Dro: Wooh, churned out another one! Well, have at it! We're almost at the climax! Yay! Enjoy~! And don't forget to drop Dro a review, yeah? Oh, by the way, I still haven't figured out my new writing schedule since I've finished Solemnity yet. I may do every other day, but I'm also planning a one shot, so...we'll see. Just stay tuned!

Chapter Summary: Gilbert, Antonio, and Ludwig try to figure out what to do with the Italy brothers. Meanwhile, Matthew falls further into Ivan's web. Finally, Arthur wakes up to his worst nightmare.

Warnings: Language, Sexual Suggestions

Disclaimer: No. Just no. Seriously no. You know what I mean, right? No, I do not own APH. Seriously.

"One."

"Will you just do it already?"

"Shut up, West. This is a delicate procedure."

"You're ripping a knife out of my back!"

"Exactly. So let me be gentle."

Ludwig grumbled.

"Good. Now. One. Two." He tore the blade out with one quick pull.

Ludwig cried out. "Bastard!"

"What? I never said I was going to count to three."

"Fucker." Ludwig groaned breathily. His back was burning. He leaned forward until his face was pressed into the carpet, sucking in haggard deep breaths. He clenched his eyes shut, waiting for the pain to dissipate.

"You okay, West? You still with us?" Gilbert tossed the bloody knife aside and knelt next to his younger brother, inspecting the bleeding wound. "Is it okay for me to patch it up now?"

"Just get it over with." Ludwig murmured through grinding teeth.

Gilbert nodded to Antonio, who handed him disinfectant and bandages. As he unscrewed the cap on the bottle, he eyed the Italy brothers. Feliciano's leg had been patched up by Lovino, who was now awake but still seemed nearly asleep. Both of them did, actually. No, sleep really wasn't the right word. The pair sat against the wall, Lovino's arms wrapped around his knees, Feliciano's legs flat, his hands twiddling thumbs in his lap. Neither would make eye contact. Both stared off into space, as if they were in another time and place. No, not asleep. Dead.

As wary as he still was of them, Gilbert had to concede them a few things. Feliciano had directed them to a bathroom with medical supplies. Neither had pulled an alarm yet. They weren't actively trying to kill anyone. Good signs, usually. But the way they looked, so utterly lost and defeated…a small part of Gilbert still wished they were attacking. At least then, he could live with the delusion that the brothers were fighting for something they believed in. He could turn his head the other way and say they were just traitors. He wouldn't have to look at them like the victims they truly were. But that illusion was wholly broken now.

He soaked a pad in the disinfectant and placed it over his brother's wound, trying to drown out the sound of West's agonized groans, muffled as the younger man forced his face against the carpet. "It's almost over West." After a few more seconds, he pulled the pad away and carefully constructed a bandage from the gauze, taping it over the wound. "There."

Ludwig let out a relieved sigh. "Just give me a minute."

Gilbert nodded and addressed Antonio. "What do we do from here? Wait for Arthur?"

Antonio, arms crossed, shook his head. "No. I'm getting a really strong feeling something has gone wrong. I think we should head up to the third floor."

A silver eyebrow shot up. "And what if everything is fine and we ruin the plan by going up there?"

"Gilbert, take a look for yourself. There's no one on this floor. There hasn't been anyone but us and the brothers since we took out that first round of guards. It's a ruse. Russia is plotting something. We're supposed to be stuck on this floor, searching for something that isn't there while he executes his plan on Arthur and the others. I can feel it. Something isn't right here. They're in danger right now. We all are."

"And what if we go up there and run straight into a trap?"

"What if we stay here while Russia murders Arthur and the others and then comes after us?"

