A/N: I sincerely apologize for the two month-long delays. Hope you haven't given up.

Katyusha knew that nothing was right when she was sent into the field. Back when all of this started, she made Ivan promise not to send her out there in a worried, frantic panic for her own life. She knew she couldn't fight, despite being able to do so well if danger came around, and Ivan knew she'd freeze up like a rabbit. So why, she wondered, was she called to his office at such an inopportune time of the day, along with two other men?

The dark-eyed brunette on her right forced a reassuring smile to her when she looked his way. She looked to her left. The blond's thick brows rose a bit and his lips pressed tightly together, stretching into a weary frown, as a sign of uncertainty. They know something's off, she thought, pulling her hands together and fidgeting nervously.

The hall was filled with their footsteps, the tedious clacking of Katyusha's heels and clumping of the men's combat boots wearing at their patience. They didn't talk, for fear that one of them would know what was going to happen and would tell them the dreadful news awaiting.

The brunette cleared his throat, startling the other two. "Um," he began, running a calloused hand through dark curly locks. "I guess there's something important…I-I mean, he wouldn't call his older sister like this—n-not with us! More like by her—I don't know…"

The blond shrugged. Katyusha only toyed with her fingers more.

"I-I suppose it's time I went on a mission, for once," she mumbled. "That's what it is, I'm sure."

"Oh, no, miss, you shouldn't—"

"It's true, though, Antonio!" She was now fumbling with the silver ring around her middle finger. "I haven't done anything around here, and it's only a matter of time before—"

The blond interrupted before Antonio could get the chance: "No, no, miss! Without you, the entire establishment would fall." He placed on hand on her shoulder, somehow easing her. "You are the backbone and Ivan's been joyriding for too long; you should be in charge!" He smiled sympathetically.

She mirrored the grin. "Thank you, Arthur." Then she sighed. "But all of this is unavoidable. This is a mission, I know it."

"Miss, no—"

"Arthur, please." She paused, taking a deep breath. "I-I knew—"

"We're here," Antonio interrupted, eyes glued on the somber door. With unease, he reached forward to knock but pulled back an inch, re-clenching his fist gently, biting his bottom lip. Then he knocked. Silence followed for at least three minutes and they waited—before the conclusion was made that he was in some sort of drunken stupor and called them then passed out. Unlikely, but comforting—a false phone call meant no mission. And that they'd be safe.

However, fate had other plans; from inside the office came the gruff voice of the Russian, "Come in." The trio winced. Antonio tuned the knob and opened the door. They stepped in, one by one, slowly and the door was shut. No escape. They formed a line in front of his desk, tallest to shortest.

Before them, Ivan smiled, hands folded on the desk. "Welcome, Carriedo, Kirkland, sis." They each nodded. A soft "hm" was uttered from one of the men's tightly closed mouths. Ivan's smile widened. "I suppose you're wondering why I've called you all here."

Arthur snorted, turning his head away, staring at Antonio's collar. "'s what you always say, git," he murmured curtly.

Ivan heard him but ignored it. "And I can tell you've suspected that it's a mission—it is." They didn't shudder. They had had the feeling. "You three have been selected to pull through with the plan to put the Dynasty out of business." Put out of business wasn't in its literal sense when he said it. When he said it, it meant kill them all.

There was a soft growl from Arthur, then an unnerved whimper from Katyusha.

Nevertheless, Ivan continued. "And so it's time I've sent you on an assassination mission. Arthur, you've been on one before, so you should be experienced at this point."

"Once only," the Brit snapped. "That doesn't make me experienced."

He was ignored. "This will be the first for you, Antonio and Katyusha. You've been trained well, I trusted you'll succeed." They didn't move. Neither one of them had the guts to actually kill someone. "Now then, please step up and choose from these three folders." He gestured to the folders that were laid out before him on his desk. "Come on, now. Don't be shy."

