A/N: Ooookay… since people have been death-threatening me for my (laziness) absence and I realized it's been too long. Now I'm back. :D Sorry for the long wait, guys! I had the case when a writer wrote so much they got a bit sick of it :3 uuhh, yeah, I've slacked off with my other fics too. I'll definitely set it straight and start updating again :D Oh, and I've started writing another RussPruss fanfic, and it's of fantasy/supernatural/horror genre. Both RussPruss fans and non-RussPruss fans are free to check it up later when I publish it. Yes, it's not up yet, but will soon. ;)

P.S.: To those whose reviews haven't been properly replied. During my hiatus period, I rarely checked my email and when I opened it again, my inbox went crazy with alert notices that I haven't had the time to reply the reviews, plus uni has started again. I will reply them as much as I can D:

Chapter Four: Breather

"Gilbert. How is it?"

Gilbert threw an irritated look at the Russian far across of him, who was staring at him with his chin resting on the bridge of his entwined fingers. The knife and fork he was using a second ago were elegantly placed on an empty platter, stained with the brown fragrant sauce of tenderloin steak. Most of the dishes served in front of him had already emptied, only some leftovers remained.

Gilbert frowned, glancing down at the barely eaten piece of beef and the mess he made in an attempt to eat it with his left hand, including the sauce that spilt onto the expensive dining table and stained the white silk shirt he wore - in which he assumed to be designer shirt and ridiculously expensive too.

Even though there was about a five-feet marble dining table in between him and that loony Russian, the stain was too obvious to hide, hence heat rushed up to to his face all the way to his ears when he heard low chuckled coming from the direction of the blonde Russian.

"What?" He retorted sharply to hide his embarrassment.

"Is the food to your liking?" Ivan asked. Gilbert didn't know why he could hear him so clearly from quite a distant, but he thought the audio of the room and the lack of furnishing in that particular room had something to do with it.

"It's fine." He grunted, trying to take the whole steak by a fork and aiming the bottom of the meat to his gaping mouth. He did manage to do get a sloppy bite, but more sauce dripped down and stained the shirt further

It was a barbaric way to eat in such an elegant setting, but hell Gilbert didn't care. But it was really annoying that he couldn't eat it as fast and as much as he wanted. It was a steak, he couldn't just chew one or two times then gulp it down. He'd choke on it.

Ivan chuckled again as he smiled charmingly (or creepily, in Gilbert's opinion).

"You look like you're having some troubles there." He pointed it out teasingly.

Okay, that was more annoyance than he could take at the same time.

"My right arm's fucking injured. What do you expect? It can't magically heal up in a night or something. Just shut up and let me eat my dinner in peace." He blurted out, throwing irritated glares at the Russian before getting back to eating messily again. Not that he minded proper table manner at this rate.

He was aware that the Russian, who probably because he had nothing better to do, was watching him like a hawk. But he didn't care. He felt sick in the pit of his stomach and lost his appetite earlier when Toris informed him that Ivan ordered him to have a dinner with him. And damn, to make matters worse, the Russian had chased off the Lithuanian doctor out and only the two of them left in the freakishly big dining room. But he forced himself to eat, although it proved hard to do, but it's better for him to finish the dinner quickly so he could get away from the Russian as soon as possible.

Shit, I forgot I have to share a freaking' bed with him. Gilbert realized, cursing inwardly while toying with the potato cream potage, stirring the yellowish soup absent-mindedly. His luck just got worse and worse.

He heard a soft chuckle. "There's soup on your lips."

"Huh?"

Before he knew it, something lifted his head by the underside of his chin and a dark shadow loomed over him. Gilbert saw pale blonde hair and a pair of amethyst eyes were very close to him, then a pink tongue darted out slightly and he felt the warm and wet flesh brushed against the tender skin of his upper lip.

The German's crimson eyes widened slightly, while Ivan's amethyst-colored eyes in front of him stared right at Gilbert's. The warm tongue flicked lightly at the tender flesh of Gilbert's upper lip, but then a pair of cold lips pressed against it in turn. A pale hand had sneaked at the left side of his head to pull him closer, while the other settled on the German's lap, dragging it up dangerously close to his crotch. Now it finally came down to Gilbert's head that Ivan was kissing him, and had a hand touching his clothed body.

However, Gilbert didn't try to stop him. But he didn't react to the kiss too and kept his lips clenched when the Russian brushed his tongue across the tender flesh for an entrance. He just sat there accepting it unmoving, like a statue. But Ivan didn't seem to mind. He just pressed his lips against Gilbert's for another ten seconds before he pulled away.

