How Did It Come To This?

Chapter 3


Entry -

Oh hell, does it even matter?

Keeping this in perfect order seems pointless now. I don't know how to write this anymore. Everything is far to hectic and complicated and entirely out of order that keeping every entry in this idiotic excuse for a journal perfectly uniformed seems like a fool's task.

I don't know why I even bother to carry on writing in this.

But, well, it calms my nerves, if anything.

Alfred finally returned my laptop to me after I had been released from that damned hospital. Another moment in that god forsaken place and I'm sure I would have gone insane, even with Alfred's constant company.

I'm not quite so loathed to admit that the boy is quite endearing anymore. Though his insistence that I stay with him rather than booking in at a different hotel may have been taking things too far. I am not an invalid.

We have been meeting with Beilschmidt for the last week now trying to formulate some form of a plan to infiltrate Wang Yao's company. It's a very delicate situation, as anyone can imagine, and the more time we spend pouring over the details of it all, the more impossible it all seems. Even Alfred, the ever-cheerful (read: oblivious) Alfred, seems to be feeling the strain and pressure that we are all placing so heavily on our shoulders. It truly feels like an impossible feat to accomplish.

But we have to manage it somehow.

•••

I suppose this is entry 29.

(I looked back to check)

A parasite has latched onto my shoulder to invade my personal space while I write this. Its name is Alfred. And it is a pain.

(And now he is complaining about being called 'it'. Bloody idiot.)

Today's meeting with Beilschmidt seemed to run smoother than out past ones. It didn't feel like my head was going to explode at the end of it, at least. Plus, it's always a good thing when a certain someone doesn't start suggesting senseless schemes for the rest of us to suffer. No, Alfred, they most certainly are not 'brilliantly awesome ideas'. They are foolish and will get us all killed. End of.

If we can continue with this method of planning, then hopefully we will be able to accumulate some sort of strategy within the week.

It is rare for me to do so, but I will keep my fingers crossed.

•••

"Oh no you don't." Alfred steered me away from the sofa, pushing me in the direction of his bedroom. "You're injured. If anyone's sleeping on the couch, it's me. Dude, we've been through this."

"Yes, and I'm sure I mentioned that I've completely healed." I huffed, frowning over my shoulder at him as he continued his idiotic shoving. "I will be perfectly fine sleeping on the sofa."

"Then why are you still putting on a fresh band aid every day?" He stopped pushing me only to pull at the side of my shirt (almost ripping it with those sausage fingers of his) to reveal the edge of the bandage I had attached to my shoulder that morning.

I glared at him, slapping his hand away and pulling my shirt back on properly. "That's just a precaution to keep it clean, you oaf."

"Don't care." Alfred chirped, grabbing my arm and continuing to lead me into the bedroom. "There's no way I'm letting you sleep on the couch. If anything, you're a guest. It wouldn't be very heroic of me to let a guest sleep on the couch."

"For a qualified journalist, you're such a bloody child."

"Hey, I'm just looking out for you." I could tell he was pouting even without looking, he's so damn predictable. But, I suppose, it's also quite endearing of him to try and look after me even after everything. Not that I would ever admit that to him.

"Alfred, tomorrow is important. We can't argue over insignificant things like this." I huffed, doing my very best to hold my ground.

"Yeah, which is why you should stop being stupid and just sleep in the bed." He gave me one last shove into his bedroom, grabbing the blanket and pillow out of my arms, before closing the door behind me, effectively ending the dispute.

The matter of the next day was daunting. It was something that we were all dreading and were all painfully aware of it. The plans had all been made and we were in for an early start the next day. Every last detail of the operation had to be carried out perfectly in order to avoid detection. But it wasn't going to be easy.

Even Alfred had shown his serious side, quietening down and helping to make the plans in such a way that we would all be able to take advantage of the parts we were playing. But still, it wasn't going to be a case of barging in and taking what we wanted. It was a delicate matter. One that we couldn't afford to make a mess of.

It left me staring at the ceiling that night, the thoughts of what we were about to do buzzing through my head and sleep refusing to come. I found myself tossing and turning under the covers in some vein attempt to tire myself out, but nothing seemed to calm my nerves.

Behind the bedroom door in the living room, Alfred was lying on the sofa. I could just imagine his eyes searching his apartment ceiling for the stars that were beyond the roof. The stars that he dreamed of touching, but could never reach. The small thoughts kept popping up into my head. Was Alfred sleeping? Or was he just as troubled as I was? What was he thinking about? And what the hell was I going to be able to do to protect him from the mess I had caused?

Before I knew it, I was pulling back the covers and wrenching open the door, my feet slapping on the lino floor of Alfred's living room as I crossed it. He was there, stretched out on the sofa, feet dangling over the edge, eyes closed as his face snuggled into the pillow.

He looked so damned peaceful and it pained me to think of what might happen the next day.

I pulled the pillow out from under his head, letting it fall back against the arm of the chair and effectively wake him up as I grabbed his arm and forcibly guided him toward the bedroom.

"Dude, I'd just fallen asleep." He yawned, trying to yank his arm back.

"If you're only just falling asleep now, then there's no way that you're going to get a decent night's rest." I grumbled, tightening my grip on his wrist.

