Three in the Morning [Germany]

Natalya just blinks at Germany, unamused, when he acts like he's terribly offended that Natalya would even think he'd bring cake onto the battlefield instead of make it in a kitchen. Personally, Natalya couldn't see much of a difference, but then again, she'd never much cared where her food came from, so long as it wasn't poisoned. Though when Germany compares it to something England would do, Natalya does concede to herself that anything England does with food basically counts as poisoning the food, anyway. She wouldn't touch it with a ten-foot-pole.

She remains quietly listening, though she does nod her head slightly to acknowledge the fact that Germany really doesn't seem to hold her any ill will at the moment, a fact she can't quite entirely accept but slowly seems to be understanding is the only logical reasons for his actions. Which is hardly logical at all. He should, by all rights, hold at least some ill will towards her, if not a great deal of it, especially considering the fact that she herself would probably stab him in the back at the closest opportunity (not that it was anything against him in particular, she'd do that to most people).

The fact remained that he could, in fact, shoot her in the head if he really wanted her hurt at this point, if he really wanted her captured. Corpses were much more cooperative. That's part of how her brother had gotten his hands on Germany in the first place, after all. Then, she supposed, if she could rule out the things he wasn't doing, then he might very well be intending to do something other than capture her, or hurt her, or anything logical to do on a field of war when faced with an enemy at all.

Though she still feels somewhat shocked when she discovers that, apparently, all he wants to do is talk. Offer her a meal and talk. This does not sound terribly appealing, and she almost makes the sarcastic comment that he can go ahead and shoot her in the head, she hadn't intended to talk to anyone today in a manner that was not a command either to or from her. The battlefield made it easy to ignore what was actually going on, after all. Unfortunately, he actually does have the capability to shoot her in the head, and there is something very distasteful about simply allowing anyone to hurt her like that.

She could also go ahead and try to stab him. At this point, he'd probably dropped his guard some. She does not feel like talking. It is past midnight and she does not feel like talking. Except maybe part of her does because what she actually says is "You'd show me your camp and let me leave freely? No catch?" Once again, the incredulity leaks into her voice, because who was to say she simply wouldn't slit the throats of as many people as she could reach once her leg healed enough to stand on? Why lead someone from the opposing side directly to your camp? It didn't make sense!

She took a deep breath. Natalya finally just decided that fine, Germany wasn't making sense today, she'd deal with that. Besides, there was one thing... She didn't want to talk and she didn't care about the food. But... She falls silent for several moments. Then, she looks down slightly and says, in a quieter voice, "...and you would trust those doctors with yourself?" It's a honest question. She's trying to ask, of course, how well they could keep secrets. She couldn't trust the ones her brother would send her to. She couldn't trust that he wouldn't find out anyway, as long as she was in Moscow.

The idea of being able to get some of the things that are hard for her to get without a prescription, without completely giving herself away, has a sudden, surprisingly powerful draw. While she doubts the medication to help prevent seizures that she very much wants to start on again would be anywhere near here, she has no doubt that there would be some powerful painkillers that she could reach here. That she needed, but couldn't really get or take much of without someone noticing. She falls quiet again for several more long moments, considering her options. Then she looks up again, her eyes narrow.

"If I accept, then, no matter what I say to you, Alfred hears none of it. He has other, bigger things to worry about. Alfred hears nothing, and neither do my siblings (though I doubt you have contact with them). You understand?"

Natalya, oddly enough, inwardly relaxes a little when Germany says that he will be keeping a very close eye on her. This is mostly because it normalizes the situation somewhat. It does not make it completely normal- there's some small part of Natalya that's still wondering if she's been places in some kind of bizarro universe- but at least it's something that seems logical to the girl. It's at least an "you're dangerous, you will cause problems if allowed to roam completely freely". It fits into her pre-conceived model, so it's a bit more safe, a bit more trustworthy, and a bit less unpredictable.

Not that she'd ever say that out loud, of course.

She's also glad to hear that the doctors are, in fact, Germany's own doctors, and not perhaps a different Allegiance member's doctors. That way, Germany could vouch specifically for them, and, more than that, there was even less of a chance of things getting leaked to other members of the Allegiance, or, unlikely as it was, anyone in the Joint Pact heard about things. It was funny. At least she knew where the Allegiance and herself sat, but the Joint Pact- Natalya had hit a point where she would also not put it past one of the others (say China) to do something drastic. Then again, given what Germany was offering right now, perhaps she did not entirely know where she stood with the Allegiance, either.

