Dro: I was afraid this was going to be boring, then it turned out like, really suspenseful. Awesome.

Chapter Summary: The resistance team heads into Russian territory after getting some bad news about Canada. Meanwhile, America arrives at the French base, only to realize he's missed England by mere hours.

Warnings: Violence

Disclaimer: Dro will never own APH.

No one spoke for the first two hours. The only sounds came from the constant hum of the engine and the creaking of the metal as the truck hit bumps along the road. Arthur sat across from him, his nearly permanent frown taking over his expression. But whereas the usual frown contained annoyance, irritation, and anger, his current one was a pool of utter sorrow. Ludwig couldn't help but feel sympathy the man. Arthur had lost his homeland, his people, his old life. Alfred.

And now he'd lost Matthew too.

Ludwig had been helping his bruder load up the trucks for their trip to the Eastern Front when they'd gotten the call. All of them had gathered in the meeting room at Francis' request, wondering what was going on. To their dismay, a sobbing Arthur, supported by Antonio, was led into the room. Francis, eyes red and bloodshot, had explained they'd received a call from the Canadian army.

Two days ago, the Canadian generals had finally reestablished contact with the front lines where Matthew had been stationed. And that's when they'd gotten the news. Nearly a week ago, Matthew had been executing a strategic move to take out a regiment of Russian soldiers. They'd snuck up behind the Russian regiment and started taking out the soldiers with ease. Unbeknownst to Matthew, however, the Russians had intercepted his plans, and another regiment was ordered to sneak up on the Canadians from behind, throwing Matthew's strategy right back at him.

It had been a bloodbath. Fighting from both sides, the Canadians had quickly worn out, and Matthew had been trapped in the middle of it all. Every single soldier in the regiment had been killed. Matthew's whereabouts were still unknown, but the fighting was still escalating in the same area. The likelihood of him having survived that initial battle was pretty much zero. And if he had, by some miracle, lived, he was either a prisoner of war or out there slowly dying of his injuries on the field. Either way, he would end up dead in the end. Russia did not keep prisoners for long.

Arthur had broken down in front of them, becoming a sobbing mess curled up in the corner. No one could console him. Francis hadn't fared much better. Ludwig was sure he hadn't heard Arthur speak a single word for the entire day. The man just sat in his seat and stared solemnly out the window. Francis sat next to him, arms crossed, eyes unfocused. Ludwig swallowed, his throat dry. This was why they had to go through with this. This was why they had to succeed. The death needed to stop. Russia needed to be stopped.

Once they got within three hours of the front, the group finally parted ways. Ludwig, Arthur, Antonio, Francis, and Gilbert would be going to Russia. They had decided to bring in the Netherlands to help Elizaveta on the Eastern Front, freeing up Antonio's much needed skills for Arthur's plan. They stood awkwardly around each other next to the vehicles, no one saying a single word for several minutes. Elizaveta finally cracked. She rushed over to him and Gilbert, hugging them tightly.

"Be careful, you two."

"And you, Liz." Gilbert hugged her back. It was the first time Ludwig had seen the two of interact without a fight in years.

Elizaveta's actions started a chain reaction, old friends embracing tightly for what could very well be the last time. If they failed, it would be. And there was no guarantee that all of them would survive this even if they did win. Finally, they climbed back into their separate vehicles and took off in opposite directions. Antonio had determined a prime location for them to sneak into Russian territory without being seen. As they closed in on the border, Ludwig noticed the signs of recent battles all around the scarred land. Some buildings were still smoking, and in the distance, he could see a section of forest was actively on fire.

About half an hour from the border—according to Francis—they stopped for good. From here, they would walk. It had been explained in detail that watchmen dotted every spec of land starting a few miles up. Most of them doubled as snipers, and they were ready to take out anyone who dared attempt to cross into Russian territory. Antonio had picked a place where the line of watchmen was its thinnest. As night fell, there would be a change of guard that gave them a span of about ten minutes to get past the border.

