Author's Note: I tried very hard to wrap up everything I wanted to wrap up. I hope all your questions were answered - or at least most of them. After all, there's no predictability in real life, and I wanted to leave some threads open for interpretation :) Hope you enjoy, as always!
When Matt and Francis descended the stairs to the main floor, Alfred was waiting for them with such a stricken look on his face that Matt burst out laughing and quickened his pace so he could throw one arm around his brother in comfort.
"I walked in on you." he reminded Alfred, to which the elder groaned:
"Yes, but I had to listen to you, and that's worse because then everything is left to your imagination."
"Oh, were you imagining things about us?" Francis asked slyly, leaning amiably on Alfred's other shoulder. "Well chaton, having a ménage à trois is quite common..."
Alfred looked like he might be physically sick. Matt frowned. "Francis!"
"I am joking!" Francis hurried to point out, letting go of Alfred in favor of grasping Matt's hands. "I would never dream of suggesting such a thing...unless your brother was wiling and you could somehow be coerced..."
"Francis." Matt said again, but there was a smile in his voice, and Francis felt a little triumphant as he bent to kiss the corner of Matt's mouth.
Alfred frowned, and told Francis bluntly, "I have my eye on you."
Francis laughed. "Another time, perhaps." he sighed wistfully, sliding an arm around Matt's waist.
"What are you talking about, you perverted wanker?" Arthur asked rudely, appearing at Alfred's side. Matt jumped, not expecting Arthur to be there. The Brit cast him an apologetic glance from underneath his eyebrows.
"How is your shoulder?" he asked. Matt smiled.
"Um, good, thank you. It's still a little sore."
"Good, good." Arthur seemed distracted, and finally asked, "Alfred, may I speak to you a moment?"
Alfred didn't look surprised at this request - rather, he set his jaw in a determined fashion and nodded. "Okay."
After the two moved into another room, Matt turned to Francis. "Why is Mr. Kirkland still here?"
"He wanted to make sure I didn't press charges or something ridiculous like that." Francis took his hand. "Come down to the kitchen. There's some people you should talk to."
The biggest shock was that everyone was in the kitchen, and by everyone Matt meant everyone. Sadiq and Heracles were sitting at the kitchen table on either side of Kiku, who was sipping at a cup of tea and nursing his pride. Elizaveta and Roderich were at the other end murmuring sweetly to each other, hands intertwined under the table. Gilbert had scooted his chair as far away from the couple as possible, and was sulking darkly, legs thrown carelessly over the lap of his little brother. Ludwig, for his part, was more concerned with watching Feliciano than dealing with his brother's limbs. The little Italian, in the meantime, had somehow been allowed to make pasta on the stove, and was eagerly showing Chelles the secret to making the perfect Italian pasta.
Berwald was sprawled on one of the chairs, looking quite beat up. Tino's face was swelling a little, but he was nervously pressing ice to Berwald's face with patient gentleness. Ivan's hulking form was opposite Tino, and though his nose was smashed in and there was blood in his hair the Russian was still smiling placidly. The conversation stopped when Matt and Francis entered - Feliciano didn't notice them come in, and continued humming cheerily until he was nudged.
"Everyone's still here?" Matt asked in surprise, clutching automatically onto Francis's hand. Elizaveta stood and moved to embrace him joyfully.
"You had us worried!" she declared." Are you all right?"
"Yeah, I'm fine, thank you." Matt assured her, returning the hug. "How are you? Is everything all right?"
"Oh, just fine!" Elizaveta chirped. "We were waiting for you to wake up."
"Sorry I took so long." Matt apologized, trying to hide his smile. "I'm here now."
"Sit down." Elizaveta motioned to two empty chairs, but Francis steered him to the one furthest from Ivan and remained standing.
"So! Mes amis." the man began cheerfully. "We are here to discuss what will happen to you now."
Everyone was silent. Francis turned to Matt. "Mathieu, it is up to you. Should I arrest them or should I let them go?"
