Dro: Sorry this is so late. My parents were randomly like "Wanna go somewhere?" at 2:00 while I was in the middle of writing this. Bah! Anyway, have at it. And please do review!

Chapter Summary: Arthur, Alfred, and Matthew come upon a horror show. Meanwhile, the other Arthur and Alfred return to Paris and make a phone call.

Warnings: References to Past Rape, Language, Violence

Disclaimer: Dro doesn't even have enough money to buy the Hetalia One Coins...so...yeah.


Matthew gazed through the binoculars, waiting for any sign of someone emerging from the building. He, Al, and the other Arthur had arrived an hour ago and settled in the woods just outside Yao's facility. It had taken over a full day and a lot of negotiating with people with security cameras to find their way here. A few times, they'd strayed from Yao's path back to his base, and the setbacks had nearly set him off. He was on edge, stressed out. He knew he needed to keep a cool head in order to rescue Alfred, but the very idea that, at any second, Alfred could die kept eating away at him.

For all they knew, they were already too late. None of them knew if Yao would wait or not to complete whatever ritual he was attempting. Matthew tried to quell his guilt. If only he'd been fast enough to stop Alfred from leaving. If only been strong enough. But he'd let Alfred slip right through his fingers. And he was becoming more and more convinced every second that Alfred had been carried away in the wind like a grain of sand, never to be found again. He gripped the binoculars harder, trying to concentrate solely on the door of the building.

They had started to plot a way to infiltrate the base, but they'd scrapped all of that planning when they'd seen a sleek black car—identical to the one Alfred had been taken away in—pull up in front of the place. No one had emerged from the car, but they could clearly make out a figure in the driver's seat, who was apparently waiting for someone to emerge from the base. They were riding on that someone being of importance, namely, Yao. Matthew flicked the binoculars from the car to the door, still not seeing anymore obvious movement.

"Anything, Matt?" Al asked him. Arthur sat on his other side, worried green eyes trained on the silent scene in front of them.

"No. Not…" He tensed. "Wait. The door just opened. A couple of guards and…Yao!" He spotted the Chinese man walking briskly toward the car. Matthew frowned. The look on Yao's face was apprehensive. Matthew had been expecting triumph or glee or some other emotion that indicated that Yao had gotten his way, that Alfred was dead. But there was nothing that indicated he'd won. And that almost scared him more.

He looked back to the door just in time to see someone else emerge.

Someone he'd hoped he'd never see again.

Someone who haunted his nightmares.

His brain tried to rationalize that there was another Ivan, another Russia from another world. But as soon as Matthew's eyes honed in on Ivan's, he knew that wasn't the answer. He knew those eyes, knew the depths of hatred and insanity and sadism in those dark pupils, knew the playful gleam in those violet irises. The binoculars fell out of his hands.

"Ivan…"

"Yeah, I see him." He seemed to realize Matt's distress. "Matt, it's the other one, remember?"

Matthew slowly shook his head. "No. No, it's not. It's him." It all made sense now. The ritual. Using Alfred as a sacrifice. "They've brought him back. Yao brought him back. And they sacrificed Alfred to do it."

Arthur snapped. "What the bloody hell are you babbling about?" He snatched the fallen binoculars. "There's no way in hell that—" His voice caught mid-sentence as he peered through the magnified view of the binoculars, locking onto another figure who'd emerged from the doorway, escorted by guards.

Ivan had no guards.

But this person did.

This blond, limping person who was hugging himself tightly, his head downcast. Matthew recognized him immediately. Himself. The other him stopped as he neared Ivan, seemingly afraid to get too close. Matthew knew without even seeing the other him what had happened. It was the demeanor of his reflection, in the way his double flinched as Ivan turned around. Matthew himself jumped when Ivan's hand shot out and grabbed the poor man's face, forcing him to look up at the towering Russian. Matthew felt a pang in his heart when the long blond hair fell away from the other boy's face, revealing that one entire side of it was black and blue, his lips swollen and busted.

He had betrayed Ivan.

And his other self had suffered the consequences.

"Matthew…Oh God…" Arthur murmured, his voice tight.

"Tell me I'm imagining things." Alfred muttered. "Tell me our Russia isn't back. Tell me the other Matt wasn't…"

But neither of them could tell him anything. Because he was right.

Matthew saw his brother's rage ignite right before his eyes. It had always been something terrifying, something dreadful. Al's anger was accompanied by an overwhelming sense of fear to whoever saw it. It was like staring into the face of furious god come to get his vengeance on those who had dared to profane against him. Al's anger burned white and hot, and it raged like an inferno that incinerated everything in its path. Matthew had only seen this level of anger twice in his life. This made the third. And he already knew what was going to happen before Al even said anything.

