Dro: Figured I wouldn't get a chapter out yesterday. I didn't finish unpacking all my crap until like 10:30. Anyway, I'm home now! So we should be all good! Enjoy this chapter! There's some action in it! -wink wink- And please do review!

Chapter Summary: Alfred laments the strange dream he keeps having. To make it worse, reality is just as confusing.

Warnings: Language

Disclaimer: -yawn- Nope. Still don't own APH.

His fingers brushed marred skin. He gasped, unsure of just what it was he was feeling. This was too surreal to be actually happening, he thought. And yet, despite his best attempts to wake himself from this dream, it continued. The pads of his fingertips trailed down line after line, some faint, some smooth, some wide, some ragged. It seemed like Ivan's entire chest was nothing but a map of scars drawn over a well-defined chest and abdomen. The curve of the man's muscles was a hill that his scars rolled down, most of them fading off just before reaching the turn of his skin that led to his back. Some of them, however, continued. But he left those for now, unwilling to begin surveying what must have been another whole map on the man's back.

His fingers unwittingly dipped into Ivan's navel, and he blushed, whispering an apology. His hands paused at the man's waistband, and he realized with horror that many of the larger scars sank beneath it. Just what had Ivan been through to cause all these wounds? Calloused hands grabbed his own, and he nearly jumped out of his skin. Ivan chuckled, guiding his hands back upward, and pressed the fingers against his neck. Alfred sucked in a breath. The scars on Ivan's neck were like a collar, thick and interlocking. He desperately wanted to ask just how Ivan had gotten these, but he was afraid of the answer. He was afraid of hearing a terrifying story of heinous torture.

"Are you understanding now, Alfred, why your scars do not make you hideous?"

"I…" He was speechless.

"Scars show experience. They tell stories, da? Yours are marking you as a survivor. They are not being ugly or disgusting as you think."

Despite the fact that Alfred really didn't like this guy and that Ivan was after people he cared people, he still felt his heart warming up to the man. Ivan had obviously been through a lot, and though he was vindictive in the most terrible way, he still seemed to harbor some genuine ability to care for others. Alfred would never claim he actually liked Ivan in any way, shape, or form, but he was starting to think he would grow to tolerate the Russian. At least to some degree.

"It is getting late now, American boy." Ivan whispered. "It is being time to sleep, da?"

"Ah, yeah. I guess it is. Well," he removed his stagnant hands from the Russian's marred neck, "I'll see you in the morning then?"

"Perhaps." Ivan replied, purposefully provoking Alfred into believing he was up to no good.

Alfred pursed his lips. "Whatever." He backed away from the towering man. "I need to redo my bandages."

"I will do them."

Alfred froze, feeling another blush creep up his cheeks. "No, that's okay."

"That was not a request, Alfred."

"W-what?"

Strong hands pushed him down onto the bed, and he cried out. "Quiet." Ivan murmured. "The rest of the house is sleeping." He pulled out one of Alfred's arms and started wrapping the fresh gauze around it. Alfred's face was burning now, but he didn't dare pull away. He tried to stop himself from making any sounds, but when Ivan lifted one of his thighs, he yelped. The man's hands were freezing, and it didn't help that he was touching a very sensitive area.

Ivan laughed lowly. "Are you being embarrassed? We are both men, da?"

"No! It's not that. It's just…Damn, your hands are cold!"

Ivan laughed louder. "Ah, is that it? You are so amusing!" He continued his work meticulously, wrapping the gauze firmly but not too tight. Alfred suspected he had done this sort of thing many times in the past, probably to himself.

When he was finished, he rose to his feet, yawning. Alfred waited for him to say good night and leave. That was what he had expected. He was sure Ivan had had enough teasing for one night, and he wasn't sure he could stand anymore of the man's "heart to heart" either. It was almost disturbing considering the way he usually acted. He heard Ivan take two steps away.

And that was where reality ended.

In reality, Ivan had joked about him being overly sensitive and simply said good night, saying he would probably be gone by the time Alfred woke up in the morning. Alfred had wanted to make a retort, as he knew that Ivan meant he would be out searching for Ludwig and Gilbert, but Ivan had closed the door before he'd had a chance.

Except, the dream he kept having of this situation…didn't quite end the same way.