Natalya nodded, acknowledging that she'd have to go ahead and trust these doctors, too- and it was a bit painful to admit, but she needed it. Until it had suddenly become an immediate possibility, she had not been thinking about it, but now that it was a clear possibility and almost a likelihood... she really, really needed something like this. If it meant putting up with actual conversation, well, she'd just have to deal with it. There wasn't going to be avoiding it. Even if she really, really did not want to talk to Germany in her current mood.

She watches carefully as he considers her request. She understands that it may be a bit much to ask. His counter-offer, that she keep what she say completely to herself and he keeps everything he says completely to himself is actually better than she'd hoped. She'd mostly wanted to keep things from the people who would worry about her most, but keeping them away from her enemies would be useful as well. As for talking about the fact that she'd spoken with Germany- hah. That was a laugh. She hardly needed to give other members of the Pact another reason to distrust her right now. "Another" since, well, she wouldn't trust herself much, given how she'd lost her temper at the last Pact meeting. It would almost certainly be used against her.

But... "...if this will concern Toris or my sister, I reserve the right to tell them. I most likely will not. They do not need more reasons to worry about me. However, I will not see them hurt because I am keeping secrets." There. Two people she could tell, and she would likely have no desire to tell either of them. in Toris's case, it would mean having to explain where she'd met Germany in the first place, and given how she'd given him reason to worry for her mental health she did not want to do that. In her sister's case, the worst part would likely be explaining why she'd bothered accepting his offer to talk- which meant admitting she was sick. It would have to truly, truly be necessary for her to willingly do that at the moment.

"You have no reason to worry about me telling my brother, though," she added, just to make sure that was clear. "That is likely to end just as badly for me as it would for you." The saddest part was that this was probably true. There was always the chance he'd entirely blame Germany for the incident, but, more likely, he'd blame Natalya just as much. And it would mean admitting to him, too, that she was sick- and that was something she was going to put off as long as humanly possible, probably even longer than admitting it to Iryna.

"Do we have a deal?" she asked. After a long pause, she sighed. She didn't necessarily want to ask for help, but in this case, she would not be above it. "If so, I will most definitely need some help walking. You did shoot me in the leg, after all."

Natalya blinked when Germany also agreed to let her tell the two people she probably trusted above anyone else, and inwardly, she sighed in relief. "Thank you," she says, somewhat quietly. There weren't that many people Natalya trusted explicitly. Iryna and Toris pretty much created the entire group. She'd trust Ivan and Alfred as well, but they were sometimes so determined to save the world that they forgot the world had people in it. She chose to trust them, most of the time, but she did not trust them in the same way she trusted her sister, and, now once again, Toris. (Whatever they were to each other at this point. She wasn't entirely certain.) She was already keeping secrets from them, and if whatever this was turned out to affect them, she doubted she could make herself continue to do so if she tried.

She was still mildly baffled with how Germany was acting, but that had simply faded into a dull warning throb in the back of her head, the same one that rang most of the time anyway. He was, in her perception, continuing to act out of character, allowing her the concession of being allowed to tell two people he didn't necessarily know the trustworthiness of. He likely had an idea of it- it would shock Natalya if she found out that someone did not find Toris or her sister trustworthy- but they weren't family to him the way they were to her. But she could deal with his continued odd behavior for a little while longer, because as much as it was putting her on edge, as suspicious as part of her continued to remind her it was.

He confirms that they have a deal, and Natalya visibly lets down some guard. Not much, mind you (she never really lets her guard down around most people), but enough that it's clear she believes him. Something she does know of Germany: he is not the sort of person to break his word terribly often. Even if he was perfectly capable of being as cold and ruthless as she was, he seemed to have decided not to be, and now that he'd given some form of his word, she was going to continue to work under that framework until proven otherwise. She needed that doctor.

