A/N: Hola! Estoy escribiendo en español para ver si los puedo distraer. Les pido mil disculpas por haber tardado tanto en escribir este capítulo. Espero que me perdonen! :( Y si hablo español en la vida real.

I don't think my distraction worked… Anyway, so super sorry for the late update, people (if any of you are still reading this). I was gone for a trip and then my luggage was lost and I forgot what I was going to write and homework and the power went out and my room was messy and… Okay, no excuses, I just suck. (But that all really happened!) So, a thousand apologies. If you still want to read this, I will love you forever!

Same old, same old, please, please, please review, if you get a chance, and, as always, I greatly appreciate your faves and alerts. :) Reviews keep me going and they let me know I don't totally suck! :D

BTW thanks for reviewing the last chapter, Kristina- I'd reply via PM, but you leave anonymous reviews, so I won't be able to tell you how come Alfred likes the color green. ;D

Anyway, here's the chappie. I hope it came out okay.

Yellow light exuded from a single, dusty bulb on the ceiling, highlighting the scene below. The room was silent. The spilled tea's creeping fingers slowly made their way across the tile floor, settling into the grooves and forming their own pattern. There was no other movement save for the steady and slow rise and fall of the four men's torsos as they breathed in and out. All eyes lay on Arthur, whose own green orbs were widened in shock. However, his initial surprise quickly morphed into anger, his hands uselessly curling into fists above his shoulders.

How dare this… this boy, of all people, try and decide what he, Arthur, did with his life? The audacity!

Anger aside, Arthur began to analyse the situation. His arms were pinned, his legs in an impractical position. There was no way he could simply push the surprisingly strong American off- he'd have to fight dirty. Arthur glanced quickly at the gun, which lay less than 2 metres away. Okay, he could this. Now he just needed an opportu- perfect.

Stupidly, the American had followed his gaze, his eyes narrowing in suspicion, then widening in comprehension as Arthur arched his back- the youth turning his head back quickly, all of this happening as if in slow motion. The American tried to duck his head, but it was too late- Arthur's forehead crashed into his nose. The youth's grip on Arthur's shoulders loosened as his eyes welled with instinctual tears. Hurriedly, Arthur swung his right leg over one of the youth's, grabbed an elbow and spun him off, then rolled away towards the gun, blinking rapidly to make the stars swirling behind his eyelids vanish. He reached for the gun, which was only a foot away, but came short. The American had grabbed his legs in a bear hug.

"Mattie!" yelled the youth frantically, his glasses skewed. "The gun! Don't let him get the-" his yell became a choked gasp as Arthur managed to land a blow on his neck with a bare foot. Arthur scrambled for the gun, his fingers brushing the grip. He had it!

Suddenly, the gun went spinning, kicked away by a black boot. Arthur glared upwards at Matthew who, looking confused, but determined, easily sidestepped out of the way of Arthur's swing.

Ivan calmly picked up the gun and pocketed it. He turned to Arthur, eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Now, now. We must not make rash decisions." He walked over to Arthur, bent down and, smiling, extended a hand toward Arthur, who scowled back. "Come, we talk, da?"

Feigning defeat, Arthur sighed and took the hand, pushed himself into a kneeling position and stood up. Immediately, he pushed himself into Ivan's side, took the gun out of Ivan's pocket, grabbed Ivan's belt and bent down, trying to flip the Russian over his shoulder- after all, larger people are easier to flip then they are to fight off. Instead of being thrown, Ivan blocked the movement with his hip and twisted Arthur's arm behind his back, causing the gun to fall from his hand. Arthur cried out as Ivan pushed his knee into the back of his leg. In a matter of a few seconds, Arthur was on the floor, made immobile by the Russian man.

"Bad idea, Mr. Kirkland. I don't want to hurt you, but if you try something again, I will." Arthur struggled uselessly against the larger man.

Frustrated, he yelled. "God damn it! Not one of you knows me! Why can't you all just leave me the hell alone?" He felt his eyes wet and cursed under his breath. Wonderful. Not only was he pinned to the floor again, but he was sopping wet with tea, his headache had gotten infinitely worse with the headbutt earlier, and now, he was crying. Pathetic.

Matthew looked at Arthur with concern and turned to Alfred. "Um, what exactly happened here?" Alfred struggled to get up, one hand holding his nose. He opened his mouth to speak then cleared his throat. "Well… he tried to kill himself again because someone," Alfred glared at Ivan, "left a gun in his sock drawer."

"Why do you look at me?" Ivan asked.

"Look at the freaking gun, commie! It's a Makarov. A goddamn Makarov!"

Ivan picked it up with one hand, the other still holding onto Arthur, and examined the gun. "So it is. But why do you suspect me?" He glared at the American boy. Alfred groaned in frustration, still holding his nose.

"Because, you dam-"

"Both of you stop!" Matthew cried out. "Is this really the best time to be arguing about something like this? There are more important things to worry about."

