So compared to the others, this was a rather rapid update. I feel pretty confident about this one, to be honest, because a good portion of it is set in the grand ole' US of A. Brotherly!CanAme and FrUk. I promised you FACE, you get FACE. Enjoy!

Portland, Maine; the United States of America

10:37 EST

Alfred's phone was half way across the room and there was a polar bear on top of him. No, it wasn't a metaphor for something.

If the ringtone was anything to go by, it was Iggy calling him about something, God knew what. It would've only been about 3:30 over there right? Way too early for Iggy to be barhopping and drunk out of his mind yet.

Had some American celebrity done something uncouth again? Probably, but it was hardly like England to bring it up in a trans-Atlantic phone call. Especially since it wasn't even around the Christmas season. Wait, had he, Alfred, done something that could have upset him? Sure, but for the life of him he couldn't remember. Whatever, there was a polar bear on top of him, the phone could wait.

"Hey Al!" Matthew called from the kitchen, "Is that your phone?"

"Yeah, I think it's Iggy!" Alfred yelled back, trying to shift Kumajiro off of him. It was harder than it looked, as he was a) trying not to disturb the sleeping fluff ball and b) trying not to fall of the couch in the process. "Why aren't you getting it!?"

"News flash, baby bro, there's a polar bear on top of me! I think it went to voicemail anyways!"

There was some grumbling from the general direction of the kitchen as Matthew entered with two cups of coffee, setting them on the coffee table in front of Al as he scooped up his brother's phone from its place on the arm of one of the overstuffed chairs. He chucked the phone carelessly at Al's face (his brother had a thick skull and quick enough reflexes so it wouldn't really hurt him) before helping Al move Kuma-whatsit to the armchair to squeeze in between Al and the back of the couch.

They were close, even for brothers; everyone told them so. Matthew often blamed in on separation anxiety; after being together, wild and free for so long, only to be split up under different mentors, and later when Alfred declared his independence. After finally being allowed to reunite again, Matthew knew he was never going to give Alfred up again. Alfred, on the other hand, always thought that it was because they themselves, as a land, a people, as countries, were so interconnected it felt like losing your other half when the other wasn't around.

Now, with Matt's lanky limbs thrown casually over his brother, they had a little down time for once. "Why do you think Dad called?" Matt asked.

"Old man probably forgot when the next meeting was and was too embarrassed to call Francis." Al said. His eyes had slipped shut, comfortable to just be reclining, warm and comfortable with his brother. Matt had started to play the voice mail.

"Hello Alfred, it's Arthur. It has to be a decent hour of the morning over there, wherever you are, so get up you lazy arse because there's something I need to talk to you about. If I remember correctly, you're still with Matthew, which is good because I need to talk to him too. I'm going to call him next, he's hopefully being a tad more productive. If you don't hear from him, do call back. Good-bye."

No sooner had the tinny sound of Arthur's recorded voice cut out, Matthew's phone had begun to ring. Trying not to elbow his brother in the chest in order to get his phone out of his sweatshirt pocket, Matthew picked up on the third ring.

"Dad?"

"Ah, yes, hullo Matthew. Are you with Alfred, still? I've got to tell you something the both of you will want to hear."

"Yeah, he's right here, let me put you on speaker phone, hold on."

Matthew situated himself on the couch so he wasn't in any danger of elbowing or kneeing his brother anywhere. His legs were more or less sprawled across Al's, one hip digging into the sofa. The Canadian pulled the phone away from his ear long enough to press the speaker button.

"Hey, Ig, 'sup?" Al said, reclining his head back into his hands. There was an audible, dramatic sigh from the other side of the line. Poor Arthur, Matthew thought, as he held back a small smirk.

"'What's up' is that you two boys need to get over here. There's been a series of murders, of important people, if you catch my drift. I've got someone on it, but it would be best if you both came over. You never know who, other than Al's people of course—"

"I resent that, old man," Al huffed.

"—could be tapping the lines."

Matthew lunged for one of the throw pillows at the end of the couch, grabbing it by the corner and hitting Al over the head with it. The northern brother often wished Al could keep his mouth shut, at least more often than not. Obviously, if the important people their dad was talking about were the same important people that Matt thought they were, they were in trouble.

"We'll get on the next flight there, Dad. Is it just going to be the three of us or…?"

There were some noises on the other end of the line that sounded as though Arthur was having a muffled conversation with somebody. After a few moments, Arthur cleared his throat, "Yes, well, the frog, I suppose, but I have yet to call him so don't bet on his lazy, surrendering arse being here! Now look, I've got to run, we're at the crime scene—"

"Crime scene?!" Alfred exclaimed. Matthew matched his look of shock, almost dropping his cell phone.

"—stop bloody interrupting me, yes the crime scene. I said I had people working on it. One of them happens to be me. Now look, really I've got to go. Scotland Yard is starting to give me weird looks. See you boys soon."

"See ya, Ig."

"Bye, Dad, stay safe."

As soon as the dial tone came over the line, Matthew hung up his end and collapsed back into the couch cushions. For several minutes neither of the brothers said anything, off in their own thoughts regarding the abrupt and almost out of character phone call they had just received from one of their father figures. Matthew was only taken out of his reverie when he realized Kuma had started to drink one of the cups of coffee now cold on the table.