Still, despite the fact that they have a deal and he seemed to be genuine, despite the fact that in order to help her walk he couldn't be training a rifle on her, she's still somewhat shocked when he takes the rifle off of her before, say, calling for reinforcements of some kind. She can't possibly seem that desperate, and Natalya certainly didn't consider herself that trustworthy. Even if she was slightly incapable of hurting him much while she could hardly move, and even if yes, she was actually that desperate now that she had the opportunity. She blinked several times, taking a moment to notice that Germany had put out a hand to help her up, trying to figure him out once again. She was dangerous, and he'd taken the gun off of her? Had she been even a touch less sick, a touch less dangerous, he had a high chance of being dead in the next few seconds.

Fortunately- or unfortunately, really, depending on your point of view- Natalya had made a deal, too. And while she'd break a deal if it served her purposes, she tended to put a great deal of thought into actually going back on her word. She simply refused to give her word instead, most of the time. She also needed to at least get to the doctor before stabbing Germany and making a break for it, though perhaps that would be of less benefit to her in anything other than her strong desire not to talk, given that he'd claimed that he'd let her leave on her own, anyway. Actually, there was far more advantage to be had simply going with things as they stood and only changing her plans if things changed...

Natalya saw his hand and, with some reluctance despite the fact that she'd need it, grabbed it, throwing her weight onto it to help force herself up onto the leg that had not been shot. The one that had was perhaps beginning to heal again slightly, but not by much- it was still bleeding badly, though she felt slightly less in danger of bleeding out than she might have been. The fact that it had only barely begun to heal, despite the manner that it had been received and that she hadn't been pushing her luck by trying to walk on it or really move at all, was sign enough that there was something wrong, though most people would not notice- it took some attention to notice when things on Nations weren't healing quite like they were supposed to, considering that a number of factors could sometimes go into how well their healing worked.

Natalya is once again momentarily surprised when Germany notices that her injury is still bleeding after helping her up and pulls gauze out of a pocket. It's not quite enough to deal with an injury of the magnitude she has, but he still quickly leans down to wrap it. She barely, just barely, resists the urge to kick him away from somewhere where she's vulnerable, she's vulnerable there! She doesn't want to let him near her injuries, but she's going to have to get over that. She clenched her teeth together, hissing slightly when the bandages touch the injury but otherwise using her fantastic pain tolerance to great effect, hiding the fact that she was barely, just barely, preventing herself from jerking away from this threat that's hurting her, because she's able to remind herself that it will help in the long run.

She has a knife tightly clenched in her hand by the time he finishes wrapping the wound and her expression is somewhat of a grimace but she's actively refrained from causing a scene so she'll count that as a win. A moment later, he pulls out a radio. Natalya would have honestly checked that calling for backup was possible long before this point, but it proves moot, anyway- the radio's not working. Of course. The signal jamming. She'd forgotten about that, mostly because she wasn't one of the people who typically had to deal with it much. Of course, this means that she won't have the luxury of a vehicle to get her to Germany's camp. She mentally braces herself to attempt to walk.

And then Germany says something about meaning no disrespect and before she can ask what he's possibly talking about he's lifted her up in her arms and her mind goes blank for a second. Her breath picks up rapidly, and without even thinking, she's already tried to jam her knife straight into his heart, though the tip just bounces harmlessly off of his body armor. It's very, very clear from her body language that she's done this almost entirely on instinct and panic. Of course, she doesn't stop there- her knife has already traveled to one of his arms, the inside of his elbow, to attempt to get him to drop her so she can try to run somehow from this threat-

Natalya Arlovskaya still does not like being touched without permission, let alone being picked up and held without being warned.

The damage, of course, is already done by the time Natalya gets a better hold on her emotions, her breath still coming in somewhat panicked gasps. "DO NOT DO THAT," she hisses, everything about her expression and her body language saying exactly how much she dislikes this. As for had badly it had startled her- well, there was plenty of other evidence for that, not the least being that she'd tried to stab him in a chest that she knew full well had body armor on it. While she'd been shaking invisibly before, she was certainly shaking more now, involuntarily.

Still, once her head cleared... she could recognize that there was an advantage in it. "Fine," she said, knowing full well that trying to walk would be at least as bad, "but walk faster. I do not like this." That was an understatement- she felt pins and needles crawling along her skin and she wanted to get away, get him away, but she'd already overreacted and he did not need to see how to learn under her skin even further, not when he could use it against her. She could handle this. She could handle this. It had better be worth it.

