Dro: Hopefully, I've at least begun to fix the double confusion. I don't think it's too hard to figure out who's who in context here (as long as you remembered what's been happening to which characters). I try to use all the cues possible. Please review if you're still having a problem figure the doubles out! (And also review if you aren't too. I'd like to know I improved this system at least a bit).

Chapter Summary: Everyone reunites. Alfred confronts Matthew. Feliciano and Ludwig show up. Parallel!Arthur realizes something startling.

Warnings: Language

Disclaimer: Dro doesn't even have a job. Do you honestly think she can afford to buy APH?

Alfred hadn't been sure what to expect when he saw Mattie. There'd been a thousand images that had zipped through his mind, everything from "perfectly fine" to "completely devastated." But one that he hadn't ever considered was just…nothing. That was the look on Mattie's bruised and battered face. Nothing. No emotion. No expression. Nothing. And that terrified him more than the hysterically crying Matthew he'd expected to walk in the door. The group filed in with Mattie in the middle, as if they were in a protective formation. Knowing them, they probably were.

Alfred came face to face with his double. The man looked better than he had the last time Alfred had seen him, and he wondered just how much this America had recovered. And how much he'd ruined all that recovery by helping Russia get resurrected. This world's Matt shut the door behind him before turning his gaze on Alfred. There was relief in his expression, but it was hampered by the current situation. They were all on edge, all scared, all uncertain about the future.

He turned to find where his brother had retreated to and found him sinking listlessly into a chair and staring out the window. Oh, Matt…what am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say? There was no way to make this better. And even with magic on his side, he was sure he couldn't turn back time. So what did he do? How did he fix this? Mattie was his little brother. He was supposed to be able to protect him, damn it! How had he ruined everything so miserably in just a few days? He remembered the last time he'd talked to Matt before this had all started to unfold. They'd both been so happy, so carefree. Alfred had finally—finally, damn it—managed to put the past behind him and move on. His body was back to normal after Russia's final attack. His mind, though still marred by the occasional nightmare, had settled. He and Matt and Arthur were closer than they'd ever been, even with the occasional animosity over their own Ivan.

And now all that recovery was ruined. All of it. They would have to go through hell and back all over again to defeat Russia. And who knew what would happen this time? He was already fucking bound to the other Arthur, and he had no clue how they could break it to the other him and his own lover. They weren't even sure what was going to happen to them yet! Matt was probably scarred for life. Who knew if he would completely recover from this? What was next? Would someone finally die? Permanently? Would Russia destroy the world they'd all worked so hard to rebuild? Another nuclear strike? Another war?

He sighed. "Arthur."

"Yes?" They both answered.

Alfred stared, really registering for the first time that there two of each of them in the room. "Oh…we need to fix that, don't we?"

His own Arthur answered. "That would probably be a good idea. Um, any suggestions?"

"I got one." Alfred's double raised his hand. "How about nicknames? I'll be 'Al,' and the other me can stay 'Alfred.' My Matthew can be 'Matt' and the other one can be 'Mattie' or just 'Matthew.' And…uh…" His gaze landed on Arthur, uncertain.

Both Arthurs raised their eyebrows, realizing where he was taking this. "I am not being 'Artie'!" They paused, realizing they'd spoken at the same time.

Alfred and Al exchanged glances. They both had the same thought in mind. Here we go again.

"Well, I'm certainly not being 'Artie'!" Their eyes widened. "Stop talking at the same as time as me! Stop it! You wanker!"

Alfred couldn't stop himself from chuckling.

"What are you laughing at?"

Al smiled, nodding in Alfred's direction. "This has happened to us before. I think it's a double thing."

"Well, how do you stop it?" They were both getting steadily more irritated.

Alfred offered. "Well, one of you could try to swallow your pride and volunteer to be 'Artie.'"

Neither answered, and they ended up in a vicious glaring contest. They looking ready to punch the other, all over a nickname. Wow, Alfred had known they were all stressed out, but…this was ridiculous. Come on, guys. Just stop it. Please. He wanted to plead with them out loud, but he didn't want their anger directed at him. Surprisingly, one of them finally conceded: the other Arthur.

"All right. Fine. I'll be 'Artie.'" The pair glanced at one another, obviously relieved they hadn't spoken at the same time again.