The German didn't look very enthusiastic. But didn't look as angry. "…what was that for? Is that some kind of Russian habit, kissing strangers out of the blue?" He asked, wiping his mouth with the back of his sleeves.

"No. We only kiss lovers or family that way." Ivan explained, smiling. Both of his hands had settled on the chair's arms, bending over while leaning forward closer to Gilbert.

"Well, I don't know what's your deal, but I don't swing that way." Gilbert stated, using his only useable arm to push Ivan's broad chest.

"You sure don't act like it." The Russian's lips tugged down to an indifferent line, his amethyst eyes turned a bit colder than usual. He grabbed Gilbert by his wrist and stared into his eyes. "You didn't outright reject me just now. And you didn't either the first time I kissed you."

Gilbert furrowed his silver eyebrows. "It's just a kiss. It doesn't mean a thing. Let go."

He tried to shaken the grip, but Ivan had a tight grip to it. Almost painfully.

"You've been with men, haven't you?" The Russian suddenly asked.

Crimson eyes widened and the German flinched slightly.

"…it's none of your business." He retorted, averting his gaze.

But when he felt the grip around his wrist tightened, so tight that he let out a surprised yelp.

"Tell me."

Gilbert swallowed the spit that gathered in the back of his throat when all the sugary pretense was drained from the Russian's voice, that it only left the cold bitterness behind. Once again, the German was suffocated by the unexplainable icy force that he only felt whenever the Russian's mood turned for the worse. He found it hard to breathe normally, nor to avoid the piercing gaze directed towards him. He didn't understand why. He didn't understand the reason why a professional like him would feel this way towards a civilian. But he knew one thing, that he was in disadvantage and resistance was futile. Although he hated to admit it.

Gilbert clenched his eyes shut.

"…sometimes someone of the same profession as I do had to do the worst to survive." He spoke in low voice, almost in whisper. His silver eyebrows furrowed deeply, remembering something unpleasant. Something that made him sick and disgusted each time he recalled it.

He expected a reaction, particularly a violent one, after he answered with such a vague answer. But unexpectedly to him, nothing came.

He opened his eyes and looked up, and saw the Russian was silent. His grip was still painfully strong, but his eyes had changed to something Gilbert had never seen before in him. Something akin to sadness and…. guilt? But Gilbert was sure he was just imagining things. Maybe the Russian pitied him. That would make more sense.

"I see." Ivan muttered as he released his grip and pulled away, standing up.

Ivan had an enigmatic look on his face. Gilbert was a bit confused, glancing up at the Russian questioningly. But he had turned away, that Gilbert could only look at his broad back covered in white robe.

"…the food's already gone cold. Go back to the bed, I'll have Toris bring warm meal and help you eat."

Then as sudden as the whole scene, Ivan left the room.

"What's up with him?"

Gilbert sulked, while Toris was cleaning up the tray of empty dishes and putting it away from the small table on the bed.

"Oh? Who do you mean?" Toris calmly asked, carefully wiping the German's mouth with a tissue. For once, Gilbert didn't complain and let the Lithuanian took care of him.

"Who else? I mean Ivan. He's been acting weird this evening. He just… took off during dinner without even a word. Rude guy."

Toris listened to Gilbert's complains calmly while changing the bandages. When it came to this, Toris was a very good listener. He never minded whenever Gilbert started complaining about Ivan's ever-increasing creepiness and bipolar tendencies. He was always willing to lend an ear, even though he was silent most of the time.

But for Gilbert, it's better than nothing, since the only person who was close to normal in this house was Toris, he was the only one the German could talk to, since the scaredy-cat guy seemed like he would piss his pants if Gilbert attempted to make a conversation, while the glasses-guy was rarely around and the swiss-guy was a nutsy who'd shoot anyone who sneaked up behind him by accident with a rifle.

Yes, this only convinced him that this house truly was a madhouse. A mental prison, to be precise.

Gilbert sighed.

"I'm so bored." He muttered, while watching the Lithuanian doctor wrap the bandages around his arm skillfully. "I can't even do exercise because that loony thinks a bit of work would kill me. My body'll get soft if I don't do my daily training you know? At least I want to practice my left-hand shooting."

"Most physical training requires muscle strains in your arm. It's not advisable if you want it to heal quickly. It's already healing up very quickly, I'm a bit surprised." Toris explained with a gentle smile.

"I get it. But I just want to… you know… catch a fresh air or something. I've been stuck here for almost two weeks. I did nothing but sleeping and eating and lazing around. Sure it's nice walking around the garden, but seriously? I kinda miss the smell of the city."

The Lithuanian laughed softly. "You're an oddball, Gilbert. Most townspeople would say they'd prefer sometime off in the countryside. Why not think of this as a vacation break?"

