A/N: Only two people reviewed last chapter…where did everyone go? D: But thank you to the people who did! X3

Anyways, I read over the last couple of chapters again and I feel I'm starting to rush my writing slightly, so I've tried too slow it down a little in this chapter…not sure how well I've succeeded though ^^'

Lots of sad times for Gilbo…and I included Yakterina again, I'm so sorry, but I adore her! *can't stop listening to Carrot and Stick*

Antonio woke up abruptly in the middle of the night. Did Gilbert ever shut up?

He sighed and slipped his feet into his slippers, maybe making himself a midnight snack would help him fall to sleep again, and would give Gilbert enough time to calm down.

He headed downstairs and was surprised to see the light on in the living room. Wasn't it the middle of the night? Slightly cautious, he nudged open the door and looked down at the sofa.

Francis looked back at him, his usual glass of wine half-resting on his knee, "Ah," He said, "So ze screaming woke you too?"

Antonio grimaced, "Yeah, what the hell's he even saying?"

They both went silent for a second to listen, then Francis shrugged, "I can't tell," He indicated at the sofa, "Care to join me?"

Gilbert's shouting was just getting louder and louder, so Antonio sussed staying up for a little while probably wouldn't change anything. He sat down and picked up the TV remote from next to the bowl of tomatoes on the coffee table, "Maybe there's something good on TV." He said hopefully.

They flicked through a good few channels before they settled on a late-night showing of a film that looked relatively interesting. Antonio turned the sound up, hoping to drown out his friend's cries.

When, after a few minutes, Gilbert's shouting still hadn't ceased and Francis and Antonio could still here him very clearly over the television, Antonio pressed the mute button and leant his head back.

"Where'dya really think he's been?" He asked Francis

"I don't know." Francis sighed, "Perhaps 'e went abroad…"

Antonio was about to agree with him, but then he remembered something, "No, that can't be right."

"And why is zat?"

"He's been seeing his doctor… he's Elisaveta's friend… Toris I think his name is."

Francis looked disbelieving, "You're suggesting 'e's stayed in this town? Unbelievable! He would have come round every once in while…or we'd 'ave at least bumped into 'im once, this town's not 'uge!"

"Yeah, well, how else d'ya explain it?"

Francis pouted slightly, "But why did he drop out of school? You don't think…"

"What?"

"I zink I've got it! So he got some sort of terminal illness when 'e was eighteen, but 'e didn't want to tell anyone, so he told his family zat he was going to live with someone else, zen buggered off to live alone, or to hospital or somezing. I mean, he's been seeing only his doctor, and you can 'ardly say he looks 'ealthy."

Antonio thought for a bit, "Ya know, I think you might be right…but where does what's-his-name come into this?"

"What's-his-name?"

Antonio clicked his fingers as he remembered, "Ivan Braginski or whatever it was."

"Oh….ooooh~ Maybe 'e was a doctor who Gilbert had an affair with, or maybe 'e was just a random guy 'e dated."

"Hmm, yeah. He probably didn't spend all the time in the hospital, right? Maybe he was treated at home, maybe that's why he's so awkward around people, maybe he hasn't really been around many people. And maybe it's contagious! Maybe that's why he won't touch anyone."

Francis laughed a little, "I'm not sure about ze last part…" He sighed, "So many 'maybes'. Why won't 'e just tell us the truth? It's not like we'd judge 'im if 'e 'ad some 'orrible illness."

The screaming stopped upstairs. Gilbert must have woken up. Antonio and Francis immediately shut up. Antonio yawned slightly, "Well, now that's over, I really need to sleep. Buenos Noches, Francis."

"Bonne nuit." He smiled back.

Antonio trudged back upstairs and quietly pressed his ear to Gilbert's bedroom door; he could hear Gilbert sobbing slightly and decided not to disturb him, he would only damage his pride.

He walked back into his own room, quietly cursed himself for forgetting to make himself that midnight snack he had planned and drifted back to sleep.

Gilbert stared at his face in the mirror. The bags under his eyes seemed to just be getting worse. He sighed, it had been just over three weeks since he had ran away from Ivan and however well he pushed it out of his mind during the daytime, he was unable to escape the memories in his sleep.

He pushed his sweat-soaked hair out of his face and was startled at how much he actually resembled his brother when he did so.