"I told you. I'm not letting you sleep on the couch." He continued to try and wrench his arm back, huffing as I held firm.

"Who said that I was going to sleep on the sofa?" I couldn't look back at him, annoyed at my face for heating up.

"You're not sleeping on the floor."

"I never said that I was going to sleep on the floor!" Damned kid, why didn't he get it? "It'll be an inconvenience for everyone if you're tired tomorrow, so we're both going to sleep on the bed. Got it?"

"What? Sleep with you? A-are you sure? I mean, I'm fine with sleeping on the couch."

"It's not about being fine with it." I sighed. God, this kid can be so frustrating! "Let's just go to sleep, alright."

If anything, with Alfred in the bed next to me I was even more awake than I was before; though this time I was staring at the wall, not the ceiling, with my back to the lump on the next pillow. I felt like an age had gone past since I had gotten back under the covers, and I wasn't any closer to succumbing to my tiredness. And from the sounds of it, Alfred was still wide awake beside me.

"Arthur, you still awake?"

"What do you think?" I huffed, pulling the covers up to my chin.

I felt his weight shift as he moved a tad closer to me. He shook my shoulder, moving the covers back down. "I'm cold. You mind if we huddle up a bit?"

"If you're cold just get under the covers more." I shoved them off me, throwing them back over my shoulder and hugged my knees instead.

"Nah. That won't do." He chuckled and I could feel his breath on the back of my neck. That idiot. When did he get that close?

The next thing I knew, Alfred had put his arm around my waist and pulled me against him. I swear no one's ever taught him about personal space, because this was most certainly a breach of mine, and there was nothing I could do to remedy it.

He was pressed against my back and was resting his chin on the top of my head. I suppose… it wasn't entirely unpleasant. But I most certainly wasn't going to let him know that.

"That's better." He whispered, and I could tell he was smiling. "Hey, Arthur, it's been a while since that time, hasn't it?"

"Since what time?"

"You know… that time."

"I haven't the foggiest idea what you are talking about." I lied, knowing all too well when he was referring to. The time just before I was shot. The time when we… well… kissed.

He sighed, nuzzling into my hair. "For a spy, you're a really bad liar, Artie. Maybe I'll have to remind you?"

"Don't call me that." I muttered, closing my eyes. "Do as you please. It's not as if anything I say will make a difference."

He laughed, pushing himself up on his elbows and rolling me over so that I was looking up at him.

He really looked different without his glasses on and with his face in the shadows. I couldn't decide whether he looked younger or more mature. It was like a different side to him had come out while he was looking down at me.

"What you say makes all the difference, stupid." He leant forward, pressing his lips to my forehead. "You just don't know how to say it."

His smile was ridiculously contagious and no matter what I would have normally done to fight it, I know it must have slipped onto my features because the next thing he was doing was leaving probably the most gentle kiss I had ever received on my lips, and then grinning like the idiot he is. And, because I'm an idiot as well, I could help but return it and let myself lean into it when he bent down once more.

•••

Entry 35

Today everything goes ahead as planned. It's, as they say, now or never.

I would be lying if I said that I wasn't worried. My nerves are so on edge that if a pin dropped at the wrong moment, I'm sure that my all too trigger-happy senses may awaken.

Alfred still had his arms around me when I woke up.

That and that alone is the best comfort I could have wished for right now.

•••

"Are you all prepared?" Beilschmidt looked back over the seat in the car to where Alfred and myself were packed into the backseats. Bonnefoy was driving, looking a little more bedraggled than usual and Gilbert was in a car somewhere not far behind us with a couple of others.

"As ready as we're gonna be." Alfred sighed, leaning forward in his seat. "Let's just get it over with."

"I couldn't agree more." I kept staring out the window, watching the cars speed past on their early morning commute. We were driving for a completely different reason.

"If you keep glaring like that then you'll get wrinkles." Alfred poked at my forehead, pushing my brows back up. "No point in making this whole thing feel any worse than it actually is."

"That's the building, right?" Bonnefoy nudged Beilschmidt, nodding ahead at an office block. He nodded and we turned the corner, pulling into the building's car park to wait for the others to arrive.

We'd parked under some trees in some attempts not to get noticed by the security cameras and Bonnefoy had lit up cigarettes for both him and Beilschmidt, not bothering to offer either me or Alfred one. He leant back on the car, smoking it far too quickly for it to be of any use to his nerves, puffing the smoke out like he was a chimney.

"I've spoken to Honda and he should be opening the door for us at eight thirty." Beilschmidt murmured, just loud enough for us all to hear. "The others shouldn't be too much longer in getting here. We just need to wait until then."

I felt myself nodding absentmindedly, fiddling with what I had put in my pocket that morning. It was something I had thought of an brought with me without telling anyone else, but I had a feeling it may end up being essential.

"What you thinking about?" Alfred came bounding up behind me, leaning on my shoulder.

"Just that this is absolutely insane." Because it really was. What we were about to do, it really was idiotically short-sighted.

"Probably." He chirped, giving my shoulder a squeeze. "But it's too late to stop now."

I nodded, feeling inside my pocket again. It was definitely going to be needed. I could see it from a mile away. I pulled it out, stuffing it instead into the breast pocket of Alfred's shirt.

"What're you doing?" He raised an eyebrow at me.

