Dro: According to FF's announcements, everything should be back up and working. So, if you can, please drop a review! I'm really sorry about all the hassle there's been with reading and reviewing stories over the past few days.

Chapter Summary: Alfred decides to visit Matt. A little too late.

Warnings: Violence

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, the star refused to grant my wish, so I still don't own APH.

Alfred whistled happily as he strutted down the street. He hadn't seen Matt lately, so he'd thought he'd drop by for a quick visit. This week's meeting was in Canada after all, so Matt couldn't possibly get angry at him for showing up unannounced this time, right? He inwardly cringed, remembering the time he'd ended up in a fight with Ivan in Matthew's hallway. He certainly didn't want a repeat of that. Not that he minded beating up Ivan. But he really didn't want Mattie furious with him. He hated seeing his brother angry. Or sad, for that matter. Every time Matthew looked sad, Alfred got a nasty flashback of the other Matt, and then he would start feeling guilty all over again. He had such a confusing mess of emotions when it came to Matt now.

He shook his head. He would make this a quick and harmless visit. He just wanted to know how his brother was doing, that was all. Humming happily, he turned the corner onto Matthew's block and headed toward his house. Second on the left. He'd forgotten where Matthew had lived before he'd moved to this quaint little suburb. As he approached, he noticed something out of the ordinary. He came to a halt, honing in on his brother's front door. It was open. But there was no one standing on the porch, and no one was in the yard.

A sudden, inexplicable chill ran down Alfred's spine, and he found himself unnaturally panicked. He picked up his pace, marching down Matthew's driveway and up the front steps. He stopped cold in front of the door, afraid to push it all the way open. What would he find on the other side? It was possible it had been a common burglar, sure. That must have been it. Matt had been robbed, and he was at the police station filing a report. Right. He held up a shaking hand and tapped the door. It opened all the way, revealing an almost spotless house. Almost.

Right in front of the door was an overturned side table, a shattered vase littering the floor around it. The house was completely silent. Alfred's pulse started to race. He entered the house, quickly scanning it for any signs of Matt. He was afraid to turn each corner, terrified he'd find…No. Matt was fine. He had to be. He slipped into the kitchen and froze.

Blood.

Blood everywhere.

"Oh God."

He prayed to every God he'd ever heard of that it wasn't Matt's. But if Matt was fine, then where was he? He whipped around, about to break into a frantic run up the stairs. Then he saw it. Pinned to the wall was a envelope.

An envelope with his name on it.

He stared at it for what must have been several minutes, his mind completely at a loss for what the hell was happening here. Eventually, without any conscious recollection of it, his hands unpinned the envelope and tore it open, revealing a neatly folded letter. He slipped it out and unfolded it, his eyes staring at the neat script, uncomprehending, for several minutes. Then he started reading.

America,

I regret to inform you that I have found it necessary to use your brother and his lover as leverage. It has come to my attention that I require your presence in order to a perform a specific ritual. However, knowing your temperament, I quickly realized you would not come of your own accord, so I was forced to resort to other means to get your compliance.

I assure you, however, that your brother and Ivan will not be harmed as long as you do exactly as I say. By this upcoming Saturday, I expect you in my world's Paris, at the Eiffel Tower, by 4:00 PM. I will have someone there waiting for you every day until that time. Failure to comply will, regretfully, result in unfortunate consequences for your brother and his lover. Therefore, I would highly suggest your immediate compliance.

I apologize for the inconvenience and unsavory methods. But I have the need to reach my goals quickly and efficiently, and this happened to be the best way to go about it. Regardless, I hope to see you in Paris by Saturday.

Sincerely,

Wang Yao

'My world.'

The letter fluttered to the ground.

'My world.'

No. No. No. This couldn't be happening. His entire body had started shaking. It was supposed to over. He was never supposed have to return that place again. Never. And Mattie…no, this couldn't happen. It just couldn't. But there was his proof staring him right in the face. Matt had been kidnapped, along with Ivan, and taken to the other world by China. The communist China that had been a loyal part of the Soviet Union.

