Dro: Hey, look! Your Christmas present from Dro is a new chapter! Enjoy it!

Chapter Summary: Ludwig meets up with an old friend, Arthur is frustrated at his failed attempts at figuring out what went wrong, and we get a glimpse into the daily life of the Italy brothers.

Warnings: Implied sex

Disclaimer: Can I just say go look at Chapter 1? Seriously? I obviously don't own APH.

Ludwig stared out the window as the rain came down. It washed away trash and dirt and shattered dreams, emptying them into a long forgotten sewer system still flowing beneath the city. His mind was still reeling from what Arthur and the others had told him. Feliciano was…an assassin for Russia and had been for decades. Somehow, some way, in this Gott-forsaken parallel world, the Italy brothers had grown up as Russia's closest allies. The way Vash had described them had chilled Ludwig to the bone.

Ruthless. Cunning. Intelligent. Cold. Calculating...Killers. According to Francis, their prime goal now was to snuff out every remaining nation. They'd taken out most of the "small game" already, including the majority of the African countries and most of those in South America. They'd even taken down Sadik and Gupta a few months ago. Their hit list was a mile long and their list of successful kills even longer. Russia was using them to narrow down his list of enemies while he stood on the sidelines managing his growing empire.

Just the thought of Feliciano killing another person sent chills through his body. His Feliciano couldn't even shoot a gun properly, much less actually use one to take a life. This Feliciano sounded like a completely different person, and Ludwig's breath caught at the idea of coming face to face with Feliciano wearing the mask of a cold-blooded murderer.

A knock on the door distracted him from his concentration on the pouring rain. He looked up to see someone he hadn't been expecting. "Kiku?"

Japan stood in the doorway, his typical indifferent façade broken and replaced with extreme shock. "L…Ludwig." He whispered. "I can't believe it."

Ludwig rose, a smile gracing his face. "It's been a while." In his own world, he hadn't seen Japan for nearly a year. They'd all been caught up in world financial troubles, and even meetings were becoming slightly informal. Old friends rarely had time to chat, and Japan had missed the last two world meetings.

"It has." They were of course talking about two different things, but that didn't really matter at this point. They gave each other a light, one-armed embrace, both preserving their reservations about showing intimate emotion. But the friendship between them was clear. The fact that Ludwig wasn't even from this world was a moot point.

They chatted for over an hour, Kiku much more open than Ludwig remembered him. Granted, this was a different Kiku. Japan had been bombarded by Chinese forces for years now, Yao having willingly joined Russia long ago. In the wake of the constant decimation falling upon his country, Kiku had opened up to his friends more, allowing himself to fall back on them in his time of need. And thanks to the combined efforts of many countries, Japan still stood.

Eventually, Kiku asked Ludwig about his own world, and he listened, enamored, to Ludwig's winding tale of various US wars in Asia and the Middle East and finally, the Financial Crisis that almost crippled the world. When he finished, he noticed the rueful smile on Kiku's face. He'd seen that same look on the face of the others who'd heard his version of the world. Bitterness about the world that could've been.

Vash knocked on the door around dinnertime, telling them the food was ready. They had surprisingly decent food for being in such a terrible state, and they ate in peace, countries making small talk in a situation that was almost oddly normal in a time so morbid. Ludwig finally got a look at the entire list of nations that were present at the base. Besides those he'd run into already prior to dinner, Elizaveta was also present. She'd told him that Roderich had also been there a few days prior but was now out on a mission to retrieve some important intelligence about a supply vessel that they desperately needed to capture.

Ludwig found it odd thinking about Roderich working in the espionage ring. The snooty aristocrat image that Ludwig had of the man didn't fit his idea of the typical spy. But then again, different world, different person. Despite the same faces and for the most part, the same personalities, they were still slightly different people. He supposed that applied to Roderich as well.

After dinner, everyone departed, and Ludwig talked with Arthur more about his theory about the parallel worlds. After much debate, Arthur and Francis had settled on the only logical possibility of how Ludwig had ended up where he had.

"Magic. Has to be."

"Magic…" Ludwig stared at him, waiting for the punch line.

Arthur's eyebrows twitched irately. "I'm not kidding, Ludwig. I honestly think you were sent here by magic. Which is good."

Ludwig decided to suspend his adamant disbelief of magic for a few moments. "Okay, so, let's say it is magic that brought me here. How is that good again?"