She was seriously beginning to contemplate making a somewhat more coherent effort to get out of Germany's grasp and escape, however, when he informed her that the doctor only spoke German. That would make sense, true, but she'd wanted him to speak at least a little English- because Natalya had stubbornly refused to learn a lick of German. When she was younger, she associated it with Prussia, and Prussia was (and still is) a prick. As she got older, she had trouble seeing any advantage in learning it, and then World War Two happened. Even though she learned some basic Chinese to spy for Ivan's sake, she absolutely refused to learn any German, despite how useful a spy in Berlin could be, due to her ability to hold grudges the way she did. After that- well, there was no need, was there? English was the language of the globe (thank god it was no longer French) and she was still holding a slight grudge.

Clearly, this was the weight of her poor decision coming to bite her in the ass. She very, very much does not want Germany to know the full extent of her symptoms. She doesn't want anyone to know. He said he'd keep it secret and she believed him, but that didn't mean she trusted him with the knowledge! He could hurt her, or worse yet, he could leak it out, give it away, and hurt everyone. She's very quiet for a moment. "...where did you find someone who went through medical school after studying as an economist?" she asked idly, dodging the question in hopes that some other solution could be found.

Alas, no other solution could be found, so a moment later, she sighed. "And... I do not know any German," she admitted with a grimace. "...if... no. I suppose I trust you slightly more than some random human translator, though they would be easier to get rid of if need be," she said bluntly. "It is not... ideal. I must stress again that you cannot tell a soul."

Natalya wondered what Germany had muttered about her in German after her overreaction- because yes, now that she's actually thinking, she's well aware that it was an overreaction- but he doesn't react much in any other way, which is good. For a moment, she almost considers mentioning that she's done something similar to her brother and sister before, even, just in case he thinks it's somehow just him, but she shakes the thought off, not seeing any point when it's clear Germany won't be forcing any repercussions upon her. She doesn't seem to have hurt him terribly badly, anyway, which is almost embarrassing if it weren't for the fact that she was panicking. Still, even while in a moment of panic, she should be able to do more damage than that (even though she really didn't want to when the whole situation was taken into account).

She is faintly amused with Germany's blunt response to her semi-rhetorical question, though. She doesn't know much about the city in question (she recalled it being important for the Monday Demonstrations, but not much else), but it was certainly a location. "Are there many such people there?" she asked, mostly because it was amusing to her. She nods in understanding when he explains the actual circumstances around his change of heart, though. Natalya can certainly understand the pressure family can put on a person. He was certainly a valuable find, though. She wondered if his family was shocked when he was quickly given a job by someone who appeared to be a high-ranking government official?

Although, it also rather sounded like Germany wasn't going to let her just kill the man, an idea she'd briefly been considering. It would keep her secrets to two, after all. Natalya didn't really think she'd get away with something like that, but in case of emergency, she would keep it in mind. It wasn't as though she had anything against the man. Actually, in general, the doctors she'd worked with had been very stringent about confidentiality and generally trustworthy people. Unfortunately, trying to see one while in Russia, or even in her own country, was still not an actual possibility, less because the doctors could be paid off (they were typically more trustworthy than that), but more because her brother was simply the spy when he wanted to be. There would be no hiding it.

Despite being resigned to it, Natalya does inwardly grimace some when the concept of a human translator was written off. She wasn't planning on it, but they were still far more disposable. Not that Germany would appreciate that sentiment much, either, no matter how true it was. She'd probably prefer Germany translating, anyway- she knows there's less likely to get lost in-between that way- but... she was slightly berating her stubborn streak at the moment for refusing to learn German, though it wasn't as though she expected this situation to come up. There was no point now, though (she told herself, justifying the fact that she'd likely continue to stubbornly refuse to learn German anyway).

She can understand medical jargon being difficult to translate, at least. She nods in understanding of the fact. "I do not like this," she says plainly, though her tone of voice clearly states that she's going to accept it anyway. She's still not entirely certain she has a choice in the matter, and she still wants to see the doctor, and it was only just now slowly hitting her that this would also put her in the middle of a German camp. A temporary one, certainly, but an opportunity for information-gathering of her own, even after asserting secrecy. There were ways to keep things secret and still have everyone know everything around it, after all. 