"Ugh, come here." Matthew said, leaning down to scoop up the squirming bear and deposit him on Al's chest. "Who're you?" the white bear said.

"I'm Canada." "America, for the thousandth time."

The two sighed in sync, Al sitting up and throwing his legs over the edge of the couch. Sharing a look over the top of Kuma's head, at the same time they muttered, "Well, fuck."

Al reached for the mostly full coffee cup on the coffee table and took a swig, wincing at the cooling temperature. He then leaned back into the cushion and allowed his arm to wrap around his brother whose head was now on the elder's shoulder. The two continued in their silence for a few seconds before Al, with a grain of salt in his voice, said, "S'pose I better call Helen and book those plane tickets, huh?" He pushed up to a standing position and collected the other soiled cup from the coffee table. Matt followed example, also getting to his feet.

"Damn, I need to call the Prime Minister."

"Do you want me to 'round up the toiletries?"

"Yeah and grab those defense contracts we were looking at earlier. We might need those."

"Gotcha. I'm gonna grab a couple of my old Harvard textbooks, too."

"Good idea. I'm surprised none of us felt it sooner. Dad had to call us."

"Ya know an average of seven people a day die in the US? I'm not completely surprised. My population is also like, ten times as big as yours."

"Point taken. And if you're going to the study, can you grab Kuma's carrier while you're up there!"

"Already there, little brother!"

Carcassonne, Languedoc Roussillon; la Republique Français

5:03 CET

Francis Bonnefoy was perfectly content to relax in the back garden of his lovely southern home with a good book, a glass of wine, and the garden spread about before him (the English rose bushes just a stone's throw away a gift, of course). It was a clear day, spring under way certainly, but this close to the Mediterranean, it was perfect.

Perfect, save for the sound of God Save the Queen coming from la portable in his pocket. He almost didn't answer it; sure it was Arthur but if the stern, reserved nation truly needed him, he could've sent a text and not feel the need to disrupt the peace Francis had finally achieved after a long stretch of endless paperwork.

But it was Arthur and that was reason enough.

"Allo, mon cher," Francis said, stretching back in his chair as he picked up the phone.

"Hullo, Francis." Arthur's voice sounded from the other end. He sounded tired and worn, the tone he got when something bad had happened and he didn't know what to do. The last time Francis had heard that worrying tone it was the bombing of the Twin Towers when America had fallen to his knees, coughing up blood in the middle of a meeting. Arthur had been absolutely distraught, not leaving the boy's side until he'd opened his eyes, 12 hours after the attack. Francis had had to restrain the urge to comfort his lover the best way he knew how.

The Frenchman rose to his feet, grabbing his wine and his book and slipping back inside through the back door. "What's the matter, cher, you're using that tone of voice again. Is there something I can do for you?"

"Oh, Francis, there've been murders, of the people who know." There was great pain in his voice, an exasperated pain. Francis wished that he could reach through the phone and take the smaller nation up into his arms and cradle him close.

"Our officials have been killed?"

A shaky breath, "Found in the Thames. Four bodies with the Union Jack above the heart and three others, one American, one Canadian and one French. All level ten."

"Merde. When was this? Have you called the boys? Are they all right? Oh, Arthur."

"About an hour ago. I'm sure my people have already called yours. As for the boys, I've already called them. They're surely on their way by now."

"Let me make a few calls, Arthur," Francis said, now ascending the stairs to his bedroom to throw some clothes into a suitcase and possibly arrange a flight. "If I hurry, I can be there in two and a half hours. I can meet you for dinner."

He switched hands to cradle the phone next to his left ear as he dug out some underpants from his dresser drawer. "Shall I meet you at your flat?"

There was a lengthy pause on the other end. Francis was just about to repeat his question, thinking the other man hadn't heard him, before Arthur chipped in finally and said, "No, you'll want to catch a cab from Heathrow to 221B Baker Street. I've got someone on the case and it's probably best if you meet them as soon as you can."

"Ah, d'accord. I shall see you very soon then, mon cher. Please try to hang in there, Arthur, get yourself a cup of tea. We'll figure this out. We stopped those fucking Germans twice, we can stop some damn conspiracy." Francis said. He didn't like to swear, really, especially not in English because it sounded so crude, but Arthur understood expletives almost better than proper English.

"Yes, of course, frog, I'm just being silly. We'll figure this out. I'll see you soon, then."

"Je t'aime, mon amour. You'll be all right without be for a couple more hours, won't you?" There was a smile finally creeping back into Francis' voice. He had successfully calmed down Arthur and the world falling to shit could be put on hold for at least a few more hours.

"You git, I'll be bleedin' perfect. But, yeah, love you too, I s'pose."

Francis sat down heavily at the end of his bed, running his hand over the fine Egyptian cotton. They had gone through worse together, they'd get through this just fine.

Even so, Francis raised his left hand to his mouth and pressed a kiss to the gold band around his third finger and prayed.

There isn't a whole lot of French in this chapter, so if you truly don't know what's going on, I leave you to Google Translate. Francis and Arthur will meet up in the next chapter and maybe the boys will make an appearance after their 8 hour or so flight to England. A flight from Carcassonne to London is about 2 hours. Also, notice how the wall around Arthur comes down around Francis? Well establish FrUk is the best FrUk.

Thanks for reading and leave a review!