"Because if you brought here by magic, then we can send you home. If you were brought here by a wormhole or some kind of other purely scientific anomaly, then we'd have to work day and night with the brightest scientists in the world to try and find a way to replicate those exact conditions to send you back. It would be near impossible. But when magic is used, things become connected. If I was able to create or find a working spell designed to send you to a parallel universe, then it would probably connect itself to the mark left by the original spell, which should, in theory, connect back to your original world, making sure you get sent back there."

"In theory?"

"It'll take some work though. A lot of my magic books were destroyed when London was bombed. I'll have to scrounge around first. Don't worry though. It might take me a while, but I'm sure I can do this. I will get you home."

Ludwig frowned. "You don't want me here, do you?"

Arthur raised his eyebrows. "It's not like that. It's just…it hurts seeing you. Whether they look happy or not Ludwig, it hurts everyone to see you. We lost our Germany, and despite the fact that you look and act like him, the truth still stands: you aren't him. And that hurts."

Ludwig bit his lip, guilt consuming him. He hadn't considered that. Idiot, you should've realized! "I'm sorry."

Arthur shook his head. "It's not your fault. And no one blames you. So stop with the guilt. It's unbecoming of you." He swiveled around in his chair. "In addition to the pain factor, it stands to reason that the people in your world will be missing you. I think we can say that they've probably noticed your absence by this point. We need to get you back. And soon. Russia's war against us isn't going to magically end while you're staying with us. You are in very real danger of dying right along with the rest of us."

Ludwig absorbed all of Arthur's information slowly, trying to process just what the man was telling him. Every second he was here was a second he wasn't home. Every second he was here was a second he could be killed in a nuclear air strike. Every second he was here was a second he wasn't protecting Feliciano. Which meant every single second from this point on mattered.

Arthur wasn't making any headway. He'd been looking over his spell for ages, trying to figure out what had gone wrong and how to fix it. Feliciano's sobbing wasn't helping either. He could hear the boy all the way upstairs, bawling in his fear that Ludwig would be gone forever. The guilt just made it that much harder to concentrate. Who knew where he had sent Germany? Who knew if the man was even still alive? What if Arthur had sent him somewhere without oxygen? Or a place with strange vicious alien creatures? Arthur shuddered, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into.

Alfred knocked on the doorframe as he entered, startling him. "What do you want, Alfred?"

"Wanted to check on you." Alfred's typical idiot attitude was suppressed, the way it usually became when someone he cared about was hurting.

"I'm fine. Just…not making much progress." He sighed, tossing his pencil down on the table in defeat.

"You will. Just give it time. Magic is hard, right?" Alfred tried to console him. He knew Arthur blamed himself, and while it was technically his fault, Alfred didn't want him to feel the pressure like that. "I'm sure you'll get it eventually."

Arthur opened his mouth to voice his concerns, but Alfred cut him off. "And I'm sure Germany is fine too. You sent him to a parallel world, right?"

"Something like that, I guess."

"Well, if it's parallel, then shouldn't it be the same but slightly different? So, he should be just fine. I mean, that's the way it works in sci-fi, right?"

"Usually, but that's fiction, and this is reality." He gripped his pants legs. "Plus, in all those parallel world stories I've ever seen, isn't there usually something wrong with the parallel world? Something dangerous? Something deadly?"

Alfred bit down on his tongue before answering. "Yeah, there is."

Ivan awoke to bright sunlight filtering in through his sheer curtains. The day was young yet, and he went over a mental list of things he needed to do today. He had a meeting with Yao later in the day, the usual load of paperwork, a debriefing by one of his generals returning from Western Europe…A soft sigh interrupted his thoughts. He wrapped his arms tighter around the two forms on either side of him, still staring at his ceiling thoughtfully.

A pair of soft lips landed on his neck, caressing the skin with a few light kisses. On his opposite side, a hand slid down his chest, tracing hard muscles. He finally flicked his gaze downward. On his left side was Feliciano, snuggled into his neck and smiling up at him with false innocence swimming in his brown eyes. On his right side was Lovino, green eyes holding the same gaze, lips curled up at the same exact angle.

"Morning, boys."

Their lips moved in tandem. "Morning, Ivan."

He released their waists from his grasp, and they slid out of bed, slipping on identical robes to cover their bodies. He eyed them with interest as they picked up their discarded clothing, not bothering to move from his spot. Feliciano tucked his clothing under his arm and turned to look at him.

"Busy day, Ivan?"