Natalya once again wonders if Germany's gone insane, though at this point it's more of just an idle thought and nothing to be overly concerned about.

His last statement, though- Natalya sends him a sharp glare. So. He'd guessed. Shit. Shit. He was going to know soon enough anyway, but it still does not make her feel any less uneasy that someone she had minimal contact with was able to figure it out. She could not hide that she was sick, obviously, but she'd thought she'd given no hints as to the true extent. True, he had a better point of comparison than most- she'd taken the worst hit of the various Soviet states when Nazi Germany had begun his advance on her brother, and she'd been anything but well during that as a result. She'd taken quite some pleasure when General Winter saw fit to punish them for thinking they could take Russia in the winter. It still did not bode well. Things were getting worse, and she still couldn't bring herself to tell her siblings the truth.

(Selfish, something in her whispered. I just want them happy, another part says back.)

She wants to snap at him that no, no, she really doubts that he's ever gotten as low as she is right now, low enough that a chance to just ignore everything is the closest thing to happy she's been in some time. It doesn't help that she can still picture the aftermath, the sense that she's not ready, the feeling of guilt, the lack of control-

She simply looks away from him, though, and schools her features back into a carefully blank expression. At least he's walking quickly. Natalya could get this over with faster, that way.

Natalya can appreciate that Germany isn't trying to talk to her anymore, given that she's having enough trouble with everything else. He offers her a stab at sympathy (she appreciates the gesture but she doesn't feel much of anything in return) and then goes silent. She doesn't try to say anything either. What's the point. She'll just dig herself in deeper than she already has. She catches a second glimpse of something like sympathy in his eyes as she glares at him and resolves to stop looking at him because god her mood is rapidly re-deteriorating, just in a slightly different direction than before.

Re-focus. She re-focusses on not stabbing Germany before he gets her to the camp because she's still recoiling from the touch. She doesn't like it. She'd already said that, but she'd say it again as the needles kept crawling up her spine. Her hand brushes against one of her knives before slowly making sure it was invisible. She didn't know how far the German camp would be and she rather suspected that having a weapon plainly visible wouldn't make anyone there very happy. Invisible, but easily accessible. Just in case things got slightly more logical again.

A second later, they've approached other soldiers. Germany tells her that a truck will be along to pick them up. She gives a half-nod, visibly on high alert. She wanted out now. The few soldiers there glared at her suspiciously and she scanned each of them herself. Most of them were injured and exhausted, but they all had access to various degrees of military weaponry, whereas Natalya still didn't even have her feet on the ground. Almost unconsciously, her hand brushes back to her knife a second time. They still speak German, but are mostly silent. Good. She doesn't like not knowing what they're saying.

The truck's almost worse. She can feel the suspicious glares and glances. Most of the soldiers are definitely German, but a few were likely from other allied United Allegiance states. The ones who were talking were still talking German. She's at least glad she doesn't have to sit next to anyone else. She does not take her eyes off of the rest of the truck. Several of them do not take their eyes off of her. Good. That's smart. It doesn't make her feel remotely more comfortable, but at least they all understood where they stood. Except for the fact that she can't make herself understood but hey she'd agreed.

The entire ride, besides her darting eyes and the natural exhausted, nervous, illness-created shakes, she sits almost unnaturally still. She breathes in through her nose. The stop stops twice more, and at at least one of those times, she twitches as though to lunge out of the truck- no, Natalya didn't intend to do that- what exactly was she planning to do, anyway- and more people who should by all rights be her enemies, injured soldiers, come onto the truck. She suspects everyone there is thinking the same thing (though perhaps it's paranoia)- she's outsider, the enemy. Why are they bothering? Supplies everywhere are limited.

Natalya has almost forgotten Germany's still sitting there when the truck finally stops, hyper-focussed as she was becoming on watching the other soldiers (who would practically be within their rights to jump her). However, when soldiers start to move to get out of the truck, she's suddenly reminded as he speaks. She nods to accept that yes, they were going to have to walk, and she braces herself to do so. When the rest of the truck has finished exiting in front of them, Natalya makes a move to stand, but is beaten by Germany lifting her up again. This time, she's expecting it somewhat, but that doesn't stop the slight yelp and flinch that accompanies the motion. Luckily for Natalya, the part of her that hates being touched and wants Germany off of her immediately is beaten by the part of her that knows that she is in a place filled with German soldiers who would not hesitate to shoot if she made to attack a commanding officer.