"Oh God…"

He snatched the paper off the ground. Then he was gone. He dashed as fast as he could, his legs carrying him at a breakneck speed back to the bus stop. The entire twenty minute ride back to the city was nerve-wracking. He couldn't keep still, his heart pounding against his rib cage, his fingers jittery and twitching. He knew people were staring at him, but he didn't care. All he cared about was getting Matt back. Matt, who was quite possibly gravely injured. He barely stopped himself from retching when the image of the blood on Matt's kitchen floor assaulted him again.

He pushed roughly past people, ignoring their angry shouts, as he got off the bus. Then he took off again, running at full speed the several blocks to the hotel where nations were steadily arriving in preparation for the conference in a few days time. He tore open the hotel door and ran straight to the stairs, ignoring the open door of the elevator. He had no time for that. He vaguely recognized the man at the front desk yelling at him to stop and calling for security, but he didn't bother listening. He was up four flights of steps before he realized it, though his body was protesting every step, his lungs burning madly.

He wrenched the stairwell door open and rushed down the hallway toward the room that been set up for pre-conference mingling. He burst through the doors, startling everyone one in the room. Several nations screamed, apparently thinking it was a terrorist attack. Arthur, who was standing next to Francis at the refreshment table, dropped his tea.

"Alfred?" He ran over, panicking. "What's wrong?"

Alfred panted for air, feeling numb as he looked into Arthur's worried green eyes. The only thing he could do was hold up the crumpled letter. Arthur took it from him and quickly scanned it, his expression shifting from worried to confused to horrified over the course of seconds. "Oh my God…" He whispered. His mouth hung open, his lips quivering in shock. Finally, he looked up from the paper to meet Alfred's gaze again. "Alfred…"

Alfred swallowed. "Send me back."

Arthur immediately started to pale. "What? I can't—"

"Send me back, Arthur!" He screamed, slamming his fist against the doorway. The wood splintered. Arthur stiffened, gulping. "Now…" His voice softened. "Please, I have to go. I have to save him. It's Matt."

"I…I know, but…it's a trap, Alfred!"

"Don't you think I know that?" Alfred cried out. "That doesn't change anything, Arthur. They have Matt!"

"Who has Mathieu?" Francis looked apprehensive and suspicious. He'd walked closer to them but was still keeping his distance.

Alfred finally acknowledged that there were other people in the room. He looked them all over. Most looked terrified and confused. "I…" He didn't know what to say. The other nations knew that he and Ludwig had traveled to a parallel world, and they knew (mostly) what had happened there.

Arthur recovered first. "Matthew and Ivan have been kidnapped by someone from the other world." His voice was calm, but his eyes looked haunted.

The room went completely silent as the nations processed this. Ludwig rose to feet from where he'd been sitting with Feliciano and Alfred met his gaze. "Alfred…who was it?"

He swallowed. "China."

"What?" The entire room focused on the man who had just entered. A very confused looking Yao. He bristled at all attention. "Why are you all looking at me? What did I do?"

Arthur frowned. "You did nothing. Your parallel self kidnapped Canada and Russia."

Yao froze. "W-what did you say?" He seemed to be at a loss. "I thought we were done with that world! You said you had defeated the Soviet Union there." He honed in on Alfred.

Alfred nodded dumbly. "Yeah. We did. But…but the other China wasn't actively punished. He was sanctioned heavily, but he gave the rest of the world so much aid that they let him off easy." He swallowed. "I'm getting the distinct feeling that was a mistake."

"Alfred…" Arthur murmured.

"What?" He snapped, his voice hitching. He gasped, realizing he was crying. He wiped his tears away, but more kept coming.

"Oh, Alfred…" Arthur embraced him tightly. "It's going to be all right. We're going to get Matthew back."

"Damn straight we will." He replied. "Because you're sending me there. Now."

"Alfred, let's think about this for a moment." Ludwig, ever the voice of reason, said. "We can't just go barging back to the other world. Why is it exactly that Yao kidnapped them in the first place?"

Alfred's voice died, and his throat closed on him. Arthur saw his pain and started rubbing his back, turning toward the crowd to explain, but Alfred hushed him, trying to regain his ability to talk. "They want me." He mumbled. The pressure in the room seemed to get heavier and heavier. "The other Yao wants me for something. So he kidnapped Matt to get to me. I doubt he wanted Ivan, but since he was there…" He left it off there, unable to say anymore.