"You'll need it. Trust me." I grumbled, turning my back to snatch a cigarette from the frog. Lord knows I needed it.

It wasn't long before Gilbert was pulling up next to us, getting out of the car and practically ripping the box of fags out of Bonnefoy's hands. The tall blonde that climbed out behind him must've been Beilschmidt's youngest grandson; he looked just like him, and then followed the smaller, obviously terrified boy that I recognised immediately as Feliciano Vargas. He wasn't any different from the photographs I'd seen in Vargas's office, though his idiotic smile was absent, replaced by the face of a complete and utter coward. But he had shown up here, and that had to count for something, I suppose.

Beilschmidt was busy babbling on the phone to someone while Alfred and I stood back. The Vargas kid obviously wasn't the only one fit to burst with nerves. Even Alfred was being needlessly jumpy, whipping his head around whenever someone drove past. It was only when the time hit eight thirty that everyone seemed to calm down, realising that it we had no choice now but to carry everything through.

Gilbert handed his grandfather a case that Zwingli had passed on and a few firearms were passed out to the people who knew how to use them, including myself. (I noticed that they carefully avoided giving Alfred one, probably for the best.) I hid it away inside my jacket, knowing only too well how to keep a weapon like this concealed.

I think that's when it actually hit everyone that we were carrying out something that was genuinely dangerous. It was as if they were all silently praying that they were all going to come out alive.

Honda was, indeed, at the door when we approached, swiftly letting us in after making sure there was no one else around. He shared a quick hello with Alfred (they are friends, after all), before leading the way down the corridor.

"My cousin has a meeting with Vargas at quarter to nine." He spoke quickly, his head darting from side to side to make sure they weren't being watched. "We have to make a move then when they're all together or we'll lose any evidence there may be. They are good at covering their tracks."

"Indeed, it will be difficult." Even Beilschmidt was talking urgently. It wasn't like him to even slightly lose his cool, but here he was looking around every corner as if we were about to get hit by a raging bull. "It wouldn't do well for us to get caught now."

"Ah, now that's a shame."

He was standing ahead of us, leaning on the wall, carefree smirk firmly in place as always. I must say, it was pretty daring of Carriedo to show his face just like that. Apparently I wasn't the only one who thought so either since Alfred took a step in front of me and I felt the entire group tense up even more.

"Now this isn't a very warm welcome, is it?" He sniggered, lifting up his pistol and pretending to examine it. "Didn't we all work together until not long ago?"

None of us spoke. I wouldn't have liked anything more than to wipe that smirk off of his stupid Spanish face, and from the looks of it, Alfred was thinking something along the same lines. He was clenching his fists so hard that his knuckles had turned white, and I don't think I've ever seen him glare so hard at someone before.

Carriedo chuckled, shaking his head at the sight of us. "I see that trying to make civil conversation isn't going to work. Did you really think you could get in here without us knowing? They've been keeping taps on Honda's phone and email ever since he got back here. And Jones, do you really think it wise to shield dear old Arthur? It's you who Wang wants dead, and I'd be all too happy to oblige him. Though I wonder if anyone is willing to take a bullet for you this time."

I don't think anyone quite knew who had moved first. It was as though Alfred and I had blinked and opened our eyes to find two other people in front of us, blocking Antonio from getting anywhere near us.

Bonnefoy and Gilbert were facing off with Carriedo, neither one of them breaking their eye contact with him.

It was almost surreal, seeing the three people who had so easily gotten along (even if Carriedo had been pretending) and acted like idiots together, glaring down their noses at each other, nothing short of loathing in their eyes.

"I stand corrected." I don't think Carriedo's smirk could have gotten any bigger, even if his eyebrows had risen slightly. "And surprised. And here I thought we were friends."

"We stopped being friends the moment you shot Kirkland." Gilbert growled, and I could see his hand twitching towards the gun hidden in his belt.

"And since when did you care about our Mr Kirkland?" I don't think I was the only one sick to my stomach of Carriedo's sniggering.

"I think it's more because you were trying to shoot Alfred, no?" Bonnefoy's another one I wouldn't mind permanently shoving a sock down his throat (even if we are supposed to be working together). "We do not take kindly to betrayal, Antonio."

The smile had vanished from Carriedo's face. I don't think I've ever seen him look so serious. He took to surveying out group, taking time to look each of us up and down, save Beilschmidt (who still seemed to intimidate him, unsurprisingly), his gaze finally resting on Vargas's grandson, standing at the back behind the youngest Beilschmidt.

"We predicted as such." He sighed, attempting to take a step forward, but blocked by Gilbert. "I was told to give you one chance to cooperate or things will have to get violent."

This time he did look at Beilschmidt, as if daring him to say no.

"My Boss would very much like his grandson back." He went on, taking our silence as a good sign, but the mention of Vargas's grandson wasn't taken well by all the group. Beilschmidt's youngest grandson moved completely in front of him, positively glaring at Antonio. "Now, now, a least hear me out." The smirk was back, almost sadistically. "All you have to do is return Feliciano and we'll let the rest of you leave quietly. He won't be hurt. On the contrary, he's very much missed. It's a fair deal. So, what do you say? Feli?" He smiled, "You want to see your grandpa and Lovino again?"