"Would be nice if I wasn't forced to be here." Gilbert grumbled. "I just hate doing absolutely nothing, usually I'm busy with work and stuff. I like having something to work on. Besides, I have another reason… I need to get out of here."

"You're saying that kind of thing again - there, how is it? Is it too tight?" Toris asked, glancing up from the finely wrapped cast.

Gilbert moved the cast a bit. "A bit tight. But 'tis fine."

"Ah, good if it is." Toris smiled, putting the soiled bandages into an empty big bowl before standing up. "Excuse me, I have to go back. Good night, Gilbert. Rest well." He picked up the food tray then turned off the lights except for the bedside lamps.

After the Lithuanian left, the German let his head flopped down onto the soft cushion, breathing in the fresh scent of clean linen sheets with closed eyes. Then he opened them, looking at the empty spaces on his left. The bed was enormous. And with only Gilbert occupying a part of it, it felt a bit cold and lonely despite the thick blanket. But it was far better than when he had to sleep on silk sheets. He hated them. They were very soft, but cold. He hated sleeping on them. The first week he was there, he had put up with sleeping two times in the same room on the silk sheets. The third time he slept in the same room, Gilbert had slept on the carpet while Ivan slept on the bed.

Maybe rich people were used to it but Gilbert definitely disliked it. He was used to sleeping sloppily on a cramped couch, flatly on the carpet, he even had slept sitting against the moldy wall of a dark alley clad only in dirty rag when he was still a soldier. He could practically sleep everywhere. But not there. He wasn't used to such gentleness. He was trained to be as tough as steel, to handle difficulties and adapt in the most extreme environments. It had always been that way, living with a veteran father. He had raised his children with high discipline and strictness since his wife died when Gilbert was nine. His father was a true German.

Gilbert was used to be treated roughly. Be it by his father, his captain, or his clients. They treated him like a man he was raised into. Gilbert was not used to such extravagant leisure and pampering. And in a house full of strangers. It made him feel uncomfortable. Gilbert missed his freedom. He missed the dangerous excitement in the numerous jobs he took, he missed the filthy damp smell of city alleyways, the taste of nicotine in his mouth, and the feel of a woman's skin.

This place is a prison for a man like Gilbert, who loved to roam free in the shady streets of the big cities. Too much restrictions. Too quiet. Too… soft. He was being treated like some kind of a fairy princess and he did not like it at all. He was bored. Almost to the point of death. Gilbert didn't like it here. This place made him feel uncomfortable, and made him feel something that was foreign to him. He didn't know what that was, but he was sure he didn't want to know.

He wanted to get out.

Gilbert brought his left arm and placed it over his eyes.

"…I'm so bored."

"You do seem like it."

Caught by surprise, Gilbert flung his arm aside and pushed his body up with his left hand, only to realize a hand had halted his movement by his left shoulder. The Russian was sitting on the bed side, clad only in rather thick robe. He was smiling at Gilbert, with his hand settled on the injured man's shoulder blade. Scarlet eyes widened slightly as they gazed at the ominous smiling mask the bigger man wore. He glared at those icy violet eyes, feeling cold sweat dampening the back of his pajamas.

Gilbert swallowed.

"You don't look good." Ivan brought a hand up and gently placed it on Gilbert's cheek.

Gilbert flinched at the icy touch. "I didn't hear you coming." He uttered, hiding the faint tremble in his voice.

The German shot a brief glance at the tightly closed door. He didn't even hear the door opening or closing at all. Was he truly getting dull or had the Russian really managed to sneak up on him? No one but his father and very few people were able to pull that off. Or had he fallen asleep for a moment there? No. Gilbert was a light sleeper. Any faint noise would wake him up immediately.

"Ah, did you? I thought you were asleep, so I didn't want to wake you." Ivan answered smoothly, but it made the albino suspicious.

Since when had he been here? Gilbert's left fist clutched at the sheets beneath him. Her could hear his heart beating in his ears.

Ivan's blond eyebrows furrowed slightly. "Don't look like that. I will not do anything to you. I just want to see how you were doing." The cold pale fingers that cupped Gilbert's ear seemed to tighten lightly. Ivan looked a bit hurt.

Although the statements were meant to reassure, Gilbert had a hard time believing it. The memory of his freshly shot arm being twisted and squeezed until it bled more blood still stung the now closed wound whenever he remembered it. Sometimes he didn't understand. Ivan was capable of being very gentle, yet another time he would become violent and merciless when things didn't go his way. He was unpredictable, if not mentally unstable. And that made Gilbert all the more confused. When could he and could he not trust Ivan's words, he wondered.