Without speaking, they unloaded their weapons and supplies and slipped on their packs. It was going to be a rough trek. They stashed the truck in an abandoned building—one of the few still standing—and started on their way. The silence was still thick, and even though Ludwig generally liked peace and quiet, this kind of silence was unnerving. The town they were passing through had been completely destroyed. And it had happened a long time ago. Nature had already started taking over the place. Vines and flowers crawled up and blanketed fallen buildings. Animals were living inside places once populated by people. It was a sad sight to begin with, knowing that at some point in the not too distant past, innocent people had lived here in peace, only to have their lives destroyed by war.

Now, it was just a creepy place. The fact that no one would start up a chat wasn't helping. The atmosphere was cold and solemn, and the feeling he got as he surveyed the town, thick shadows hiding who knew what, made him shudder. Finally, after about twenty minutes, they left the town behind. Before them was a thick forest, lush and green. It was scarred too, however. A couple of black patches along the tree line indicated battles had been fought here in the past. But where human society failed to recover, nature would always return.

Antonio, who was leading the group, held up his hand. They all stopped and watched as he pulled out his binoculars. "We're going to have be careful. The scouts are at the edge of the forest waiting." He motioned for them to follow him, and they turned in a different direction, entering the beginning of the brush by hiding behind various remnants of vehicles and ruined fences. They dropped to a crouch, and Antonio peered around a half-destroyed brick wall (belonging to some sort of old outpost). "We're clear. Let's move fast. We need to get way past the scout group before the change of guard."

The finally slipped into the woods. The sun was sinking in the distance, and Ludwig started to worry they wouldn't make it to the border line before the change of guard. If that happened, they'd be trapped. The scouts would be doing a sweep back toward them while the main line would be trapping them on this side of the border. Antonio seemed to realize they were running behind, and he flicked his fingers forward, indicating for them to move faster.

Suddenly, a loud crack broke the silence. They scattered, all pressing their backs to different trees. The sound of footsteps on dirt came into range. Another crack sounded. The sound of someone breaking a branch with their feet. Ludwig jumped as the loud static of a walkie-talkie flared up from nowhere. A string of rushed Russian was spoken into it, and Ludwig had the terrible thought that the man knew they were there. He was now vividly aware of all his gear. Several knives were attached to his belt and boots. He had four different handguns and a semi-automatic rifle strapped to him. His fingers twitched, his body screaming at him to defend himself, but he knew better. He'd been in enough war battles to know when to hold back.

Eventually, the footsteps faded into the distance along with the static. The tension that had built up in him finally dispersed, and he took a deep breath. He glanced at his comrades, who all looked relieved. Francis looked at Antonio and mouthed something at him. Antonio shook his head. Francis held up a thumb at him and Gilbert, indicating they were good to go. Arthur started walking again without so much as a glance back at his friends.

Another ten minutes and it was dangerously close to sunset. Antonio had given them the signal that they were approaching the main line of watchmen, and they all sank into a crouching walk, lowering themselves into the thick brush. Thorns snagged at Ludwig's clothing, but he ignored them, focusing only on the path ahead of them. They went over a small hill, Antonio immediately signaling for them to stop. Ludwig spotted the guards about fifteen feet away. When Antonio had said a line of watchmen, he meant it. All in a row along another small hill were about ten guards. They were spaced about ten feet apart, each armed and ready with a rifle.

In position, they waited. The sun sank lower on the horizon, and Ludwig found himself fidgeting. It had been a long time since he'd done anything quite this dangerous. Finally, the guards moved. Without saying a word, they split off in two directions at a quick march. Antonio held up his hand, palm facing away from them, telling them not to move just yet. The sound of footsteps began to fade. Antonio gave the signal. The moved slowly, trying to cause as little noise as possible.

They hit the hill, and a small feeling of triumph sprouted in Ludwig's mind. The climbed over it and started making their way down. Everything was working. Everything...A strangled cry broke out behind him, and he whipped around to see Gilbert tripping over something and tumbling face first into the ground. Ludwig rushed back to help him up, the rest of the group frozen in place. He pulled his bruder up, wondering what he could've possibly tripped on. Then he saw it. On the ground was a round metal plate that connected to a wire that connected to another plate and kept repeating that way, the rest of the mechanism hidden from view. The set up had been buried just under the surface of the ground.