"You know, Mattie, you're right." Alfred looked at Arthur, who had apparently ignored the exchange to study the puddle of tea. "Sorry, but I can ask the two of you to leave?" Matthew opened his mouth to protest. "Go, it'll be fine. You have to leave for your next project right? You're already behind schedule- you need to go. We can catch up later." Matthew nodded quietly and left, Ivan hesitantly following behind him. Arthur's arms fell forward as Ivan released them. Arthur scooted to the wall behind him and drew his knees up, hugging them. He refused to make eye contact with Alfred.

"So, uh, that was a good hit. I think you mighta broken my nose. KFM? Betcha picked it up when you were in Spain, right?"

Arthur tensed, but still didn't say anything. How does he know that?

"I 'spose you aren't gonna tell me anything, huh?" Alfred stooped down to Arthur's level. When he gave no response, Alfred sighed and sat down, crossed legged, avoiding the puddle of tea. "Hmm. Hey, wanna know something? I betcha think it's weird that Mattie and me and are brothers, since he's Canadian." Again, he paused to gauge Arthur's reaction. Though Arthur didn't show any sign of paying attention, he inwardly acknowledged that yes, it is strange. And it really should be 'Mattie and I', not 'Mattie and me'. And 'suppose', 'going to', 'want to' and 'bet you'. But of course, he didn't say anything.

"He's actually older than me, by like a year." Arthur blinked. He could have sworn Matthew was the younger of the two. "Yeah, doesn't look like it, huh? Anyway, I was… four, I think, when our parents split. Dad took Mattie back to Canada, and I stayed with mom in the States. I lived in New York for a while and then we moved to Cali when I was 15. I learned a bit of Italian and German in New York, and then some Chinese in Cali. Came in handy."

Alfred paused again, and Arthur glanced up quickly, then turned back again. Alfred smiled, pretending not to have noticed. "Mattie wrote me a few letters when I was in New York, but I guess I forgot to give him an address for Cali. We met up again later, on a mission, actually, in- well, that's still classified, I think. But it was weird, seeing him again, all grown up. And with a Canadian accent. How about you? Got any family?"

"… just a few older brothers…" Arthur felt Alfred staring at him. Bollocks, did I say that aloud? Alfred leaned forward and kept looking at Arthur expectantly. After a few minutes of awkward silence, Alfred sighed and leaned back. He stood up and walked over to the sock drawer Arthur had left open. Rummaging around for a few seconds, Alfred pulled out a pair of socks, thick black ones, and tossed them at Arthur. Arthur caught them with one hand, and stared at them for a second.

"Why?" croaked Arthur.

"You were shiv-" Arthur cut him off.

"No, I mean, why… why did you save me?" The hand holding the socks was shaking now. "Three times…" Alfred came back and sat in front of Arthur again.

"I don't think it's fair for people to throw their lives away when so many other are dying for a chance at a better one." Arthur looked up as Alfred's tone sounded a bit angry. "The whole reason I joined the APIA was to help Eastern Europe get freedom back. You have freedom. You have the opportunity to help other people be free, and you decide to throw it away? People in Soviet Russia and all the communist countries are suffering, but they keep living, hoping. It's not right for you to just jeopardize their chance at a better life. It's damn selfish, if you ask me."

Arthur finally met Alfred's eyes, anger building up. "Selfish? I-I-I'm selfish? Do you know what I've gone through here? This stupid organization has-"

"Yeah, yeah, bad stuff happened, I get it, I know. I'm not exactly happy with APIA either. But guess what? It's our duty to help these people. They can't do it for themselves. You just need to suck it up and focus on the mission. We need to help all these people be free!" Alfred glared at Arthur for a second. Arthur didn't answer, Alfred broke off his stare and silence filled the room again.

"So, uh, now that you're talking again…" Alfred said more quietly, remembering that Arthur had tried to kill himself several times, and probably needed to vent a bit. "Wanna tell me about Francis?"

Arthur looked up, glaring, and dropped his arms, scooting away. "That's none of your business."

Alfred pressed on, scooting forward. "Actually, it-"

"Personal. Matter. Drop it."

"I'm telling you, I actually ne-"

"Alfred. Let. It. Go. I know this makes me a liability for APIA. I'll ask for leave when my de-briefer gets here." Alfred sighed loudly, exasperated.

"That's just it. That's me."

Arthur stared at Alfred. "What?"

"I'm your guy." Arthur stared.

Alfred sighed again. "A bit slow, aren't ya? I was sent here to debrief you."

"Oh. Damn."

A/N: And that's where I'm stopping it, for now. Yay. Please review if you can! I might be inspired to update tomorrow!;)

Okay, no way in hell that's happening, but I'll definitely be more motivated, so I'll write the chapter quicker, which will, in turn, make me update sooner! :D