Chapter 2

"Papa, papa watch this! Watch over here!" The little boy wobbled bravely on the small frozen pond before bringing his stick up high into air and swinging down to hit the puck into the homemade "net". The force of the action through him off balance and the little boy fell ungracefully onto the ice, his stick skidding away and following the path the puck had just taken.

Seconds passed before a strong pair of arms swooped by and hoisted the fallen boy high into the air, throwing and catching him with a single twist of his arms as he skated around the rink in large loops and whirls.

"Oh Ivan, you have such talent". His father affectionately teased. "Maybe you will play for the Olympics next year, they will beg me to let you play." The large men tickled the boy until he was withering down onto the ice.

"Oh Papa", the boy giggled, "I don't want to play for the Olympics, I just want to play with you."

A brief glance at his clunky cell phone told Ivan that the battery had long since run dry. His grandfather had bought him the phone as another way to always confirm Ivan would be able to contact him if he was needed. But it was used infrequently since Ivan had no friends, rarely left the house, and generally wasn't up for any sort of conversation.

Ivan's brows creased in concern as he realized that the sun was going down and he was just now making his way home.

After the hockey game with Alfred, Ivan's appetite had been worked up. He'd not eaten lunch, and barely touched breakfast. But his workout, and something else, convinced him a meal would be a good idea after all, and maybe a good-sized meal at that.

He popped into a local college diner and ordered a large greasy meal courtesy of the money his grandfather gave him on a weekly basis. Ivan never used the money, but didn't have the heart to tell his grandfather that the money was just being wasted on him, so he would normally just put it in a tin in his bedroom at the end of the day.

Once the meal was completed, Ivan felt like going for a walk along the trees again, this time instead of the dark thoughts that had occupied his mind earlier, the hockey game with Alfred played and replayed itself in his mind. He enjoyed thinking about the small victories over the Canadian, as well any hits he'd managed to squeak in. Both boys had skill, but while Ivan had his size to use to his advantage, Alfred was quick footed and sneaky, and he gave as good as he got. Ivan rubbed his sore rib cage just thinking about some of Alfred's hits with a wry smile.

Playing hockey without padding was never a great idea.

Ivan slowed as he arrived at his Grandfather's house, reaching into his pockets to retrieve the keys. His hand stilled and his heart clenched in worry when he heard angry yelling coming from inside.

It was unmistakably his grandfather's voice, but his grandfather never yelled, he'd always been soft spoken and kind to a fault. Ivan slowly crept into the front foyer and tried to get closer while being unheard. This was because he wanted to hear what was being said, but also in case his grandfather was in trouble of some sort.

'Not again' his mind whispered in dread.

But as he got closer it was obvious that his grandfather was yelling into a phone. Ivan tried his best to make out the angry words, but they were being spoken in his grandfather's slightly accented English and were being relayed much too fast and with such a ferocity that it was hard to make out even the words he knew.

That said, there was one thing Ivan was certain of; the conversation was about him.

"Listen officer, I appreciate that you have a system for these types of situations, but you do not realize who you're talking to here. I work for the Russian Consulate, and I'm a personal friend of the Ambassador from Russia. When I SAY I have a missing person to report, I'm not kidding around or making some kind of light hearted prank call".

Ivan jolted back as he heard something being slammed hard onto the coffee table.

"NO! No, I will NOT wait another 20 hours. He could be dead already. He suffers from an extreme case of depression, his whole family is dead, and I will NOT add him to that list."

Whatever was being said on the other end was almost as much of a mystery to Ivan as what was being said on this end. But whatever it was, it was enough to make his grandfather slam the phone onto the receiver and angrily swipe the table of all its contents, including the phone.

His grandfather then reached over to one of the lamp stands and grabbed his keys, all the while muttering some much more familiar Russian swear words.

It was obvious that his grandfather was about to grab his car and go for a drive, and Ivan had an ever-increasing sinking feeling that it was to go in search of him.

Then as his grandfather rounded the corner, he very nearly ran straight into the unmoving form of his missing grandson.

His eyes went wide, and the keys were dropped to the ground without another thought.

"I-ivan… " his grandfather's voice trembled before he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around the large form of his grandson. "My little Ivan… you're …. You're ok.".

"Yes", Ivan whispered back, now feeling no more than 2 feet tall. "I'm here grandfather."

His grandfather pulled back and the look of hurt and worry was evident on his features. "Why didn't you call? Where have you been? Are you sure you're ok?"

"I'm sorry grandfather, I stayed late to play a game of hockey. My phone was dead, and I didn't think…" the words suddenly felt like sandpaper as he forced them out. "I didn't you'd care if I came home late." With that Ivan managed to hang his head even lower in shame if at all possible.

