Dro: I warned you guys last chapter about the violence in this chapter. Heed the warning. As well as the warning for next chapter. These are probably two of the most graphic chapters in the entire story. Anyway, please read and review!

Chapter Summary: Alfred and Ivan argue to the end. Yao is interrupted mid-spell. Arthur is forced to make a decision that changes everything.

Warnings: Violence, language

Disclaimer: -insert generic disclaimer here-

One strap. Then another. To secure him to the table. Not out of fear that he would run, but because this was going to hurt, and they expected him to writhe. He laid back on the cold table, shivering as his bare torso came into contact with it. He stared blankly at the ceiling, at a loss of what to do or think. Should he just have tried to think of something? Gotten lost in a happy memory? He wanted to. He didn't want to focus on the pain, didn't want to contemplate just what fate it was that he was sentencing this world to. He couldn't. Because even in death, he knew wouldn't be able to forgive himself for it.

He had hoped they would drug him or just kill him to get it over with. But he had no such luck, and he cringed a few moments later when an obviously drugged Ivan was hauled into the room and laid out on the table next to him. His violet eyes fluttered open slowly, and he seemed to regain some of his coherency when he saw Alfred laying next to him.

"America…"

Alfred broke immediately. "I'm sorry."

Ivan was silent for several seconds. "Do not be. By doing this, you…you are saving Matvey, da?"

"Matt…Mattie shouldn't be worth more than this world." He clenched his fists. "But I can't…I can't sacrifice him." His voice rose an octave, and he struggled to fight back tears. He was a hero. He was supposed to be able to save people.

Ivan's voice was low and calm. "I would have made the same choice."

"…I know." He knew. He knew very well that Ivan loved his brother. "But that doesn't make it any less selfish. This world is going to suffer."

"Do you know what he is planning to do with me?"

Alfred's heart ached. "Yes." He answered simply, refusing to look Ivan in the eye.

"I am going to die, da?"

No. No. Much worse. Much, much worse. "You…He wants to…" He couldn't even get the words out. "He wants to use your body…"

"I have gathered that much. I just do not know what for."

Alfred swallowed, his throat dry and scratchy. "For…for the other one."

"The…other one?"

"Yao…Yao plans to resurrect the other Russia."

He heard Ivan's sharp intake of breath, but he refused to look at the man anymore. He couldn't bear it. He couldn't bear any of this. This was wrong, so, so wrong. How could he possibly justify sentencing this world to devastation in exchange for Matt's life? He shouldn't have been doing this. He shouldn't. But…but it was Matt.

He didn't realize he was crying until a choked sob echoed across the nearly empty room. His only companion was Ivan. Ivan, who's response was not he was imagined it would be.

"So be it. For Matvey." He seemed to resign himself to his impending fate. But Alfred couldn't. He was so tempted to just break his bonds, grab Ivan, and try to make a run for it. But he knew he'd never get to Mattie in time. Yao's men would have killed him before Alfred could stop them.

"Do you even know what I mean, Ivan?" He said bitterly.

"…I believe so. The other me, he has no body, da? So in order to bring him back, they need another."

Ah, so he did understand. That made Alfred feel even worse. "I'm sorry…God, I'm sorry."

Ivan snorted. "Do not apologize to me, America, for something beyond your control. I do not blame you for giving in to Yao's demands, not when Matvey is the cost of saying no."

"But it's Matt or the world…"

"And you think being unable to knowingly sentence your brother to die is a weakness? If you had not made this decision, I would have worried about your integrity more. If Matvey dies, he dies. But if this other me is resurrected, he can always be killed again." Ivan stared up at the ceiling, thoughtful.

"But…how are they going to be able to kill him? We almost failed to beat him the first time. We were lucky. What if they're not this time around? What if they fail and he destroys the world they've worked so hard to put back together? What if—?"

"What if? What if? What if? Stop saying that, Alfred. All that we know is happening here and now. All we know is that by doing this, we will save Matvey. That is what matters now. The future is always uncertain, so there is point about contemplating it, especially in this situation. You are pointlessly torturing yourself."

"When did you get so preachy? God, I swear…"

"I have always been this way. Your ears were just too stuffed full of arrogant bull shit to hear what I was saying." He retorted.

Alfred didn't really know how to reply that. And he didn't have to. Because it was at that moment that Yao walked through the door, armed with a knife. Alfred saw a horde of guards loitering outside the door, obviously ready to combat any interruption to the ritual. Alfred tensed. This was it. He was going to die now. After so many years of life, so many wars, so much gain, so much loss…this was his end. As a sacrifice to bring a monster back to life. He wondered if he would hate himself forever in the afterlife, perpetually trapped in self-blame.

Yao stopped as he neared them. His eyes moved back and forth, lingering on Ivan for a second longer before snapping back to America. "I hope you two have had a good chat. It's time to get this over with." He pushed up his sleeves as he whispered several words. A dim green light filled the room, and Alfred realized there must have been a magic circle drawn on the floor around him and Ivan. Yao entered it and stopped next to Ivan.

"You first."

Alfred wasn't sure what Yao was getting until he raised the knife. Alfred panicked. "Wait, you said you weren't going to hurt him!"