"Get out your guns. Now."

"Al, we can't just attack Russia. He's surrounded by guards. We'll be killed." Matthew pleaded.

"Yeah, and if we don't get the other you out of his clutches, a lot worse will happen to him." He let out a shaky breath. "I'm not going to try to kill Russia, Matt. Just to get the other Matthew back. That's all. I just want you guys to back me up, all right? Just keep the guards off me." He held up his fingers with a count of five. Matthew hesitantly pulled out his handgun, Arthur doing the same. Al started counting down. Matthew's eyes darted back and forth. Ivan entered the car, disappearing from view. Al's fingers hit two. The guards started pushing Matthew toward the open car door.

One.

Matthew leapt up and fire at the guard nearest to the door, hitting him in the shoulder and sending him keeling over into the car. Alfred made a mad dash for the parking lot, screaming at the other Matthew to run. The boy slipped out of the other guard's grasp and started rushing forward to meet Alfred halfway. Arthur fired, taking out the remaining guard at the door. Ivan pushed the first guard's body out of the car and started to emerge. Armed. Matthew and Arthur continued to shoot off rounds, forcing Yao's remaining men to take cover or get shot. The other Matthew ran right into Alfred, almost sending the both of him over. But Al kept standing, and he heaved the younger man over his shoulder and took off back toward the woods, signaling for them to run for it. Matthew shot off one more round, aiming at the car. It shattered the window right next to an angry looking Ivan.

Ivan's eyes met Matthew's. Matthew shoved his gun back its holster, turned away slowly, and walked briskly into the forest to catch up to Arthur and Al. He smirked to himself. That's right, Ivan. You've lost me. You've lost me, and you're not getting me back.


They'd found a road, and on that road, they'd found a car. The woman driving it had looked horrified at seeing two dirty, shirtless men with blood-stained clothing, and they'd ended up claiming they'd been in an accident and needed a ride to the nearest town. She was visibly petrified and no doubt thought that they were serial killers or some nonsense, but she was nice to give them a quick five minute ride to a small middle-of-nowhere town with a single gas station and no hotels. It was enough though. There was a thrift store (from which they stole clothing, seeing as neither of them had any money), and there was a restaurant (at which they dined and ditched, laughing all the way).

It had been a while since Alfred had had enough mischief in himself to break the law like that. The stress of the recession and the wars had been getting to him. And now, of course, the stress of this. Once they had reached the edge of town and begged another man until he'd given in and agreed to let them hitch-hike to Paris, Alfred was once again faced with the reality he desperately wished was a dream. Matt was probably dead. He had run away from Yao and left his brother to die. He had bouts of intense anger where he wanted to scream at Arthur for making him leave, but he understood perfectly why Arthur had done what he had. Arthur was suffering for abandoning Matthew too, but this was his world and not his Matt. Alfred couldn't possibly hate him for choosing to save his world. He could, however, blame himself for being unable to save Matt. And he would, too. For the rest of his life.

"Alfred, are you okay?"

Alfred uncovered his eyes, which he'd been pressing his hands over for several minutes. Arthur sat across from him in the truck bed, legs stretched out, eying him sympathetically. He had a lot he wanted to say to Arthur, a lot he wanted to ask, but he felt like this wasn't the right time for it. Then again, when would it ever be?

"No, not really."

Arthur sighed deeply, his breath mixing with the wind that was rushing by them. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything."

"You've said that already." Alfred murmured.

"And I'll keep saying it until you believe me."

"I do believe you, Arthur. It just doesn't make me feel any better. It's not you I'm mad at, remember? I thought I made that clear."

Arthur shook his head. "It doesn't matter if you blame me or not. I blame myself. I should have been able to stop this, to stop Yao before he ever got this insane plan off the ground. But I had let myself go. I let myself become weak and complacent. I let my guard down, and I should have known better. If it hadn't been for me, Yao would have never taken your Matthew in the first place."

"Arthur…"

"I helped him, you know? I helped him perfect the spell. I'm the one that helped him rewrite it too, so that he could use your Ivan's body for it." Arthur's lips were drawn tightly, and his eyes were filled regret.

Alfred pursed his lips. "Yao tortured you."

"That's not an excuse for giving in. I've been in situations like that before. I should have withstood it."

Alfred bit his lip. "Don't say that, Arthur. No one should have to go through torture. No one."