Their relationship was strained at best, what with Ivan working through his own demons and avoiding coming to grips with his new home, and his grandfather doing everything in his power to make Ivan forget about, well everything. On top of that, they barely knew each other. They hadn't seen each other in years, not since Ivan was a little boy. And this was hardly the ideal circumstance to catch up on things.

Ivan watched as his grandfather's pale eyes scrunched together in pain, and he worked his mouth as if to say something, but didn't know what words to form.

All too quickly it became too much for Ivan and he began to walk around his grandfather on his way up to his room. He couldn't deal with this right now, the last thing he needed was more guilt.

"I'll be in my room, I already ate dinner" Ivan said to his grandfather in a shallow voice, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

His grandfather didn't try to follow him, and once he was in his room Ivan had meant to sit on his bed, but missed and fell unceremoniously to the floor.

Everything was numb, everything hurt. His grandfather didn't need this; he deserved to be happy after everything that had happened. But Ivan also knew that his grandfather needed him too.

Ivan brought his sore right hand and laid it upon his breast where his heart should be and dug his fingers into the flesh as if to grasp the aching muscle.

Breath, Ivan thought to himself, just breath.

Ivan wasn't sure how long he'd be home, but eventually a string of light crept into the dark room as his grandfather slipped in through the creaking door.

His grandfather slowly walked around Ivan and leaned over to turn the lamp light on before sitting himself down beside Ivan on the floor.

He sat there for a while watching him, while Ivan continued to avoid his look and to stare sadly at the hardwood boards.

Ivan flinched slightly as he felt his grandfather's strong hand begin to softly stroke his silvery hair. He didn't know what his grandfather hoped to say, but he begged silently that it wasn't an apology; he couldn't deal with the shame if his grandfather apologized for having been worried about him.

Instead of words, Ivan was startled to feel the weight of a small box being placed on to his lap. He then felt his grandfather's soothing hands move from his hair to gently lift his chin.

"Ah my little Ivan, do not look so glum. No one is mad, no one is hurt and I am happy that you are here. Every day I am happy you are here."

Ivan couldn't help but be note at how his grandfather always insisted on calling him "little Ivan" now that he was full grown, but had always called him "Big Ivan, Strong Ivan, Brave Ivan when he'd been so little. Maybe it was fitting, but he doubted his grandfather meant it that way.

"Here", his grandfather motioned to the box. "I imagine it was hard to play hockey without any skates. Maybe these will fit." And with that his grandfather helped to open the top of the box.

Inside was a pair of very old looking hockey skates, easily from the 60's or 70's. But they were extremely well maintained, and their handmade leather outer shined with the appearance of a recent cleaning.

"Now, they are old, but they are made of a good Russian quality. We will need to get the blades tightened and sharpened, and maybe some new laces, but they will be better than any new pair you could buy today." His grandfather's voice shined with the pride he felt for these skates, but then his voice dropped as if he was hesitant to relay the next piece of information. "They were your fathers, you know how much he loved the game. I saw them when I came to pick you up… it would be a shame for them to never feel the ice beneath their blades again, it would be a shame for you too, I think."

Ivan tentatively reached down to pick up the blades, and stroked them reverently as if touching them could bring back the feeling of his father. It didn't hurt as much as he thought it would, and in a strange way lifted a bit of the ache in his chest. Like his grandfather had somehow managed to bring back a piece of the father he missed so much.

Clutching the blades tighter to his chest, Ivan finally looked up at his grandfather with remorse in his eyes. "I'm sorry I make you worry. I'm… I'm sorry that you have to take care of me so much, but I am trying Grandfather, I swear I'm trying.".

A tear slipped out of his grandfather's eye as he stroked his grandson's check. "Shhh Ivan, I know you're trying. I know it hurts, I feel it too. But we have each other, and it makes the hurt disappear when I think about how I have you with me now. Forget about the pain tonight and get some sleep, ok? Tomorrow we'll go shopping for some gear to go with your new skates." He then patted Ivan's shoulder affectionately and stood up to walk away.

Ivan stood up too, letting the box fall to the ground while he held fast to his father's skates. "Good night grandfather," Ivan looked down at the skates, but his voice was still directed at the man leaving the room. "Thank you, for everything."

The next day Ivan was feeling fairly refreshed all things considered and was surprisingly eager to get the day started. For the first time in a long time he was thinking of what he'd like to get done that day.

He quickly wolfed down his breakfast, eating far more then he felt like eating as a small sign to his Grandfather that he was feeling somewhat better.

Since it wasn't really that chilly today, Ivan opted to leave his overcoat behind and just wear his scarf. His hands hesitated over the soft fabric before biting down on the memories it brought up and flinging it around his neck.

He waved goodbye to his grandfather before setting off on his way to school.

He didn't have any classes until after lunch, but he was keen to find Alfred and find out what he could about the school's Hockey team. He was sure he'd seen signs advertising tryouts, but maybe the other hockey player had some suggestions about what the Coach was looking for.