With that settled, they all decided to get dinner and then sit down to discuss their game plan. They would need to warn the rest of the nations, who were now assembling in London for the world meeting. That was a priority. After everyone was informed and on the lookout for Russia, then they could execute some sort of plan to take him down again. And of course, find the other members of their team that were still missing in action….

Al and Artie left to go get dinner, leaving Matt, Mattie, Arthur, and himself in the room. Matt and Arthur seemed to take Alfred's silent hint, and they excused themselves a few minutes later for various reasons, leaving Alfred alone with his solemn and stoic brother. Mattie hadn't moved since he sat down.

Alfred took a chair from the table and dragged it across the floor, placing it right in front of his silent brother and sinking into it. Mattie didn't acknowledge his presence. He swallowed, trying to ignore the dryness in his throat and the tears prickling his eyelids. "Mattie…?"

"Hm?" It was the first sound he heard emerge from his brother's lips, and frankly, he was shocked at how calm Matthew sounded.

"Um…talk to me?"

"About what, Alfred?" Matthew's voice was oddly cold, and he still hadn't looked away from the window.

"W-what do you mean 'about what,' Mattie? What kind of question is that? You know what!"

Matthew looked at him, and it sent chills down Alfred's spine. "Did you think that, just maybe, I wouldn't want to talk about it? I didn't want to discuss it with the other you. I didn't want to discuss it with the other me. I didn't want to discuss it with Arthur. And I certainly don't want to discuss it with you." The brief moment of eye contact ended, and Mattie's eyes trailed back to the window again.

Alfred felt cold. It was like his brother had just…shut down. And he realized that was probably exactly what had happened. Mattie had been traumatized, and he'd suppressed his emotions as a result to stop himself from breaking down. Alfred almost felt that this was worse than an emotional breakdown. What if Mattie stayed like this? What if he never returned to his normal self?

Before he could stop his body, he was hugging Matthew tightly. Mattie went stiff in his arms, flinching at the contact, and Alfred felt his tears break free. His brother didn't want to be touched. His brother was afraid of being touched. But he was determined to get his point across. "Mattie…listen to me. I'm here for you. I am. I promise. And I don't care whether you want to scream at me or hit me or swear at me until your voice is hoarse. I don't care whether you want to cry into my shoulder for hours or punch me until I'm a bloody mess. I don't care, Mattie. I just want you to talk to me."

The response was so quiet that he almost missed it. "I will. When I'm ready."

He embraced his brother harder. "That's all I ask, Mattie. That's all I ask."

Ludwig held the door open for Feliciano, who stepped gracefully out into the sunny Parisian day. He paid the cabby and trailed behind the shorter man, the edges of Feliciano's dark coat brushing his leg as it billowed in the air with each smooth step. Even after hours and hours, the guilt was still eating away at him. His own Feliciano would have woken up to find them gone and to find someone left to virtually babysit him. He would be furious. And upset. Really upset. Ludwig hated, beyond everything else in the world, making his lover cry. But he was sure he would hate his Feliciano being hurt because of him even more. That would be unforgivable. So he would take the crying, and he would deal with it. Even if Feliciano hated him in the end. As long as he was safe.

"According to my sources, this world's England checked into this hotel the other day for a room with multiple beds. He hasn't checked out yet, so hopefully that means they're here. I think it's safe to assume that since he's in Paris and not in London for the world meeting that that means he's met up with someone from our group." Feliciano craned his neck and scanned the tall hotel building before heading toward the door. Ludwig followed him. This Feliciano's resourcefulness was astounding, and Ludwig realized—with a sickening feeling in his gut—that this was why he had been a such a good assassin for Russia.

The door was opened for them when they entered, and he heard Feliciano scoff, mumbling something about "posh hotels" and "obviousness." Ludwig had to admit he was right. If this world's England had met up with someone from their group, then why would they use such a nice hotel? It didn't quite make sense. Feliciano marched to the elevator and pushed the button, waiting. Ludwig loitered in front of the elevator doors, turning around slowly when he heard the ding.

Arthur and Matthew were inside, chatting.

"Ah…" He was speechless. Even Feliciano seemed surprised.

The pair finally noticed their presence. Arthur gaped. "Ludwig?"

"Arthur?" Wait, was it this world's Arthur or their Arthur? And which Matthew was it again?

The pair exited the elevator, and Matthew's eyes landed on Feliciano, suspicious. "What's going on?"

"Ah, yes. Remember, we brought the other Feliciano with us. Yours?"

