Dro: Had I not been so OCD about keeping my chapter pattern, I probably would've named this chapter "The Book of Revelations." I'm not sure I've ever revealed quite this much in a single chapter. At least not in terms of the multiple pieces of this story falling into place in one single section.

Chapter Summary: The identity of Alfred's mysterious savior is revealed, followed by another revelation that leaves Alfred's head spinning. Meanwhile, Arthur thinks something has gone terribly awry until he runs into someone he never thought he'd see again.

Warnings: My corny humor

Disclaimer: Dro will never own APH.

Alfred sat in his chair, numb and confused. The man sat across from him, munching on a biscuit. Had he not been so utterly stupefied, he probably would have been pissed off. He'd spent his entire time in this world with one concrete fact that everyone kept repeating over and over to him. And now that one fact had been broken into a million pieces comprising one big lie. Granted, no one probably knew they were lying about it. Because the jackass in front of him had been hiding his existence for the last six months.

"You're a douche bag, you know?" He tapped a finger on the table.

The other America raised an eyebrow. "How so? Because I've been working on a completely top secret plan to take Russia down?"

"Everyone thinks you're dead."

"That's the point." He plucked another biscuit from the plate. "If Russia knew I was alive, I'd never be able to go through with this plan. It was all working out so well." Blue eyes narrowed in irritation. "And then you show up."

"Well, sorry! I have to save the Germany from my world."

"Yeah. I got that." He took a bite. "What I don't get is why that involves you traipsing into Red territory alone."

"Well, I didn't have anyone to help me, so…"

"So, you decided to be a rash idiot and go it alone. Right. You know shit like that is what almost got me killed, right?"

"Almost being the key word here."

The other America rolled his eyes. "Not the point. I'm sure your other world friends would be highly upset to know you were shot to death by the Red watchmen."

"Well, seeing as they'd never know…"

"That would be even worse." The man eyed him critically, and Alfred stared him down, noting some of his features. They looked nearly identical, but the parallel him had some noticeable differences. Despite the fact he'd gone and cleaned up after revealing himself, his other self seemed to have perpetual stubble. There were dark rings around his eyes, no doubt the product of months with little sleep. His hair was a little longer, a little shaggier. And then there were the scars. The only one Alfred could see all of was a light one on the man's left cheek, but the wide end of a pink line that disappeared under his collar hinted at a much more gruesome story.

Whether his parallel self was alive or not, the man had gone through a nuclear bombing. And it showed. Alfred was slowly discovering that his alter self was rather cynical. He also seemed to have a one track mind: defeat Russia. Alfred could sort of understand that, but it was still creeping him out how every topic they started on rounded back to Russia at some point. It was kind of obsessive.

"Okay, fine. I'll admit that was a little stupid." He sipped his tea. "But I'm not turning back."

"Oh, of course not. I wasn't suggesting you should."

"Huh? Then what…?"

"I want your help."

Alfred sat his glass down, suspicious. "You want my help?"

"Did I stutter? You need to retrieve your Germany. I need to kill Russia. Your Germany is on a mission to kill Russia. Seems like we might have some common interests here."

"Well, that's true, but…"

"But what?"

"Um…I mean, what about the two of us being seen together?"

Both eyebrows went up. "Did you miss the uniform with the helmet?"

"Well, I mean, you don't wear that all the time, right?"

"Most of the time, yes. I'm a dead man, remember?"

Alfred relented. "Okay, fine. I'll stick with you. By the way, where's this mysterious super secret special team you've been assembling?"

"At our base. We'll be heading there in the morning."

"Wonderful."

The older woman came back into the kitchen and opened the oven, pulling out something Alfred didn't recognize. "Would you dears like some scones?"

Alfred grimaced.

"Ugh, I hate scones."

He paused and shot a glance at his other self. Had they just…said the exact same thing? At the exact same time? His alter self was giving him a similar look. Eyebrows narrowed in suspicion. They sat in tense silence, each challenging the other to speak.

"England has imaginary friends!"

Alfred almost fell out of his chair.

"Holy shit!"

"Stop that!"

"Quit it!"

"This is freaky!"

They stared at each other, two pairs of identical blue eyes wide and twitching.

"Holy shit! You are me!"

The lady glanced back and forth between them. "All right, then. I'll be heading to be bed now, dears."

"Good night, ma'am." They glared at each other. "Stop it!"

