Dro: So, here's today chapter. For some reason, it contains a gratuitous amount of swearing. -shrug- Enjoy, peoples! And don't forget to drop me a review!

Chapter Summary: Francis and Matthew confront each other about their relationships to Ivan, ending in a hateful display that amuses Ivan and sickens Francis. Meanwhile, alter-Al definitively proves that his spur of the moment ideas have not gotten any better over the years. And finally, we find out how the showdown with Romano ended as Antonio and Gilbert go searching for Ludwig.

Warnings: Language, Mentions of Violence

Disclaimer: Dro will never own APH.

Francis almost dropped Arthur. Almost. He caught the unconscious man at the last second, forcing himself to dip quickly toward the floor so as to regain his hold around Arthur's body. When he righted himself, another wave of shock and disbelief crashed into him, and while he still managed to keep his grip on Arthur, he felt even more stunned than the first time around. His eyes were glued to a dark red sofa, where Matthew was sitting with his hands bound behind his back. His clothing was rumpled, his hair unkempt, and Francis was more than keen enough to spot the flush of his cheeks and lips. He felt sick. Very, very sick.

"Ivan, what have you done to mon petit Mathieu?" He tried to keep his voice low and steady, attempting to vainly hide his fear of Russia.

Ivan flicked his eyes briefly to the young man on the couch before cracking a smile. "Nothing he did not want, I assure you."

"You…" He growled. Matthew was supposed to have been off limits. He was supposed to have been in North America, not here in Ivan's clutches. He had lost it on his boy when he'd first seen Mathieu at the hospital. He'd tried desperately to dissuade Arthur from calling Mathieu to Europe, and he'd done his best to make sure Mathieu thought he could best serve the resistance from his homeland. He was never supposed to come here, never supposed to get this close to Ivan.

"Now, now, Francis, don't be too upset." Ivan just smiled politely. "Matvey is fair game while in my home, da? Do not worry though. I shall not harm him."

"Are you sure I can take your word on that?"

"Of course! Why would I harm my own lover?"

Francis was suddenly sure that God was playing a cruel, cruel joke no him. He silently pleaded for Mathieu to indicate something contrary to what Ivan had said, but the boy wouldn't look him in the eye. Mon Dieu…His stomach churned. "Mathieu…how…how did this even…?"

"You can ask me, Francis. I'm not going to lie to you."

He dared to meet Ivan's deceptively playful eyes. "Do explain." His voice had grown dark.

Ivan chuckled. "Trust me when I say this is not a recent development. Matvey and I are in the middle of renewing quite an old relationship, da Matvey?"

Matthew looked up, his lip quivering. He bit the soft skin, obviously unsure of what to say. "I…well…"

"No need to be nervous. Arthur is unconscious, and Francis will not see you negatively. I mean, he's been my spy the whole time. How could he possibly find fault in you, hmm?"

Matthew's eyes were on him in a second, angry and hurt. "The whole time? You've been a double agent this whole time? Hiding right under Arthur's nose and waiting to strike?" Matthew looked exasperated and defeated. Francis suddenly had the urge to kill himself where he stood. "How could you do this to us?"

"Me? Ivan's claiming you as his lover, and you're asking me how I could betray everyone? Mathieu—"

"Ta gueule! Fils de pute!" Matthew screamed at him.

Francis froze, biting his tongue. Ivan laughed loudly. "Oh my. That sounded nasty."

Francis glared at him. "Is Mathieu really your lover or are you just fucking with me, Ivan?"

Ivan grinned mischievous. "He was my lover for many years, and I hope for him to be again. But honestly, that's none of your business, is it Francis? So how about you tie up your little lovebird there and take a seat. You've done your job well enough, I suppose." He waved his hand, and the guards at the door shut it and dispersed.

Francis stood still, arguing with himself. He had already betrayed Angleterre, and now his Mathieu was at risk of becoming Ivan's whore. Dieu, he'd really messed up. Finally, his muscles started functioning again, and he followed Ivan's orders and bound Arthur, setting him down gently in the corner of the room. Then he sat down next to Mathieu, who was seething. Light plum eyes full of venom were beaming at him, and Francis felt incredibly uncomfortable.

"How could you do this to us?"

"How could you?" He countered.

Mathieu grew silent for a moment, then he scoffed. "I was captured, Francis. That was it. Just because Ivan is claiming me as his lover again doesn't make me a traitor."

Francis eyed his beloved Mathieu with distrust. "So he is lying? You have not been his lover in the past?"

"That's not relevant."

"How so?"

"Because I was with him long before he ever started this war. Long before this war was even an idea. I'm not a traitor for that."

"How long were you with him?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Mathieu bared his teethe.