Feliciano shrunk back under Carriedo's gaze, failing miserably at his attempts to disappear from sight. I'd never really met him before now, only ever caught glimpses before he disappeared from Vargas's side. He was, however, just as much of a coward as ever. He made an almost whimpering noise, before disappearing completely behind the taller German and clinging onto the material of his jacket.

"You know, Antonio," Bonnefoy's voice made all of us jump (even Beilschmidt jerked his head up). He had moved behind Carriedo while this rest of us had been distracted and had placed the barrel of his pistol carefully behind the Spaniard's neck, "you really should pay attention to what's right in front of your eyes."

There was a whacking sound, and Carriedo fell to the ground, a lump already beginning to appear on the back of his head where Bonnefoy had hit him with the handle of the gun. I think it's the first time I've ever thought that sparing someone's life wasn't weakness. I suppose I've spent too much time with Alfred.

"Nice one." Gilbert clapped Bonnefoy over the shoulder as Bonnefoy replaced the gun in his belt, not taking his eyes off the still figure at their feet until he seemed absolutely sure that he wasn't going to jump back up again. "Vati, you'd better get going or there won't be anyone left in the building. Me and Francis will keep an eye on this ass."

"Very well." Beilschmidt nodded, moving past the rest of us to continue down the corridor, Ludwig and Feliciano following close behind him.

"Hey, West." Gilbert grabbed his brother's arm, grinning. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do."

"Wouldn't dream of it." I saw a small smile flicker on the younger brother's features before he lead Feliciano after his grandfather.

Honda looked around the group, his eyes resting on Alfred and I for the longest before he rushed off after Beilschmidt, still hurriedly checking around each corner before continuing to our destination.

I still found myself looking down at Carriedo's unconscious form on the floor. He'd never gone down so easily. He's too slippery. If I didn't know better, I would've thought that he wanted to get taken down.

But I know better.

"If he tries anything – anything fishy – point and shoot him in the head. Don't give him the chance to do the same to you." I shoved the gun back into Bonnefoy's hand, aiming it at Carriedo's forehead. "Don't miss. He won't."

Alfred and I sprinted down after the others, turning several corners before we found them waiting for us in the stairwell.

We ran up, reaching the third floor relatively quickly considering we had a certain gutless Italian with us, who had the stamina of a child, moaning that he was out of breath and to carry on without him. Idiot, he's the key to the whole bloody operation!

According to the information Honda had given us, they would be meeting somewhere along this corridor, and, hopefully, that wouldn't have changed seeing as they expected Antonio to stop us from getting any further than the ground floor. We were relying on luck. Not the best of ideas really, but it was all that we had.

Honda was evidently thinking the same thing and took the lead ahead of Beilschmidt again, while Ludwig practically dragged Feliciano after him with Alfred and I bringing up the rear. We were all jumpier than ever (especially Feliciano, who was jumpy anyway), jerking around at the slightest of noises, expecting someone to appear and kill us all.

But that didn't happen.

Quite to the contrary, in fact, we managed to creep our way along the corridor until we reached the correct door without any further interruptions. Honda had backed up against the doorframe, signalling for us to do the same and we were only too glad to comply. All except Beilschmidt, that is, who stood in full view of the door. We all knew that he wanted to be the first person to step foot in front of Vargas.

I felt the group collectively hold their breath, waiting for the moment when Honda pushed the door open to reveal the occupants of the room beyond it. Indeed, even he was hesitating, waiting for Beilschmidt to give him the signal to continue. And when the simple nod of the head came, he pressed down the handle and let the door swing open.

I don't know what we were expecting. Shouting? Gunshots? Some sort of conflict at the very least, I suppose. But that was not what we were greeted with. Instead there was silence as Beilscmidt stood stock still, his eyes boring into the group of people standing inside the small conference room.

Wang had evidently been in deep conversation with Vargas when we had interrupted and was now meeting Beilschmidt's gaze, fixing him with an expression that was almost quizzical. It was as if he was amused by the circumstances of our arrival.

Vargas, on the other hand, looked furious. In all the time I had spent working for him, I don't think I'd ever seen him look that angry. We could almost see him shaking and if Wang hadn't placed a careful hand on the Italian's arm, preventing him from reaching inside his coat to retrieve what was undoubtedly his own firearm.

And all the while Beilschmidt carried on just staring into the room, seemingly unfazed by the sight that was in front of him.

"It seems as if Carriedo failed to stop them." Wang spoke, looking up at Vargas and releasing his arm. "Well I suppose it wouldn't have been nearly as interesting if he had succeeded." He stood, walking around the table so that he was only standing a few feet away from Beilschmidt. "Albert Beilschmidt, am I right? I have heard many things about you. I'm afraid that you have been quite problematic for me and my work, aru."

"Isn't it a reporter's job to investigate and bring their findings to the public's attention?" Beilschmidt replied quite calmly, still scanning the room.

"Ah yes." Wang's shrugged, as if to brush off Beilschmidt's comment. "But I would rather that my business was not made public, aru."

He motioned to someone in the corner of the room that I could not see from my place at the doorframe, but it was obvious who it was. And sure enough, the Russian, Braginski, moved into view, his hand already on the gun in his belt.