Arthur said nothing else, and they were silent the rest of the way back to Paris. When they got off, thanking the man for his generosity, Alfred realized he had no clue where he should go. He figured he should return to the hotel where he'd left the other Matthew…Matt…he shook his head. No, no. He was probably gone by now. His Arthur and his double had already arrived by this point. They were all probably somewhere else. Arthur. That was his only consolation. That somewhere around here was Arthur, his Arthur. The one he loved and cherished. The one whose arms he could let himself cry in. The one whose lips would meet his and would take all his sobs. He wanted his Arthur so badly now. With Mattie…with Matt…gone…he needed someone. He needed Arthur. Arthur was all he had now. He had screwed up and let his brother get taken away.

"Let's go find the others." He mumbled.

"It's a big city. Let's find a hotel first."

Two hours later they sat on a plush hotel bed, Arthur rapidly dialing the numbers of the courtesy telephone. Alfred tapped his pants leg absently, listening intently at the dull dial tone of the phone. Arthur breathed in deeply, as if he expected something to go horribly wrong at any second. Alfred didn't blame him. He expected the same. The phone rang several times, and Arthur looked ready to give up. He made to replace the phone on the receiver when a voice flared up on the other end. He nearly slammed the phone against his face.

"Alfred?"

"Arthur…?"

"Yes, it's me."

"Arthur, where are you? We thought Yao still had you!"

"No. No, I'm fine. I'm in Paris with the other you."

"He's alive? How?" Alfred didn't miss his double's incredulous tone.

Arthur paled considerably. "Um…"

Alfred's sinking suspicions about Arthur suddenly hit him full force and he snatched the phone from the man before he could argue. "Is there a problem with me being alive?" He spoke to the receiver.

"…Well, yes. We thought Yao was going to sacrifice you."

"And he was, but I escaped." He eyed Arthur, projecting 'Don't you move' with every part of his body. Arthur seemed to get the message, and he sat rigid and still.

"Okay," the identical voice on the phone replied. "Then explain to me how my world's Russia is walking around in the world of the living. You were supposed to be the sacrifice to bring him back, right?"

"Yeah, I was." Ivan was back. The other Ivan. He mouthed it silently: Arthur, what did you do?

Arthur was wringing his hands nervously, refusing to meet Alfred's gaze.

"Then how are you both alive?" The other him sounded exasperated.

Alfred breathed heavily. "That's a really good question. Care to answer, Arthur?"

Arthur was silent, and Alfred was about to yell at him, but his double kept talking. "What does Arthur have to do with it?"

"Well, personally," Alfred began, "I think Arthur has everything to do with it. Isn't that right, Arthur?"

"Oh, for the love of God, give me the bloody phone!" The voice barreled through the receiver, and Alfred almost dropped the phone. "Alfred! Are you there?"

"Arthur." He turned his attention away from his lover's double. "You okay?"

"I'm fine. Just fine. But you…I thought you were dead." The last word emerged as a whisper.

Alfred licked his lips. "Yeah, me too for a while there."

"I'm just glad you're all right."

Alfred clenched his pant leg. "I'm not all right, Arthur. Matt…I lost Matt. I was right there, in the same building, and I couldn't…" His voice started to crack.

Arthur was silent for several seconds, and Alfred could just imagine the tears coming to the older man's eyes, staining his cheeks. But when he spoke, he said something very different than Alfred was expecting. "Alfred, Matthew isn't dead."

"…What?"

"He's here. We have him. We tracked Yao's base down. That's how we know about Russia. We staked out the base and…we found Matthew. We rescued him. He—"

"So, he's there with you? He's okay? Can you put him on? I need to talk to him. Bad. Please."

Arthur loudly swallowed. "Alfred, listen to me first, please, love. Matthew…well, surely you know about this world's Russia. You've fought him. You know about his brutality…"

As soon as the word "brutality" escaped from Arthur's lips, a terrifying chill shot down Alfred's spine. "What happened? What happened to him? Is he hurt?"

Arthur hesitated. "…Yes."

"How bad? Is he in the hospital?"

"No…"

Alfred paused. "Is…is there something I'm missing here? You're making it sound like…"

"Alfred, you know that this world's Matthew and this world's Russia were lovers, right?"

Alfred's world crumbled. "No…No…No. No. Arthur, don't you dare say that…don't you dare!"

"Alfred, I'm so sorry. So, so sorry. We got there too late to stop anything. He raped Matthew, Alfred. Ivan raped Matthew."

The phone hit the floor.


Dro: Aw, that was so heartbreaking. Poor Mattie...

Next Chapter: Alfred and Arthur make a discovery. Arthur has a revelation. Alfred is confused and shocked. Neither of them have any idea how to handle the situation.