Dro: Ah ha! On time today! Take that, bitches! -cough- Sorry about that. It makes me feel good when I meet my deadlines. Anyway, have at this. I hope you enjoy this chapter as much as I do.

Chapter Summary: Ivan takes a crack at the masked Alfred and Matthew and finds something that both excites and pleases him. Meanwhile, Francis and Arthur get surrounded by guards, and Francis is forced to make a decision that could ruin his relationship with Arthur forever.

Warnings: Violence, Language

Disclaimer: Dro will never own APH.

Alfred peered around the corner and signaled an 'all-clear' to the other two. His other self blew by him and out into the open, head darting left and right as he scoured the empty hallway. Taking out the first few guards hadn't been a problem, but it was likely many more were grouped strategically around the building, laying in wait for their approach in order to ambush them. Alfred had no doubt in his mind that this was all one of Russia's games. The man had probably planned out every step of this. They would have to outdo the man's cruel twists and turns in order to even get to him, and by then, they'd probably be exhausted, giving them a disadvantage against Russia, who was probably sitting upstairs drinking vodka and chuckling to himself.

"Okay, this is where we split, you two. I'll be heading right, toward the staircase, where I should meet up with Arthur and Francis. Alfred, you hold this side of the hall. Matt, you scout and report back to Alfred every few minutes. There are probably guards all along this level. Don't take any chances. Proceed with caution. I don't want any fatalities on our part."

Matt nodded and started heading down the hall, rifle at the ready. As soon as he disappeared around a red-walled corner, Alfred's other self turned to him. He couldn't see the man's face, which was still obscured by his helmet, but he could already guess what the man was about to tell him.

"You take care of Matt, you hear?"

"Of course." Alfred nodded. He had a lot of things to take care of concerning Matt, he mused, but for the time being, he needed to push his feelings aside and concentrate on one thing and one thing only. Bringing Russia down without losing anyone. This would be a pointless venture if all or most of them died in the end. Then who would really be the victor? Russia may have lost his throne in that case, but the rest of the world would've lost its nations. "He's my brother. I'll protect him no matter what."

His double gave him a curt nod and sprinted off. Alfred watched him until he vanished from view, then he took a good inventory of his surroundings. It had the same features as the first floor. Lavish—and outlandish—red walls with ornate gold trim. Tables dotted the walls along the hallway, furnished with priceless-looked vases and sculptures. Alfred snorted. He never would've guessed Ivan was an artsy type of guy. The Ivan he knew wasn't like that at all. Or was he? Alfred frowned. After this is all over, I'll make sure I get to know Ivan better.

Alfred waited patiently in the silent hallway, taking quick glances left and right every few seconds just in case someone was attempting to sneak up on him. He certainly couldn't let his guard down. For all he knew, guards were hiding in every single room, just waiting for a signal to attack. It seemed unlikely, as they hadn't spotted anyone in any of the rooms from the outside, but it could've always been some sort of ploy. Alfred rocked back and forth on his heels. This was the only problem he'd ever had with covert operations like this. He always ended up bored. Pouting, he decided to take a closer look at the crystal sculpture on the table next to him.

A cherub. He moved his head around it, watching as the crystal sparkled in the light of the torch-styled lamps on the wall. It was pretty. He'd give Russia that. He eyed it with wonder, almost mesmerized by it. Then he snapped out of it, knowing he had to get to back to work. Matt would chastise him if he came back around the corner and saw him abandoning his post. On that note, where was Matt?

Alfred looked to where Matt had run off to but saw no sign of him. Checking his watch, he saw Matt had left over ten minutes ago. He was supposed to have checked in by now. A pit of nausea rose up in his stomach. He's probably fine, Al. He just lost track of time, and it's a big building. Alfred tried to calm himself, but now he felt on edge. Five minutes. He'd wait five more minutes, then he'd go searching for Matt if his brother had not returned.

He didn't.

Frowning and now filled with worry, Alfred took off in the direction Matt had gone. He turned the corner, expecting to see something—anything—but this hallway was just as silent as the last. Now he was really worried. He thought back to what Matt had told him earlier. The argument he'd had with Francis the other day had apparently been over Matt's inclusion in this plan. Francis had been desperately trying to get Matt to go back to the French base, using his recent injuries as an excuse. But Matt had been obstinate and unwavering.

Now Alfred was starting to wish Matt really had gone back. What if something had happened to him? What if someone had shot him and dragged his body off? But wouldn't Alfred have heard that? This whole floor was eerily silent. He would've heard a pin drop. He shuffled down the hallway slowly, his boots dragging on the red carpet. The only sounds that caught his ears were his own breathing, the creaks on the wooden floorboards as he stepped down on them, and his heartbeat, which was now pounding against his ribcage. He came to an intersection of hallways and peered around the corner. The same creepy stillness. The same complete silence.