Once they finally got out synch, Alfred excused himself and headed for the guest room the lady had spoken about. He was dirty and tired and confused and freaked out, and he desperately needed some rest. He took a quick shower, washing the grime from his battle with the watchmen off. He was sore where the man had hit him the rifle. When he finally dropped onto the bed for the night, his mind wandered. So his other self was alive, huh? Who would've guessed? Everyone seemed so sure that he was dead. How had his alter self even lived through nuclear destruction? As far as he knew, the US was just about gone.

And yet there the guy was, scarred and exhausted but alive. He had to admit, death was a good cover for instigating a top secret initiative to bring the enemy down. What did Russia have to fear from a dead man? Apparently a lot. He wondered who was working with the other him. Did he have nations on his side? Unless there were others mistakenly declared dead, Alfred didn't think so. It would be hard to keep it under wraps that way. Russia seemed to have a spy network next to none.

I swear, if this plot gets any thicker, I might start to choke.

Alfred was shaken awake at 6:00 AM the next morning by the woman whose name he hadn't bothered to ask. After he took another shower, the woman fed him a quick breakfast of oatmeal and sent him on his way. The other America was waiting for him outside, helmet on, bike revved up and ready to go. Alfred sank onto the back again without speaking and gripped his double as the man took off. Trees and shrubbery zipped by at a lightning pace, the winding, narrow road bordered on both sides by forest.

The countryside would've been a beautiful sight to behold had it not been for the periodic scars that dotted the land. Alfred found himself grimacing every time they passed the ruins of a once proud town. Most of them had been destroyed so long ago they were no more than rubble, nature already swallowing them back up. Alfred had forgotten to ask how long the drive would be, and he wished he could get a word in with his double.

A sudden thought occurred to him as he looked at the long strength of road. They were on a road. A road in Soviet territory. Couldn't soldiers and watchmen just drive by and find them? They were right out in the open. His double had accused him of being reckless, but wasn't the other him just as bad? He grunted. Hypocrite.

Another hour passed by without any interesting happenings. Alfred's ears were numbed by the constant sound of the engine. All the blurry trees had started to look the same. All the towns were in the exact same state. He wondered briefly if they'd entered some sci-fi time loop and were stuck riding the same stretch of road over and over and over and over and…He grabbed a hold of his double as the bike suddenly veered off the road, landing hard on a dirt path that led into the forest. Alfred's heart beat wildly. Gee, he could've at least warned me!

Thirty minutes later, after surviving miles of treacherous dirt path, Alfred spotted a camp in the distance. His eyes immediately latched on to the heavy artillery they were packing, boxes of guns and ammo loaded onto several trucks. There were guards stationed at the camp's entrance, guns at the ready as they caught the sound of the approaching vehicle. They calmed when the two of them neared, and a moment of shock crossed their expressions as they caught sight of Alfred's face. They had been told about him, of course, but actually seeing him? He wondered if it was as weird as actually coming face to face with yourself!

The other him pulled the bike to a stop, and they got off. The men at the gates saluted and let them in, his double pulling the motorcycle along with him. It was a large camp, and people were milling about. Some were organizing supplies. Some were cooking. Some were training. He looked back to see his double had left him behind. The man had parked the bike and rushed toward a tent on the far end. Alfred briskly followed him there. He slipped inside the tent after his double. It was dark inside, and as his eyes started to adjust, he realized there was only one other person in there with them.

"How are you feeling?"

"So this is him?" The familiar voice rang out. Alfred gaped.

"Not important. How are you?"

"A little better than when you left. It's nearly healed now." A violet-hued eye ran over Alfred's form. "Glad to see you made it here okay. I was really worried you were going to blow our cover for a minute there." He smiled.

Alfred stared, pity, awe, warmth, love, confusion and a myriad of emotions he couldn't even describe welling up inside him.

"Matt."

Matthew smiled at him wider, his one visible eye flashing with amusement. "Seeing two Alfreds is kind of scary, you know?" He glanced from Alfred to his double. "It was bad enough having to deal with one of you."

His double snorted. "Tell it to the judge. Don't forget I saved your ass."

Matthew's mirth faded into admiration. "Of course not, Al."

His other self blushed as Matthew rose from his bed and embraced him. They hugged tightly, his double's head buried in Matt's shoulder. Alfred stood there, uncomfortable. They released each other and smiled, Matthew affectionately, his double sadly. Matthew whispered something that sounded similar to "I missed you, dumbass."

Alfred took the opportunity to get a good look at his parallel brother. The right side of Matthew's face was covered in a crisp, white bandage, his eye obscured completely. Alfred wasn't sure what had gone down, but he could tell it had been a serious injury. The way his parallel self was doting on his brother told the whole story. Matt had been close to death. Alfred swallowed nervously. He couldn't imagine having to deal with a situation where his brother was anywhere close to mortally wounded.