Yao paused and snorted, craning his neck to glare at Alfred. "You misinterpreted my words. That was not my fault. I meant that Ivan would not be in any pain after the resurrection process. And he will not be. Because he will be dead."

"You—"

"Let it go, Alfred." Ivan muttered, eying the knife. "I do believe I would much rather be dead than trapped somewhere inside my own body while another version of myself commits atrocities."

Yao sighed. "See, Alfred? He gets it." Without giving either man any time to react, he plunged the knife into Ivan's chest. Ivan's eyes went wide, and he let out a choked gasp.

"Ivan!" Alfred pulled against his bonds, feeling them begin to give under his strength. It was only when Ivan's eyes slid over to him, the life quickly draining from them, that Alfred stopped. Ivan's lips moved, no sound coming out, but Alfred understood the message nonetheless.

No regrets.

Ivan stopped moving. Alfred felt a piece of himself break. Nations weren't supposed to die like this. They just weren't. He forced himself to look away from the lifeless Ivan, but his eyes landed on the bloodied knife. Yao's eyes were closed, and he was rapidly muttering what must have been more of the spell. The light brightened, and Alfred winced. Then Yao was facing him, staring down at him in disdain.

"If it wasn't for you, none of this would have been necessary. Remember that. This was never your world to interfere in. What am I doing merely restores the balance you destroyed four years ago." He grabbed one of Alfred's bound hands and turned it so his wrist was facing the blade of the knife. Yao made a deep horizontal cut, the blade slicing through Alfred's skin and leaving a stream of blood in its wake. Alfred winced. It wasn't enough to kill him, not by a long shot, but that wasn't the point and he knew it. Yao matched the cut on his opposite wrist and let Alfred's blood run from both sides of the table. As soon as the blood splattered to the floor, the circle lit up even brighter, and Alfred cringed.

His heart was pounding in his chest. His wrists were on fire, the cuts like a scorching flame. He opened his eyes just as Yao positioned the knife above his heart. The end. This was the end. Mattie…God, please forgive me. Both of you. The knife began to move. Arthur… wherever you are, just please stay safe. I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything.

I love you.

The knife never made contact.

Yao flew across the room and slammed into the wall, the knife clattering uselessly to the floor. Alfred stared for several seconds, wondering what in God's name had just happened. Then he saw him. Standing in the doorway, the horde of guards laying unconscious and bloody at his feet, was Arthur. Alfred knew immediately it wasn't his Arthur. The haggard and haunted look in the man's eyes told him everything he needed to know. This was the other Arthur, the one that Yao had apparently kidnapped a while ago, no doubt to use Arthur's magic skills to his advantage.

He looked deranged.

His eyes were ringed in dark purple. He cradled one of his arms against his chest. His clothing was torn and bloody. He was riddle with cuts and bruises. Torture. Yao had tortured him. He slowly walked over to Alfred, limping all the way. He glared down at the startled nation, eyes furious.

"Break the fucking cuffs and get up. Or so help me I will make you wish you were never born."

Alfred didn't dare disobey him. He pulled against his bindings until they snapped and rose from the table, his wrists still aching. Arthur grabbed him by the shoulder and hauled him out of the room, past a Yao that was just coming to, having been knocked out by the force of the impact. Arthur held him in an iron grip, pulling him along down the dimly lit hallways.

"Arthur, where are we going?"

"Out of this fucking hell hole."

"But…wait! Mattie is here somewhere!"

Arthur paused. "Your Matthew? He's probably dead by now seeing as you gave in to Yao's demands."

"No, he's not! I just saw him a few minutes ago!" He remembered the exact way to Matt's room. "We have to get him."

Arthur seemed to consider it, but as another massive group of guards poured around the corner, he growled and started pulling Alfred along. "No time."

Alfred pulled back, grinding to a halt. "I'm not leaving him to die here!"

Arthur backhanded him. "And I'm not letting you destroy my world for one person's life." He flicked his finger, a massive flame erupting behind them. Alfred heard the guards scream, but several of them made it through. The next thing he knew, he was running again. When had Arthur gotten this adept at magic? The last time he'd seen this Arthur, he hadn't really used much magic at all, but now it was like…He couldn't even describe it.

Alfred tried to stop him again, tried to get him to see reason. This was Matt. But Arthur wouldn't have it. Alfred was internally panicking. He couldn't leave Matt here. He would die. But Arthur refused to listen. Alfred tried to force them to halt, but a pain shot up his back. Arthur stared at him icily, green eyes bright and overly lucid. For a moment, Alfred was convinced that Arthur had used magic on him.

Then he realized he'd been shot.

"Ah…"

Arthur grabbed him as he fell and heaved him back up, rapidly whispering unintelligible words as he pulled the injured Alfred along. "You fool. Yao has already activated the circle. All you have to do is die for the spell to complete. And I'll be damned if I let that happen."

"Can't…leave…Matt."

"We have to."

"He's my brother!"

"I know!" Arthur yelled at him. Alfred was about to scream at this bastard, this fucking bastard pretending to be Arthur. Because Arthur would have saved Matt in a heartbeat, so this had to be an imposter. And then he saw the tears. Arthur was crying. "I know, Alfred." He whispered. "I know."