Ivan seemed to hesitate, and Alfred paused, wondering just what the man was doing. The room was silent for a full five seconds. And then everything changed. One second he was just sitting there, confused and suspicious. The next moment Ivan's hands were on his face, holding him in place as he crashed their lips together. Alfred's stomach fluttered, and he groaned in surprise. Ivan's lips were chapped and merciless, tugged roughly on Alfred's own. The kiss was hard and wet, and Alfred's brain failed him when it came to a response. He simply sat there, stunned and motionless.

And then a dam seemed to break. His body moved automatically, his arms wrapping themselves around Ivan's neck, his legs hoisting him up before coiling around Ivan's waist. Ivan grunted and stumbled forward, pressing Alfred's bare back against the wall. Alfred gasped at the contact, and Ivan's tongue plunged his mouth, dominating his own. Alfred was hyper-aware of his bare skin. Besides his bandages and his underwear, he was completely naked, and Ivan had yet to put his shirt on back on. His scarred chest brushed against Alfred's burned one, and Alfred sighed softly into the kiss. Ivan ravaged his mouth, claiming every crevice, subduing his tongue until he was too tired to move it. Then he pulled away, leaving Alfred a flushed, panting mess. Alfred shivered when he felt Ivan's hot breath on his neck, and his body shuddered at the feeling of those rough lips nipping at the sensitive skin of his neck.

And then it was daytime.

Alfred was laying back on his bed, the sunlight streaming through the window. His hands were buried in short, slicked back hair, and a pair of tense lips were pressed against his own. Alfred deepened the kiss, and his partner hesitantly responded. The stiff fabric of the man's uniform pressed against Alfred's sensitive skin, and he moaned softly into the kiss. Their lips parted, and Alfred smiled widely.

"Ludwig, I—"

The door slammed open, and Alfred bolted up.

"My apologies, Mr. Alfred!" Toris said quickly.

Alfred breathed heavily, his face on fire. Not again! That was the third time in the last twelve hours he'd had that dream. What in God's name is wrong with me? I'm not a homosexual, damn it!

Toris walked up to him, placing something next to him on the bed. "I've brought you some more clothing." He sounded rushed. "Breakfast should be up soon. You should probably just rest today, all right? I mean, you're probably still tired from the trip here, right?" He was rambling now.

"Uh, Toris, what's going on?" Alfred's voice was husky and tight, and he hoped to God the blankets were thick enough to mask his obvious arousal.

"Nothing important. Just meeting with some other people today."

"Uh huh." That sounded convincing. "No, really, what are you doing? Is Ivan going to try to capture Ludwig and Gilbert?"

"Uh…" Toris began to stammer.

Alfred's suspicions increased ten fold. "Toris, what time is it?"

"About noon."

"And when did Ivan leave this morning?"

"Ah…how did you know that…?"

"He told me he was leaving early this morning."

"Oh, I see…"

"And is he back yet?"

"Well, he's…you see…"

"Toris." He dropped his voice an octave, trying to sound as threatening as possible. "Did Ivan capture Ludwig and Gilbert?"

"Well…that is, you see…it's not exactly like that."

His hand shot out and grabbed Toris' collar, pulling him forward. He liked Toris. He really did. But Toris was still Ivan's partner. Toris yelped. "Toris, where are they?"

"Ah, Mr. Alfred, please listen!"

"Toris!"

He swallowed. "Downstairs. Kitchen."

He let the man go. "Don't move until I'm dressed. Got it?" Alfred wasn't stupid. He knew Toris could easily overpower him. He was burned and blind. But he had also assessed Toris to be the kind of person who wouldn't hurt another unless he was forced to. And Alfred intended to push that quality as far as he could.

Toris, as per his order, didn't move until Alfred was dressed. He led Alfred down the hallway and to the stairs. "Look, Mr. Alfred. You have to understand. Things didn't go exactly as planned. There were some complications. And some changes. And some unexpected things. And—"

"Toris, just shut up and lead me to the kitchen." He winced inwardly at how harsh that sounded. Toris sighed and helped him down the stairs. As soon as they rounded the banister, a voice erupted from the kitchen.

"You bloody Russian! I swear to God if you touch him again, I'll kill you!"

