A/N: Guys you are the BEST! Thanks so much for your support and sticking with me and your awesome reviews! And even those who don't review, you're awesome too!

OH! I went to Sakura Sunday/Cherry Blossom Festival whichever you want to call it-and my friend was CSA and I couldn't stop giggling because no one recognized her except…Italy. XD BUT she totally got a picture with England! It made my whole day c:

It was evening by the time England arrived in Moscow and was standing outside Russia's massive home. He couldn't help but glower when he thought of Alfred in the awful Russian's clutches. What was happening? Ivan wouldn't...try anything, right? Russia didn't think of Alfred that way. But then again...Russia was losing it... He might not be thinking at all. Arthur's eyes widened with worry and he pushed himself through the shrubbery in front of the house and pressed his face against the window. Surely, he could be able to make out something-

"Pryvet, comrade."

England's head swung around to see Russia standing at his front door with a big grin spread across his face only a foot away from England.

"Eh-" England cleared his throat and straightened himself before turning and meeting the larger country's gaze. When did he get outside? How long had he been standing there? England never even heard the door open! "Good evening, Russia. I was-just...uh-"

"Come in, please," Russia said and waved for England to follow him into the house.

The house was unbearably quiet. England knew Russia had no one else living with him anymore and the relationship with his sisters was shit, but something was terribly eerie. The house looked like it hadn't been redecorated in the last 100 years; and why was it so dark and dreary?

Russia was preparing tea in the kitchen and allowing England to watch from the doorway. The tension was obvious but both were being rather polite towards the other even though they were incredibly suspicious for good reason.

"I'm afraid I don't have much cream and sugar to offer right now, but I hope it is to your liking anyway."

"That's quite alright. I don't need it."

"Khorosho. We should sit, da?"

They sat in opposing couches, awkwardly watching each other with the clock being the only source of sound echoing throughout the foreboding house.

"Well, might as well get on with it," Russia said finally as he smoothed out his pants with his palms.

England almost choked on his tea. "E-excuse me...?"

"You are here for America, da? We might as well stop the pleasantries and get on with it."

Always the gentleman, Arthur would have preferred a more gracious transition but at least there was no rubbish here. "Yes. I suppose that would be better..."

"Da. For me. You might want to reconsider your luck." Russia pulled his pipe out from beside the couch and tapped it against the coffee table. It left cracks in the glass.

Damn Russia. Damn Russia. Damn Russia. England had a sporting chance with the CSA but he didn't think he'd be able to hold off this giant country who liked to fight dirty. "Now, now. Before we jump to anything, why not make a negotiation?"

The pipe stopped its insistent tapping as Russia listened with interest. "Mm... Go on."

"Well. Why not a trade? CSA will gladly assist in whatever...scheme you're doing. I'll take America, keep him locked away in my home-control his armies, everything. He won't even get in your way. The Confederates will be much more valuable to you anyway-"

Russia at first giggled then burst into loud laughter that shook his body and England as well. It reminded him of hail batting at a window in a harsh storm. "Mne zhalʹ, Angliya. I could not help but laugh! Do you understand what you are saying? You call me a monster-I can see it in your face. Yet, you stand here making negotiations to hand over another poor soul into my clutches. Tell me, where is America's counterpart?"

England felt very embarrassed to answer but nonetheless, held his head high and glared. "I had to have him incapacitated. He was-"

Russia laughed again, smashing his pipe into the glass of the table, sending shards everywhere. England wasn't sure if that was on purpose or not but he flinched out of the way anyway. "We are not so different, da? We both are old, old men, we both hunger for power over something-anything in our desperate attempt to prove to the world we are as great as we used to be, we even hold same person-...how did you put it? 'Incapacitated'-"

At that, England jumped to his feet and snatched Russia's shirt collar, dragging him across the glass to shout in his face. "WHERE IS AMERICA? I swear to GOD-"

"And we both have the same temper apparently-"

"What did you do to him?" England seethed. He was seeing red; if Russia had touched Alfred. If he so much as laid one, fat finger on his precious Alfred-

Russia only continued snickering, though, with that crazed look in his eye. "I want to hear England, you have also taken advantage of your captive America, da? I know I didn't wait long to-"

Without Russia realizing, England had snatched up that damn pipe right out of Russia's grip and proceeded to smash the man's skull with it.

Ivan fell to the ground, first smacking his head against the broken table. He chuckled darkly and turned his face to look at England through his distorted vision. "See? We are not so different. We are both old and violent men. Just look at that blood lust in your eye."

England's grip on the pipe in his hand turned his knuckles white; he knew it was dangerous to use physical violence against Russia with the pipe-his own weapon-but he was so angry. "I'm nothing like you," he snarled.

Russia cackled, coughing in the process. "So you say. I suppose it can't be helped. It's in our nature to fight."

England wanted to ignore Russia and just get on with finding Alfred. His eyes wandered relentlessly around the room as if he could see through walls to find America.

"He's in the basement," Russia said. "I must warn you though, he is not the same as when you last saw him." Russia grinned madly at the wall, or perhaps somewhere else completely. "I broke him. He wouldn't play so I had to break him. It was a pity; I had always thought he would be so much fun..."