Matt, taken aback, took a moment to survey the team. Every one of them had helped him in some way - Kiku had given the photos to Arthur, yes, but he had also originally withheld them, even though Matt was neither a close friend nor a person he could trust. Gilbert had tackled him and nearly broke his arm, but had always been quick to include him in group activities and talk to him. Ludwig had held a gun to his head, but Matt could see the expression with which he looked at Feliciano, and who was he to be a hypocrite? Ivan...was a maniac, but he had been the one to really give Matt advice when he was starting out.
"I don't want them to be arrested." Matt said slowly. "Because that would be hypocritical of me. I was given a second chance and they should, too."
Francis raised his eyebrows. "Are you sure?" he asked.
"Positive." Matt replied dryly. He turned to Gilbert. "Did Mr. Kirkland pay you yet?"
Gilbert glowered but shook his head.
"Okay." Matt paused, thinking. "I'll make him pay you for the job, because you planned everything and it's only fair you get your money."
"You'll make him - ?" Francis asked in amusement, but Matt glared at him and he wisely fell silent.
Taking a deep breath, the Canadian turned back to the table, and said, "I know you're all probably pretty angry with me, and I know the last thing you want to do is listen to me ramble on and on, so I'll make this quick. I'm sorry that I messed up your plans - " he was interrupted briefly by a loud snort from Gilbert " - I am, Gilbert, so don't give me that. This was a job you were being paid for and you trusted me to help and I didn't. But I'm not sorry that I made that decision. I had a choice to make and I chose what felt right to me. But I'm really grateful to you, for accepting me into your group. You guys were a lot of fun to hang around with, but you had a job to do and I don't blame you for that. I had something that was more important to me." Matt shrugged. "I guess that's all I wanted to say to you."
Everyone stared at him for a moment. Then Gilbert announced, "That was really gay."
Matt blushed. Elizaveta swatted the Prussian over the head.
"I thought it was sweet!" she told him.
Gilbert scoffed. "You would," he told her. "Cuz you're a woman."
"Oh, how good of you to notice." the Hungarian woman hissed between clenched teeth. Matt held his hands up placidly.
"Yeah, that was a little lame." he admitted. "But it's true. And I kind of don't care anymore, about saying what I feel."
Behind him, he heard Francis make a noise of amusement.
"So if you accept what I said or not, know that I meant it. Uhm." Matt looked back at Francis to confirm. "I guess if there's nothing else, you can go."
Francis nodded and the four men rose to their feet. "Good luck." Matt told them. Kiku inclined his head.
"Thank you, Matthew-san." he said quietly as he stepped past Matt. "We appreciate the sentiment."
Matt nodded back. "Y-you're welcome."
Gilbert looked him over, then slapped him on the shoulder. "You're all right." he told him. "Your awesomeness has sort of decreased, but that's to be expected."
"Thanks, Gilbert." Matt said dryly. Ludwig gave him a quick appraisal, then grabbed Feliciano's arm softly to pull him away ("but what about my brother?" Feliciano was asking. "Your brother is fine, he said he was going back to his hotel." Francis replied).
The two brothers didn't talk much, but left the kitchen quickly and efficiently, with one last glance at Matt. Matt watched them go.
As Ivan passed him, Matt took a deep breath, reached out, and grabbed the Russian's wrist. Ivan pulled his hand back immediately.
Not a good sign.
"Uhm, Ivan, can I talk to you for a minute?" Matt asked. Icy violet eyes surveyed him.
"Yes." Ivan agreed. "But only for a minute."
Francis put a hand on Matt's lower back, but Matt sent him a reassuring look - the Frenchman reluctantly stayed in the kitchen as Matt followed the Russian out the door.
Ivan assumed a defensive stance in the middle of the hallway, arms crossed, legs shoulder width apart. His smile was cold.
"Well?" he prompted. Matt looked up at him.
"I'm sorry I kissed you." he said evenly. "It was a dirty trick, but I was under a lot of pressure, and I was desperate. It was the only distraction I could think of."
"That is all?" Ivan asked coolly, tilting his head. "You're sorry?"
Matt didn't flinch. "What else do you want me to say?" he pressed. "I'm not sorry for helping Francis. I'm not sorry for leaving the team to do what I felt was right. But at the same time I'm sorry for betraying you and I'm sorry for using your feelings unfairly."