Seeing the lack of reaction in Gilbert's part, Ivan sighed. "I heard from Toris that you're unsatisfied with your current lifestyle. I believe he said you were… 'bored to death'."

Gilbert raised a white eyebrow. "He told you that?"

"I asked him to tell me." The Russian calmly said. "And apparently it's true. That you're bored."

Gilbert's gaze went down to his lap. His hand went through silver strands.

"Look, I'm not used to this kind of life, okay? I've never lived in such luxury and being pampered like a prince. I'm a roughneck. I do rough jobs for a living. Sure, I live pretty decently, but not like this. I'm used to living alone and independently. I like doing things that keep my hands full. I hate lying around doing nothing. And this place… I've never been thrown to prison, but I feel like I'm living inside one now." He sighed, scratching the back of his head.

Ivan was silent meanwhile, seemingly thoughtful. Then he spoke. "Do you want to work?"

The German looked up at the Russian. "…yeah, I guess that's better than being stuck here."

"I understand." Ivan stated, withdrawing his hand. "Usually, I won't take injured employees to work, but I can make an exception for you. If you want to start early, I'll make some preparations."

Gilbert was confused. "What?"

Ivan smiled at him. "Starting tomorrow, you will go with me to the town to work. Toris will show you what you have to do. But you must always stay close to me."

"Wait, what?" Gilbert interrupted. "Do you mean it? I-I can seriously get out?"

Ivan nodded. "Yes, but you will be under Toris' and Vasch's surveillance as well."

Gilbert suddenly perked up, his red eyes shone in delight. "I don't care! That's awesome! That's way better than being here! I missed being outside!"

It had been a while since he felt this happy. No, he was ecstatic! Finally, he could leave this boring place, although he was still very much restricted. But he didn't care. At least he could see other people than the mansion's few residents. And maybe… maybe he could get a chance to escape, or better yet, meet with Francis. That would be great. Though he might not be able to escape anytime soon because he still couldn't move his right arm very much, but at least he could go to the town.

Ivan looked unusually pleased with Gilbert's enthusiasm. "I'm glad that you're happy." He smiled sweetly, in his sugary child-like tone.

Gilbert grinned widely. "Yeah, I don't feel like killing you right now!" He exclaimed cheerfully.

I'm glad to hear that. Now…" He stood up, adjusting his robe.

Gilbert raised his eyebrows. "Where are you going? Not that I want you to be here any longer though."

"I have some more work to do. I'll be late tonight. You can sleep first." Ivan smiled thinly, bending over. He planted a kiss on Gilbert's lips.

The German wiped his mouth as soon as the Russian pulled away. But as always, Ivan only smiled at the gesture.

"Good night, Little Gilbert."

"…asshole."

Ivan closed the door behind him carefully and soundlessly.

The hallway was dark, only the moonlight that went in from the lone window lighted the hall dimly. Ivan stood before the door, looking absently at the empty wall in front of him. He could hear the faint footsteps from the first floor and someone chatting in a distant. But there was also the lively song of the insects that resided in his garden. The Russian closed his eyes and listened to it. Hearing them singing soothed him. They were the beauty created by nature.

"Mr. Ivan…" Came a gentle, yet faintly shaky voice coming from his right. The person's face was covered by the darkness of the room, but he could tell exactly who was the owner of such kind voice.

At first Ivan didn't answer, he was still listening to the song. But a short moment later, he spoke in a soft voice. "Tomorrow he will come with us. As planned, we will go to Rome. Prepare for everything." Then he turned to the other way, and started to walk away."

"B-but sir." Toris hesitantly called out. "Does… does he know about this?"

Ivan stopped on his track suddenly. The nervous Lithuanian gulped, his body was shaking. Cold sweat was running down his temples.

"…he does not have to know. One of his acquaintance is residing in the town as we speak. Gilbert will try to do anything to contact them. We have to move him before they met. Is that understood?"

Toris flinched at the sharp coldness in the Russian's voice. He took a hesitant step back, averting his eyes. He bit onto his lower lip lightly. "…understood, sir."

"Good."

Ivan left the smaller man behind him, walking along the dark hallway. As he walked, his head was filled with thoughts. Memories flashed before his eyelids. Images of old buildings and houses. Faces of children, and of his sisters. The smile of a red-eyed, white-haired boy.

Ivan closed his eyes.

And fire burning their home … black corpses … and the sight of blood. Red blood. Red flame. Just like his eyes.

He opened his eyes. He had stopped on his track again, staring at the half-moon beyond the wide high window.

I finally have you.

His fists tightened on his sides.

…and I will never let you go.

TBC…