"If I may, Director." Vargas interrupted, stepping forward and in front of Braginski, effectively blocking his line of sight from Beilschmidt. "I would like to deal with that man myself."

"I've given you plenty of opportunities to deal with him, Vargas." Wang snapped, the smile vanishing from his face as he addressed Vargas.

"But I must insist." There was a sadistic look in Vargas's eye, utterly different from the usually, laid back attitude he took to his work. I had never seen him look so much like he wanted to hurt someone. "You see, I promised Albert a long time ago that I would be the one to deal with him. And I plan to keep that promise."

"You plan to follow up on our last meeting then?" If there was any hint of a smile on Beilschmidt's face, it was gone before I could look twice. He looked as serious as always, as if completely unaffected by Vargas's threat.

"I also promised not to miss." This time Vargas was not prevented from pulling out his gun, aiming it at Beilschmidt's forehead.

"You'd be dead before you'd pulled the trigger." I'd had enough. What's the use of doing all this only to have a key figure in the plan get killed at the first hurdle? Now Vargas wasn't the only one pointing a gun at someone's head. I was as well. And I was pointing at his.

"Ah, now this is interesting, aru." Wang smirked, looking between Vargas and myself. He set himself back down in his chair, waving Braginski back. "It seems all of your ex-associates have decided to grace us with their presence, Vargas. Aren't you happy?"

Vargas didn't reply. He just glared at the two of us in front of him, the hand on his gun twitching in his rage.

"But of course!" Wang continued, clasping his hands together. "Where's the rest of the team? Do not tell me that they are not prepared to show themselves?"

"Don't treat us like cowards." Alfred had appeared at my side, his face looking dark despite the fact that the morning sun had now risen and was shining brightly through the window opposite us.

Honda was the next to show himself, sliding around the doorframe and not meeting his cousin's eyes. He had gone oddly pale, and I am almost positive that he would not have made his presence know if Alfred had not already done so.

Which left only Ludwig and Feliciano still hidden on the other side of the wall. Waiting until it was absolutely necessary to appear before the group.

"I never meant to question your bravery, Jones." Wang chuckled, leaning forward in his chair and surveying us, "I am simply astounded by the company that my dear Kiku continues to insist on keeping. I must say, it is not profitable for me, aru."

"Who cares if it's not fucking profitable." Alfred seethed next to me, foolishly taking everything Wang said to heart.

Vargas was still glaring daggers at Beilschmidt, not seeming to notice the row going on around him, or the barrel of the gun I was pointing at his head. Even as Beilschmidt turned and said to Alfred to calm down his eyes followed him, not blinking. I suppose it is this attitude that makes him so feared to those who get on the wrong side of him.

He was so silent in his anger that when he did eventually speak the whole room seemed to start, Alfred and Honda seeming to have forgotten that he was even there. "Tell me, Albert," his voice was dangerously low, "where is my grandson?"

Beilschmidt sighed, closing his eyes for a long moment, "Julius, this foolishness has gone on far enough –"

"Tell me where he is, or I swear right now that I will blow your brains out!" Vargas yelled, breathing heavily, reinforcing his grip on his firearm. "I've seen your plans! You said you were bringing Feliciano here, now where is he?"

But Beilschmidt seemed unfazed by this, even taking a step closer to the man that was pointing a gun at his forehead. "You need to calm yourself, Julius. This violence will achieve nothing."

"It will bring me satisfaction, if nothing else!"

"No, it will not, and you know this." I couldn't believe that Beilschmidt was daring to move closer to Vargas. He had a kind of sad smile playing on his features, as if he had expected this all to happen, even if he had not mentioned it to any of us in our meetings. "If you kill me, then you know very well that my own grandson will take yours as far away from this place as possible so as to protect him from the world that you have buried yourself in. I have come to offer you a way out, so that you never need to resort to such petty dealings again, I promise you."

"I don't need your promises." Vargas spat, the barrel of his gun practically pressing against Beilschmidt's forehead now. "You've betrayed my trust too many times for me to believe you now. So, I suppose this is goodbye, Albert."

Beilschmidt didn't say anything. He just carried on staring straight at the man in front of him, holding an air of acceptance that had caused even Wang to look slightly taken aback.

And then the silence was broken by what sounded like a yelp and a small crash as a figure smacked into the doorframe looking utterly shell-shocked. And it was the appearance of Feliciano that surprised Vargas enough that instead of pulling the trigger, as I am sure he intended to do, he dropped his gun altogether, letting it thud to the floor as he gawked at his grandson.

"Don't shoot him, grandpa!" Feliciano was shaking from head to foot, his eyes darting from person to person within the office before they finally rested on his grandfather again. "You can't!"

He looked like he wanted to vanish, clutching his hands together and staying resolutely by the door, despite having seen his own grandfather for the first time since he had left.

Even Vargas himself looked beyond words, simply mouthing Feliciano's name, but with no sound coming out. I think this is the only time I have ever truly seen him struck dumb.

And then it seemed to break, and Vargas hurried forward and literally enveloped Feliciano in what looked very much like a hug that would actually break the poor boy's ribs (and by the way he yelped again, I thought for a moment that he actually had). But, after a moment, Feliciano seemed to grin, and returned the gesture, looking behind him slightly to where Ludwig was now standing, still looking as worried as ever.