Ivan gave a sort of snort. "This man, Bonnefoy. He is the one you love?" he asked. Matt nodded readily, prompting a sigh from the Russian. "Matthew," Ivan said in a patronizing voice. "I am a little disappointed, that you would do this. I did not think you as a boy who was so easily entranced."
Matt dropped his eyes to the floor in order to regain his composure.
"What do you want me to do about it?" he asked lightly.
"Kiss me." Ivan said, completely serious, leaning down. The ice in his eyes had retreated.
Matt laughed softly, not even blinking as their noses bumped. "I've made a new resolution this year," he replied, keeping his tone joking and light. "I never kiss people anymore unless I mean it."
"Then you will kiss me like you mean it?" Ivan murmured, locking their eyes, running one broad hand up the length of Matt's arm.
Matt just looked steadily at him, shaking his head.
"Goodbye, Ivan." he said. "I hope one day you can forgive me. You were a very good friend to me."
"Oh? A pity." Ivan was even closer now; Matt could feel the scarf he always wore through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. "I was trying for more than that."
Matt caught Ivan's jaw and stopped him from leaning in just as Francis stepped out into the hallway.
Neither of them looked at the Frenchman. Ivan looked like he was challenging Matt, and Matt matched his stare.
"That's enough." the Canadian said at last, pushing at Ivan's jaw. The Russian squeezed his elbow softly once, twice.
Okay, his eyes seemed to say, so that's enough, then.
Then Ivan straightened up, cast Francis a cool look, and brushed past him down the hallway.
Matt remained standing, jaw clenched, staring at the spot Ivan had recently stood. Francis took two steps forward and the Canadian closed the rest of the distance, wrapping his arms around the older man's waist and burying his face in the Frenchman's shoulder.
Francis sighed and returned the embrace. "What an end to such a laborious journey, hm?" he laughed, then tilted Matt's face up for a kiss. Matt welcomed the distraction, holding tight and opening his mouth to his lover.
"So tell me," Francis purred against his lips as they parted, thumb rubbing soothing circles into Matt's shoulder. "How is your resolution going?"
Matt frowned playfully. "Eavesdropper." he accused, and reached up for another kiss in order to answer Francis's question.
When they came upstairs again, Alfred and Arthur were still talking in the small side room, tones hushed and serious. Matt and Francis exchanged glances.
"Knowing Kirkland," Francis said, settling in a chair with a sigh, "It will take him weeks to admit he's done anything wrong, let alone apologize."
"That's okay," Matt smiled. "My brother's stubborn enough to outlast him."
At this, Francis laughed and beckoned for Matt to sit with him. The Canadian gingerly moved towards him and settled himself on Francis's lap. The Frenchman curled his arms around Matt's waist and rested his chin on his shoulder. Matt squirmed when Francis's stubble tickled his neck.
"So what are we going to do, now?" Francis asked, and the implications of the question made Matt sit up straighter.
"Well," the younger man began slowly. "I've been thinking about going back to school. And my friend tells me really good things about the university in Marseille..."
He felt Francis kiss his neck in delight. "So when are you planning on starting?" he wanted to know.
Matt was about to answer when his cell phone started ringing. With an apology he dug it from his jacket pocket.
"Matt," a growling, angry sounding Sanchez said by way of a greeting. "Pardon my French, but when the fuck are you coming back? It's been a goddamn month!"
Matt winced. "I'm sorry!" he exclaimed. "I - I'll be home as soon as I can! I promise - I'll even bring you ice cream to make up for it!"
"Ice cream?" the Cuban's voice softened a little. "Well, you'd better. Your dog's starting to mope. Keep in touch, will ya?" then he hung up.
Turning back to Francis, who was looking confused, Matt explained, "I'll have to go back home and get some things. And also my dog."
"Your dog?" Francis repeated, rubbing circles teasingly low over Matt's abdomen. "Is it a cute dog?"
Matt thought back to the times Kumajirou had drooled over his couch, chewed on his shoes and forgot he existed.
"Ah...he's energetic." he offered by way of a response. Francis chuckled against Matt's neck.