A motion detector.

Ludwig pulled Gilbert into a run, his panicked state obviously alerting the others. The broke into a frightened sprint, the sounds of incoming footsteps following ominously behind. Shouts broke out behind them followed swiftly by a barrage of bullets. They bit into tree trunks, sending splinters flying in all directions. One bullet grazed Arthur's shoulder, and he stumbled but caught himself in time. They kept running and running, the watchmen pursuing them for well over a mile. Then, everything got quiet.

They slowed to a rapid walk, all eyes darting around. Arthur spoke his first words of the day. "We need to get our first point. Keep moving." He gulped in air, a line of dark blood visible on his jacket even in the darkness. "Don't be fooled. They're still pursuing us. They've just gone to call reinforcements and get vehicles. We have to keep going."

By the time they finally stopped an hour later, Ludwig was exhausted. His pack felt like a bag of cinderblocks. His legs felt like jelly, his knees shaking as they tried to hold him up. Nearby, a small town was visible only by the dim lights that dotted the landscape. Arthur nodded toward it, still catching his breath. "That's our first stop. An informant of ours has agreed to provide lodging for the night."

Ludwig looked at the small town again, a sense of relief adding to his fatigue. Gilbert, rubbing his sore back, patted his bruder on the shoulder. "Let's go get some sleep, West."

To say Alfred was disappointed didn't even begin to cover it. He was tired. He was dirty. And he'd been going for the last thirty-two hours on the assumption that once he found this small town in the middle of nowhere, he'd be able to meet up with Arthur. Except he hadn't. The guards at the military facility had told him he'd missed Arthur by mere hours. The "Marshall" was out on a mission. What mission? Alfred didn't know because it was apparently "top secret."

Which mean his entire journey to get here, from haggling his beloved jacket for a boat ride across the English Channel, to having to help a woman basically rebuild her kitchen in exchange for a car ride to as close to the town as the lady was willing to take him, to the four hour walk the rest of way had all been in vain. Because not only could he not get to Arthur, but the stupid guards wouldn't even let him in the base. So Alfred was now sitting across from it, leaning against a rundown building. The base was disguised as another rundown building. At least he hoped it was, or he felt really bad for the resistance.

The guards just stood there glaring at him, and he glared back. Eventually, one of them said some sort of code into his walkie-talkie, and Alfred assumed they were doing something to try and get rid of him. And of course, they were. Ten minutes a later, a military truck pulled with several armed men in it. They rushed over to him, ordering him to stand and vacate the premises immediately.

"Or what? You'll shoot me?"

"That's exactly what we'll do." A man in uniform approached him, a scowl on his face. That is, until he got close enough to really see Alfred. Then his anger morphed into shock. "You…" His said breathlessly. "You can't be…"

Alfred realized the man recognized him. Ah, he knew the other me. Well, I suppose I could always play this angle. "Guess I've been away for a while, huh?" Alfred smiled sheepishly. The man looked like he couldn't come up with a coherent thought.

"Sir?" One of the soldiers said. "What's going on? Who is he?"

A look of awe had settled on the man's face. "This man. This man is…" Alfred wondered if everyone knew about nations in this world. It seemed logical considering Russia himself was the one leading the Soviet Union. If this had been his own world, he would've been out of luck, but he seemed to have struck gold in this place. So he just smiled.

"Sir?" The soldiers looked immensely confused.

"This man should be dead." He took a step forward, his eyes shifting over Alfred's tired form. "How are you even alive?"

Alfred shrugged. "Beats me." Play the game, Alfred. Just play the game. "But I've been trying to get here for a while now. Think you could let me in and tell me where Arthur's run off to?"

The man nodded. "Right away, sir."

"Sir?" One of them asked. "What's going on? Who is this man?"

The officer turned back toward them, a gleam of hope in his eyes. "This is the United States of America."

Dro: Well look at that, Alfred can make intelligent decisions!

Next Chapter: America heads toward Russia as Germany and the team head close in on Moscow. Meanwhile, Lithuania arrives back at Russia's home, only to suffer through an interrogation by a very suspicious Russia.