The moar, MOAR you know...

Warning: Angst, mention of inhumanities, forced prostitution, and misogyny, Nichu fluff.

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN HETALIA. I have fun manipulating their characters, though

Stand

Needless to say, the whole fourteen hours they were left alone in the bunker were quite uneventful. Apart from listening to the scampering of feet back and forth above their heads or otherwise twiddling their thumbs, there was really nothing they could focus on but the fact that they were just under the Organization's headquarters, that Red had said earlier that she had no doubt the Overlord knew they were somewhere within. To them, the Overlord was seeming more and more to take up the image of a god in their minds rather than of the ordinary man they knew he would be.

They were scavenging through the leftovers of the food the squad had stockpiled when there was a knock on the door that went heigh-ho, the derry-o, the farmer in the dell, and wary as they were they kept whoever was outside waiting and knocking for a good five minutes before procuring their weapons and unhooking the latch. Ear-length red curls bounced as Red dropped down and huffed, "Took you long enough."

"Sorry," Alfred cut in before any of them could, lowering his weapon with shaky hands. Fuck, he had been a breath away from downing his daughter. The thought turned his stomach.

"More recruits?" Yao made a point of asking, recalling Red's early meeting with the Board.

"Yup," Red scratched her head, nappy from the mask she'd been wearing the likes of which should now be hiding the face of one of her squad occupying her captain's quarters. She was dressed all in black, just as Shawn had been, but her vest was blue and studded with various FoM-awarded accolades. Around her neck was wrapped an azure scarf which appeared too spotless and costly to be worn for anything other than professional or ceremonial occasions. She wrestled with the thing as she walked down the hallway, as if it were a snake slowly trying to flatten her throat. "Got fifty through, as per protocol, though they get worse every time. More and more dumb, scared young kids who couldn't outrun the scouts and old geezers who came out of hiding at the wrong time. In other words, prime candidates for the Resistance—if we can squeeze the chickenshit outta them."

Chickenshit. The word grabbed Matthew's attention. That was what he had been called when—

"Red?"

She discarded her scarf now, folding it carefully on the table though her icy glare made it seem as if she would rather put it through a shredder. "Yeah?"

Matthew swallowed. He didn't like bringing up bad memories, but then again this whole thing was just one, continuous bad memory anyway. "Um, we ran into a… a woman in Chicago, and, uh, she had four guys with her. We thought she was good, but then she ended up, um, well… she hurt us and we found out that she was part of the Organization."

Red hummed suspiciously. "Hunh, that's weird. As far as I'm concerned, the squads are all male. All the women I know have been sanctioned off for exploitative purposes. Did she have a name?"

Matthew had followed Red unbidden down the hallway, rifle still in his hand. The others had followed like sheep, breath bated and waiting for Red's every reply. They all wanted to have a part in Jeanne's death if they could.

"Jeanne. Her name was Jeanne."

Although her back was to them, currently disarming her glock, Red's back stiffened obviously. "Jeanne, you said?"

Matthew nodded before he realized she couldn't see him and answered, "Yeah. She said the Overlord had a special job for her. That's why she joined. And she seemed to be leading the guys with her."

Red hummed again, but this one sounded more ominous. She took a breath and set her glock down, turning to them and searching their gazes. "You said she hurt you?"

Matthew inhaled shakily and said, his voice little louder than a whisper, "Because of her, Gilbert and Lovino died."

And that just tore the wounds Ivan thought he had covered right open. Ever since their deaths, he had been telling himself that it wasn't his fault. Anyone could make the mistake he had, of leading his group into Hell without knowing. But he couldn't change the fact that he was hundreds of years old and should by all intents and purposes know better—he should have been the one with the most knowledge of danger out of all of them. After all he had experienced in his history, he thought he would be able to tell if a situation was good or bad, but he was beginning to doubt himself and it was eating at him slowly. No matter his actions in the Chicago house, Ivan had been the one to convince Ludwig and Arthur and everyone else that Jeanne was trustworthy and in so doing had put the lives of everyone in danger and lost two. He had not fired the round that bloodied Gilbert's head nor had he tightened the noose around Lovino's neck, but he had trusted the one who was behind both of their deaths, had allowed her to get close enough to take their lives away, and that was enough for Ivan to conclude he'd had just as much a hand in their deaths as Jeanne or any of her vicious minions had. He couldn't trust himself, and right then he found himself thinking that maybe Alfred's distance from him was just as well. If it hadn't been for Jeanne's gun jamming, he would have killed Alfred too.