"Sirs, I don't mean to interrupt, but we have an incoming transmission from our informant in Moscow." A man peeked into the tent, visibly paling at the sight of two versions of his boss. He shook it off. "He says it's urgent."

Reluctantly, his double broke away from Matthew and headed out of the tent. He paused next to Alfred and leaned close. "Stay with him. Please." He whispered in a desperate voice, and then he was gone.

A light flared up in the opposite direction, and he turned to see Matthew had flicked on a small, battery-powered lamp. He sat in a chair at a nice wooden table, trying his best to pry open a box of crackers. Alfred cautiously walked over and sat down in the spare chair. "Let me." Matt paused for a moment before handing him the box. Alfred ripped it open with ease, only to meet his parallel brother's sour gaze.

"The point was to open it so I could close it again."

Alfred grinned sheepishly. "Oh. Well, there's always Ziploc." He grinned.

Matthew didn't look amused. "Ha ha." He rolled his eyes. "Different world. Same Alfred."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Matthew just groaned and poured some crackers out on a plate. "Want some?"

Alfred suddenly realized he was really hungry. He hadn't had anything since that bowl of oatmeal. "Sure. When's lunch?"

Matthew smirked. "In an hour or so."

"Cool." He munched on a cracker, watching his brother's gentle movements. He ached to ask the question, but he really didn't want to be so blunt about it.

Matthew raised his eyebrows. "Wow, I'm surprised at your restraint."

"Huh?"

"You want to ask what happened to me. Usually, you'd just be all rude and blurt it out. Well, that's what my Alfred does."

Alfred felt himself blush. That was exactly what he usually did too. "Oh, well…you're my brother, so…"

Matthew smiled. "It's good to know you care about your brother too." He sighed. "I used to think Alfred hardly noticed me, but since Russia rose to power, well, he starting treating me differently. He starting telling me to man up, saying I was strong, so I needed to act it. Honestly, I always thought he considered me weak, but the way he spoke to me, like he actually thought I was capable of taking on Soviet Russia…it gave me a whole new image of him. And then…"

"Then the nuclear strike happened."

Matthew bit his lip, his voice rising in pitch. "Yeah. Then he was dead to the world. I grieved for weeks, and then…then I became vengeful. I went to the front lines and killed every damn Soviet I could get my hands on. It was working out well until a couple weeks ago. I got tricked by the Soviets using my own damn strategy. My entire regiment was decimated. Then, uh…" He absentmindedly tugged at his bandage. "I got shot in the head. I don't remember much after that. I drifted in and out of consciousness. I remember being afraid of being captured by the Reds and taken to Russia, but they passed me by. I was so messed up, I must've really looked like the thousands of corpses surrounding me."

He played with a cracker. "The next thing I remember I was on a helicopter, then in surgery. It all flashed by in bits and pieces until they finally put me under. And then I woke up four days later." He looked Alfred in the eye. "And my brother was there."

Arthur wasn't sure what was happening now. They'd made it to Moscow. They'd met up at their next safe point. Everything had been perfect. Now they were in a car driven by a man he didn't know or want to know, stuffed into the back with more people than this vehicle was supposed to hold. Some random man had approached them at the bar they'd been at, saying he knew who they were and that they needed to come with him immediately. Of course, their initial reaction had been "Oh shit! Blown cover!" but the man assured them he was on their side.

Cautiously, they'd piled into the car, windows tinted black, and had taken a trip to a rundown apartment complex. The man ushered them out, glancing around suspiciously. "Hurry along." His accent wasn't Russian, and Arthur was annoyed he couldn't place it. The man led them to a back door and into a service elevator. It squeaked and lurched and shook and groaned, but somehow, the ancient machine carried them five floors up. Arthur tensed as it rolled to a stop, the doors opening with a loud creak.

He wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but it certainly hadn't been a secret, makeshift hospital. It certainly hadn't been an ally. It certainly hadn't been something that would throw a major twist into their mission.

And it most certainly had not been Poland.

Dro: What the hell is Poland doing in my story? I suppose we'll find out next chapter.

Next Chapter: American, Parallel America, and Canada head towards Moscow in order to secretly aid England and his team with their assassination of Russia. Meanwhile, Poland shocks England and friends with several more revelations that send them into a frenzy. Finally, a message arrives from Switzerland from the Eastern Front, desperately warning them that something is not right.