatshirt just as his prisoner threw fear away and jumped from the train car out into the night.
                The frozen earth that slammed into his body was hard and unforgiving, battering the young American’s flesh as Alfred tumbled and rolled over both ice and rocks in his path before coming to rest in a snowy ditch far below the wooden tracks. His head ached terribly, but the teenager could only bite back his pain and listen as their train rumbled away into the distance, its passengers as of yet unaware that he was missing from within. Strange how even silence could be deafening when lying half-frozen in a Siberian snowdrift with nothing but the stars overhead shedding light on what Alfred would otherwise have suspected to be nothing more than the worst horror movie plotline ever devised. To his left a shadow lay crumpled in stark contrast to the white spread out beneath them both, but somehow the sight of his captor having evidently tumbled along beside him had Alfred fighting an inexplicable urge to begin laughing hysterically at their shared plight.
                “Ivan?”
                No answer.
                “Dude, are you okay?”
                Already there was a sick feeling in his chest, but the American managed to bite back the agonizing pain emanating from his newly broken hip and fractured legs to drag his body closer to the battered Soviet laying a few feet away in the ditch. The snow clinging to his body quickly ate away at any cursory warmth that the teenager’s sweatshirt and jeans could offer, but Alfred’s preoccupation with wallowing in frozen misery was suddenly diverted upon reaching his Russian captor and assessing the taller blonde’s state. He could see Ivan’s eyes staring sightlessly right through him up into the heavens above. Neither his hands caressing the soldier’s cheek nor even the veritable flood of tears pouring down Alfred’s chin to dampen the older man’s chest were enough to save Ivan from the cruel twist of fate that had already claimed his life as penance for trying to deny Alfred the privilege of jumping to his death.
                In the end it was only Alfred Jones who remained, lying prone upon his back in a swirling wasteland of snow, crying fitfully while waiting for the ruthless General Winter who had claimed Ivan’s life to emerge from the darkness and slay his final victim.
~ * ~ END ~ * ~

[i] “Scream…”
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