Alfred froze. That voice. The voice of a man that couldn't possibly be here. Alfred rushed forward, ignoring Toris' plea for him to stop. He couldn't see where he was going, and he didn't care. He followed the impossible voice to its origins, his shoulder slamming into the doorway of the kitchen, nearly sending him toppling over. He grabbed onto to it to steady himself.

"Arthur! Arthur, is that you?"

"A-Alfred?" Three voices rang out at once. All three he recognized.

"Arthur? Mattie? Ludwig?" How was it even possible that they were all here? "But…but you…"

"Oh my God, Al!" Mattie cried out. "Are you okay? What's he done to you?"

"You bloody fucker! How dare you!" Arthur shouted. "How long have you been keeping him captive, huh? Alfred, what's this bastard done to you?"

"No…nothing. I'm fine. I'm perfectly fine! What about you?"

"Well, we're tied to chairs with a blood Russian threatening to kill us with a knife."

"What?" He growled. "Ivan, what the fuck are you doing? That's my brother and my cousin!"

"So I've surmised." Ivan chuckled. "I was quite surprised to find them housed up with your little SS friend."

"Huh? Arthur…Matt…why were you…wait, how are you even here?"

Matt cleared his throat. "That is…well…we got Ludwig's message that you were alive. Well, I got it. Arthur found it after I'd already left to come find you."

Alfred let his mouth hang open. "You…you deserted the army to come find me in Nazi territory?"

"Are you really that surprised, Alfred?" Arthur retorted. "We are your family after all."

Alfred groaned. "No, you're crazy! That's what you are. I can't believe this!" He turned to where he guessed Ivan was standing. "Will you untie them, please?"

"Hm, I am not being sure that is a good idea."

"Ivan." He crossed his arms. "Come on. They're my family. Let them go. The Americans and the British are your allies, remember?"

"That is true, but seeing as I found them with an SS officer…"

"Oh, for the love of Christ! He's the one that saved Alfred." Arthur was sounding more and more irate by the second.

"So I've heard. I am being very thankful for that, Mr. Beilschmidt. Alfred is most amusing company." Ivan was still laughing.

Alfred pushed off the wall and marched forward, stopping only when his knees brushed against another person. "Alfred?" Ah, Arthur. Alfred felt for the chair. He found it and scooted around, sinking down to where Arthur's hands were tightly bound with rope. He felt for the knot and started to undo it.

"And what is it you think are you doing, Alfred?" Ivan asked, the amusement clear in his voice.

"Untying the people I care about, since you're obviously not going to do it." He snorted. This was a dangerous situation, he knew. But maybe if he kept downplaying it, he thought, he could away with this. He knew Ivan wouldn't let Ludwig slip through his fingers easily, but if he could play Ivan's game the right way, then maybe he could create a situation where Ludwig could escape by his own means.

Finally, after several minutes, he managed to undo Arthur's hands. Arthur shot up, grumbling about the pain. "And what, are you just going to sit there and watch us?"

Alfred could feel Ivan smiling. "Is there being a problem with that? I was under the impression you were all just acting without my consent."

"That's because we don't need your consent to act!" Same old Arthur. The British man's hand landed on his shoulder. "Alfred," he whispered, "are you truly all right?"

"I'm fine, Arthur." He squeezed Arthur's hand. "Really. Um, can you untie Matt for me? It's kind of hard since I, uh, can't see and all."

"Ah…of course." Arthur's fire seemed to suddenly extinguish, and Alfred cringed. His brother and cousin had yet to see the true extent of his injuries. He imagined that, if they'd been with Ludwig, they'd already been told everything. But seeing was different than hearing. He knew that well now.

Ivan hummed. "Alfred, may I speak to you in private for a moment?"

Alfred stiffened, unsure of what Ivan was going for. The Russian wouldn't dare leave Ludwig out of his sight unless…

"Toris, can you watch our dear SS guest for a moment? And please treat Alfred's family to some food."

Ah, right. Toris. Alfred had momentarily forgotten his existence. Oops.

"Of course, Ivan."

Well, damn.

This was going to be even more complicated than he thought.

Dro: This story is about to get a lot more awkward.

Next Chapter: Ivan gives Alfred a warning and an ultimatum. Alfred finally gets a real reunion with Arthur and Matthew.