Something was really, really wrong here.

With a shaky sigh, he turned back straight to continue his current path. But a glint of something caught his eye. He paused and looked back down the other hallway. A single door hung open just a fraction, but beyond it, Alfred could see the light from the hallway shining on something black and metallic. A rifle. On the floor. His feet started moving before his brain caught up. He ran up to the door and pushed it open the rest of the way, fully prepared to find his brother's bloody body laying there.

But it wasn't. The only thing in the dark room was Matt's rifle. And it was Matt's rifle. It had the insignia of a maple leaf on it, courtesy of his alter self. But if Matt's rifle was here, then where was Matt? There were no signs of struggle, no blood splatters on the floor. There was just Matt's rifle, sitting there still and ominous, the only indicator that anything had gone awry.

"Matt, what happened to you?"

Matthew adjusted his rifle. How long was it supposed to be before he checked back with Alfred? Five minutes? Seven? He glanced at his watch. He still had a couple minutes left. He turned down another hallway and kept going. All the hallways looked the same to him, and it was starting to mess with his head. Russia had apparently built his mansion to be a pseudo-labyrinth, probably to confuse any unwanted guests. Well, it certainly had a negative effect on him. He knew the layout though, so even without looking at the scenery, he knew where he was going.

It was very unsettling, however. All the doors on every hall were closed, and Matthew got the distinct feeling that at any second, someone would jump out at him. He took a deep breath and continued on, slowly surveying each and every doorway, scrutinizing the small gaps under each one just in case he saw movement. There was none, and he was slightly relieved. Russia's mansion was mostly empty this time of day. And that was a blessing. He couldn't imagine the chaos that would be going on had they decided to execute this plan during the day, when all the mansion's staff was here. That would've been pandemonium.

He took another glance at his watch. Oh, time to get back. He turned on his heels and made to sprint down the hallway. He saw the door open in his periphery, but before he could even hope to respond, a pair of arms shot out and grabbed him, pulling him inside the room and closing the door behind him. He struggled and went to scream at the same time, trying to alert Alfred, but his assailant ripped his helmet off and slapped a cloth-covered hand over his mouth and nose. Matthew froze.

Chloroform.

He tried to hold his breath and went limp, pretending he was passing out. But if the man didn't let up soon, he really would. But it seemed Matthew was out of luck. The man continued to hold him tightly, pressing the cloth even harder against his face. He struggled not to let his burning lungs take a breath, but eventually it became to much. He felt woozy the moment he inhaled, and his consciousness started to fade around. His last moment of clarity was also one of fear.

"Nice attempt, Comrade Matvey, but I am not so stupid, da?"

Oh dieu. It's….it's…The world faded away.

When he came to, the first thing he realized was that his hands were tied behind his back. He pulled at them, but they didn't budge. They were roped together tightly, a soft cloth underneath to prevent the coarse rope from chafing his skin. The second thing he realized was that he was gagged. The cloth tied tightly around his head pressed against his tongue, and he couldn't manage a single intelligible word. When he snapped his eyes open at the realization that he was bound and gagged, he immediately recognized the gravity of the situation. He was positioned on his side on a couch, wearing only his button-up shirt and trousers. All of his gear had been stripped away. He flicked his eyes around, terrified, and finally—reluctantly—they landed on the man sitting at the desk, staring longingly into his large computer monitor as it showed the displays from several security cameras.

Matthew didn't dare move. He felt his resolve crumbling beneath him. Russia had captured him, damn it! This wasn't supposed to happen. Fuck! I spent all these months toughening myself up, fighting on the front lines, bettering myself mentally and physically…just to let Russia capture me twenty minutes after we invade his house. He wanted to cry. But he refused to give Russia the satisfaction.

Russia, who was now looking at him, amused. Matthew swallowed roughly, the gag in his way. Russia pushed his chair back and stood up, making his way over to Matthew. With each step, Matthew felt more and more terrified. What would Russia do to him? Slowly torture him to death? Beat him to a pulp with his pipe? Dare he think it…rape him? Apparently, Russia had none of those ideas at the moment, because he simply crouched down in front of Matthew and stuck out a bare hand, gently brushing Matthew's hair out of his face and tucking it behind his ear.

Matthew was ashamed to admit he shuddered at the touch. Russia just snickered. "I was…very surprised to be finding you here today, Comrade Matvey. I had heard terrible, terrible rumors that you had perished on your front. I was most upset to know my dear Matvey was no more."

There were a lot of things Matthew wanted to say back to him, most of them variably nasty. It was probably a good thing he was gagged, lest he say something that angered Russia. He was not in a position where he had that luxury. One slip and Russia might decide to kill him. On that note, why hadn't he? What could he possibly be keeping me alive for?