England dropped the pipe and bolted around the house to find the basement.

The basement was black. It showed absolutely no source of light and England was forced to scale along the wall to make his way down the steps and onto the hard concrete of the floor.

"...Alfred?" he called into the darkness. England was old and used to such darkness but Alfred was just a child; just a small child who was afraid of the dark and must be absolutely terrified here all by himself with the lights off.

When Arthur finally found a thick switch somewhere far from the steps, he flipped it on which lit up a dirty light bulb hanging from the center of the ceiling. It hardly lit up the room but was enough to show a body slumped in the far corner.

"Alfred...?" Arthur continued calling the boy's name but there was no answer or even a stir. Russia's voice replayed over and over. I broke him. I broke him. Ibrokehim. Brokehimbrokehimbrokehim. Panic set in and England didn't realize how fast he was walking until he was in front of America.

"Oh..Al..."

The clothes Alfred wore-they seemed awfully dirty and let off a smell-looked to be physically weighing him down. The poor boy's head hung against his chest in an awkward position, his arms lying limp at his side and his back was curved in an almost perfect C.

"Alfred..." Arthur reached out a shaking hand and his fingertips barely brushed against the top of his head when Alfred jolted in an upright position, eyes flickering around in pure terror until they landed on Arthur and relaxed. He let out an audible sigh (or more like a breath he had been holding) and stared straight ahead.

His eyes were lifeless. His cheek bones hallow. His hair matted to his sweaty face. He didn't appear to have lost too much weight, but Alfred still seemed so small. Almost like a forgotten doll.

"What did he do to you?"

Alfred didn't answer though and Arthur wandered if he even recognized another being was in the room. "Come on, Al. I'll take you home." He held Alfred's elbow to help him up, but the poor creature just sat there staring continuously where England had been crouching in front of him. Arthur did his best to yank Alfred to his feet but he wouldn't budge; like his legs were broken. So Arthur was forced to put Alfred's arm around his shoulder and heaved upwards so at least he was standing. He didn't cry out or complain or crumple to the floor so Arthur assumed he was able to walk and made the trek up the stairs.

When they reached the living room to exit, Russia sat on the couch among the glass with caked blood in his hair where England struck him. The bastard was carrying on as if nothing was even amiss. Like England wasn't carrying a half-dead America out of his basement.

Arthur didn't want to give him another second in fear he'd seriously bash Russia's face in, but he had to know. "You're just letting us go?"

Russia merely waved a hand and grabbed his newspaper from the couch and flicked it open. "I have no use for America now. He's broken beyond repair and refuses to give in to me. What more can I do? Think of this as a temporary ceasefire until the real war begins. I've made my mark. Everyone realizes what I can do now. I'm still the same see? I can do it. I'm still strong." His lips morphed into a twisted smile and he repeated the words, "I'm still strong" over and over until he realized England was still standing in his home. He smiled at the two pathetic looking countries and repeated, "Like I said England; it is in our nature to fight."

England bowed his head towards Russia because he knew this was not the las time he would see Ivan in the upcoming war. Perhaps it wouldn't be last time he'd be dragging America out of his house, either. God, how he prayed that wouldn't be the case.

In England's car, everything was silent. It was so quiet. America wouldn't speak or move or seem to even register the change of scenery. He just sat in the car staring blankly into the dark night sky.

England decided it was better to find a hotel to stay the night since it was already far into the late evening and he hadn't even scheduled a flight home. The one hotel he did find that would check them in last minute only had one room available with one bed but Arthur assured the receptionist it would be fine and chose to ignore the worried looks she gave Al. Then once again, he hoisted Alfred around his shoulder and practically dragged him into the room.

When America was deposited on the bed, he finally sat himself up and looked around, blinking his dull blue eyes like it was the first time he had seen anything in months. Finally, he gazed up at England who was looking down at him with his heart broken right in two. Arthur's breath caught in his throat at that horribly depressing look he received from Alfred. The older nation fiddled in his pocket for something then delicately pulled out Alfred's glasses and placed them just as carefully on the bridge of Al's nose.

Alfred's back straightened and he blinked a few times while his eyebrows rose curiously. His fingers traced the rims and the glass before tilting his head up to England with the corner of his lips twitching into an attempt at a smile.

"Thank you..."

England swallowed hard and gave a curt nod, staring at some soot on his shirt. "Yes, well. You're welcome. I'm going to get some ice, arli-uf!"

America threw his arms around England in a tight hug, practically crushing the smaller man in his embrace. He buried his face into England's chest to breathe in the smell while Arthur's whole face turned three shades of red. Arthur raised a tentative hand and patted Alfred's head until it turned into soothing strokes to calm down the soft tears he knew America refused to let show. Arthur understood, though and let Alfred stay there until America decided enough was enough and curl back on the bed to try and forget everything. Arthur didn't blame him. He wanted to forget everything too.

A/N: Next chapter has fluffy fluff and more FLUFF. I know. You guys are disappointed…

PS, just so you know, I actually love Russia. All this hating on him is to express my love~

Translations: khorosho-good

Mne zhalʹ, Angliya-I'm sorry England