"Grandpa, I promise, they've looked after me, and treated me properly, and everything." He smiled at Beilschmidt, pulling back so that he could look at Vargas properly. "I don't have to do any work, and they let me eat pasta. And, Grandpa, I'm happy. Really happy. Ludwig is always looking out for me. He's really, really nice. So don't be mad at them, okay?"

Vargas stared between Feliciano and Ludwig, the sheer madness of the whole situation seemingly catching up with him, and for once, he seemed at a loss for what to do.

He looked at Feliciano again, sighed, and then turned back to Beilschmidt. "You swear that you never touched a hair on his head?"

"I would never have dreamed of doing so much."

"Well this is all very touching," Wang finally spoke up, looking extremely bored, "but all this sentimental nonsense is distracting us all from the matter at hand."

"Yes, yes." Vargas stooped to pick his gun back up, the small smile that had appeared on his face vanishing again. "I was just getting to that."

He stood, glancing round at Wang briefly before raising the gun straight at me, the look of fury gracing his features once more.

"I hired you to do a job, Kirkland." He growled, ignoring Feliciano's squeak as the boy was pulled back by Ludwig. "And not only did you fail to complete it, you didn't even have the grace to die when we caught you. However you may look at it, I find this quite a sizable betrayal."

I should have guessed that it would have been a likely occurrence for me to have a gun pointed at me again. After all, this had been my job for the past two years. But still, having the barrel of a gun shoved in your face isn't the most pleasant of experiences, I must say.

The hand that was holding my own firearm twitched annoyingly, a reflex I had unfortunately picked up over the last couple of years when faced with something like this, but I wasn't going to resort to Vargas's violent antics. Not yet, anyway.

"And so, we come to this." Vargas finished, smirking at me.

"No!" Alfred yelled, practically leaping forward before I held up a hand to stop him. "Arthur, you can't-!"

"Stay where you are, Alfred." I tried to keep my voice steady, trying to think of what I had to do next.

The room had fallen silent. Even Vargas seemed to be waiting for me to react, to say something. And yes, I was going to. But I had to word it all just right, otherwise it wouldn't work.

"I seem to remember it was more blackmail than hiring." I spoke as calmly as I could, staring Vargas down. "And when it comes down to it, I am quite tired of this little situation that you have tried to pin me to."

"You've only ever been out to save your own skin, Kirkland, or you would have never taken my threats seriously. You would have died two years ago for poking your nose where it wasn't welcome if you hadn't been smart enough to agree to work for me." Vargas sneered at me, obviously not taking me seriously.

"Then make a deal with me." This time it was my turn to leer over at him. "If I finish this God forsaken job of yours, you'll let me leave here and will never show your face near me again, and in turn I'll never get involved with anything concerning you again."

"Arthur, what are you doing?" Alfred sounded worried behind me, clearly not liking how I was dealing with the situation.

"Do we have a deal, Vargas?" I ignored him, not wanting to give anything away to either party.

"You swear you will never utter a word about any of this to anyone." Vargas sounded uncertain, but didn't move the gun away from my face.

"You have my word."

Beilschmidt was looking at me now, searching my face for some inkling of what I was doing, before he spoke. "If you actually carry this out, Kirkland, you will not get away with it. You cannot silence everyone here, I assure you."

"If you want to keep your head, Albert, then I recommend that you keep your mouth shut." Vargas spat behind him. "Fine, Kirkland. If you finish your task then I'll let you leave. But if you ask me, this all sounds like hot air."

"Does it really?" I frowned, slipping my free hand into my pocket, "Well then."

I turned around fast, pointing my own gun straight at Alfred, only taking a short moment to take in the utterly stunned look on his face.

The bang filled the room.

Feliciano let out another small scream and someone else had shouted, but the only thing I could see was the look on Alfred's face as he looked down at the scarlet stain blooming on his chest, then met my gaze, eyes wide with silent shock before he fell limply to the floor.

I let my arm fall back down to my side, still watching Alfred as Honda rushed to his side, looking between me and Alfred's now closed eyes, utter horror etched all over his face.

I looked around the rest of the room, half expecting some kind of uproar.

Vargas looked a little surprised in front of Beilschmidt, who had gone slightly pale, what could have been either mild shock or disappointment showing on his face. Feliciano had hidden himself in Ludwig's chest while the German looked just plain angry. Wang, on the other hand, was looking supremely smug, exchanging looks with that blasted Russian.

I just felt sick. Standing there with my arms hanging at my sides, trying to keep a cool head and not betray that it felt like my stomach was doing backflips.

Honda was muttering something about trying to find a pulse, groping desperately at Alfred's wrists and pressed down when he finally found the right place. He sat there in silence for a few moments before he looked up at me, his eyes wide with the understanding of what I had just done.

I stared down at the floor instead, not wanting to meet anyone's eyes, and wishing the bile in my throat would vanish.

I didn't even flinch when Wang clapped his hands together behind me, standing up and just from the tone of his voice I could tell he was still smiling. "Well, that takes care of him, aru." He let out a short laugh. "You can leave now, if you wish, though if you want to take out Mr Beilschmidt on your way, you would be more than welcome-!"

I turned, glaring at him, firing just past his head so that the bullet smashed the window behind him. Wang, not expecting my sudden attack, practically threw himself to the floor as Braginski hurtled himself in front of him.