"Always the diplomat." he remarked. "No matter. There are plenty of apartments in Marseille that are large enough to accommodate such an "energetic" dog. I will help find one for you to stay in while you attend university. After that, I'm sure I can coerce Sadiq into dog-proofing the gardens."
Something warm settled in Matt's gut, and he turned in order to kiss Francis sweetly. "Thank you." he said sincerely. "I'm sure Kuma would like that very much."
"I would like it very much if you kept kissing me." Francis suggested, and with a flushing of his cheeks Matt obliged.
It was almost unspoken, the way the two of them worked, and Roderich was unnerved by this - after Matthew and Francis had left the kitchen, he had excused himself from his wife's company and slipped out the back servant's entrance.
Gilbert was waiting for him outside, a cigarette between his teeth and a haughty look on his face.
"Come to say goodbye?" he sneered. Roderich consciously straightened his collar.
"Something like that." he replied evenly. Gilbert took a careful step towards him.
"That was a nice trick," the albino remarked. "Like out of a fucking movie or something. Your staff really knows how to bring people down."
"We do what we need to." Roderich's tone was calm and Gilbert wanted to smack him until he heard that edge, that bite the Austrian always used when his temper ran out.
"You ready to answer that question?" Gilbert asked, sucking on the end of the cigarette thoughtfully. He held the smoke in his mouth as he watched Roderich stiffen.
"No, because I can't." Roderich's jaw clenched - Gilbert reveled in the power he had to do that. He bared his teeth and let the smoke filter out between them. His eyes stung.
"It's pretty simple," he pressed patronizingly. "Which one of us were you happier with?"
"I can't compare you two because you are not the same." Roderich told him. "You and Elizaveta made me happy in different ways."
"If I made you happy then why did you leave me?" Gilbert wanted to know. A bit of ash fell from his cigarette - he watched it go. Roderich did too.
"Because you started making me unhappy more than you made me happy." he answered quietly. Gilbert laughed, and even he winced at the bitterness in the sound.
"How did I make you unhappy?" he snarled. "I gave - Christ Edelstein, I gave up everything for you!"
"I didn't ask you to." Roderich murmured. "You never - I just couldn't go through a relationship with you where we hit each other just to see if the other one could bleed. It was toxic, Gilbert, you understand? And maybe you couldn't see it, but I could. So I got out."
"I loved you." Gilbert said solemnly, red eyes unblinking in the darkness and Roderich, who hadn't heard those words from that mouth for several years, was temporarily caught off guard.
"And I loved you too." he admitted. "But obviously not enough because here we are."
Gilbert gave a mirthless chuckle. "Yeah, here we are. So Elizaveta, she's not toxic for you, huh? She's all sweet and sugary and you guys have a grand ol' time staring into each other's eyes and saying how much you love each other?"
"No. And don't assume things like that." Roderich shot back. "It's none of your business - Elizaveta and I have our ups and downs just like every other couple out there."
"So you're happier with her." Gilbert concluded. He licked his fingers and pinched the butt of his cigarette out before throwing it to the ground. Roderich winced, a reflex.
"I guess this is the happy I prefer." he said. "Is that what you wanted to hear, Gilbert? You just want an excuse to hate me. Should I indulge you? Should I make up things to tell you so that you can leave here and be satisfied in the knowledge that you hate my guts? I want you to move on because I have too, and there's no point in waiting for me. And if I can help you in any way, to do that, then I will, because contrary to what you might think I don't hate you."
Gilbert rolled his eyes. "You're almost as gay as Matt." he sniped. "I don't need your pity, Edelstein. I don't need to move on because I already have."
Roderich let a bitter smile settle on his lips. "Then why are you still standing here?" he asked.
"Funny thing," Gilbert remarked flippantly, grinding his discarded butt beneath his boot in a rhythmic and unnecessary fashion. "I just came to see if I could still do it."
Roderich frowned. "Do what?" he asked.
