Gahhhh! Updates will probably begin to slow down. It's starting to really catch up with me now -_-"

Erik: I assume you're referring to the fact that you're in middle of typing chapter 11

Drake:You really are unorganized when it comes to the pace between your uploading and typing

Me: I see you're as blunt as always, Drake. But yes, you hit the nail on the head

Matteuksen: You'll be ahead soon~

Drake: Technically, she is ahead, but she's losing her well-kept pace

Erik: Ouch

Me: Yep. Hey, Drake, are you willing to wrestle an Icelander into doing the disclaimer?

Drake: Why an Icelander? Why not a Canadian?

Me:Nationalistic much? Fine, fine, fine.

Drake:*casually walks away & comes back with Canada*

Canada:*says the disclaimer, but it's too low for anyone to hear*

Me:*grabs the script & hands it to Drake* C'mon, you speak five languages. Impress people

Drake: *sighs* If you insist. Hetalia does not belong to AnonymousSanSama. Nous devrions être reconnaissants pour ce (We should be thankful for that.) För om hon gjorde det, skulle världen bli kaos (For if she did, the world would be in chaos.) V bukvalʹnom smysle (Quite literally.) Además, los países bálticos, los asiáticos, y los países nórdicos tendrían más Screentime y las apariencias (Plus the Baltics, Asians, and Nordics would have more screentime and appearances.) *Looks at me* Happy?

Me:I barely understood what you said, but let's just say I am

Erik & Matteuksen:*trying not to laugh as Matteuksen understood the Russian & they both understood the Swedish*

I finally arrive home. It's not late, but I've been working non-stop for over twelve hours. Emil must be so furious that I'd be out for so long without even calling him. I drag myself into my home. Collapsing on the sofa in the living room, the weight of the entire day comes crashing down on me like a ton of bricks.

"Lukas?" Emil calls from upstairs.

"I'm home," I respond tiredly.

I hear two sets of footsteps come running down the stairs. Wait, two? I tense, reaching towards my gun. I freeze when I see who else is here once Emil enters the living room. His companion is a girl with short blond hair and green eyes. Erika, Vash's little sister. Despite her sweet face, she's just as skilled with a gun as her over-paranoid brother.

"Where were you all day?" Emil immediately inquires sharply.

"Work," I reply curtly.

"For over twelve hours?" I pick up the disbelief in his tone. "I heard that Ivan could be a slave driver, but this is ridiculous."

"Not unless you come across two dead bodies and two terrified teenagers carrying horrible pasts."

"I already filled them in," says a new voice.

Vash enters. I sigh, "When and how did you get into my house?"

"A couple of hours ago. Emil called Erika to come visit," Vash explains. "I wasn't planning on leaving her alone with your brother."

"Are you implying something about my brother?"

"Not at all."

I shoot him a disbelieving gaze.

"Sorry."

Noticing my immense fatigue, Vash ushers the two younger teens out of the room. He mouths to me, "Go get some sleep. Now." I know he's not giving me an option., so I head up to my room for a quick nap. An hour or two later, I'm woken up by the annoying buzzing of my phone. My vision is bleary from sleep, but I manage to read the caller ID. I groan at the name. Mathias.

"Hello?" I croak.

"Dude!" the obnoxious Dane cries. "You sound horrible! Are you okay? Do you feel well? Are you sick? Are yo-"

"Shut up!" I snap. "You just woke me up."

"...Oh."

"If you have nothing intelligent to say, I'm hanging up." Not bothering to wait for an answer, I end the call.

The scent of something cooking reaches my nose. I inhale deeply. Could it be kjøttboller*? My stomach rumbles. When was the last time I ate? Did I even have any coffee today? Sifting through the events of the day, I realize my first answer is I didn't eat anything all day and my second, unfortunately, is no. How did I function for over twelve hours without any coffee?

There's a light knock on my door.

"Yes?" I call.

"It's Vash," comes the voice on the other side.

"Enter."

The blond Swiss enters my bedroom. His green eyes sweep over the interior. He's probably wondering how I keep my room so impeccably clean with a job like the one I have.

"You don't have to act like you're still at work," Vash says.

I scoff. "This is coming from the man who taught his little sister how to wield a gun as soon as he could."

This causes Vash to crack a smile. "You need to learn to calm down."

"I'm not the only one."

"Are you up for coming down for something to eat?" Vash asks. "You're brother is making k-kj- some type of meatball."

"Kjøttboller*?" I supply.

"Yeah, that."

"Of course I'm coming down. I haven't eaten all day."

Vash raises his eyebrows. "Not even coffee?" There's a touch of disbelief in his voice.

"Not even coffee."

I pull myself out of bed, my clothes completely wrinkled at this point. For once, I really couldn't care less. Vash and I head back down.

"Will you and Erika be joining us for dinner?" I inquire.

"If you insist." Cheapskate.

