All I can say for this chapter is that Arthur is one brave bastard...
Arthur, feeling refreshed after catching a few hours of sleep, mentally prepared himself for yet another day of scanning the airwaves.
Today I'll find him! I swear! His mind repeated, as if it was a scratched record left on a turntable.
From the far end of the corridor, he could see Frances and Ivan chatting to each other closely.
"It's best if you don't tell Arthur about our little tête-à-tête with the Madame – it will only get his hopes up." The Frenchman whispered conspiratorially to the large Russian.
"Da." Was his only reply as they bid farewell and went their separate ways.
Arthur was instantly suspicious of their little banter, but did not let it show as he approached Frances and tapped his shoulder.
"Any luck?"
"Not a thing, Je suis desole ."
"Are you sure?" he stared Frances down with those sad green eyes of his and crossed his arms.
"O-oui, of course!" Frances said – barely keeping his cool in that burning, accusatory gaze.
Arthur softened and furrowed his brow; his gaze immediately averted to the floor.
"If something's happened, no matter how bad, please tell me. Don't torture me with this."
"There was a Hungarian woman on Alfreds' frequency and she was trying to lure us into Hiroshima –Arthur, no! It's clearly a trap! Where are you going?"
He said frantically, chasing the headstrong Arthur into the office, where he resumed his place at the radio.
"At least we have an idea where he is – let's try and find this Hungarian and ask her!"
"Non! You don't understand – she's the wife of Austria! She said her name was Elizabeta Herdervary!"
"It doesn't matter – she could be Ludwig Beilshmidt in a dress for all I care! We have a lead, finally!" Arthur replied excitedly; a manic gleam flashing in those green eyes and his mouth curling up at the sides.
Frances could do nothing but take the receiver off of his comrade once again – he was ready for the resulting verbal abuse and the ensuing tussle.
"What the hell are you doing? Give me back that bloody receiver!"
"You are not listening to me! This is a snare – they're trying to lure us to Japan wherein they'll capture and torture us!" Frances dropped his haughtiness to appeal to Arthurs' rational side "Arthur, I know you want to find him, but don't be blinded by optimism – it will cost you dearly!"
"What's in that waste basket?" He said, blatantly ignoring Frances' pleading.
"Just a scrap of paper, nothing more" Non!
"Then you wont mind if I take a look, will you?" he reached inside and unfurled the wad – marvelling snidely at its' contents and pocketing them.
"Arthur wait! You don't know what you're doing! STOP HIM IVAN!"
The huge Russian barred Arthurs' path and held his at arms' length.
"I can't let you do this, Arthur, I'm sorry."
"Move."
"Nyet."
"I'm giving you one chance – move or I'll use force."
"Arthur stop it! Look at yourself!"
"Ivan, get out of my fucking way now, I'm warning you."
"Nyet."
Arthur threw a punch and connected with Ivans' jaw – the sheer shock and audacity knocking the huge man backwards onto the floor. Frances gasped and grabbed Arthur, but he was elbowed hard in the ribs and pushed onto the table.
"You must understand."
The men scrambled to tackle Arthur and hold him down, but he was already running down to the airfield to find the nearest plane possible.
"Come back! Don't be such an idiot, you stupid fucking Brit!"