He was worried about Ludwig. Unlike Roderich, he hadn't moved house, so Ivan could still find him quite easily. But nothing had happened to him yet, surely Ivan would have acted by now? And even if he did do something, Ludwig was tough, so he would be able to fend for himself, right?

An image of Feliciano appeared in Gilbert's mind. Young, gullible, weak Feliciano, the little man wouldn't stand a chance against someone like Ivan. And if he used him against Ludwig…

Gilbert reached over to the phone in his room and dialled his little brother's number.

After quite a few rings, he heard a very disgruntled Ludwig say, "Hallo?"

"Hey," Gilbert breathed, "It's Gilbert."

"Gilbert? Why the hell have you called me at 3 o'clock in the morning?"

"Sorry, I was worried about you."

Silence. Then, "Why were you worried about me?" Ludwig asked tentatively.

"Has anyone…weird turned up anywhere near your house?"

"Define 'weird'"

"I dunno," Gilbert replied, "Just someone you don't usually see around."

"Gil…have you gotten yourself into trouble with a gang or something?"

"…Not exactly."

"Not exactly? Then what have you done?" Ludwig sounded exasperated.

"That's not important…just take care of yourself, okay? It would be seriously unawesome if you got hurt…and keep an eye on Feliciano."

"I dread to think what you've managed to drag me into bruder."

"Sorry. Well, hope you manage to get back to sleep and all…night."

"Night." Ludwig grumbled back before hanging up.

Gilbert put down the phone and lay back down to get to sleep. But not matter how much he tossed and turned, he wasn't falling back into his slumber. He sighed and started singing, or mumbling rather, quietly to himself, "Spi, moja radost', usni!" It was a lullaby Yekaterina had once sung to him, a child's song, but he had liked it all the same, and it used to help him fall asleep, "V dome pogasli ogni, Ptichki zatihli v sadu," He could feel his eyelids getting heavier, "Rybki usnuli v prudu. Mesjac na ne…" Before he could even finish the line, he had returned to his unwelcome dreams.

Gilbert ran all the way home, drafting a million different lies in his head. Maybe he could just say that he wanted to leave home, get a place of his own. But his family would still want to stay in contact, how was he supposed to explain that probably wouldn't be possible? And even if it was, Ivan would most likely censor anything he tried to tell them.

He pounded up the drive to his house and banged on the door. When no one opened it he glanced behind him. Whilst lost in his thoughts, he had completely ignored the fact that the drive was empty, devoid of his father's car. He and Ludwig must have gone out somewhere. Thank Gott.

Gilbert searched through his bag for his house key and placed it in the lock, opening the front door. He stepped into the hallway and a weird feeling of comfort, of being home engulfed him, but it was immediately quashed when he realised that he probably wouldn't be coming back any time soon, if at all. Judging by what he had seen of Ivan before, his creepy possessiveness, his need to have exactly what he wanted, asking Gilbert to 'live with him' meant not being able to go anywhere else. h no. Ivan couldn't share Gilbert with anyone.

Gilbert walked into the kitchen and picked up a piece of notepaper from a pile of papers that were usually used for shopping lists and the pen that always lay next to them. He wasn't really sure what to write, but anything would be better than having to awkwardly face his father as he told him he didn't want anything to do with hi anymore. He was pretty sure he would start to cry if he tried that, and that would be seriously embarrassing.

He chewed on the end of the pen for a bit before starting to write,

Dear Dad, he scrawled down, I met someone recently, well, that was true, he supposed, I'm going to live with them, that was true too. This was easier than he thought actually, he needn't lie at all, just twist the truth slightly. I might be gone some time, or forever even, please don't try to contact me, I'll be fine, he pulled his mobile phone out of his pocket and dropped it on the table, sorry, and damn he was, please give my love to Ludwig, Gilbert. He had wanted to sign it 'love from Gilbert' but in the end he couldn't bring himself to, so his name would have to suffice.

He picked the note up and took some sellotape out of a drawer and ran upstairs to stick it to his father's bedroom door; he was bound to see it there. Once he had done that, he walked into his own room. As usual, it was a complete and utter mess. He waded through the his clothes and CDs and such, trying to decide what to take with him. To be honest, there wasn't much point taking a lot of it, he imagined Ivan would get rid of anything he didn't like, especially all of his American music.