It was Arthur who stepped up first and when he chose the middle folder, he made to open it and peek inside but Ivan stopped him. "Ah, ah, ah." He waved a thick finger at him. "Wait till the others have theirs too, please." Arthur sighed in reply and returned to his spot between his comrades. Antonio went next and then Katyusha, who hesitated but was encouraged by Ivan to grab the final folder.

"Now. You may open them."

They did so.

"Alfred Frazier Jones." The name rolled like honey off of Arthur's tongue. It had a good chime to it, but also a very unbecoming feel. He frowned. The photo of the man was a new one, glossy and dated as it was taken early the previous year. He smiled at Arthur and Arthur didn't know whether to smile back or scowl with annoyance.

"Lovino 'Romano' Vargas…" Antonio murmured quietly, running a thumb over the photograph that was clipped to the data sheet. He said nothing more, only stared at that photo, at the man glaring at the camera irritably, sneering. Katyusha hadn't said a word, didn't even open her folder. Ivan did not mind; she'd have to sooner or later.

"Now, then, I hope you understand that these men have sinned. They must be terminated." When Antonio made to protest, Ivan held his hand up. "There's no turning back for them. Don't you see, we're purging the world of more evil!"

Liar, Katyusha thought, gripping the folder to her bosom. Those men are as innocent as children, aren't they? "And you'll notice," Ivan started again; "…whoever has Jones, that his brother is Williams. Who has Williams?" Arthur and Antonio looked to Katyusha, who slowly looked up. Then she opened her folder and looked at the name. Matthew Carter Williams.

Oh, goodness.

No, she began to think but Ivan was talking. "This serves as an advantage to us. Katyusha, you and whoever has Jones can work together and—"

"But Ivan! They can team up on us, as well! Her protest was dismissed with a laugh and a wave of the hand. She had half a mind to run out of the room and not return until Ivan apologized for being so rude. She was his older sister, why shouldn't she?

"Katyusha, they may be strong but we're stronger," he laughed. She stayed in place, brows knitting together. "Now then, you know what you have to do." He quickly received a 'yessir' from the trio. "You're dismissed. Leave as soon as possible."

"Oh, Arthur. May I have a word," Ivan called after him when he was about to exit. The blond turned back and sighed, closing the door. "I believe Peter is of age now."

"He's seven."

"Yes. That was the age Natalia started working."

"What are you insinuating?"

"I have a special job for Peter."

Arthur glared. "Peter is too young to work."

"Yes, but his client is younger than him."

"Client?! You want my brother to kill another child?!" Arthur made to run out of the office, before he could hear anymore but Ivan stopped him.

Ivan laughed, softly but menacingly. "No, no! I'm not that heartless! I simply wish for him to spy on the boy, catch his weaknesses and strengths. No violence, just harmless spying, Arthur." Arthur frowned. He didn't like it. His brother wasn't the smartest of kids but was eager to work and help with what he thought was akin to a police station or detective service. Tight-lipped, Arthur glared at Ivan icily, before gradually easing himself.

"Fine," he said firmly. "But you have to swear that it's nothing more than spying. He's a child, and I don't want him to be exposed to these things."

Ivan, silent and surprised at first, slowly complied. "I swear." He held both hands up to show he meant it. "Nothing more than spying."

Arthur crossed his arms. "Alright. Give me the folder so I can leave." Ivan gave a look. "Sir," Arthur added, growling. Smiling, the larger man pulled the folder out of the drawer under his desk and told him that the boy was the sibling of a client that Elizabeta was given. Arthur nodded, took it from him and quickly left the room, the folders tightly held in both arms.

Ivan smiled with satisfaction. Little did he know that beyond the wall adjacent to his office was a duo of tanned Asians who'd knocked out every employee in the room with an empty magazine. They'd listened to the entire conversation.

In the rough course of three days, Elizabeta slept on it and thought over her decision rather thoroughly. It was a tough choice. She took an extra day to decide, and Yao let her, seeing as she was a bit flustered by the whole thing. Roderich was a big help. They'd spend hours talking it over, and it was hours of endless comforting and reassuring that made Elizabeta blush like a school girl. And in their talks, he'd tell her how nice they all were, despite being reclusive to "outsiders," as they called them. Elizabeta loved the sincerity in his voice when he spoke to her, so much that she knew he was telling the truth.