Red chewed her lip for a moment, reopening the delicate skin there, eyes downcast and unfocused as she rolled the name around in her head. "I have heard rumors… but otherwise her existence has been well guarded. You say she works for the Overlord… directly, I'm assuming, if her identity is so secret. While the Council's operations took a little time to follow, the Overlord's activities are nigh on impossible to track. Hell, for all we know he may just be some rogue super computer that has received enough information to mimic human tyrants. We've been trying for weeks to pinpoint his location, but we can't even say if he's here. His IP address is nonexistent on every system we've used, and whenever we attempt to track his activity more than a few times a huge firewall is erected the likes of which could wipe out our whole operating system. Whoever he is, the Overlord comes and goes and leaves no trail behind. It's almost like he has people cleaning up after him every time he contacts the Organization. I don't think this Jeanne would be one of them, if she's been busy leading a squad, but there was one incident I remember when her name was first mentioned to me.

"It was during my induction into the position of captain. They have a little ceremony (but I won't bore you with the details) and then they ship the lucky fuck off to the women's sector (which they call by a more vulgar name, go figure) where they can have a good time for free, which I always thought as total bullshit, since there really was no other place to spend our earnings if the economy was nonexistent. Anyway… I went there, put on a show for the guys as the girls put on a show for me… you know, the usual. When it came time to shuttle me off to a room for the real reward, I instead conversed with the girl ordered to service me.

"She was confused, needless to say, of my desire to talk more than do, but I persisted and she was far from displeased. I didn't take off my mask, but she never asked about that either, nor why my pants felt looser than they ought to in such a situation. A good girl. Young, frightened, a bit dim. Perfect to interview. Wanting to know why the Overlord had separated the men and women, I asked whether she had heard anything that would pertain to the subject. It took nigh on a half hour to convince her to open up to me, since I was an officer, a captain at that, and she was suspicious of me, no doubt fearing the punishments that would follow her disclosing any such information to me. When the guys that had accompanied me to the sect knocked on the door and shouted if everything was coming out okay and other similar nonsense, I had no choice but to remove my mask or risk them blundering in for my extended absence. As far as I knew, there were no cameras in the private rooms, possibly because the Organization doesn't want the women thinking they can accuse the men of abuse and have them punished as a result. That would just throw a big wrench in their plans, seeing as they can't afford to lose even one of their troops. No cameras. No evidence. No problem.

"She said that she'd overheard senior officers discussing how shitty it was that they had to go all the way across headquarters with special security clearance just to reach the women's sector. One had wondered aloud why that was and the other replied that the sect was created for the sole purpose of serving the 'Expansion Program', which is just a fancy name for human breeding factory, which I was kind of expecting. But then she said that one of the men mentioned the name 'Jeanne' and how she was 'a big player in the whole thing.' As vague as that was, the girl continued saying that she had sought out this Jeanne and had discovered from Jeanne's former associates (former, as she had been pulled from the 'stock' in prior days) that she was an unstable extremist who was ostracized by her peers for her growing insanity and paranoia."

Here, Matthew interrupted. He had to know everything about this woman. "Did she ever say why Jeanne was so… crazy?"

Red nodded. "Yeah. Jeanne would talk to things that weren't there. Sometimes she would sit staring at a wall mumbling for hours, refusing food or drink and snapping at anyone who came close to her, like a dog. Some said it was because she'd lost her family, but it came to light that it was more than just that. She's schizophrenic, that much was obvious, but why the Overlord decided such a person deserved a promotion is beyond me. I do know one thing, though." Red ran a calloused thumb over the polished surface of her glock. "She is at the center of the Expansion Program, however reclusive she may be. Oh sure, the Council barks out orders, but she's the one pulling all the strings. I never paid much attention to the whole expansion thing, but now that you mention her tracking you down with a squad of her own I think it's best that we continue our investigation. But if worse comes to worse, we'll push on with our original plan for the coup without worrying about that. We'll free the sect anyway when that happens and hopefully kill Jeanne in the process. Until then, though, we'll keep a sharp eye."

