A/N: Hello, hello! I bring you another one-shot! Before you start reading, however, I ask you to fully read this author's note, which will provide some content warnings and address the sensitive topic this one-shot is based on.

Firstly, this one-shot contains elements pertaining to war, fighting, death, destruction, bombs/shells, and refugees from war. If any of these are triggers for you, or make you uncomfortable, I would advise you to not read this one-shot. Most of these things aren't described in detail, but better safe than sorry.

Secondly, this one-shot is based on the ongoing conflict in Ukraine. This one shot isn't meant to be political in any way. It is meant to emphasize the effect war can have on civilians, not promote one side or another. I have strong opinions on this topic, but I have tried my hardest for those to not be reflected in the actual writing. 

Thank you for taking the time to read this author's note. Hope you enjoy the one-shot!

It is 6 AM when the first shells hit.

The sound of explosions that violently shake the ground bring her to consciousness.

She sits up in her bed, rubbing her eyes tiredly. But her exhaustion flees her when she realizes the ground is shaking.

This is no earthquake, she knows. In their area, that's scientifically very unlikely.

Then, she registers the faint booms that seep through her closed window.

Forcefully throwing the blanket off of her body, she jumps out of bed and presses her nose to the glass.

Her eyes grow wide at the sight in front of her.

It's still dark outside, earlier than when she normally wakes up. Despite the early hour, lights still illuminate some of the windows of the buildings of her city.

That's not what catches her attention.

It's the flashes of light from the outskirts of Kharkiv, accompanied by the booms she was hearing earlier. They're unmistakable, even to her.

They're being shelled.

She backpedals from the window, falling onto her bed as she does. But she can't tear her eyes away from the view, no matter how much she tries.

It's begun.

You'd have to be living under a rock to not know about the rising tensions between her country and Russia - or the forces that Russia has amassed at their border.

In the back of her mind, she supposes that she knew that war was a very real possibility. But the notion, to her, was always like the science fiction stories she reads - an idea, simply on the front pages of newspapers, taking up headlines on news websites, but just that; an idea, unlikely to ever happen.

How wrong she was.

Oh, god.

We're at war.

Her eyes follow the bursts of light as they appear and disappear simultaneously. It's apparent that they're getting bigger, fast. Her right hand finds its way to her mouth, which it promptly covers.

Just then, the door of her room bursts open.

She whips around, finally turning away from the blasts. Her eyes take in her older brother, with his traditional bed hair and red plaid pajamas. But his face has a panic in it that she's seen on only a few occasions before. Red Flag #1.

"Inna? Are you alright?"

Red Flag #2. Olek never calls her by her actual name. It's always "Inn", or "Indy", in reference to Indiana Jones, which has been her favorite movie series for as long as she could remember.

"Olek, what's going on?" Her eyes drift back to the explosions. She hates how small her voice sounds. She sounds like the child her family insists she is, which she stubbornly denies.

He sighs, following her gaze. "They've done it." He pauses, hesitating, before he blurts it out. "Russia has invaded Ukraine."

It's the first time she's heard it out loud, and, judging from Olek's face, it's the first time he's said it out loud. The silence after the distressing statement is heavy.

Finally, she can't take it anymore. "That's it? That's all you have to say?" Her voice breaks as the information finally begins to sink in. "For god's sake, you're a poli-sci major! Can you tell me anything? Any motives, any plans, just... any information about what's happening to our country?"

"There's nothing to say." He responds quietly to his sister's pleas. "Russia wants Ukraine, and they're taking it. I'm not a soothsayer, Inn. I don't know what's going to happen."

They lapse back into a heavy silence. The blasts continue, lighting up the slowly dawning sky in a way that could be described as beautiful, if not for the implications.

Their apartment is almost never quiet. It's always full of laughter and teasing and busy people. But, this morning, it is. It feels so wrong.

"Well," Olek looks at her and quips, in an attempt to lighten the mood. It's as though he has read her mind. "Guess we're not going to school today. Yippee."

She shoots a look at him, and tries to communicate with him through her glare. Not funny.

He doesn't make another remark after that.

They're just sitting in their apartment, watching a war unfold, she realizes. Any sane person would probably be furiously packing up their things, getting ready to leave the city, especially those in a city as close to the Russian border as theirs.

But she finds that she doesn't want to. She's not stupid; they'll most likely have to leave eventually. Her parents are heavy sleepers; they're probably still asleep. They deserve those last moments of peace, of obliviousness, before their lives get uprooted. And she'd like to think that they - Olek and her - at least deserve a few minutes to soak everything in before the flurry of motion that will undoubtedly accompany the revelation of war begins.

She squints at the explosions, a new fact suddenly dawning on her. "Olek, they're getting really close now."

He tears his gaze away from his sister's concerned, frightened face - a look that makes her look so much older than the 13-year-old she really is - and focuses back on the explosions. His own eyes widen as he realizes that she's right.

He pushes his weight off the door, which he was leaning on. "We should probably wake Mama and Tato now. They'll freak out if we keep this from them much longer."

She nods, but doesn't move. Her focused gaze doesn't budge.