I was seething. My shoulders rising and falling with each breath and my hand shaking on the gun that I was still pointing at the space next to where Wang's head had been moments before.

I couldn't take it. The very idea of shooting Alfred and being praised for it made me feel like vomiting. And now I had that fucking Russian pointing whatever sort of gun he'd gotten his hands on at me with one hand, and held a long iron pipe in the other.

Wang stood back up, his expression cold as he glared at me. "I think Mr Kirkland wants to leave. Take care of him, will you, Ivan?"

Braginski smiled, looking like a child at Christmas who had just opened the best present under the tree. He crossed around the table, ignoring everyone else in the room until he stood right in front of me, raised the bar, and I ducked, kicking him in the shins as I dodged around him and pushed him back into the table and chairs.

Wang shouted his instructions, fuming with rage as the Russian chased me around the small space, shoving the others out of his way as I ran around them and back out of the room, sprinting into the corridor as fast as I could.

And then another shot rang out, and Braginski's leg gave way as blood rushed out of the wound he had gotten, Beilschmidt holding his gun out in front of him.

But still Braginski tried to take aim at me, even while he was immobile on the ground, not letting me get near enough to knock the damned thing out of his hand, because every time I tried he took another swing at me with the pipe. I could only breathe a sigh of relief when Ludwig appear behind him, taking a shift kick at the back of the giant man's head, and effectively rendering him out-cold.

Vargas was now also steering Feliciano out of the room, shoving him towards Ludwig as Wang started shooting towards them all, barely missing Beilschmidt as he shot back at him.

Everything was a mess. So much as that Honda had taken to attempting to shield Alfred's body from the bits of broken glass and debris that were now flying around the room as each shot missed.

And then there was a sound a triumph, and Vargas let out a bark of protest as Beilschmidt dropped his gun, collapsing to his knees, holding one hand over his abdomen, a red blotch spreading out from under it.

Ludwig roared with anger and was pulled back by Vargas as he tried to run back into the room to help his grandfather. While they were struggling against each other I rushed back inside, hating every moment that I had to look at Wang's smirk as he made his way around the table again, ignoring his cousin, who had sat back up again, looking horrified.

And then something Wang had not seen coming happened.

As he passed Honda, a hand shot out and grabbed his ankle, pulling him to the ground and holding him there as I made my way forward.

Honda sighed slightly as I stood over them, smirking down at Wang and following the arm back to where Alfred was now sitting, looking very pleased with himself.

"Do you know how hard it is to pretend to be dead when everyone's running around like that?" He whined, looking up at me, "I swear you nearly trod on me five times."

"You shouldn't have been in the way then." I rolled my eyes, nudging Wang with my foot. "Don't look so shocked. Did you honestly think I had killed him?"

"But there was no pulse." Wang groaned, trying to sit back up, but was forced back down by Honda, who now had hold of both of his cousin's wrists.

"I never said he didn't have a pulse." Honda smiled. "You really must learn not to make assumptions, cousin."

Wang cursed, glaring at the three of us, still making feeble attempts to break free of the other two's grasp.

"Is Beilschmidt okay?" I stepped over Wang, looking back over to the rest of the group, where Vargas was now looking over Beilschmidt's wound, trying not to increase the bleeding.

"I'll live." The German groaned, trying to stand up, but being forced back down by Vargas.

"You need to go to the hospital."

Beilschmidt stayed silent, though he looked like he wanted to argue. Vargas stood back up, making room for Ludwig to sit with his grandfather, while he pulled out his mobile and started making phonecalls.

I sat down against the wall, eyeing where Wang was now moodily lying, still being held down.

"Arthur." Alfred spoke, glancing over at me.

I grunted, closing my eyes in reply. "What?"

"You could've told me you were gonna put a blood-pack in my pocket." I could tell he was pouting, or pretending to anyway. "I liked this shirt."

I huffed, feeling myself smile despite myself. "Git. If you liked the shirt so much then why the bloody hell did you wear it today of all days?"

"Well, I didn't expect to get covered in whosever's blood this is."

Honda was chuckling next to me, completely ignoring his cousin now. "Well, let's think about it, Alfred. If I'd told you I was going to pretend to shoot you," I pulled out the sound recorder from my pocket and tossed it at him, "then I wouldn't have been able to see everyone's stunned faces, would I? And I must say, yours was utterly priceless, love."

•••

It's been nine months since then.

I can't remember what entry this is supposed to be. But that hardly matters now.

So many things have happened since that it's hard to keep track of all the little things anymore.

I'll start with what happened straight afterwards.

The police arrived with the ambulance that Vargas had called for Beilschmidt and took away Wang and Braginski. I think Vargas had resigned himself to being arrested with them, because he looked in utter dismay when they simply overlooked him. I reckon it was because of Beilschmidt's influence. After all, he had offered Vargas a way out, and now he was giving it to him.

Beilschmidt was rushed to the hospital, Ludwig and Gilbert crammed in the back of the ambulance with him, and the rest of us were left to pick up the pieces and be questioned by the police for our involvement. Vargas and Carriedo somehow got missed out, despite the fact that Bonnefoy and Gilbert had still been holding the Spaniard down when the police arrived. I suppose this shows just how much influence the German had.