"Make you crack." Gilbert answered with a smirk. "Around everyone else you were always this limp-wristed aristocrat, this mild, simpering little son of a bitch with this cool little face and whenever I saw you like that I wanted to break you. And I was the only one who ever could, and whenever you yelled at me or whenever I got under your skin I felt...good, you know? Because I was the only one who every got to see that, I was the only one who could make you like that. Like what you really were, not that prissy thing you showed everyone else." Gilbert stepped closer so the two men were almost nose to nose. Roderich could smell the nicotine on his breath. "Do you scream at Elizaveta the way you used to scream at me?"
"The fact that you took pleasure in upsetting me and goading me confirms that I made the right decision when I left you." Roderich snapped, something cold and angry in the corner of his mouth, and Gilbert grabbed his face with a triumphant laugh, twisting the brunette's head back to face him.
"You see?" Gilbert crowed. "You see this? This is mine. I made this."
"Get off me." Roderich snarled, and shoved the flat of his arm against Gilbert's sternum. The Prussian stumbled backwards with a wheezing laugh.
"Liz only sees half of you, Roddy!" In the lamplight of the back entrance Gilbert was painfully beautiful, all pale hair and Devil eyes, and Roderich's chest ached at the sight. "I see all of you, even if you don't want me to!"
"Get out of here." Roderich fought to keep his voice steady. "You have already ruined my life, Gilbert, isn't that enough?"
Gilbert laughed again, a painful, almost hysterical sound, and retreated into the darkness, down the driveway where Roderich knew the rest of his team waited. "Never," he thought he heard Gilbert say. "It will never be enough."
Roderich stood alone in the threshold of the servant's entrance, leaning heavily against the door. He almost wanted to cry.
But he didn't. He wouldn't give the bastard the satisfaction.
Ivan's van, still parked beyond the gates to the villa, in the shade of some trees, only had two slashed tires, and Mikkel had reappeared from wherever he had gone ("Sorry guys, I got waylaid!" he had said cheerfully) to help Sadiq and Heracles replace them. Kiku opened the van's back doors and sat quietly in the back, watching Heracles using the car jack while Sadiq absently rolled the spare tire back and forth on the ground as he waited.
Kiku gave a little frown when Sadiq looked up at him and winked - by this time Heracles was standing up and elbowed the Turk a little harder than he should have, instructing him to replace the tire. With a tired roll of his eyes, Sadiq knelt to obey, and Heracles turned to catch Kiku's eyes.
"Was this a very expensive job?" Heracles asked the Japanese man quietly, and Kiku's frown deepened.
"It was." he said simply. "But the amount is none of your concern."
Heracles shrugged off the curt remark. "Well, I'm sorry we had to interfere." he said. "I hope you have more luck next time."
Kiku nodded his head. "Thank you." he said. Then he blinked as Heracles stepped closer, towering over him.
"There's something in your hair," the Greek murmured, and leaned down to pluck whatever it is from Kiku's head. Kiku obediently stayed still, his eyes turned upwards. Heracles was watching him intently, a small smile curling his lips up, and Kiku flushed just as an arm was wrapped around the Greek's midsection and he was pulled away from Kiku.
Sadiq looked extremely unhappy, keeping his arm around Heracles as he snapped, "All done. Let's go, brat."
Heracles gave a smug smile. "So long." he told Kiku. Kiku raised his hand, bewildered.
"Goodbye."
Sadiq gave a grunt and began towing the Greek up towards the villa. Kiku leaned out the back of the van as he heard Sadiq say, "...such a fuckin' tease."
"It was payback." came Heracles' reply. Sadiq started muttering darkly in Turkish. Kiku shook his head and leaned back. Presently Ivan joined him, clambering into the front after inspecting the tires. Ludwig was standing with Feliciano as the little Italian used his cell phone to call his brother ("Yes I am with Ludwig!" Feliciano was crying into the phone, wrapping himself around the German's arm like some sort of Slinky. "B-brother, nothing happened! Don't call him that! I'm fine! Brother, stop swearing, you're not listening - !" Ludwig looked as if he wanted something to drink very badly).
Gilbert slunk up without Kiku noticing, smelling like tobacco with a dark, brooding look on his face. He kicked some gravel around for a bit before regaining his usual "fuck all" composure. Kiku noticed the albino looking over his shoulder only once or twice, back towards the villa.