They both jump when a frantic shout echoes through their apartment. "Olek! Inna!"

Their father. She finally gets up, pulling away from the sight of shell blasts, and heads for the door of her room, where Olek is waiting for her to go first.

They both walk out of her bedroom and into the living room, where their father is currently standing, looking panic-stricken.

His posture instantly relaxes when he sees them walking into the room. He strides towards them briskly, pulling them both into a hug.

"Thank goodness." His voice is slightly muffled in his children's hair. After a moment, he pulls away and holds them both by the shoulders, looking over them. "You're both alright?"

"Yes, Tato." Olek responds. She just nods. Their faces are all unusually solemn. Understandable, given the situation.

"Alright. I assume you've already seen what's going on?"

She nods again, more concerned with another matter. "Where's Mama?"

"Here." Both siblings turn around to face her dark-haired mother. "Marko, go pack our things. I'm going to take an emergency shopping trip."

All three of them open their mouths to protest, but her mother holds up her hand. "There's no ifs, ands, or buts about it. None of you boys do the cooking, you don't know what we need. Inna, before you can open your mouth, yes, you do help cook, but you're too young. I'm going."

The look on her mother's face is set in stone. They all know what this means; her stubborn mother won't budge on the issue.

"Nadiya-" Their father tries anyway.

"No. I don't want to hear it. Now, both of you kids, go to your rooms, fill your backpacks with whatever you want to take with you. Make sure to take the necessities, but don't take too much, only the stuff you can carry. We have maybe half a day, at most."

Her mother ruffles Olek's hair, despite his protests, and sets her left hand on her shoulder, smiling down at her. She returns the smile halfheartedly.

"Well, what are you waiting for, квітка? Her mother asks. Flower. She smiles wider at the mention of their old joke-turned-endearment.

"Nothing, Mama." Overcome with an urgent sense of longing, she suddenly crushes her mother in a hug. "Love you."

Despite her obvious surprise, her mother hugs her back tightly. "Love you too, Inna."

After a second, her mother lets go of her. Immediately, she is disappointed at the loss of contact.

Be strong. she reprimands herself. You can't afford to fall apart now.

With one last smile aimed at her parents, she turns around and strides back into her bedroom, for the last time.

—-----------------—-----------------

It is an hour and a half later, when she is stuffing her sketchbook and pencils into her bag that something begins hitting the roof occasionally.

She looks up sharply, abandoning the bag in favor of looking out the window, trying to figure out what's going on.

Her eyes grow impossibly wide as she realizes what the sound is.

Shrapnel.

The shelling has gotten close enough that little bits of shrapnel were now bouncing off their roof and walls, every several minutes.

Her father clearly realizes this, too, because his voice sounds from their room, firm but with a slight waver. "Hurry up, kids!"

She knows that it's unlikely the shrapnel will pierce the concrete of their apartment complex, but the sound is still chilling.

It reminds her of her new reality, of her uncertain future.

She rips her gaze from the light shrapnel rain and goes back to packing.

—-----------------—-----------------

Another six and a half hours pass in a blur.

She finishes packing soon after the shrapnel begins falling, and goes to comfort her father, who's finished packing her parents' stuff. He's worrying himself sick over her mother, who is still at the grocery store. She has to admit, she's worried too, but every time she feels like she's panicking, she firmly reminds herself, We don't have the time for this.

She can handle her mental state later. Right now, her only concern is her family's physical states.

Her mother comes back about two hours after shrapnel began hitting their apartment building. Fortunately, it's still occasional. She enters, complaining about the long lines at the supermarket. By that time, Olek had joined them in waiting on the couch and worrying.

Once she's back, her mother quickly settles them all down for a late breakfast, then enlists their help in packing all their food, except for their lunch, into a separate bag as efficiently as possible.

After that, they all gather in the living room to make a plan. The conversation is a sobering one.

"The closest countries to us are Russia and Belarus." Her mother opens with. "Those two are obviously not options. So we'll have to go pretty far." Nobody protests. "For now we need to focus on getting out of Ukraine. What we do after that can be decided later."

She notices, out of the corner of her eye, that her brother had opened his mouth to say something, then quickly shut it again. She frowns, but focuses back on her mother's words. "We have five options. Poland, Slovakia, Hungary, Romania, and Moldova." She points to them on the paper map spread out in front of them. "All of those countries, with the exception of Moldova, are members of the EU, who will most likely accept refugees."

Refugees. She fights the urge to cringe. That's what we're going to be now.

"However, Moldova does have a deal with the EU, so I believe they will accept us as well, should we decide to go there."

Olek jumps in, utilizing his knowledge of geography that comes with being a political science major. "Moldova is the closest option, and it will allow us to avoid Kyiv, as well, which is probably being targeted. But I'd say the best bet is Poland, because it shares borders with several other countries that we can go to, if needed. Moldova is only bordered by Ukraine and Romania."

After a while of discussing, arguing, and drawing, they map a route to Soroca, Moldova, with high hopes of being accepted into the country. Next, they eat lunch, then head to the garage to begin packing everything into the car.