They step out.

She's surrounded.

She's surrounded, and everyone is speaking German, and her eyes lock wide. She doesn't understand a word that's being said. She can't be understood. She's surrounded. Everyone's an enemy. Everyone's an enemy and they're all speaking German and she can't remember a time when being surrounded by German soldiers was a good thing for her it's not a good thing she has to plan this was a horrible idea this was a horrible idea this was a horrible idea she can't run and she's not in a state to fight and she grabs a knife anyway in the hems of her uniform and god she could swear everyone's watching it, waiting for an excuse, all they need is one excuse-

-Germany says something about kitchens and then she's not quite so surrounded but by now her face is semi-desperately darting to every person they might pass. This was a horrible idea. She doesn't speak German, and German-speaking military officials never did anything nice to her. Everyone is speaking German. She's tensed like a bullet, ready to fire out and attack like a hurricane and run but there are too many people and too many guns and-

-she's inside. They're kitchens. She's then sitting on one of the metal counters. Her head is still darting. There is no one else in here- no. There are two other people in here. The counters are moveable but metal and would stand up to a few hits. They are in a tent, she could tear it down if she had to. There are two other people in the room. One of them is Germany and she- he said something- why is she here, no, she should- she can't get out- everyone is speaking German and she's surrounded and she's tired and she hurts and she's always hated being unable to make herself understood. She knew more languages belonging to former Soviet states that her brother did, could still speak nearly every dialect convincingly. She was still fluent in French. But this one language- bad memories and long grudges had one and she can't talk if no one else can hear her-

-there are two other people in the tent and they're both speaking German. They're in the kitchens. Natalya focusses on the kitchens before she lets herself spiral further. How'd they empty the kitchens? It was late at night. Well, no. It was early in the morning. She has no less than three knives on her, and there are two people in the room, she could throw them to incapacitate at the least if she had to- kitchens. They're remarkably not-busy. Ignore the German. Focus on breathing, and what is the second man holding- he's the doctor. Breathe.

Right. She was semi-safe. Right. Things were different. That didn't stop air from coming in her lungs in paranoid, panicked gasps. Her skin still prickled from earlier. Her head spun. Breathe. Right. She should have expected such a negative reaction, considering her knives-edge mental state before entering a place where she was surrounded by an enemy she couldn't understand and had horrible memories of, while sick, injured, mildly overwhelmed and slowly emotionally compromised, but she'd forgotten for a moment being surrounded and she couldn't say anything as no one understood her and she hated not being understood, the worst feeling in the world is knowing what you want to say and being completely unable to do anything about it and this was a terrible idea- but she can manage it. Right. She's managing it. It's three in the morning and you can't blame her for being unable to immediately manage it.

A second later, she becomes aware of a few things: she's had a slightly shell-shocked and panicked expression on her face for the past several minutes, she's shaking worse, the doctor's started to treat the bullet wound (she tries her hardest to ignore the pinpricks with each touch), and everyone's stopped talking. Wasn't Germany supposed to translate? He probably had. She probably had blocked it out. She stared at them for a moment, taking one last second to try to make sure her facial expression and breathing at least look normal, even if they aren't.

Oh. She's probably supposed to say something. She remembers why she agreed to this, and now she doesn't know how to start. She crosses her arms, and realizes that at some point, one of her knifes had actually gone to her hand instead of hiding in her uniform. Hopefully none of the other soldiers had noticed. She uncrosses her arms. She begins twisting the knife in her hand. She opens her mouth to speak, and her heart immediately starts pounding. She closes it. No words came out.

Another breath. "...I need painkillers," she tries, her accent unusually pronounced.

She does not want to talk about this.

She really doesn't want to talk about any of this.

This was a horrible idea and she'd like to leave now but she can't.

So instead she stares at Germany and the doctor in turn, trying to figure out where on earth she's supposed to start and what she's supposed to do to stop this conversation from sending her back into another paranoid feedback loop when she's barely had time to recover from the first.