In the end, he just shoved a few clothes into his school bag and headed back downstairs, thankful that his father and Ludwig had yet to show up.

He was about to open the door and head off when his violin caught his eye, propped up against the wall. He really wanted to take it, it was a good emotional outlet, and he had a feeling he might need one. But what if Ivan broke it? He Didn't really want to see his violin smashed to pieces, especially after how much it had cost him.

But the violin made another thought come to his head; Roderich. He couldn't exactly tell him where he was going, he hoped that he would forget about their planned meeting the next day. And what about Antonio and Francis? He wondered as he stepped outside, and Mathias and Arthur? They would probably want to know where he had gone, but he didn't have the time to go see them all and explain. He only hoped his father would tell them that he was gone.

At the end of the driveway, he turned around and smiled sadly, "Tschus." He said.

He walked slowly back to the courtyard that Ivan had decided they meet at. He could feel himself shaking, and his head was screaming at him to just run back home and ring the police. But he couldn't, Roderich and Ludwig would be hurt if he did so, and he had seen, felt, first hand what Ivan was capable of.

As he drew nearer, he could see Ivan sitting on one of the benches reading a book and looking oh-so-innocent. Gilbert dragged himself over to him, "I'm ready," He said shakily, although he didn't feel ready at all.

Ivan closed his book and smiled up at Gilbert, "Good." He said simply and stood up.

He started walking off and turned back to Gilbert, who was frozen to the spot, "Well? Are you coming?"

Gilbert swallowed hard, nodded and trawled after the tall Russian man. He wished someone would do something, realise that something wasn't quite right. But with their pale hair and skin, Ivan and him probably looked related, so anyone walking by would think nothing of it.

But still he hoped that someone, anyone, would do something or say something. But no one did.

"We're here!" Ivan said cheerily when they arrived at a large, menacing looking house. He strode up to the doorway and Gilbert shuffled up after him. He opened the door and smiled overly-sweetly at Gilbert, "Welcome home."

Gilbert frowned, he doubted he would ever be able to call this place home, but he couldn't say that to Ivan, so he simply nodded and walked inside.

As soon as he did so, he heard the door shut and felt Ivan slam him against the wall. Fuck, he thought, not again!

He prayed to every god he had ever heard of that it would stop, even Buddha, and he wasn't even sure that Buddha was a god. But he was brought back to reality when he felt Ivan's breath on his neck. "Please don't." Gilbert begged, trying to push him away.

He heard Ivan whisper, "But Gilbert, You're mine now, da?" and he felt Ivan's hand tugging at the waistband of his jeans.

"No!" He shouted as he shot up out of his sleep. Again. He threw the quilt off him and sat on the edge of his bed. He sat there for a few minutes, breathing deeply in the silence, reminding himself over and over that Ivan wouldn't be able to touch him again. A few strangled sobs escaped him as he ran into the bathroom, feeling repulsed.

He leant over the toilet and he didn't even need to stick his fingers down his throat this time, just the memories of Ivan were enough to make him throw up the entire contents of his stomach.

He heard the door open behind him and spun around, panicked. Antonio was standing there, looking half-asleep.

Gilbert grimaced at him, "Sorry, man, did I wake you up?"

Antonio yawned, "That's the second time in one night."

"Ah, sorry."

"Nah, It's alright, I haven't got to work tomorrow or anything. Ya not feeling well?"

Gilbert shook his head, "Just sickness though, I'm sure I'll get over it. Might just stay in bed tomorrow."

A strange look crossed Antonio's face, he looked almost triumphant, but then it changed to a caring smile, "Okay, I'll probably be in all day tomorrow, so feel free to ask me if you need anything."

"Thanks." Gilbert said, he was relieved Antonio was being so cool about it, especially after he had woken him up twice in the middle of the night. Or the morning even, what time was it anyway? He stood up, flushed the toilet and poured himself a glass of water, "What time is it?" He asked Antonio.

"About 5, I might just stay up to be honest, doesn't seem much point going back to sleep."

Gilbert drank the water and put the bathroom cup back in its little holder. "Well, I'm gonna get some rest, see ya later."

"See ya." Antonio responded as he yawned again and walked downstairs.

Yekaterina ran the brush once again through her little's sisters long, pale hair. She smiled fondly, "What's bothering you?" she asked.