Finally, Ivan leaned out the window and snapped, "Are we going?"
"Yes." Ludwig answered for everyone. "We need to drop Feliciano off at a hotel in Marseille. His brother is waiting for him."
"Oh, good." Ivan said simply. "Get in the van."
"What crawled up your ass and died?" Kiku heard Gilbert mutter sourly as the rest of the team hurried to get seated before Ivan turned the engine on and reversed with sharp, angry motions.
Ivan said nothing, just stepped on the gas. Gilbert said something in German that was probably very rude (considering the look he received from Ludwig), and hurried to hold on to something.
"I'm going to kind of miss those two." he said finally, his voice a little happier. "Especially Al."
"That's because he was the only one you could beat in Super Smash Bros." Ludwig pointed out. Gilbert scowled.
"I can beat everyone in Super Smash Bros." he declared. "It's just Al was the funnest to beat."
"That's not a word."
"Take the stick out of your ass, West."
Kiku turned to look at the villa as they peeled away, before it disappeared behind the trees.
"I will miss them too." he declared. "But I am happy that they know what they want in life."
Gilbert cast the Japanese man an odd look. "Yeah." he agreed, which surprised Kiku. "I guess not many people know that, do they?"
Kiku thought of a man he once knew in Beijing, and smiled.
"That's right."
Two days later...
"Do I have everything?" Matt asked, frantically patting his pockets. He pulled out his passport, his wallet, and looked down at his suitcase. "I hope I didn't forget anything. Lars might sell it. Do you think he'd sell it? He probably wouldn't even know it was mine - "
"Cher." Francis sounded amused. "We have been through this. You have everything. If you insist on waffling any longer I am going to give in, throw you over my shoulder, and take you back to my villa where I will do things to you that nobody in this airport wants to see."
Matt shivered in a mixture of dread and anticipation. "...Can't you wait until I get back?" he asked quietly. Francis sighed and slung an arm around Matt's waist, careful to avoid Matt's shoulder - though the bullet had only nicked Matt, the shallow wound was still a little tender, and bandaged under Matt's long-sleeved shirt.
"Oui," he agreed reluctantly. "Though it will be hard."
"It's only going to be a couple of days." Matt offered optimistically, winding his hand into Francis's, leaning against the half-embrace. "I only have to take care of selling the apartment and storing all my stuff, and then bring Kuma and some more clothes back here."
"A couple of days is a long time!" Francis defended sourly. "Especially since I only just got you back."
Matt laughed and reached up to peck his lips. "You never lost me." he said sincerely. "And I'm going to be late for my flight, so..."
"Oui." Francis said again and, ignoring Matt's protests, picked up the Canadian's suitcase and walked him to customs.
Matt turned, a smile on his face. "I'll see you soon?" he asked.
"I'll see you soon." Francis repeated, then paused before dipping down to kiss the younger man once more. "Be safe, Mathieu. Say hello to your energetic dog for me."
"Okay." Matt's smile was so sweet, Francis almost wanted him to miss his flight. "I'll phone you when I get home...uhm, and when it's an acceptable hour, too."
Francis shook his head. "Non, please phone me as soon as you get home. I don't care what time it is."
"Francis..." Matt flushed. "I wouldn't want to wake you up..."
"I want you to wake me up." Francis insisted. "Honestly, I would be glad to hear your voice, no matter what the time."
Matt was beet red with pleasure. "You're..." he huffed. "Unbelievable."
"So I am told." Francis said dryly, placing one last kiss on Matt's face. "Now, hurry up, mon cher. I want you to get home as soon as you can so you can come back as soon as you can."
"I will." Matt promised. Then he looked up and smiled. "I love you, Francis."
"Love you too, Mathieu." Francis replied with a wink and a quick not-so-decent grope before sending the blushing youth on his way.
Matt turned once more before entering the line for customs. He looked back at the Frenchman and felt something warm in his chest, lighting the blush that fanned his cheeks.
It was a good feeling, and as the Frenchman lifted his arm to wave goodbye Matt turned back around, feeling as if this was the first day of the rest of his life.
END CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Author's Note: Epilogue next!