A/N: Chapter 2! :D Ivan's in this one, as well as Matthew. I hope I got their characters right… Please review!

The sky was dark with clouds, the sun's creeping rays making their edges glow a soft blue. It was almost dawn. Arthur shuffled along the nearly deserted road, alone but for the occasional swooping crow. No one wanted to be out in the rain, especially not with this downpour. He kept his hands in his trouser pockets in a feeble attempt to keep warm. He had left his jacket in the hotel with Francis. The cleanup team will get it…and probably burn it with the rest of my belongings… mused Arthur. He smiled a small, feeble grin. Francis had picked it out for him, worried that he might "etre grippe".

A breathless chuckle escaped his lips, evolving into a mirthless guffaw, Arthur doubling over with laughter. Worried that he might get a cold? In East Berlin, where it was a miracle to simply survive? Oh Francis… you were always so… so naive…thoughtful, but naïve.

Arthur fell to his knees, arms still crossed over his stomach, the laughter morphing into choked sobs. Why didn't you run away? You must have known I would get the order! Damn it, Francis!

He knelt there, weeping for who knows how long, when a tall, tan-scarfed man walked towards him and paused. "How does your garden grow?" he asked, his voice soft, like a child's. He extended his black umbrella over the Englishman's head. Arthur looked up blankly at him, then remembered what he was supposed to say. "With… with silver bells and cockle shells and little maids all in a row." His voice came out slightly strained.

The man smiled. "I am from Yellow House, see?" He gestured to his scarf, which had the emblem for the house sewn on. "Time to go inside, da? Before people start walking around and wondering why such -" he leaned down to pat Arthur on the head, beaming, "why such nice young man is crying in rain."

He held out his gloved hand to Arthur, who took it tentatively. He must be a Soviet defector on our side, he thought, noticing the up, using the man's arm as support, and suddenly embarrassed (You let another operative see you cry! Idiot!), Arthur turned his head and coughed, letting go of the hand. "I- I wasn't crying. I slipped in the rain and… " he coughed nervously again, his face slightly red. "I- I hurt my ankle."

"Da, da," said the man, smiling cheerfully. "Well, let me help you to house then." Without another word, he bent down and scooped Arthur into his arms, carrying him bridal style, somehow managing to keep the umbrella over the two of them.

"Gah! What the hell, you bloody-" Arthur struggled against the surprisingly strong man, who kept walking.

"Shh, we don't want to wake neighbors, da?" said the Russian quietly, walking quickly. Arthur stopped struggling for a bit, remembering that, no matter what, he was an English spy, and he couldn't afford to be compromised.

"Well… let me down at least!" he whispered angrily.

"But you are hurt," said the man, his violet eyes twinkling. "And we have almost arrived! You weren't very far away." Surprised, Arthur peered out from underneath the umbrella, looking around. Squinting to see past the rain, which had gotten worse as they travelled, Arthur spotted it, a brick townhouse disguised under the nondescript name of "Gelbes Gasthaus"- Yellow Inn.

"Oh. I didn't expect it to be quite so…"

"Literal? Bukvalʹnyĭ, we say in Russian." The man kept walking, stopping at the door. He let Arthur down, always keeping the umbrella over the blonde man. He's getting all wet because of me. "Pay attention to this; is only way our people recognize us, da?" He knocked twice, once loudly, once softly, then waited. A voice came from inside.

"I'm sorry, we have no vacancies." The voice was soft, but sounded stern.

"But I brought pirozhki and..." the man looked at Arthur appraisingly, "… pudding." Arthur stared at the Russian man. Pudding? Why not scones or-

"… very well."

Locks clicked and the door opened a crack, a chain still hooked. A single eye peered through. "You brought Kirkland then, Ivan?" The Russian, Ivan apparently, simply nodded, and with one hand, plunked Arthur in front of the door. The blue eye looked intently, then the door closed. A chain rattled, and the door opened again. The man stayed hidden, and ushered the pair in with one hand. "Quickly, quickly. Don't want… rain getting in, if you know what I mean."

The Russian pushed Arthur in in front of him, then quickly closed his umbrella and walked in himself. He locked the door behind him, a complicated procedure involving several catches and bolts.

Arthur looked around the house, his eyes settling on the back of an ashy blonde-haired man dressed in a hooded jacket. A single curly hair stuck up from the otherwise sleek hairstyle. Arthur's training made him notice everything about the man, from the way he walked to the way he carried himself, everything. The man, feeling apprehensive due to the staring, turned around, smiling as he did. "I should introduce myself. I'm Matthew- my code is maple. I'm the caretaker of this facility." Combined with the man's face and voice, Arthur came to the conclusion that this man, Canadian perhaps, was a gentle fellow, intelligent, and a pacifist. Interesting combination for a spy.

"I'm Arthur. Pudding is my code name, apparently." He glared at Ivan, who shrugged.

"Was first thing come to mind." He smiled again. "Sorry." Arthur kept glaring, but a smile started tugging at his lips. The Russian's cheerfulness was infectious.

"Whatever." He turned to Matthew. "You wouldn't happen to have any tea would you? I'm absolutely freezing."

"Of course. I heard you were an Englishman, so I assumed you'd like tea. We had a French man here before," said Matthew thoughtfully, searching through the cabinets in the small kitchen. "Absolutely refused to drink the stuff. Anyway, Earl Grey?"

"…Sure." Matthew turned back to look at Arthur. He had gone awfully quiet, and was looking at his feet for some reason.

"Are you o-"

"I show you to room, da?" interrupted Ivan. We don't want you to get sick because of wet clothes." Without waiting for a response, he grabbed the sullen Englishman by the arm and dragged him upstairs. "Have tea ready, Pozhaluĭsta!" he told Matthew.

"O-okay."

"Here is clothes, shoes, towels," said the Ivan, pointing at the closet and different drawers. He pulled out a locked box from one of the drawers. "This is from APIA. You have key, da?"

"Yeah." Arthur stood shivering, his drenched clothes chilling him to the bone.

"I leave you alone now. Bathroom is over there," said Ivan pointing out the door. "Two doors to left." He turned to leave, walking to the door. "Oh, also. I don't know exactly what happened in your past, but…" He turned back again with a sad smile. "I am sorry for your loss." He left the room. Arthur stared at the closed door, bemused.

A/N: Aw, Ivan's such a sweetie. :DAnd Arthur is just as tsundere as ever, even when he's depressed. XD

I got the names for their "codes" from their version of the Marukaite Chikyuu. (Anyone who caught it is just as obsessed as me. XD) Canada doesn't have his own song yet, so I went with maple. It would've been pancakes, but then they'd all have P's.

I wanted some humor in this chapter as well, since it can't ALL be depressing. Though it seemed a bit light hearted to me considering that they are spies and in danger all the time.

I am trying really hard to write this with an English accent in my mind so that it looks to be from Arthur's POV. If any British readers want to help this silly American out, please do! :) I hope it sounds okay so far.

The nursery rhyme Arthur recited was "Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary", a traditional English rhyme.

So APIA is the spy group that they all work for. It stands for Allied Powers Intelligence Agency, which explains why there are different nationalities working for it. However, each country has its own divisions and subdivisions. That's why Arthur has his own handler, who sends him to places and stuff. The APIA has a central board that has the last say on things, though, so the handlers can be overwritten.

Good so far? I hope so! Please review! :Ds