"Oh, right. That's where you went."

Feliciano nodded, and it clicked for Ludwig. Their Arthur and the other Matthew.

"Ludwig, it's good to see you. Where did you end up? And…" He looked around, perplexed. "Where our Feliciano?"

"We left him in Germany with someone to look after him." Feliciano answered simply. "He was too much of a liability."

Arthur's lips parted, but no sound came out. He eyed Ludwig with something akin to disbelief and accusation mixed together, and Ludwig was unable to meet his glare. He was already guilty enough, damn it! He didn't need this too.

"Is anyone else here with you?" Feliciano asked.

Arthur breathed in loudly. "Everyone's here. Both Americas. Both Canadas. The other me. A lot has happened in the last couple days."

"A lot being…?" Feliciano raised an eyebrow, and Ludwig could see the cogs turning in his head, his practiced mind going through every possibility.

Arthur frowned. "Let's take a walk. We'll explain everything."

They stood outside the restaurant, waiting for their order to be filled. Arthur—because he'd damned if he'd call himself Artie—leaned against the outer wall, breathing in the delicious smells of various foods wafting through the door. Alfred—or Al, though he was hesitant to call his own lover that—sat in a chair next to one of the outdoor tables, chin resting on his hands. They hadn't really spoken the entire way, and Arthur was digging around in his brain for something to say.

Without warning, Alfred was on him, pulling him into a intense kiss. Arthur kissed him back, wrapping his arms around his lover's neck. He had never been one for public displays of affection, but in this situation, he didn't particularly care. He'd been locked away, beaten, and tortured for the past two weeks, and nearly every moment had been spent thinking of Alfred. He'd wondered what Alfred would do if he'd been killed there, if his body was found dumped somewhere in the woods, or if he just vanished from the face of the Earth, never to be found. He'd wondered if Alfred would even still want him after he'd helped do this.

But apparently the recent events that threatened the Earth meant nothing to his Alfred. He kissed Arthur with all the passion he had, the same way he'd been kissing him for years. And Arthur tried to return that passion, the same way he always had. But something was wrong. They were kissing deeply, tongues fighting, hands roaming. It should have ignited that fire in his heart that it always did, started that flutter in his chest that would eventually dissolve into smoldering love and lust. But it didn't. Arthur's body felt warm. It was responding to Alfred's advances. But something…something was missing.

He kissed harder, trying to jumpstart that excitement in his heart. Alfred was obviously feeling it. His eyes were closed, his expression dreamy and content. Arthur knew that if those blue eyes opened, they would be on fire. But he felt…cold, almost. There was a damp emptiness in his chest instead of the heat that he'd gotten to used to. What was going on here? Just days ago, he'd been longing for Alfred's touch, dreaming of his lover's face, his lips, his loving eyes. So what had gone wrong? He shouldn't feel this way. He shouldn't feel this…this empty.

Alfred pulled away, his eyes fluttering open in confusion. Arthur realized he'd completely stopped responding. "Arthur…are you okay?"

"I…" No, he was most definitely not okay. Something was very wrong here. "Yes, I'm fine. I just…"

Alfred's gaze softened. "You're tired and stressed. I know. I'm sorry. That was stupid of me to just make a move on you here." He pulled Arthur close to him.

The embrace should have melted Arthur. It had many times in the past. But that hard, lingering cold didn't dissipate, and Arthur found himself becoming more and more scared by the second. He'd loved Alfred for so long, and every time he'd seen the man move from one person to another to another, he'd hoped to God the next person would be him. And then it finally was, and he'd never been more elated in his life.

"I…I'm sure I'll be fine after a few days of rest." He lied through his teeth. This was not something that would be fine. At all. Ever.

Alfred kept up his kind smile and leaned down, planting a chaste kiss on Arthur's lips. "I know you will." He kissed his cheek. "Now, I'll go grab our food. It should be ready now." He released Arthur from his hold and slipped back through the doorway into the restaurant, leaving Arthur alone outside on the patio, the busy main street around the corner his only company.

Arthur stood there listlessly, unsure of what to make of this development. "What's wrong with me?" He asked to no one. "What the hell is wrong with me?"

Dro: So, was it pretty clear who was who in this chapter? I tried to make it as clear as possible.

Next Chapter: The group heads to London to warn the other nations, only to end up in a gunfight with Yao's men and for Arthur to end up in Ivan's hands.