We enter the kitchen where Emil and Erika are already seated by the island, eating. They almost look like a little couple sitting there. I quickly shove the thought out of my head. Vash would shoot me with every single one of his guns if he knew that I even thought that for a moment.

I seat myself next to Emil, poking his back so he'd sit up straight for once. He glares at me. I ignore it. Vash settles next to Erika, protectively close.

"So where were you really?" Emil interrogates me.

"Work."

"For over twelve hours?"

"Yes."

"How much does a field investigator do already?"

My palm connects with my face. I wind up launching into a long explanation of my job that Emil's probably only half listening to, if at all.

"Did you find out anything from the boys?" Vash asks.

"Have you ever been in the Soviet House?" I respond with a question of my own.

"I can't say I have, but a few of our own were raised there." Okay, I did not expect that. "And their siblings."

"Who?"

"Elizabeta, Nicolae, Vladimir, and Gilbert," Vash lists. "Well, Gilbert has a really weird story of why he was there and his brother, Ludwig, wasn't."

"Gilbert always has a weird story. I don't know how Ludwig deals with him," I remark. "And by siblings, you're only referring to Vladimir."

Vash nods in agreement. I'm shocked that our siblings have decided to refrain from adding their two cents on this conversation. Knowing Emil, he's probably fighting hard to keep his mouth shut.

"Emil, Erika, can you two finish eating in the dining room?" I request. "I want to speak to Vash alone."

Emil looks annoyed that he won't be able to hear all about the case. Erika agrees willingly. They both rise from their seats and exit the kitchen. Emil casts me a ticked off look. He's so independent as I'm almost never home. I feel like such a terrible brother. I sigh at my predicament.

"Do you think I'm a horrible brother for never being home?" I wonder out loud.

Vash seems shocked. "Why do you ask?" he counters. "Is this what you wanted to talk about?" I sense the notes of disbelief in his voice.

"No, I want to talk about the case," I explain quickly. "I just asked since Emil seems annoyed with me."

Vash sighs, not knowing how on earth he got into this mess. "I guess it depends on how close you are with Emil. Erika and I are very close, so she's sad when I'm not home, but she manages to deal with it well. Roderich says that Johann used to constantly call him because he really wanted him home so he could paint while listening to Roderich playing the piano. Peter and Vladimir don't seem to mind at all when Arthur and Nicolae aren't around." He shrugs. "It depends on who you are, your sibling's personality, and the relationship you have with them."

I sigh. I fail as an elder brother. Deciding to change the subject, though I brought it up to begin with, I ask, "What do you think of the newest developments in the case?"

"Tough to say," Vash admits. "We only know what those boys have told us. Raivis is making me nervous though. He may still be hiding something."

"I have a feeling that he knows the person who was calling, but doesn't want to admit it."

"Why would he protect the identity of someone like that?"

"Because that someone still has power over him."

"You don't think"

"I do." My indigo eyes lock with Vash's green. "Call Antonio and tell him to attempt to delve into Raivis's history. If anyone can find out anything about that Latvian, it's Antonio."

Vash pulls out his phone to send off a text to Antonio. I offer that Vash and Erika stay overnight, and I receive the unsurprising "yes" as an answer.

I sleep in a little later than usual. I peer at my phone, noticing the lit screen. I'd apparently missed four calls from Tino... Wait! Four missed calls from Tino?! Before I have any time to panic, the phone buzzes. Another call.

"Hello?" I answer.

"Lukas! Tarvitsen apua heti! Tämä ei ole hyvä! Tämä ei ole hyvä! Aiomme olla niin paljon vaivaa! Me epäonnistui!**" is the rushed Finnish reply.

"Ro deg ned,***" I say. "What happened?"

"Eduard is dead!" Tino cries, near tears. "Nicolae's been badly injured. I was only out for ten minutes!"

My heart pounds in my chest.

"Is Raivis okay?" I ask, fearing the answer.

"...He's gone."

Dang it.


*According to Wikipedia: "meatballs: A rougher version of the Swedish meatballs. Served with mashed potatoes and cream-sauce or sauce espagnol depending on localization." Use your imagination as to what they had it with

**Lukas! I need help right away! This isn't good! This isn't good! We are going to be in so much trouble! We failed! (Finnish)

***Calm down (Norwegian)


Cliffhanger FTW!

Okay, so this chapter was a calmer one to take a breather from everything and learn a bit more of the relationship between Lukas & Emil. Plus it's also a bit of a lighter tone with some humor (including references to Switzy being a cheap skate & Lukas's love for coffee.) Yes, I had to torture my beloved readers with me announcing slower updates as the story reaches its peak. As Italy Veneziano says, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" So this is the part where I basically beg for some forgiveness. So please forgive me.

Drake: You done yet?

Me: *sulks* I guess so

Drake: It's your turn, Erik

Erik: *sighs* I figured. R & R people. We've got enough on our hands with her already. Please don't make her go into the emo corner