Gilbert considered their options. Antonio was definitely on to something. Why would the Italy brothers be Ivan's only protection? It didn't make sense. No one else was on this floor. Somehow, Russia had to have known that they would strategize this way, splitting up floor by floor. He knew that they would have been staying on this floor. And he'd left no other guards to waste because Gilbert, Antonio, and Ludwig had been ordered to stay on this floor. They were meant to think that they'd done a good job at eliminating the initial threat and were to stay posted to wait for the "inevitable" arrival of more guards in order to stop Arthur and the others from being confronted by them. But if there were no other guards? What if they'd been tricked? Gilbert could feel himself start sweating. Ivan knew. He was sure of it. Somehow—some way—Ivan knew their exact plan.

"Traitor."

"What?" Antonio replied.

"There's a traitor among us. Somewhere. I just know it. Someone high enough up to know our plan ratted us out."

"Whoa, Gilbert, I wouldn't go that far."

"I would." Ludwig muttered, sitting up at last. "It makes sense, doesn't it? The way he had Feliciano and Lovino putting up a good enough fight to prolong our sense of danger on this floor for as long as possible. Had both of them not…cracked…" he winced, eying the brothers' depressive state, "then where would we be? Still fighting? Russia was stalling us. He wanted us to stay here. Had it just been the guards, we would've gotten suspicious of this much earlier. He knew exactly what were planning from the beginning and countered our every move."

Antonio looked pale. "Dios. You're right. We…we need to get up to the next floor. Right now."

"What about them?" Gilbert nodded toward the silent brothers.

"Leave."

Lovino's eyes locked onto Antonio, clarity immediately returning to their green irises. "What did you say?" His voice was low.

"Leave here. Get out. Run away. Leave Russia forever, and go hide somewhere." Antonio's tone was final, but Lovino still challenged him.

"And if Ivan wins, he will hunt us down and slaughter us if we do that."

"He won't win."

"Right, because you're so close to winning right now. Face it, he's outsmarted you. The likelihood of you winning now is pretty much nil. If we run, he will find us. It doesn't matter where we go."

Gilbert marched up to him and backhanded him across the temple. "Shut up! And stop talking like that. Russia is not going to beat us here. You got that, kid? You two are lucky I haven't killed you after the shit you've pulled so far. We're showing you mercy here. Leave and never come back. I don't care where you go. Just get the fuck out of here."

Antonio swallowed thickly. "You didn't have to be so cruel."

Gilbert frowned, watching the shock on Lovino's pace slowly dissipate back into that hard, dead stare. "Just get of here. Please." He whispered.

Amazingly, Lovino rose on shaky legs and nodded. "Fine. We'll go." He offered his hand to Feliciano, who finally dared to raise his head. He took his brother's hand and let the older Italy pull him to his feet. "Let's go, fratello. Perhaps we can enjoy a vacation before Ivan comes to kill us." He spat in Gilbert's direction.

Antonio tried to calm him down. "Look, Lovi. We're just looking out for you, okay? We still care about you. We never stopped. We were angry and upset, but we don't hate you. We just want Russia out of the picture. For obvious reasons. So please, you've been hurt enough already. Just leave and lay low for a while."

"And what if you lose?" Feliciano's voice shocked them, small and soft as it was.

Ludwig had the urge to embrace the man again. "We will not. And that is final."

Feliciano's eyes widened, but he didn't say anything else. Without another word, Lovino turned and walked off, tugging his brother behind him by the hand. When they finally disappeared around the corner, the three of them stood silent for several moments. Antonio was the first to break it.

"What do you think will happen to them?"

"If we lose or if we win?" Gilbert countered.

"Both."

"Well, that's easy." Red eyes met green. "They die or they live." Gilbert picked up his rifle and headed for the hallway that led to the stairs, Ludwig shaking his head as he followed the elder German.

Antonio was left behind, eyes darting back and forth between the direction the Italy brothers had taken and the path that would lead them to direct confrontation with Russia. "But I wonder," he mumbled, "which one leads to which outcome."