And he was, and was glad that she knew it. After hours of talking (and unconscious getting-know-each-other), Elizabeta made up her mind and Roderich was elated. It was then that he revealed that they all knew that she was a part of Ivan's cruel organization.

"How could you not tell you knew?!"

"You didn't ask."

"Yeah, but that would've been useful when I made a fool of myself in front of them. Those security guards, Roderich!" She threw her arms up, nearly spilling her cup of hot milk.

Roderich held his hands up defensively. "I know, and I'm sorry. But I couldn't say anything."

"You said not to keep secrets."

A lopsided grin and a raised brow teased her. "In my defense, I'd only met you the night before."

"How on earth did you all know?"

"You're not the only ones with records and data." He leaned back in his chair, taking a slow sip of his coffee. "We have the headshots of every one of you with your names in bold under them. And you—," he paused, chuckled and smiled at her, "—you were one of the prettiest villains I've ever seen." That was intended to be a thought. The cat was out of the bag and now there was no way for Roderich to pull it back in.

"So you think I'm pretty." She seemed to have all attention on the compliment and not that he called her a villain.

"Well, I don't think it, I'm pretty sure it's a fact." Stop it, stop it, stop it now, he screamed at himself. Don't jump into this. She needs your respect! Don't be like Holland!

Elizabeta was smiling, blushing, with a hand on her cheek. "Wow. Thank you, Roderich." She was flattered, which was good. He mumbled a "you're welcome," and cleared his throat, pale skin reddening quickly.

With only a few more coaxing from Dominik, Laura and Lily, all of which she'd become close to in a matter of days, and the tiniest bit more consulting with Roderich, she'd decided to join them, but in secret. It was the one thing she kept completely clandestine from Ivan or anyone else back in Albany—that is, the only physical thing. Everything else she hid was within the walls of her mind.

Yao was ecstatic. He'd cheered and it was loud enough to jolt Mika awake and complain to him about it. By then, everyone (but Vash) at least made an effort to make friends with her; and despite some being attempts, everyone had succeeded. They were all so different from her friends back home. Roderich noted: she's a friendly person. Like a person should be; she's perfect. Everyone loves her.

After her decision, she was sent to visit Mika, in a special office, designated for the young girl. The room was really something. Posters of movies and musical artists riddled the walls; there was a velvet couch by the right wall; there were a few radios, a computer with a touch screen monitor on her desk before her, and a mini-fridge. It was almost as if she lived there. When she'd entered, she was greeted with tired eyes and weary smile.

"Afternoon," she'd mustered through an inopportune yawn.

"Good afternoon."

There was a plethora of questions that Elizabeta was required to answer, one of which involved her childhood. She's vaguely summarized the years of training, rewards, spying missions and rejoicing. "I'd always had a fun time," she'd said, smiling at her own ruminations. "But there was always something darker somewhere. There were a lot of secrets. Everyone kept something from each other and...and I didn't like it. This mission was a sort of vacation from all of it. I'm a little grateful."

"That's pretty alright. I trust Roderich told that we don't kept secrets here. It's an unconscious law." That made Elizabeta smile and Mika mirrored it before jotting down a few notes. No secrets meant trust, a lot of trust.

"What're you writing?"

"Notes about you." Mika flipped the pencil through her fingers in contemplation. "So we have a positive record on you—'cause you're on our side." She paused, ceasing her pencil, and looked up, brows almost knitting together. "Aren't you?"

It dawned on Elizabeta that Mika was still just a child, like Dominik and Peter, and depended on the trust and loyalty of her allies. She knew it, because she was, too. She quickly nodded, "Of course! I mean, you're all just so—so nice to me, a-and don't keep secrets so how can I not trust you?" Mika's smiled returned, this time cheekier, happier. And Elizabeta smiled too. From there, Elizabeta, warming up to her, revealed everything to her—her confusion of her past, her habits, pet peeves, and most reluctantly, her feelings toward Roderich—and Mika listened with interest.