Disappointment fell on them all, the desire for retribution burning in their cores. But Arthur didn't share their reactions. He was too busy trying to quell the foreboding snake coiling deep in his belly, sending up warning hisses that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end.

Voices, Arthur thought, the blood pumping in his ears increasing in volume with his recollections. Whispers…

The words were inching up Arthur's throat, the inquiry stalling at the tip of his tongue and ultimately dying with the harsh creeaak of a chair as Red pulled it out from the table and sat down with a sigh. She ran fingers through her ruddy hair and regained her usual weary gaze.

"Guess I should tell you about the plan, huh?"

It didn't exactly conform to 'Trojan Horse', but it was a good plan nonetheless, and Alfred was impressed. Of course there were a few hiccups that were pointed out and debated as to how to correct, and in the end each of them contributed some sort of idea to it, even Feliciano.

In the middle of their discussion, knocks echoed down the hallway and they had to halt their talk to let in two men in identical black suits, led by Andre. One was tall and slim, with a bald head, a smooth face, flinty eyes, and a thin mouth—the same man they'd seen just that morning. The other was a squat man with a head of outgrown brown hair, a patchy goatee, and thick glasses who had the appearance of keeping in shape but whose perpetual plumpness was obvious in his face. They introduced themselves as Todd Karkas (the elder) and Danny Moss (the younger) before Red broke into a long lecture about their copious and negligent drinking habit and how next time their punishment would be much worse. They had just gotten back from guard duty, Shawn and Bernard keeping watch as their partners awaiting the night's promised rotation. They remained within the bunker for longer than usual, Red explaining to them the new plan dubbed simply as 'Checkmate.'

By the time she finished it was approaching midnight, and she dismissed Todd and Danny to relieve Shawn and Bernard, who arrived at the bunker ten minutes later. Red proceeded to inform them of the change in their plans, but by then most of the nations were too tired to add any further input, so they filed off to bed. Alfred felt guilty leaving Red to the discussion, seeing as she hadn't gotten any sleep for over nineteen hours (possibly more, if she was as anxious as Alfred and everyone else was), but he knew if he said anything about it Red would less than appreciate it, so he retired to the room he was sharing. Thankfully, he was so tired that his mind didn't run like it usually had for the past couple of months, not even when Ivan laid down in his sleeping bag at the foot of Alfred's cot, and as soon as he shut his eyes he was dead to the world.

Alfred woke in the afternoon, he soon found, judging by the digital clock situated on the meeting room table. He also discovered that it was December 11th and, seeing as the floor was littered with wet, powdery shoeprints, it was snowing.

"Hey," Andre greeted as he shuffled into the room, offering Alfred a coffee. Alfred took the Styrofoam cup gratefully, quickly blowing on it and setting it down to prevent burning himself. He sat down at the table, everyone else choosing to occupy the floor or remain in their respective rooms. It seemed weird to Alfred that they had spent so many hours by themselves in a place that was supposedly safe that they had stopped talking to each other and chosen instead to isolate themselves with their thoughts. They needed to end this before they became as hollow as those devoted to the Organization.

In the end, the afternoon passed without a word said between them. Andre remained lurking around the bunker, seeing as his presence among the squad would add unneeded numbers to their near constant headcounts. The man seemed to sense the mood between them, and he decided that retiring to his room without mention of the impending coup would be in their best interest. When his door shut quietly down the hall, the tension seemed to dissipate just a little.

"Do you think it's going to work?" Matthew asked quietly. He was lying stretched out on his back on his sleeping bag in his room, staring up at the colorless ceiling. You think it's going to work, Sadiq?

He didn't cry like he usually would with mention of his dead lover. Not anymore. He subconsciously reached down, running the frayed fabric of the man's bandana mask between his fingers which was still knotted tight around his upper arm. Instead of his eyes swimming, he stared unblinkingly upward, envisioning Sadiq's determined expression, his blissful, bed-tousled look as he told the story of how the merchant prevailed over the jinni. Then there was Carlos, his warm, sexy smile, the sweet and somewhat awkward way he wove his fingers with Matthew's.

"I'll make it work," Matthew promised. "For you."

"For who?"

Matthew craned his head upward to see Kiku standing over him. It was odd, Matthew thought, that Kiku was talking, seeing as he had barely spoken since their arrival at the bunker. "Um… for everyone who's gone. It's our responsibility, right?"