His shirt slipped off his shoulders, only to be replaced by a brand new one. It was crisp and starched and pristine white. Large, skilled hands quickly did the buttons, smoothing the shirt immediately afterwards. A coat followed the shirt, black and red with dashes of gold scattered about. The strong hands pull this on too, and repeated the same process as before. Then, the owner of the hands leaned over him, placing two fingers on his chin and pushing it left to meet violet eyes. Lips descended to his own, dangerous and thrilling and skilled. He kissed back with fervor, not hesitating to open his mouth to a hot, probing tongue.

When the owner pulled away, he smiled. "You look amazing in that, Matvey."

Matthew said nothing, only pulled Ivan down into another, possessive kiss. "I could say the same about you."

Ivan chuckled and hooked an arm around Matthew's waist, pulling the smaller man closer. Flushed lips pressed softly against Matthew's ear. "I am glad to have you back with me, Matvey. I was worried I had lost you forever at one point."

"I'm sorry, Ivan." Matthew pressed his face against Ivan's exposed neck. "I…don't know what I thinking. I guess…I guess I though Francis and Alfred and Arthur…I though they…" He bit back a sob.

"You thought they loved you, Matvey?" His fingers ran through Matthew's hair. "I'm sorry you were disappointed by your faith in your family. Despite the fact that I am sad you left me, even now I would not wish pain on you. Especially such intimate pain."

"It's all right, Ivan. I understand my mistakes now." He sighed.

"That is good to hear. Do not worry yourself. Later tonight we will be celebrating a great victor, da?"

"Mhmm, but…"

"But what?"

"What will you do with Arthur? I'm curious as to what exactly you promised Francis."

Ivan shrugged. "I had promised I would let England go unharmed once I defeated the resistance. And I will keep my word. After I destroy the resistance army and crush any chance of further insurrection, of course."

"Francis is a fool then."

Ivan's chest rumbled as he laughed. "Has he not always been?"

"No, he has. I just thought he might've actually gained some sense since this war started. Apparently, he never changes."

"Indeed." Ivan's fingers drew circles on his back. "Shall we go watch your brother's approach?"

He nodded. "I have a few things I'd like to tell him as well. If you don't mind." Matthew's deep frown made Ivan smile.

He glanced discreetly at the clock on the wall and nodded. "No worries. I am sure we will have enough time for that."

"Good." He placed another kiss on Ivan's lips, inciting the taller man to deepen it. They stumbled back against the door, Matthew's back slamming into it with a loud thump. He immediately wrapped his legs around Ivan's waist, pulling their bodies together. He opened his mouth to Ivan's tongue again, groaning at the harshness of the other man's kiss.

Deep. He was in deep. Too deep. This has gone too far. I never meant for this…damn it! What am I supposed to do when Arthur wakes up? If he sees me like this…fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I was mad before…and then this seemed like a workable idea. Gain Ivan's trust. Betray him later. But…Mon Dieu, I've taken this too far. How the hell do I get myself out of this?

A loud thump pierced his calm darkness. He wanted to stay here, blissfully unaware of the world around him. He was peaceful, and it was quiet. And this was the best he'd felt in ages. But it was too late. The thump had set off a chain reaction. His body was waking up now, sensation rapidly returning to him. For some reason, pain always traveled the fastest. His head throbbed with a dull ache. His hearing came next. A low…moan?...was audible in the distance. Harsh breathing. Anger? No, more like rage.

Finally, his eyelids fluttered open, revealing a large office decked out in red and gold. Red. Gold. Russia. Clarity struck him with lethal force, and he gasped, pulling at his bindings. They were too tight. Far too tight. His wrists and ankles were aching from the position they'd been bound in. What the hell had happened? How had he gotten captured? Fuck! He looked frantically around the room, his eyes landing on the figure on the red sofa.

"Francis?" He croaked out through his dry throat.

Francis jumped, his blue eyes landing on Arthur's bound form. "Oh, you're awake."