As he made his way onto the extensive campus, Ivan veered off into the main building, tracking down the huge billboard that would have the signup sheets. In what seemed like a stroke of luck, he spied Alfred casually filling out his name on a sheet pinned to the billboard, while simultaneously banging on a door next to it.

"Hurry up Mattie, we're going to be late for English class." The annoyance in his voice could be clearly heard, although Ivan noted that it was strangely different than the tone used yesterday.

Today the jeans had been swapped out for a comfortable looking pair of dress slacks, and a complimentary blue dress shirt. He was also sporting a pair of glasses that Ivan didn't remember from yesterday. But most people chose to wear contacts when there was a possibility of a puck to the face. He seemed to be in a good mood today, although impatient with whomever it was he was waiting for.

As Ivan got closer, a smirk grew as he thought about how much he was going to enjoy crushing this other young man in another game of one on one.

Alfred was leaning against the wall by the time Ivan approached and began to playfully goad him on.

"Alfred," Ivan called out to get the other man's attention, "I hope body is not broken, only spirit." The Russian teased as he picked up the pen to write his own name on the sheet.

Alfred turned to regard the larger student with a look of curiosity and honest confusion. "I'm sorry, what did you break?"

Ivan paused, and considered the other's tone. Something wasn't right here. Alfred was polite, and honest in his question, but his voice was devoid of the competitiveness and annoyance he'd heard from yesterday. It was almost as if he didn't recognize him.

"Maybe Puck hit too hard," Ivan drawled with a smirk. "you forget losing hockey yesterday?"

Alfred's eyes widened fractionally, and it seemed like a light bulb went off in his head. Whatever friendly politeness had been there before quickly drained from his face, and hard unhappy line appeared.

"Listen Comrade, first off I don't lose at hockey, and second if you hit me I'll hit you back." Alfred pushed off the wall and advanced on the Russian in a way that in no way reminded Ivan of yesterday's encounter.

"Vat? I tink you… confused?" Ivan tried to form more coherent sentence structures, but his mind was frantically trying to grasp what was going on.

"No, Comrade, it's you who's confused. Whatever pity game I had with you yesterday is over. I don't want you or your soviet ideas anywhere near me again," Alfred then turned to the hockey sign up sheet and started frantically scratching two names off of the list while managing to snarl. "and stay the hell away from Matthew too".

Just like with his grandfather last night, the words were coming too fast and angry to be fully understood. He knew Alfred was mad at him, this time for real, but he couldn't for the life of him figure out what he'd done wrong in such a short period of time. Maybe he really had hurt the smaller Canadian, although it hadn't seemed that way at the time.

Just as Alfred was scratching out the last name on the list, the door next to him flung open and a peeved looking doppelganger appeared before Ivan's eyes. He was dressed in an identical looking outfit and was repositioning his glasses on the tip of his nose.

"Alfred don't bang on the door when I'm in the washroom, it's not going to make me move any faster, and just what… " His voice trailed off as he saw Alfred scratching out his name on the signup sheet. "Alfred what the hell are you doing, I said sign our names up, not take them off."

"Alfred?" Another voice called from the sidelines. The baffled sounding accent was enough to make the double turn away from his twin and stare up at Ivan with instant realization.

He immediately turned his gaze back to the angry man who was practically stabbing the paper in an effort to show his anger.

"I can explain…" came the frantic voice as the double tried to stop the first Alfred from scratching out the names anymore. But his twin angrily shrugged him off before grabbing the flailing arm and pulling him away.

"We're late, let's go!" The first Alfred proclaimed as he dragged his indignant twin down the hall. When the double resisted so that he could try and get back to the Hockey sheet, Alfred yanked on his arm harder. "NOW!"

Ivan was left standing by the board stunned. He could only watch as the two identical young men made their way further into the building.

But right before turning the corner, the young man being dragged away managed to glance back one last time at Ivan and direct a look of pure angry betrayal.

TBC

Author's Note:

I've been writing Gundam Wing Fanfiction for almost 10 years and was amused to see my highest hit count this past weekend with this fanfic, however it also had my lowest number of reviews My ego may have taken a hit, but no worries; I'm enjoying this story none the less

I also lowered the rating; I realized I had it set so high that you couldn't actually see the story in the Hetalia Section… oops.

I was listening to the Musical "Chess" all last night and thinking, wish someone would do a story with that.

The oh so original characterizations could be:

Ivan as "The Russian"

Alfred as "The American"

And umm.. Matthew as Florence ;)

Either way I much imagine the Grandfather is like "The Russian" in the musical Chess, politics forced him out of Russia, but he still loves his homeland.

Canadian to American translation:

Washroom = Restroom/Toilet

Sony