Francis didn't flinch. "How long?"

Mathieu turned his head away. "Sixteen years."

"Damn it, Mathieu." There was no way on Earth Ivan would ever consider leaving Mathieu alone after that kind of relationship. "You fool. You should have known better."

He could've sworn he heard "I know," but it was drowned out by the sound of Ivan laughing. The man cackled hysterically, wiping his eyes as they watered. "Oh, I knew this would happen eventually, but I never knew it would unfold like this! This is hilarious!"

Both of them went silent, waiting nervously for Ivan to tell them one of their comrades had died. Francis flicked his eyes over to Arthur's unconscious form, Mathieu's following him. As long as my Angleterre is okay. Mathieu cleared his throat. "What's going on, Ivan?"

Ivan waved his question off. "I'll let you watch the video later. After this is all over, Matvey, we can sit down and enjoy our victory together and watch a rerun of how I defeated the resistance. It will be fun, da? You can come too, Francis!"

Mathieu frowned, obviously disturbed. Franics was even more so. "Do not forget your promise to me, Ivan." Mathieu perked up, glaring daggers at him.

Ivan shook his head. "I have not. You will have everything I promised as soon as rid myself of these nuisances. This is all playing out so nicely!"

"What kind of deal did you cut with him, Francis?" Mathieu sneered.

Francis sighed. "I would rather not talk about it. It's not a memory I like to dwell on."

"Well, I would love to hear all about it." Mathieu looked ready to rip his throat open.

"I will tell you all about it later, Matvey. Leave poor Francis alone now. He looks like he's about to be sick." Ivan giggled.

Sick didn't even begin to cover it. The situation was pressing down on Francis' shoulders heavier than ever before. His beloved Mathieu was in Ivan's clutches. Mathieu had been the only factor he couldn't control. Ivan had been too stubborn to give him any sort of promise regarding Mathieu, and now he understood why. Ivan wanted Mathieu for himself. If only he'd known that ahead of time. He would've somehow assured that Mathieu never left North America. Then…then after he left Russia for good he could've met up with Mathieu and hidden away somewhere that Ivan could not get them.

He heard Mathieu mutter "Like he should be."

Ivan caught it too. "Don't be so mean, Matvey! He is just doing his job, da? Poor Francis was in a rough situation, and he took the best option out of it. How can you blame him for that?"

"Easily." Mathieu spat back.

Ivan shrugged and went back to his computer screen. Francis looked it over. He couldn't clearly see the videos from this angle, but he could tell they were surveillance cameras. Ivan was just playing with them now, manipulating their movements like a puppeteer. They never should have come here in the first place. Even if he hadn't told Ivan about Arthur's plan, nothing would have changed. This entire situation would have played out exactly the same way. And ended the same way too, Francis knew. This was going to end…terribly wasn't even close to strong enough. Tragically? Devastatingly? No, still not enough.

His eyes honed in on something else. Was that a…countdown? Yes. It was steadily decreasing from an hour and thirty-five minutes. What was it for? Francis wanted to know. His best guess was the time Ivan believed it would take him to finish his "game." Had he really plotted it out that far? The point where he could actually time the damn thing? Francis would not have put it past him.

"I hate you, you know." Mathieu suddenly said.

Francis heart cracked. "I'm sorry you feel that way, Mathieu. Perhaps one day I can make you understand."

"Oh, I'm sure I understand already. Let me guess, he captured you and made you a deal. I'm going to guess it had something to do with keeping Arthur alive and letting him escape after Ivan crushes the resistance, seeing as Ivan hasn't killed him yet. Am I right?"

Francis looked away.

"I see. So you thought betraying Arthur to save his life was better than dying fighting for your cause? Mon Dieu, you're pathetic."

Francis snapped. "At least I am not my enemy's whore."

Mathieu gaped. "Nique ta mere! I hope you burn in hell!" Matthew leaned close to him, challenging. "You want me to be a whore, papa?" He sneered. "Fine, have it your way." He whispered under his breath.

Francis watched in horror as Matthew stood up and strode over to Ivan. He whispered something into the amused man's ear, and Ivan smiled, patting his leg. Oh no, don't you do it, Mathieu! But he was in no position to stop his boy, his son, from sliding into Ivan's lap. Ivan untied the boy's hands, and they immediately wove themselves around Ivan's neck. Matthew sealed his lips to Ivan's, which eagerly kissed him back. Francis gagged. His son was tongue kissing the world's worst enemy! Damn it! He should've been able to stop this! He shouldn't have…damn it! He felt tears prickling his eyes.