Natalia frowned, "How do you know something's bothering me?"

She laughed softly as she did another stroke, "Because otherwise you always hang around Vanya; you only come to me when something's really bothering you."

Natalia smiled, extremely briefly, before her face returned to it's usual murderous expression, "It's Vanya who's bothering me." She said.

Yeakterina sighed and put the hairbrush down and waited for her half-sister to turn around before she said, "If he declined your marriage proposal again, I'm sure that's only because it's not legal in this country."

Her face became even more murderous, "Well, he is, but that's not why I'm worried."

"Oh? Then what is it?"

"That man." Natalia snarled.

"Which man?" Yekaterina asked, although she had a feeling she knew who Natalia was talking about.

"His fucking therapist."

Oh. Yekaterina had thought she was talking about Gilbert. In a way, she was glad she wasn't. Se loved Natalia, very dearly, probably more than she should do actually, but she still didn't like it when she bad-mouthed Gilbert, especially as it made her feel guilty for stopping talking to him to try and please her little brother.

"What's wrong with his therapist? I thought you chose him."

"Yes I did!" She said angrily, "So that Vanya would finally stop obsessing over that silly Gilbert man and realised that he truly loved me. But now that fucking chink is getting Ivan to go all obsessive over him."

"Natalia! You shouldn't use words like that." She frowned, "And I'm sure he's not doing it on purpose, you know what Vanya's like."

Natalia burst into tears, "But what's wrong with me? Why won't he be like that about me?"

Yekaterina smiled softly at her and pulled her into a hug, "Nothing's wrong with you, Natalia, I still love you."

She sniffed, "Yeah, but that's not the same."

Oh, but how she wished it was.

Gilbert hadn't dared to go back to sleep, just lay in bed awake, staring at the clock. He wished he could go do something, but he felt seriously damn sick so he wasn't sure going out was a good idea.

At quarter to eight, Antonio walked in with some breakfast, grinning. "Mornin' Gilbert! Wasn't sure if you'd be up yet." He lifted the tray he as holding, "Made ya some breakfast."

Gilbert eyed his friend suspiciously, "You're being awfully nice…did you want something?"

Antonio laughed and sat down on the edge of his bed, "Some people just like being nice Gilbert."

Gilbert raised his eyebrows disbelievingly at him and Antonio sighed, "Fine, Francis and I were talking last night." He admitted

Gilbert rolled his eyes, "What is it now? Am I pregnant?"

"What? You're pregnant?"

"No, Antonio! Guys can't get pregnant, that was a joke."

Antonio exhaled a lot of air, "Right, that's good, I don't think I could deal with that too well." He laughed slightly awkwardly, "Well, no, that's not what we thought anyway." He placed the tray next to Gilbert and looked thoughtful, "We were wondering if maybe you had an illness, 'cause you've been seeing your doctor, but seemingly not many other people and I mean, you were throwing up last night, and you're always so tired and shaky."

Gilbert stared back, he almost admitted that was the case, but he was smart enough to know that if he got himself caught up in a lie like that, it would unravel eventually, and Antonio and Francis would only be angry at him. He shook his head, "I'm ill now, sure, but I don't think it's anything serious. And can you guys stop talking about me already? It's really starting to get on my nerves."

Antonio didn't look like he believed him one bit, "We'd stop talking about you if you told us what was wrong already."

Gilbert was sick and tired of constantly trying to tell people that he was okay so he just stayed silent and picked up his coffee. Antonio sighed and stood up to leave, but when he reached the door and looked back at Gilbert, "Dude, even if you do have some illness, or you've been involved in gangs," Shit, had Ludwig talked to him?, "You can tell me and Francis about it, okay?" He grinned, "We got ya back."

Gilbert smiled at him, "Thanks." he said and for the first time in a long time, he couldn't help feeling like he was home.

I am so, so sorry that this chapter is so insanely short, I promise from the bottom of my heart that the next one will be much longer! I've just been seriously ill recently, so keeping concentration for long enough to write is difficult .

Oh Francis and Antonio, how your ridiculous theories make me lol :'D but I would like to write a fic at some point looking at a character getting a chronic illness, could be interesting~

Please do review, if you have anything to say at all, feedback is ridiculously helpful and really cheers me up, especially whilst I'm on all these stupid drugs XD