"Don't tell, please." Elizabeta clasped her hands together pleadingly. "He's my friend and—and I don't want to ruin anything. He's a nice, talented man and I don't think he'd like a girl like me tying him down."

Mika nodded, twirling her pencil. "Secret's safe with me." She crossed her heart before adding, "These kinds of secrets are meant to be kept. Romance is another thing, you don't see much of it because they stay quiet. I should know." Elizabeta's eyes suddenly sparkled and Mika flushed crimson. "I—not me, I mean, just saying, Yao's practically engaged to Linh and—and that's all. No one else has a committed relationship with anyone." Then she repeated that her secret was safe, to put it simply.

Mika gladly admitted her, undeniably forming a close bond with her. Everyone loved her, and she'd be lying if she said she didn't love them back.

But the three days of happiness and intimacy came to an end rather abruptly when her phone rang obnoxiously. She was almost asleep when it rang but it only jolted her awake. She grunted, muttering a curse. Roderich shifted, mumbling in his slumber. Every few nights, he'd taken to leaving the couch in the middle of the night and joining them, though as far as Elizabeta as he could respectfully be. Only because Dominik missed him.

Elizabeta felt around her bag on the floor, eyes lazily drooping and rising, and once she found it, she fished around for the annoying thing from which the chirping emanated. "Yes," she whispered, failing to check the caller ID. "What is it, Gilbert? I'm asleep."

"Héderváry."

Her eyes fully opened and she nearly fell off the bed.

"I-Iva—I mean, sir!" She immediately hushed herself, eyeing Roderich whose back was turned to her. She carefully pulled herself away from the bed, crawling over to the wall where her keyboard stood. She hadn't expected Ivan to call her. "T-To what do I owe—"

"Save it." Elizabeta gulped at his tone. He didn't sound sober. It was late. Something must've happened, she thought. Something to upset him. "I'm not in the best of moods." I can tell, she mouthed, wanting to say it aloud. "I'm just calling for a progress report. How far are you to killing that boy off?"

She swallowed uneasily. How would she explain this? She hadn't counted on him actually calling her for a progress report. He usually did that sort of thing one week after sending them out. Why now? And she definitely hadn't thought about what she'd tell him. Keep everything a secret from him, was all she thought.

"I…" She cleared her throat, like Roderich would whenever he delivered a sweet compliment. "I-I...have gained his trust," she said slowly, one hand nervously combing through her hair.

"Right. Go on."

"A-And I'm in his home, he trusts me."

"Mm-hm, I'm listening." He was already intrigued.

The words were bunching up in her throat and she bit her lip. "And I'll get him when the time—t-time is right…" There was silence. He was comprehending it all. Elizabeta was quiet as well, waiting for his reaction. All she heard was Roderich's sleepy sighs and shuffling in bed.

"A brilliant idea," Ivan finally piped up, causing her to sigh in relief. "Well done, Héderváry!"

"I-I—Yes, sir!" She hoped he'd end the call there, but he didn't. After a moment, which she guessed was his time to gulp down another glass of vodka, he spoke again.

"Oh. And Héderváry?"

"Yes, sir?"

His tone grew serious, darker, deeper. "Do not get attached to that boy. You are dedicated to me, not him, or Yao, or anyone else in that ragamuffin daycare he runs." Elizabeta swallowed thickly. Did he know? Oh, God, he does know, doesn't he? What'll I do? What'll I— "Follow my orders alone and you'll be fine."

Elizabeta had to take a deep breath once he'd finished talking. "Yes." He hung up after that and she sighed. The hand holding her phone dropped as she gazed down at her lap. When had it start to go downhill? When had she stopped being an obedient crony and start taking risks? It was Roderich; he was the one who'd risked himself to save her from the thug that late night. He took risks, and she followed suit. He'd taken on risk to save her, and she'd taken the risk of being killed by Ivan's hands to save them all, the people who'd proven themselves trustworthy.