"Hai," Kiku sat down at the end of Matthew's sleeping bag, his knees tucked under him. His eyes seemed vacant as they studied the creases of the fabric, but then again they were always that way. Another thing the Organization could never change. "I understand your doubts. I have some as well."

Matthew stiffened at his words. He hadn't known the older man had such good hearing or else was eavesdropping, but he liked to think it was the former. "Yeah. I just hope all those who will die for this coup will have died for a reason."

"They will," Kiku assured, not lifting his eyes. "Even if we do not win, at least we can be remembered for trying. And they will be remembered too."

Matthew recalled all those meetings he used to attend if only unseen, all of those bored faces that surrounded him. They ignored him, which made it easy to study their habits. Vash's glare at every new speaker with Lily sitting and listening with sweet courtesy beside him. Soo's groping hands and his overly loud 'da-ze~!' when he was caught. The twitching of Natalya's eye every time she saw someone even glancing at Ivan. Roderich looking down into Elizaveta's lap, his face erupting into a bloom of color with the sight of what she was reading. Jack perpetually clicking his pen, always subconsciously chewing on the end before Sam would nudge him and urge him to be quiet and pay attention, to which the former would give a scoff (1). Sadiq leaning back in his chair with arms folded behind his head, tapping his foot beneath the table to the music that blasted from his not-so-hidden earphones. Toni's daydreaming eyes which occasionally flitted to Lovino, accompanied with a glowing smile, said Italian grimacing while he flushed from ears to neck. Gilbert somehow seeing it fit to storm in and crash the whole thing while everyone cursed his stupidity but inside were grateful such a convenient interruption had occurred.

It was true that Matthew was never a big fan of or a big player in the meetings, but when it came time to hold such gatherings again he feared he would be smothered by the memories of those who could never again attend.

And that, he supposed, was the fuel adding to their fire. This coup, whether it succeeded or failed, would be carried out as tribute to what everyone else wanted but ultimately hadn't had the chance to do. And who knew if who they were was entirely gone? Perhaps some day new Spains, new Australias, new Hungarys and Austrias and Switzerlands would pop up and embrace the values they had previously tossed away. And then Matthew would have a whole new lineup of nation's habits to study, new things to giggle at, new mistakes to cringe at. Then Matthew wouldn't mind being invisible, because not being seen allowed him to observe who everyone truly was when they thought no one was watching. That, Matthew decided, was the thing he missed and looked forward to the most.

Kiku's thoughts, meanwhile, extended to the golden temple in his dreams, the sun glinting off not only his but a crowd of faces, all standing on the veranda, perhaps more golden than even the gold leaf of the temple. He stood and met Matthew's eyes.

"There is a saying: fall down seven times, stand up eight. We have been caught in a pattern of falling and standing back up for too long. And, despite knowing it is something that will persist for as long as any of us ever live, I hope what we plan to do here will be our eighth time standing up and not our seventh time falling."

He could feel Matthew's eyes on his back as he made his exit, shuffling back to his own room. He paused at the threshold, seeing Yao sprawled out on their cot, the image of exhaustion invoking carefree slumber, and Kiku contented himself just standing there and observing. His eyes drank up Yao's hair, unusually long from their trip, fanned out on the pillow, slender fingers curled slightly, legs folded over one another, one hand resting on Yao's stomach while the other kept company beside his ear. The eyes with deep purple smudges beneath closed, the brow unwrinkled, the muscles relaxed, the soft, twilight pink lips parted in shallow breaths. Kiku sincerely regretted that he'd never taken Yao to the golden temple. He would have made a sight fit to shame even the surrounding beauty.

No translations

References:

1-Jack and Sam are Australia and New Zealand. Just thought I should mention them since they get so little attention. Why, Hidekaz, why?

A Word From the Writer: Another slow, informational one, but I guarantee this is all leading up to something big, so stick with it! Time is grinding down, and there are a few more things that need to be addressed before the action can begin. I wanna make sure this can all come together as easily as possible without any loose strings.

Btw, 100th chapter, ftw! Damn, didn't even know I had it in me, hehe. And I thought I'd have finished this thing before 100, but no... nearly a whole year and 100 chapters later, here we are, still only really on the doorstep. I thank everyone who has stuck with this fic for this long and commend you on your patience. I couldn't have done it without your enduring support!

All my love~ X3