"What the bloody hell is…?" He trailed off, the memory slowly bleeding back into his brain. Francis had…pistol whipped him. Realization came in the form of churning nausea. "You…you betrayed me?" He whispered fearfully. It can't be. Not you. Anyone but you!

Francis said nothing.

"Oh God. Oh my God. All this time. All this time…how Russia seemed to know our every move. How he…how he found our base. How he so thoroughly caught us here…it was all you, wasn't it?"

Francis gave the slightest nod.

"You treacherous fucker! How dare you betray us like this! You…God, how could you, Francis?"

"It was for you, Angleterre."

"What? How the bloody hell does that even make sense? Think about that Francis."

"I have. And I still think the same way. Ivan was bound to win this eventually, and you know it."

"So what then, you join the other side?"

"If that is what it takes to keep you alive, then yes."

"What? Ivan will kill me!"

"He will not."

"What, did you make some kind of deal with him?"

Francis didn't answer.

"Oh, you little imbecile! Are you really foolish enough to think that Ivan will keep his word?"

Francis refused to speak.

"Idiot! You complete idiot!" Arthur's voice cracked. He was trying desperately to hold back his tears. Francis! How could Francis have…! He'd known Francis forever. The man was supposed to be…how could he have ever dared to betray them? He hung his head, his eyes burning, when another thump startled him. "What was that?"

Francis snorted, his lips pulled down in a dark, venomous frown. "Probably Ivan fucking Matthew into the wall."

"What?" Arthur's eyed bugged, his mouth hanging open. "And you're sitting here letting your son get raped?" Oh God! Matthew was…

"I never said he was being raped, Arthur."

"What? What the hell are you saying then? Matthew would never…"

Francis' eyes were low and angry now, looking down on him with contempt. But the contempt was not for him. "That is what I thought as well, but apparently our little Matthew has quite the history with Ivan."

Arthur could feel his heart being slowly ripped from his chest. First Francis…and now…Matthew? Matthew was a traitor? His loving, adorable boy was a traitor? That couldn't be true! It just couldn't be! He lost himself in despair, tears staining his cheeks as they burned tracks down his skin. How could his world be falling apart like this? Hours ago, he'd thought he had victory waiting for him here, and now…now he was finding out that…who was next? Who else had betrayed him? Alfred? He bit back a sob.

Then the door nearest to him open, revealing another room behind it. Ivan emerged, lips red, a satisfied smirk on his face as his eyes met Arthur's. "Ah, I see you are awake, my friend. Good, you will not miss my grand finale then!"

Arthur wanted to rip his head off, but his words died on his lips when he watched the second man emerge from the room. Matthew's hair was mussed, his cheeks and lips blushed with red. Arthur's eyes were drawn to the prominent and quickly forming mark on Matthew's neck. He felt sick. He hung his head low, gulping in air to calm his stomach.

"Arthur…" He heard Matthew mumbled.

He snapped his head back up, sending as much hatred and fury as he possibly could through his eyes. Matthew recoiled, looking hurt. Then he turned around and followed Ivan to his desk, hanging his arms around Ivan's neck from behind as the man sat in his chair, watching a computer screen.

"Ah, you see Matvey? I told you you're remaining companions would meet up, da? I would really like to know who my mystery person is, but," he cut Matthew off, "I feel like it will be more fun if I don't know." He eyed the other screens, locating the German brothers and Spain. "Ah, I need to move some pieces." He adjusted several pieces on is chess board. "There. We are getting so close to the grand finale now!" He laughed, his eyes quickly flicking from Francis to Arthur to the count down, now at fifty-five minutes. "This is going to be so exciting, da?"

Dro: I just love how Ivan is acting in this.

Next Chapter: Both Alfreds meet up and decide to storm Russia's office, having no other alternative. Meanwhile, Russia escorts all his "guests" to the roof, leaving Arthur suspicious of his motives, and Matthew desperately tries to somehow silently communicate to Arthur that he hasn't betrayed them.