When had she let her guard down?

They didn't keep secrets, they said it themselves, but what if that was a lie? A ploy just to lure her in to take advantage of her?

No. No, not Roderich. Roderich was true, he was good. He'd saved her. He was nice to her. And if he trusted them, she should too. Shouldn't she?

"Shouldn't I…?" she whispered. Her fingers curled tighter around her phone. Ivan was in the way of everything. She would never find peace, or lead a normal life. No, she had to be allured by everything that was promised to her. The food, the shelter, the training—all promises were fulfilled, but never love. She had friendship, but not love. Yao gave love, she could tell, to each and every one of his underlings. Here she would have the love she craved.

But if she left, she'd leave her friends behind. Alone with Ivan. No, I shouldn't—I should follow my orde—but Roderich is—but—but—

Tears were flooding her eyes, blurring her sight. She gritted her teeth and her grip on her phone grew tighter. Bringing both hands to her mouth to muffle her sobs, her cheeks were moistened by the stream of tears falling from her eyes. She cried quietly, whimpering and shaking, breath fogging the surface of her phone, her grip never faltering.

She cried herself to sleep.

Roderich found her early the next morning slumped against the wall, with dried tear stains streaking her red cheeks. He kneeled before her, eyebrows knitting together. "Oh. Poor thing…" Reluctantly, he reached over and hooked his hands under her legs and between her back, lifted her up and carried her to the bed. Pulling the covers of her sleeping form, he then found himself sitting next to the bed and staring, worried.

"Put your chest out. Draw it all the back to you cheek, that's it." Roderich put his hand to Dominik's shoulder. The boy's arms were trembling from the strength he was using to keep the arrow back. Roderich put his hand under Dominik's outstretched arm, adjusting it slightly. "Spread your feet more. Too much, too much. There, there! Perfect."

"I won't hit the target."

"You don't have to. It's okay to miss."

Elizabeta stood behind them, arms crossed, staring at the duo with interest. Archery was a strong point of hers, despite only starting three years prior and on her own, without Ivan's supervision, and the way she did was far from the way Roderich did it. It intrigued her.

"Both eyes open, and relax. Focus, breath."

"Brother, I can't," was murmured pathetically.

"Just try," Roderich encouraged. "Look straight down the arrow. You can let go when you're ready."

Dominik did so immediately. The thin-shafted arrow didn't rip through the air the way Roderich's always did, the way he'd hoped it would. It only flew straight forward above the makeshift target before spiraling toward the grass. Dominik sighed, arms dropping to his sides. "I missed."

"Yes, but more aim was flawless. The wind ruined it." Roderich patted his shoulder. The boy's watery eyes looked up at him. "Now, don't cry. Go fetch it."

Nodding, he went. Elizabeta pulled an arrow from Roderich's quiver. A thick-shafted arrow with a smoothly crafted arrow head. She ran her thumb over the white fletching, before looking up at Roderich. "You know, his arrow is sturdy enough. The shaft isn't thick enough to hit the target; it's too light."

Roderich turned and gingerly took the arrow from her. "I know."

"And?"

"There's no sense in succeeding on the first try. Where's the lesson? The—the—" He moved his hand in a circular motion, trying to find the correct word, shoving the arrow back into the quiver. "—you know."

Elizabeta gave an odd look. "But he knows he can't. Why prove him right?"

"I've already spoiled him. I can't make him think he'll win every time he tries." He lowered his voice and leaned in as Dominik came scampering back. "In a week, I'll replace his arrows with sturdier ones and he'll start to think he's getting better because he's practicing."

She didn't know. She'd hit some part of the target on her first try and didn't spoil herself. Of course, she was already well into puberty and not a child. Maybe he was onto something.

She watched Roderich meet Dominik halfway and encourage him to try again, despite the boy's sad eyes. "You'll get better, I promise. I didn't hit on the first try; look at me now." He seemed to lighten up a bit and Elizabeta smiled. The pair returned to the shooting spot and tried to again. He missed but wasn't as sore about it, and went fetch it again.

