A/N (A\N? I dunno.) I started another fic. I'm bad. I already have a several multi-chaptered stories going on for several different fandoms at the moment and I start another one. Shoot me now. ANYWHO! This plot bunny was released into my brain several weeks ago, and wouldn't stop chewing on my nerve endings. To get it to stop making my have random muscle spasms, I wrote it down. And now, I think I love it. I will now stop my yammering and get on with the disclaimer and such.

I DO NOT own Hetalia. If I did... I'm not even going to finish that sentence. The only thing I own are my OCs.

A hooded figure dashed through the streets of New York City, a mysterious bundle in it's arms. It ran in and out of alleyways, making sure to keep to the shadows. It looked around franticly, searching. It's eyes landed on what it sought: a building. This building looked like any other in the city, except for the sign above the doorway.

Saint Nicholas Home for Boys

This was it. This is what the figure had hoped to find. It slowly made it's way up to the front stoop. Then, it slowly removed it's hood. Light chestnut locks fell in waves, and forest green eyes shone with unshed tears. She shakily pulled down the bundle's blankets to reveal an infant child. Looking upon her son, she let her tears fall.

Why was she doing this?

Why did she have to do this?

Was it so impossible for her to live a happy, peaceful life with her lover and child?

She knew the answer, and it was yes. It was far too complicated being who she had to be as it was, but adding a child into the mixture would certainly spell disaster. But she was hesitant. What if her son was like his father and herself? What is he was one of them? She stroked one of the infant's round cheeks softly, and shook her head. If he was indeed one of them, he would be put even more at risk. Her boss was already on her tail for skipping out of work the past few months, and he would most definitely disapprove of her little miracle. This had to be done. She gazed once more into his amazing violet eyes ('Just like his.' She thought), and slipped a silver chain over his head. Hanging from the chain was one of her oldest and most treasured possessions – her old Iron Cross. She looked at her son fondly; finding her favorite item from her Teutonic Knight days suited him very well. She never wore it anymore anyway, so she thought it perfect to give to her child.

She sighed once again, and gazed into those deep violet pools for what she knew would be the last time. She whispered her final goodbye.

"I will find you again someday if it is the last thing I do. You will not go your whole life without knowing your family, for I find that a fate worse than death. I know, my son, you cannot understand a single word I say to you now, but I will say this anyway. Remember, Samuel, I will always love you, no matter what." With this, she tenderly kissed Samuel's forehead, and rapped loudly on the door. She placed her child down on the stoop, and swiftly fled.

Moments later, a middle-aged man with a scruffy salt-and-pepper beard and thinning hair opened the door. He searched for who had knocked on his door, and upon finding no one, he sighed, and went to close it. He stopped dead in his tracks when he heard a sudden cry. He snapped his head around and stared at the ground, his gaze falling on the wailing infant. His eyes soften on the boy, and he gently scooped him into his arms. He searched the boy and his blankets for any sigh of his name, but all he saw was the coal colored cross hanging from his neck… until he looked closer at the child's lime green blanket. Embroidered into the material was a name: Samuel E., it said.

"Sam, huh?" muttered the man. "Decent name, I suppose." And with that he closed the door.

Elizaveta stepped out of the shadows, and sighed. She was filled with both relief and sadness. Relief because her son had been accepted, but saddened that Roderich would never meet his son, or even know of his existence for that matter. But there was nothing that could be done now. After all, it was forbidden for nations to have children; in fact, Samuel shouldn't even exist! But, low and behold, she had gotten pregnant by her ex-husband, and had his son. Now, she paid the ultimate price for her carelessness.

Being torn away from her child.