"Imagine my surprise to find you roaming my hallways." Ivan wrapped a lock of Matthew's hair around his finger and twirled. "I was most amused and happy!" Ivan smiled, deceptively gleeful. Matthew was no fool. He could see the constant malicious intent brewing behind the surface of Ivan's gaze. "Do you know how long I have been waiting to speak to you again? I was occupied over here in Europe and could not see you all these many months, and it saddened me so. But now you are here, and we may speak again, da?"

You mean you can speak and force me to listen. Matthew couldn't help but glare at him.

Russia seemed to know exactly what he was thinking. The man reached around and undid the gag, pulling the damp fabric from Matthew's mouth. Matthew coughed and swallowed dryly. He licked his sore lips and shot another glare at Russia, who shrugged.

"My apologies, Comrade Matvey, but I did not want you yelling. Alerting anyone to your presence in my office would be…unfavorable to me. You understand, da?"

Actually, he didn't understand. How could that situation possibly hurt Russia? All it would do was alert Arthur and Alfred and Francis that he'd been captured, which would cause them to panic and possibly ruin the plan. Then again, the plan had already been ruined by him, hadn't it? When the others got here to fight Russia, the man would probably just use him as a shield. Matthew hung his head. Maybe Francis had been right. Maybe he shouldn't have come here.

"Do not look so down, Matvey. The two of us can now have much fun again, da?"

"W—what?" Matthew's voice was hoarse, and his throat burned.

Russia just nodded. "Much fun after this little inconvenience." Two pairs of purple eyes flicked over to the computer screen, where Arthur and Francis were now surrounded by guards. Fear shot through Matthew's stomach.

"What are you planning?"

"Hm? For them?"

"No, for me!" What the hell was Russia getting at here? He'd been sure Russia was not taking prisoners.

Russia simply smiled at him again. "What kind of question is that, Matvey? We will be together again, da?"

Matthew swore his heart stopped. "What?" He breathed out.

Russia just chuckled again, his hands slipping behind Matthew's head and jerking him forward. Russia's cool breath slipped into his ears, carrying with it words that chilled Matthew to bone. "I have spent many months longing to you have back with me, Matvey." He moved Matthew's head so their faces were close together, noses brushing. "My old lover."

He pulled Matthew into a brutal kiss.

Somehow, Arthur's ragged breaths were the only sound in the air. Twenty guns pointed at them from all sides, twenty fingers lingering on triggers, threatening to press down. He pressed his back harder against Francis'. The guards had come out of nowhere, pouring around corners and out of rooms. An ambush. Of course. They'd been expecting something like this entire way, but somehow, they'd still ended up in this bind. His hands tightened on his rifle. It would take a lot more to kill the two of them than it would to kill a human guard, but outnumbered ten to one, there was no way they could escape unscathed. And if they were too injured to fight Russia, then this entire escapade would have been in vain.

On the reverse side, Francis stood upright, solemnly contemplating his options. He had two choices here. He could go with his deepest desires and fight with his Angleterre to the death here. But then what would he have accomplished? He would have betrayed Arthur over and over for nothing in the end, and he would've broken his love's trust in vain. Everything he'd done, everything he'd planned, all his sacrifices…they would've been pointless. Then there was the other option, the one he hated to consider. But his second option would save Arthur's life. And what did he want more than anything else in the world if not for Arthur's survival? That had been the purpose of everything. How many assassination attempts had he managed to dissuade Ivan from with his loyalty? How many bullets had Arthur's skull been saved from? Ivan could have killed Arthur a thousand over if not for Francis' promise to him. Keeping Arthur alive was the only that mattered. The only thing.

Even if that meant betraying him.

Even if that meant Arthur would hate him for the rest of his life.

So he pulled out his pistol and gripped it tight.

"Angleterre, je t'aime."

He felt Arthur stiffen against him just as he pulled away and whipped around.

"Francis, what—?"

Francis slammed the butt of his pistol into Arthur's temple. One brief moment of shocked flitted through Arthur's eyes before his consciousness left him. Francis caught him before he hit the floor. He stuffed his pistol back into its holster and glared up at the guards, who all looked confused. Francis cradled Arthur in his arms and rose, frowning.

"Tell Ivan I have the resistance leader."

Dro: Don't lie. You did not see that coming. So, the question stands: How many more romantic twists will Dro throw into this story before it ends?

Next Chapter: Matthew is forced to face up to his past relationship with Ivan as the man explains what he wants the Canadian for. Meanwhile, alter Alfred watches in horror as Francis betrays Arthur, and he vows to kill France no matter what. Then, we return to Ludwig and Feliciano, who grapple with each other in a struggle to the death that ends...rather abruptly as something hits them both.