"Practice makes perfect," Roderich murmured, gazing at the dull sky. "I'm sure you've heard that before?"

"Of course." She nodded.

"I want him to see that."

"I thought you said no secr—"

"Secrets that'll hurt somebody. Like sleeping with your best friend's girlfriend. Like fooling someone into thinking something is right, because they don't know better."

She swallowed thickly. "Like Ivan."

Roderich looked at her, surprised. She was surprised he was surprised. "He does that?"

Elizabeta nodded. "I realized it when I was thirteen. He told us—" She was running a hand through the hair that framed her pretty face. "—told us that affection made us weak. Romance, lust, love of any kind…was for the weak."

"Not true."

"I know. But still." Elizabeta sighed, scratching her head. "Love is unconditional. I love them all—my friends. Ivan's sisters, little Peter, Antonio, Arthur, Francis, Gilbert, all of them." At that point Roderich was lost in the myriad of names. He didn't know any and she wasn't surprised at that. The world was not such a small place in reality. He was looking blankly at her, may as well change the subject. "I lost a friend once. A few years back."

He was back again, blinking curiously, eyes focusing. "Did you?"

She nodded.

"Did he die?"

"No." She couldn't stand the thought but changed her answer. "Well, I don't know. He left. Just left."

"His name?"

Elizabeta was growing uncomfortable. "Toris. Laurinitis."

She looked at him. Roderich was surprised again, eyebrows raised, mouth slightly open. Then he shut his mouth, perfect amethyst irises flicking to one side, then the other. "What?" she asked. His lips drew into a thin line and he backed himself up, looking unsure. "Roderich."

"Where is that boy?" Roderich's hand found the back of his neck. He turned and called for Dominik, making to go after him.

"Wait, Roderich, what's the matter with you?"

"Nothing, nothing."

Elizabeta caught his arm and didn't let go. He turned, startled by her boldness. "You're acting like you know something. Tell me."

"I-I don't—" Her steely gaze shut him up. His lips drew in again until he sighed in resignation. "Okay. Okay." The grip on his arm loosened and he brought it to his chest. "Right. So, if you would, please turn around and look over yonder. At them."

Elizabeta turned and looked to where he was pointing, to the cluster of his comrades who were conversing or sparring on the field, laughter and chattering filling the cold air. "Where," she muttered. Over yonder, was what she was expecting to hear but he instructed to search for a mousy-haired boy. It didn't make sense; she'd met everyone and the way she had missed someone was if they were avoiding her. And they were.

A few moments later, she'd found what he was describing, the back of a mousy-haired boy. At first, she could not identify the owner of the head. But the boy turned, grinning to his blond companion. "Toris." She made to go and approach but Roderich pulled her back by her shoulder. Elizabeta looked at him, brows furrowing, eyes almost angry.

"Sorry for that." He quickly pulled his arm away. "And sorry for not telling you immediately. But you really shouldn't go over there. Trust me."

"Why not?"

"Toris doesn't like to talk about that—about what happened back then. So please, if you're going to talk to him, just—never bring it up."

"But I want to know."

"If you want to know, go ask Mika," Roderich said firmly, ready to end the conversation, "because she holds all the records, she's the one everyone confesses to, go ask her." Dominik returned, breathing uneasy and shallow, and Roderich went to lift him up and compliment him on a job well done. Dominik hugged him around his neck, smiling widely. Then Roderich came back and leaned in to whisper into Elizabeta's ear that Mika was most likely in her office.

She nodded, pulled Roderich in to plant a kiss to Dominik's forehead, and then hugged the older Austrian before scrambling off to the headquarters building.

A/N: Right, so a lot of changes in this chapter, those of you who remember the initial version. I figured it wasn't right for Ivan to force Peter to kill, like in the first version, especially since I like him a lot more now and decided to have him feel something for someone like Peter. So now he's a spy! Also, they all know Elizabeta's secret earlier in this, so I can save some stupidity. I was dawdling a lot when writing the first version, and I'm glad I'm getting things on track!

Please review!