Ivan's hand cupped Mathieu's cheek, stroking it gently as he pulled them apart. "We should save this for later, Matvey." He whispered into Mathieu's ear. "This will be our reward for victory, da?" Ivan's lips were pressed against Mathieu's ears, but his eyes were on Francis. And the message in those malevolent violet irises were perfectly clear.

'I win.'

The blade caught the tip of his glove and almost sheered half his finger off. He leapt back, only to have to doge another blade that came out of nowhere. Then another dropped from the ceiling. There were spikes too. And electrified panels. Fuck you, Russia. Fuck you! When he'd found the vent system, he'd thought at worst, they'd be monitored with cameras. But oh no! Russia had booby-trapped the motherfuckers! Oh, when he got out of this, he was going to beat the shit out of that man. He carefully maneuvered himself over an electrified panel. Thankfully, he'd actually figured out how to test them without getting electrocuted.

He made it over safely. Phew. Then the floor dropped out under him. He grabbed the panel in front of him, barely holding on as his legs dangled in the air. He dared to look down. A mess of electrified barbed wire buzzed dangerously beneath him. If he fell, he would get sliced and fried at the same time. Oh fuck. Russia, I hate you so much. He pulled himself up. That's it. Fuck the vents. I'm going through the door.

He looked around and realized something.

He was lost.

Oh man!

He could hear Ivan laughing at him.

It took him twenty minutes to find an exit. He kicked the vent cover off and slid out into what appeared to be a storage closet. Dropping to the floor, he breathed a sigh of relief. Boy, I'm a real genius, aren't I? Now he was tired as hell and beat up beyond repair. How the hell was he going to kick Russia's ass now? A sound caught his attention. What was that? He looked around, not seeing anything. The hissing sound got louder, and Alfred realized he was starting to feel faint.

Shit. Gas.

He bounded for the door, finding it was locked. He battered himself against it, using his immense strength to break the hinges clear off the door. Tumbling in the hallway, he gulped in clean air, his vision swimming. A figure appeared over him, and he shot out a fist blindly. The enemy caught it.

"Dude, calm down! It's me!"

Who? He squinted. Of, it was his other self. Wait, what was his other self doing here? "Where's Matt?" He rasped.

The masked man didn't say anything.

Alfred sat up, rigid. "What happened?"

His other self inhaled sharply. "I think Ivan…got him."

Alfred felt his world collapse around him.

"Dude, if he wakes up and kills me, I'm going to haunt you." Gilbert grumbled.

"He's not going to kill you, Gil."

"He almost slit my throat a few minutes ago!" Gilbert shifted the weight of the unconscious Romano on his back. "I just know he's going to wake up and kill me. And second now."

Antonio chuckled. "Are you doubting the force of my fist, Gilbert?" He held it up. "I think you should stop complaining before I use it on you."

Gilbert huffed. He couldn't believe this idiot. What the hell made Antonio think it was a good idea to knock out Romano and take him with them? He was still an enemy, Gott damn it! His little breakdown from before was probably just a one time thing. He would probably wake up any moment and slip right back into assassin mode, and then Gilbert would have to deal with the consequences. But he hadn't been able to refuse Antonio. That stupid pouting face of his. Fuck you, Antonio. Just fuck you.

They turned a corner, both peering down it for any sign of West or Italy. Gilbert had heard the sounds of a gunfire a few minutes prior, and he was scared something had happened to his bruder. He'd already lost in his brother once. He picked up his pace, Antonio quickly catching up to him. Romano bobbed up and down on his back, his dead weight slowing Gilbert down, frustrating him. Up ahead, he spotted something staining the floor, and his heart seized up. Blood.

"Antonio…"

"I see it." His voice was grave. "You want to hang back?"

"No."

They both whipped around the corner simultaneously, and they both pulled to an abrupt stop at the same time. The scene in front of them was nearly as morbid as it was endearing. West had his arms wrapped around Feliciano, whose leg was profusely bleeding from a gunshot wound. Feliciano's arms gripped Ludwig's back, carefully to avoid the knife sticking out of his shoulder. Gilbert swallowed. What the hell is this?

"West?" He whispered.

His brother craned his neck to look back at him, wincing as it pulled at the blade in his shoulder. "Bruder."

Feliciano choked out a loud sob, and suddenly, Gilbert lost any remaining shred of desire to kill either Italy. Gott…Gott, this is so messed up. Ivan, you fucker…why can't you see that you've already destroyed the world?

Dro: Actually Francis, you know...in a way, you kinda are Ivan's whore.

Next Chapter: Antonio tries his best to convince the Italy brothers to run away. Meanwhile, Arthur wakes up in Ivan's office, horrified and hurt by Francis' betrayal. Ivan, on the other hand, is still highly amused by all of this, and he watches as Alfred and the mystery person head toward his office.