"Arthur…"

"Please…please understand. I can't let my world…I can't let it happen."

"But Matt…"

"Will understand. And you know that."

And he did. Because Matt had assured him of it earlier. Alfred found himself shedding tears, and he didn't even know what they were for. He wasn't sure if they were for Matt, who was bound to die now, or for Arthur, who'd been pushed to this, or for Ivan, who had already suffered a needless death. He was confused. He felt light-headed. He realized he had lost too much blood.

Arthur pulled him around the corner and sighed in relief. Alfred saw a set of stairs heading toward the surface, the same set he'd taken earlier when he'd arrived here. They were up the steps in less than five seconds. Arthur kicked the door at the entrance open and hauled Alfred outside. They were immediately met with a barrage of bullets. The building had an above ground level, Alfred remembered. One staffed with more of Yao's men.

Arthur frantically tried reach the safety of the woods. Several men were firing on them, and Alfred was struggling to keep up with him. His lungs were burning and his head was pounding, and he felt like he was going to pass out any second. He dared to look over his shoulder to see how many men were after them.

He saw the sniper aim at Arthur.

Without thinking, he threw himself in front of Arthur's prone form.

The bullet hit his heart.

Arthur turned around a millisecond too late, just in time to watch Alfred fall. He caught the man before he hit the ground, quickly realizing just what had happened. "You fool! You bloody idiot!" He yelled, knowing Alfred couldn't even hear him any more. He tried to gather up all his energy, his body already nearly at its limit. He whispered the words he'd been practicing for an emergency, words that could take him anywhere. He felt the magic wrap around him and Alfred just as the men closed in on them.

When he opened his eyes again, they were in a field of tall grass. One flicker of relief gave way to sheer panic. He laid Alfred down, immediately trying to resuscitate him. But it was too late, and he knew that. The wound in Alfred's chest wasn't even bleeding anymore. Alfred's eyes stared languidly at the sky, unseeing. Arthur breathed heavily, his pulse racing.

"No…No…" His tears landed on Alfred's cheek. "No, not you…no…" He had been so close, so close to saving Alfred, so close to saving his world. This couldn't happen.

"Alfred…Alfred…please…no…" It didn't matter that it wasn't his Alfred. It was Alfred. And he couldn't…Alfred couldn't die. He just couldn't. He just couldn't. "Please….please don't…please come back. You have to."

Alfred didn't stir.

Arthur choked up sobs, tears burning down his cheeks. He screamed incoherently at the surrounding grass and forest, uncaring as to whether anyone heard them or not. This couldn't happen. Not now. Not like this. He'd worked so hard. So hard. So hard to win. So hard to save everyone.

"Ah…" His face landed on Alfred's bloody chest, and he sobbed, loud, gasping sobs. His hand slipped down.

His fingers brushed against a knife. A knife he'd stolen from one of the black-clad men.

A knife.

He had a knife.

He didn't bother to consider the consequences. He just knew it couldn't end it like this. So he took the knife from his belt and heaved himself off of Alfred, shoving the blade through the grass and into the soil. He didn't care if it looked perfect or not. His hands moved automatically, and he crawled on his knees, rapidly cutting shapes and lines into the grass and soil until he had made a complete circle around Alfred. Then he crawled back inside it and settled on top of Alfred's already cooling body. He was shaking uncontrollably, the tears still pouring freely. There was a chilled fear inside his gut that begged him not to do this, but he was too far gone to listen to it. He let the knife slide around in his fingers and gripped it again, pointing it straight at his stomach.

He took one breath. Two. Three.

He plunged the knife into himself, stifling a cry at the pain. He felt his blood begin to pour from whatever vein he had severed, felt his ruptured organs begin to fail. But none of that mattered.

Alfred.

Alfred was all that mattered.

He was just as selfish a fool as Alfred was. And he'd known that all along. And this was where it had brought him, but he didn't care. He didn't care about anything except Alfred. He didn't care that Alfred's death meant Russia was roaming the Earth again. He didn't care that his own Alfred would mourn his death. He didn't care that the other Matthew was bound to die now.

All he cared about was saving Alfred. Alfred. It didn't matter where he was from.

Alfred was Alfred.

And Arthur could not let Alfred die.

He shakily pulled the knife from his gut, blood and bile now working its way up his throat. He gagged, the blood rushing into mouth and dripping down his chin. He took both his hands, ignoring the pain in his injured limbs, ignoring all his pain, and held the knife above Alfred's chest. The circle was glowing dimly now, casting an eerie glow on the surrounding grass.

"Forgive me…Forgive me, Alfred. Please…"

He plunged the knife into Alfred's chest.

A burst of light blinded him.

He felt the life being ripped from his body.

And then he felt nothing.

Dro: Well, that was exciting. Huh, wonder what happens next time?

Next Chapter: Matthew is forced to face his worst nightmare. Miles away, someone tries to deal with an overwhelming sense of guilt and failure. (Preemptive Implied Rape Warning. Seriously, heed it. I want no complaints about not warning you.)