I've got to be the worst ever about updating this. I'm so sorry. ;A; I like to write long chapters and it's really hard to find time to sit down and write that much.

Chapter 9

By the time the two nations made their way back to the conference building, the delegates' meeting was nearly over. Mr. Blitzer, who must have stayed in the lobby with Kang Dae the whole time, looked up at them curiously as they entered, the wind carrying in flakes of the now falling snow after them.

"What were you two doing outside?" Mr. Blitzer asked, directing the question at Alfred. "I never even saw you leave. I thought you were in the meeting room with the others." Beside him, Kang Dae looked demandingly at North, as if he had his own questions to ask. Suddenly it occurred to Alfred that maybe Kang Dae wasn't aware of his or North's identities either—or if he was, he was all too aware that Mr. Blitzer didn't, and was intent to keep it that way.

"We were—uh—scheduled to be in on the meeting but..." Alfred responded slowly after a pause. He could sense North tensing up beside him, as if the Korean didn't trust the American to handle the conversation, but didn't quite know what to say himself. They needed an excuse, quick! "…One of the other delegates left something very important back at the hotel and N—…Mr. Im—took it upon himself to escort me there to retrieve it for him." He quickly patted one of his pockets as if he'd stored this supposed 'something' there. Yes, yes, this story seemed reasonable, he thought. And North was nodding beside him as if this was indeed the truth, so Alfred decided to roll with it. "And unfortunately, on the way back it started snowing really hard! So…we're a bit late."

"Yes. My apologies," North said, giving a quick bow towards Kang Dae. "Some of the streets still have not been cleared."

"Unfortunate," Kang Dae huffed, narrowing his eyes at the two nations. "Well, hurry up. I hope nothing has been too delayed by your absence."

"Kamsahabnida," North muttered quickly before taking Alfred by the sleeve and pulling him towards the conference room. He opened the door slowly and stepped in quietly so as to cause as little disturbance to the meeting as possible. Alfred followed behind, wondering how much of the meeting was even left for them to disturb.

A few eyes glanced up as they took their seats, but ultimately, the delegates went back to their discussion without skipping a beat. Alfred took a seat at the end of the table looked across the table to North, who had folded his hands neatly in front of him and now seemed to be trying to make as little eye contact with Alfred as possible. Maybe North could only handle so much social interaction in one day.

On the Korean side of the table, the man who appeared to be in charge—if the way his comrades nodded in agreement at his every word was any indication—said something, and after a pause, a translator relayed it to the American delegation. "He says, 'We can do nothing as long as the US shows no interest in dialogue."

Mr. Richardson, who seemed to have taken the leadership role on the American side of the table, answered. "Of course you can't, and I understand that," he said, directing his words at the head Korean, but glancing at the translator every now and then as if to make sure she was hearing his words correctly. "But I'm going to be honest with you—the US isn't going to show any interest until they get the impression that you and your comrades want to talk productively. They're very concerned about the incident regarding Yeonpyeong. They feel – they don't feel that…" The governor paused, searching for the right words. "They feel that engaging in dialogue solely as a result of that incident would not be productive."

Of course, Alfred thought, Mr. Richardson couldn't say what the politicians back in the US had been saying regarding the Yeonpyeong shelling—that giving the North Koreans dialogue after what was essentially an act of terrorism would be like rewarding them for bad behavior. How was he supposed to say that without offending the North Koreans?

The translator hesitated for a moment—most likely trying to figure out what to do with those last few remarks—before turning to her delegation and warbling out a few sentences in Korean. The head Korean made a face, then turned to his comrades for a conversation that eventually dragged on for several minutes.

The American delegation exchanged a few looks, mostly in Mr. Namkung's direction (since he did speak Korean and was probably listening after all), but was for the most part, silent. Alfred glanced across the table to North once more. The Korean seemed to be mostly listening to his comrades' conversation without saying much. Alfred wondered if he was officially allowed to have a say at all.

After a few more minutes, the head Korean turned back to the translator and said something, which the translator parroted back as, "'The DPRK will talk productively if the US will talk productively."