All of them are well aware when the tap of shrapnel hitting their walls begins sounding a tiny bit more often.

Despite the situation, she finds it in herself to crack an occasional smile. She has her family, and they have a plan to escape the impending war. Sure, there is still a war, but, anyhow, things seem to be looking up.

—-----------------—-----------------

They're just loading the last bags into their car, which is hovering down the street, when her mother speaks up. "Wait. I forgot something at the apartment, let me get it."

She raises an eyebrow at her mother. If she had to use three adjectives to describe her mother, they would be calm, collected, and organized. Her mother doesn't forget things.

But it's been a stressful day, she supposes, and that may have affected her mother's inhuman ability to remember everything. If a war isn't a reason to forget something, she doesn't know what is.

So, she keeps her mouth shut as her father gives her mother the affirmative. She watches her mother stride down the street, back towards their apartment complex, keeping her hands over her head to deflect any shrapnel that may fall on her.

But she doesn't turn back to her father and brother, even when they call for her to help them with some of the heavier bags that are left. She keeps her eyes resolutely on her mother, even when she disappears into the building.

When she first hears the whistling of a shell, she ignores it.

When it grows louder, she looks up.

When she sees it soaring in the air, her eyes widen. The shells hadn't gotten close enough for her to see them before they exploded, up until now.

When she frantically tries to calculate its path, her mouth opens.

"MAMA!"

But she knows her mother won't be able to hear her.

At the scream, her father and brother turn to her. "What happened?" Her father questions, panicked.

But she can only stare as the shell makes impact with the back left corner of their apartment building.

She can only stare as it bursts into flame.

Faintly, she can hear her brother cry out, and the shuffle her father moving in the building's direction, yelling, "Nadiya!", before abruptly stopping, probably because Olek is holding him back.

But all the noises seem muffled, as though she's underwater. The rest of the world falls away as she stares at the apartment complex that she once called home.

The remains of which are being licked by fire.

With her mother still inside.

No. No, no, no, no, no.

She doesn't believe it.

Her mother, her caring, beautiful, calm, organized, loving mother, can't be dead.

She aches to feel the comfort of her mother's hugs, or hear her soothing voice, affectionately calling her квітка.

Her mother wouldn't leave her here alone, in a war zone. Sure, she has her father and Olek, but none of them emanate the same comforting aura of her mother.

This has to be a mistake.

But her mother's arms aren't around her.

Her mother isn't waiting in the car for her.

She saw the building come down. And she can already tell that the firefighters won't be able to salvage much.

No.

She just stands still. Maybe, if she doesn't move, she can stop it from being true. She could pretend that everything is alright, even if her world is falling apart around her.

All she can do is stand still.

—-----------------—-----------------

Eventually, her brother drags her into their car.

Olek seems to be the only one functioning out of the four- three of them. While she uselessly stared at her former home - her mother's grave - her older brother dragged her father into the passenger seat, locking him in so he couldn't go anywhere, then went back for her, guiding her to the backseat with a gentle, "Come on, Inna, we have to go."

She didn't resist. The logical part of her, through the shroud of emotions, whispered, He's right.

Now, he's the one driving, because she is too young and her father is in no condition to.

"We'll be stopping by the metro station for the night, then start for Soroca in the morning." he announces.

He receives no response. In her peripheral vision, she can see her father staring blankly ahead, trying to deal with his own grief.

She turns her attention back to the window, back to her city, slowly growing smaller.

They didn't even get to bury her.

She believes that all of them knew that the firefighters, if they weren't overwhelmed already, wouldn't get anything out of the wreck of their apartment building, bodies or otherwise. But Olek was the only one to act on it, by forcing them to keep going.

He's stronger than her. All this time, she had been trying to keep herself together, but she finally broke, with the death of her mother. But Olek kept going.

She can't find it in herself to care.

She wonders what her mother was thinking, in the moments before she died.

Hopefully, it was all good thoughts.

Tears began slipping down her cheeks.

For the first time since she saw those shell explosions on the horizon, she allows herself to cry.

She stares out the car window, at her city, her home, now being obscured by smoke, being attacked by shells, and she cries.

Inna Kolesnik cries for her school, for the park they visit(ed) every good weekend, for her cozy apartment, for her teachers and friends, but most of all, for her mother, who's being left behind.

Her mother, who is now a casualty of war.

And the rest of Ukraine cries with her.

A/N: And there's that! I hope that I was able to impress upon anyone who reads this how much war can cost, both physically and emotionally. I'll admit, this was a bit hard to read, and I'm the author.

I did a lot of research and spent a lot of time on this one-shot. I tried to make everything as accurate as possible, using the information available. Please let me know if you notice any errors, and I'll try to fix them.

I'd like to give Ukraine a little shoutout. In my opinion, they've been fighting like hell against the invasion, and have lasted longer than most people thought they could. Ukraine has been occupied for most of its history, and now they're fighting off another one. I believe Ukraine is one of the most resilient countries I've ever seen, and its citizens have earned my utmost respect. Stand strong, Ukraine!

Have a wonderful day, wherever you are!