"Alfred," a pair of comforting hands—Francis'—landed on his shoulders, "this is not your fault, mon cher. Please don't blame yourself."

"How is it not my fault, Francis? Matt was kidnapped because of me."

"No!" Arthur exclaimed. "He was kidnapped because of China!" Yao paled, and Arthur quickly retracted that. "Not you! The other China!" Yao nodded, but he still looked like he was going to be ill.

Francis guided Alfred over to a chair and sat him down. Alfred put his face in his hands, hunched over. Francis rubbed his back gently. "It's going to be okay, Alfred." As comforting as he was trying to sound, Alfred could hear the fear in Francis' voice. He was terrified that Matthew had been hurt. Alfred couldn't bring himself to say anything about the blood.

The nations had started talking amongst themselves now, all of them wondering what they were going to do. Then again, they didn't really have much of a choice in the matter. If Alfred didn't show up in the other Paris by Saturday, Matt and Ivan were going to die. Arthur came and sat down next to him. "Are you all right, love?"

Alfred sucked in a deep breath. "No." At least he didn't lie. "I'm not, Arthur. You've read the letter yourself. You're going to have send me back."

Arthur looked pained. "I know, but…Alfred, I don't know what kind of ritual Yao wants you for, but I can't imagine it's a harmless one. It…"

"It'll probably kill me. Yeah, I got that from the tone of the letter. Yao wants me as some kind of sacrifice for something, right?"

"That's…likely."

"But what? What could he need me for?"

Arthur shook his head. "I…I don't know. There's a thousand and one things he could use you for, and all of them are bad."

"Great." He sighed. "Look, I don't want to go back there, Arthur, but we don't have a choice. I need to be there in three days. At the Eiffel Tower. Or…or Matt's dead. So, let's just get this over with."

Arthur's eyes suddenly hardened. "I'm not sending you there without a plan."

"What kind of plan could we possibly come up with to get out of this?"

Arthur shook his head. "I don't know, Alfred!" He said, exasperated. "But I'm certainly not sending you to die."

"We may not have a choice in the matter, Arthur."

Arthur smacked him.

He reeled sideways, hand coming up to cup his cheek. "A-Arthur!" Arthur was looking at him with furious eyes. "What…what was that for?"

"You being a git! Don't say things like that. What happened to your hero mentality?" The room had quieted again, and all eyes were on them.

Alfred's mouth felt dry. "I…" He ran a hand through his hair. "I don't know, Arthur…I certainly don't feel like much of a hero right now, letting my brother get kidnapped and all."

Arthur made a frustrated choking sound. "How many times do we have to say it before you understand that this is not your fault?"

"You can say it all you want, but it won't stop me from feeling guilty."

Arthur stopped himself mid-reply, floundering for a response. His eyes softened. "Alfred…it's going to be okay, love."

"You say that now, sure, but what happens if I fail to get Matt back? What happens if…? I was never supposed to go back there, Arthur. This was supposed to be over! How did China even get here? Wasn't the connection between our worlds broken when Ludwig and I came back? Isn't it supposed to be like…impossible to find the same world again with that spell? So how did Yao even get here in the first place?" He sighed again but tensed when he saw the look on Arthur's face. "What?"

Arthur was deathly pale, guilt now settled firmly in his eyes. "The connection…it isn't closed."

"What?" All eyes were on them now. "How is it not closed, Arthur?" Arthur didn't say anything immediately, and he appeared to be reliving something from his past. His eyes were unfocused, and he was clenching his pants' leg so hard his knuckles were white. "Arthur! What's going on? What do you know that I don't?" Arthur only shook his head.

"It's…It's just that…the connection was never closed. It was left open." He refused to meet Alfred's gaze.

"What? How?" Arthur didn't answer. "Arthur! How did the connection stay open?"

"Perhaps I can answer that."

The entire room was stunned into silence by the new arrival. Not a single person had seem him enter, but there he was, in all his glory, standing against the wall. He was dressed completely in black, sleek, slimming, and dark. He leaned on the wall with his arms crossed, an air of perfect calm surrounding him.

Feliciano.

The other Feliciano.

Dro: The plot, it thickens! Again.

Next Chapter: The nations discuss just how they're going to remedy the situation. Feliciano has other ideas.