When we all went our separate ways that night, myself and Alfred going back to his apartment, Bonnefoy going back to explain things to Edelstein and the rest of the team that had helped with planning everything, and Feliciano took Vargas and Carriedo back to where he had been staying with Ludwig, none of us really knew whether we had actually done what we had set out to do.

Vargas was the most confused out of all of us, I think. In the split second that he had chosen to protect his grandson, instead of helping Wang, he had chosen his side, even if he hadn't meant to. But it was that move that saved him from being arrested like the other two.

Beilschmidt died the next morning.

His wound had been more serious than we had thought. The hospital staff said that the bullet had caused more internal damage than they had originally anticipated and said that his age was a big factor to how fast he went downhill after he arrived in intensive care.

I think apart from Ludwig and Gilbert, it hit Vargas the hardest. Despite all of his threats of killing him, I don't think he ever really meant it to happen. Even in the months that have past, he's not really moved forward. The people at the paper are calling it his retirement. Saying that his age has finally caught up with him. But in reality he is blaming himself for Beilschmidt's death, I'm sure.

Edelstein took over as editor for the paper, deciding that after everything, it would be best that the only thing we mentioned about the entire case would be that Wang and his subordinates had been arrested and convicted of running his drug farms and for Karpusi's murder. The police never linked any of it to Vargas and his business, so why should we.

Alfred carried on writing for the case, and I pitched in here and there, helping with the more formal details of the court trials and the sentencing. They wanted me to write more for it, but I think after all this, Alfred deserves his moment of glory. After all, now that Wang has actually been arrested, all the other papers are after a piece of the scoop that we created. This is his moment and in the months that have passed since the day when Beilschmidt passed, I think Alfred has finally recognised his own potential and is really starting to shine in his work.

And after everything, I am writing again. Not for the paper, as Alfred practically begged me to (according to him, he didn't 'beg' because he's too 'awesomely heroic' for that. I say he's an idiot. But each to our own.), but for myself. Admittedly, it's harder than before, when I think my passion for reporting outweighed my sense of self-security. I suppose, that is to say, I was more like Alfred back then. No sense of responsibility and zero common sense. (Ow. Alfred. That just proves my point, doesn't it?)

I sometimes write a bit alongside Alfred, if they need me to. It doesn't pay badly, so I don't complain. But I just don't think the journalism world is for me anymore. With everything that has happened to me in the last couple of years, I just don't think I can go back into that train of thought anymore. It's exhausting.

But that being said, I can never really escape from it completely. Not now that Alfred has insisted that I remain living with him. He seems to think it unwise for me to be left alone anymore, even though I have continuously told him that I am not a child and that I am perfectly capable of looking after myself.

Though… I suppose I don't mind having the company. Even if that company is somewhat like a baboon let loose on the world. But then, if he wasn't how he is, then maybe I would have actually gone ahead and finished the job that I originally came here to do. Maybe he wouldn't be standing here behind me, complaining that I just called him a baboon.

If Alfred wasn't the way he is, then I would probably still be stuck in the mind-set that the world is a cruel place where you only have yourself and no one can save you from the idiotic things that you do to yourself. But meeting him, getting to know him, and well… you know… I think I'm a little more like how I was before I met Vargas. Not as stupidly idealistic as Alfred, and God forbid that I start prancing around, eating burgers all day, like he does, but I know that the world isn't as harsh as I thought.

I think that maybe, if we keep going in this direction, then we may actually be able to get to a good place, with Alfred working at the paper, and me, well, I'll carry on writing here and maybe I'll make something of myself again. Whatever Alfred says about me acting old, I'm still a man in my twenties. There's still time left to pick up the pieces, and this time I have help, even if that help is annoying at times. But I wouldn't trade him. Not after everything we went through. The scar on my shoulder is a reminder of that.

So yes, we'll keep moving, keep writing, and just keep going until we find a place in our lives when the worries have disappeared and we can just live being happy with what we've got.

That's what I am hoping for, at least.


[A/N:

I am so sorry for the late update guys!

I bet you all thought I was dead or something... if there's anyone left out there .

Remember how I said a little while back that I had writer's block? Yeah... that kinda came back but even worse this time. I got about 4000 words into this and then just couldn't carry on writing.

It was only when the very lovely Loopstagirl got me in the mood for writing over the last couple of days that I actually opened the file again after months of just letting it collect dust. (Go and check out her fics! She's amazing~ [/end plug lol])

But yeah, that's the end guys. I said right from the start that this would be a short fic... but then this chapter ended up being nearly 9000 words long... which is pretty much the same length as the other two chapters put together... oops... XD Yeah, I guess you could say that I seriously got my mojo back when I was finishing this off over the last couple of days ^^;;

I hope you guys liked following this. I'm sorry again that it took me so long to get it done. I wanted to get it done sooner, but yeah, these things happen I guess. (I even tried writing this while I was on holiday back in August, but nooo... stupid block...)

My next fic is going to be a pirate!England AU, so look out for it, okay? =D I've also got a highschool!AU planned which I'll be doing on and off via my tumblr just to give me breaks from doing other stuff. I'll try to update more regularly this time though~

Thanks for staying with me, lovies~! I love you all!]