(It crosses her mind and nearly fills it that Germany had just seen that, but she tries her best to quash the feeling of utmost helplessness that follows that realization- I have not slept in too long and am overblowing things because there is just too much- no, there is not. He saw nothing worse than having to carry you, and you are fine.)

"Or sleeping- I have not often slept," she tries again. She looks down. "And for seizures- ran out- have not had one in- few years?- he does not think I am still at risk but I know otherwise."

She winces at the sound of her own halting voice.

Wonderful.

She falls back to silent. She will not say anything else without prompting. She refuses. This was a horrible idea. What about the cake? As absurd as that was, why doesn't Germany just go make her a cake or whatever now instead? At least that would be absurd enough to ground her.

At least Germany doesn't mention the obvious. He doesn't mention the way she freezes up- stupid, stupid- the panic, the way she glanced around like a caged animal. He affords her that dignity, and the doctor does as well, and she uses that moment the best she can. (She might not like Germany much, but she still quietly affords him points for saying absolutely nothing about her breakdown. She wonders if he understands it when sometimes, the world becomes to big and the past becomes to loud. She wonders if anyone does not.)

Natalya did not want to focus on what they were there to talk about, though, so she tries to briefly focus on other things. Like how Germany really, honestly seems like he is following through with the cake. This strikes Natalya as amusing enough, given the situation. He never really struck her as a cook. Not to say that she thought he could not- cooking was, in general, something valuable enough to train into yourself for those times when you cannot trust someone else's food- it just seemed incongruous with how she normally thought of him.

A lot of today had seemed incongruous, though, so she wasn't quite certain why this, in particular, struck her at the moment. After all, where she currently was wasn't somewhere she'd expected to end up- and now was time to stop thinking about exactly where she was, because echoes of the soldiers outside remained in her head, but she'd rather not cause herself another panic attack. She tended to pride herself on being a collected, well put-together individual most of the time, she was just having trouble- having trouble- it was hard to think around all of this noise- the pain in her leg wasn't just the bullet wound, it was needles and noise- there was just too much noise-

The doctor spoke. Germany translated, nearly simultaneously. She looked down. She shouldn't have agreed to this. She didn't want to talk. Didn't want to, couldn't, didn't want to, couldn't, she was already here so she should, but what would happen, maybe this was a horrible idea after all- she had to stop sending herself into these loops. It didn't help that her head hurt and that she had to trust Germany's translation. She wanted to understand directly. She couldn't. Something could be wrong.

The underlying problem, what a question to ask. God. Are they really asking for the underlying problem, of all things? Is that what they want? She can't- the problem is that she might- she tries to open her mouth to speak, to make excuses, to say something of a cop-out like "it's complicated" or "classified" but her head's spinning and suddenly the weight of everything sinks down on her at once. It's so late at night, the sun's almost risen, she hasn't slept, or really eaten enough for that matter, in far too long, her brain's gotten itself stuck un constant loops of everything going wrong, she's been hiding, if not outright lying, for years now, everything hurts and is loud and hurts, and, well, whatever excuse she was about to make doesn't end up coming out of her mouth at all.

Instead, a hysterical, half-sob of a laugh does. Immediately, she hates herself for it, but she can't seem to stop now. The way he asked, kind, but still almost clinical, the people she's with, fuck, how did she even end up here? What was she thinking? Germany is baking a cake for her, there's a doctor she can't understand trying to fix her, despite having been broken since, god, probably the day she was born, all she wanted was- she can't even remember properly. Medicine? What a joke.

After a moment, she can't decide if she's crying or laughing, because she shouldn't be doing this here, if it wasn't so late, if everything didn't feel so wrong, maybe she wouldn't, if this was someone she still truly hated or worse, someone she actually loved, maybe she wouldn't be in this place, maybe she would have held it together, but she can't give in now, can't show weakness now, can't admit that she's running out of time, can't admit that the antidepressants that one soldier had snuck her, can't pretend-

"Mine- my people- they die," she says, between laughter or tears, "yet you want to know- problem underneath." She covers her face with her hand. "My people are dying," she says, "so- so- I-"

She can't finish saying it.

Coward.