"Da. Unfortunately." He sighed.

"If it's hassle, you can just postpone." Lovino added. "You are, after all, the boss."

Ivan smirked. "So I am."

Lovino caught up to Feliciano at the door, and they turned and winked at him together. "See you later, Ivan."

He waved as they closed the door behind them. My perfect little killers. He smiled. Then his phone rang. He frowned. Morning phone calls were always about some sort of issue.

Feliciano tossed his dirty clothes in the bin and wrenched his closet door open, looking over his weapons carefully. What to wear today? He picked his favorite assortment of knives and chose his outfit accordingly. The uniform with the long coat. He tossed it on his bed, followed by his boots and hat, just as Lovino emerged from the bathroom.

"Your turn."

Feliciano nodded and moved past his brother wordlessly. Lovino looked over at Feliciano's clothing choice for the day. Always a good choice there. He plucked the same outfit from his closet. And the same knife set, of course. He turned on the TV and started to towel off his still damp hair as the woman on the news started to speak.

"Earlier this morning," she began in Russian, "a group of terrorists attacked a freight train carrying supplies to the European front. It is believed to be another attack by the rebelling countries' guerilla forces. Twenty-four Russian Federation soldiers were killed in the raid, as well as sixteen of the terrorists. More information on the incident is expected to come in within the next hour."

"Always the same news, eh fratello?"

Lovino turned to see Feliciano leaning on the bathroom doorway, beads of water still running down his chest.

"Always."

The pair of them finished drying off and got to work getting dressed. They grabbed the same holsters, the same sheaths, wrapping them tightly around their arms and chest and clipping them in place. Knives slid into their places, ready to be drawn at the swiftest notice. For good measure, they both added two handguns, sliding them into the holsters strapped next to their ribs. The coats went on then, concealing everything with careful design. They adjusted their cuffs, their ties, their belts, and looked over themselves in the mirrors. Then they turned to face each other. They both raised a hand and shifted each other's hats slightly before smiling.

"Perfect."

Just as they were about to head downstairs for breakfast, Lovino's phone rang. He pulled it from his coat pocket and pressed the speaker phone button, holding it between him and Feliciano.

"Italy." They answered.

The man on the other end spoke quickly, and Feliciano grabbed a piece of paper and rapidly scrawled the key words down. When the man was done, he hung up without another word, obviously afraid of being discovered. Lovino held the phone in the air a few seconds longer, his excited eyes meeting his brother's. He landed in his computer chair and turned the machine on, looking up all the information for their new location: Bucharest, Romania.

He zoomed in on his map, finding the exact location they'd been told about. He glanced at Feliciano, who was marking their new target with updated information. It'd been six months since they'd gotten such a great opportunity for one of their top ten. He printed out the map of the area they needed to memorize and walked up to their board, pinning it next to their target's picture. Feliciano had written the date and time down and stuck it under the picture of the man's frowning face.

For the next fifteen minutes, they planned out the exact schedule of events, from the man's meeting with his informant to the exact location—down to two feet—where they would take him down once and for all. Unfortunately for this man, he wasn't a target Ivan cared for. Occasionally, they caught up to one that Ivan wanted captured instead of killed. Not this time.

Feliciano brushed his thumb against the man's picture. "It's been a long time since we've seen him, hasn't it?"

"It has. And now it'll be the last time." Lovino answered, spinning his favorite knife around in his fingers as he plopped his feet onto the desk.

Feliciano shook his head. "Idiots, the lot of them."

"I know, right? You would think when faced with someone like Ivan that they'd be a bit smarter than to just oppose him openly and form a resistance. Fools!" He threw his knife at the board, the blade sinking right into the middle of the man's face.

"Is that what you're planning to do to him?" Feliciano grinned.

Lovino barked out a laugh. "Nah, too messy."

Feliciano pulled the knife from the wall and tossed it back to his brother. "Let's go to breakfast, fratello."

Lovino hopped up and led the way out the door. Feliciano turned as he grabbed the door handle, glancing back at the slit picture one last time. He raised his free hand and blew a kiss to the picture, a smile gracing his face. "See you soon, Roderich."

Dro: I loved writing that last part. I'm not gonna lie, evil assassin Italy brothers just make my day.

Next Chapter: The Italy brothers converge on Austria to take him out as Ivan hears some rather interesting news about a certain nation. Meanwhile, both Arthurs make headway on getting Germany home.