Mr. Richardson nodded. "But you're still going to need to prove that you're serious. I'm telling you—no matter what happens in the next few days, you have to show restraint."

The translator relayed this back to her comrades, waited for their answer, and a moment later said back to the American delegation, "If the South Korean or US militaries show signs of aggression, we will respond accordingly."

A few seats down, Mr. Namkung sighed. "They're going to keep giving you their standard pitch, Bill. They're concerned about looking weak for not retaliating." Mr. Namkung, who must have been listening as the Koreans debated amongst themselves, seemed discouraged.

If Mr. Richardson was frustrated though, he didn't show it. He looked across the table at the head Korean and directed his words right at him. "I have to strongly urge you, as someone who wants to see the best come of you and your people, not to retaliate to these drills. They are just that—drills."

The translator spoke quickly to her comrades, and then a moment later: "'The DPRK regards such 'drills' as an act of aggression.'"

Alfred was itching to say something. Technically, he wasn't really supposed to. Typically these sorts of meetings were between government officials only, and nations themselves were not supposed to have sway over foreign officials. But something was really bothering him. Perhaps it was true that the drills were meant as a show of force, but weren't they only being planned in the first place because North Korea had done something first? Hadn't the North Koreans shelled Yeonpyeong? How could they say the drills were aggression when the Americans were clearly only here because of something North Korea did?

But before he could even open his mouth to say something, the head Korean turned to the translator, and a moment later the translator said, "Mr. Ri thinks it would be in both parties' best interest to continue this meeting at another time. For now, he would like to invite the American delegates to a lunch banquet."

Alfred, who suddenly realized how far forward he'd been leaning in his seat in anticipation, relaxed against the back of the chair, letting out an annoyed puff of air. Maybe Mr. Ri had glanced over from the other side and gotten the sense that Alfred was about to interfere, then decided it was time to end the meeting for the day. Or, perhaps, he'd realized his own hypocrisy and didn't want to leave anyone the chance to point it out. Alfred cast a quick, accusing glance at North, wondering if he had anything to do with it, only to find him studying a piece of paper in front of him innocently.

"Oh, I didn't even notice the time," Mr. Richardson said with a laugh, nudging up his sleeve to peek at his watch. "That would be wonderful," he said, directing his words towards the translator. "Tell Mr. Ri that we accept."

A moment later, Mr. Blitzer was allowed to rejoin them, and the Americans were led down to a large banquet hall, which, despite having some 20 or so tables set, was entirely empty. Some polite women in colorful traditional wear guided them to their sits, which, Alfred soon discovered, were completely separate from where the Koreans would be sitting.

The American delegation spread out around a circular table already set with silverware and the multiple Korean side dishes called banchan that would accompany the main course. Carefully arranged in little bowls, the side dishes made quite a colorful display, each one a different color or shade.

Alfred couldn't help noticing the way the women who had led them in stared, fixated, as some young men in white brought out the main dishes. Judging by the way the women were looking, it was obvious they didn't get to eat like this every day. How high up did you have to be to eat like this, Alfred wondered? It was no secret that the North Koreans had trouble feeding their people. Was this kind of meal a huge treat, even for the North Korean delegates? What about the cooks and the translator (who had mysteriously disappeared) and the nice ladies in the colorful dresses? Was food short even in the great city of Pyongyang? Did these people linger after banquets to see if there were leftovers? Did they harbor scornful thoughts of rich foreigners, who got to dine in relative luxury right in front of them?

Alfred found himself staring blankly at the food on his plate. The food, which looked like some kind of fish, had to be way better than what the average people here ate day to day. Suddenly, he found himself lacking in appetite. Maybe if he didn't eat anything, someone less well-fed would have a nice meal today…

After lunch, the handlers Kang Dae and Ki Young took the American delegation sightseeing. Alfred couldn't help but feel that it was a poor way to spend their time here. Weren't they here to help defuse tensions? Shouldn't they be resuming their meeting instead? When Alfred expressed this to Mr. Richardson, the governor simply shrugged. "Humor them," he said. "They want to show us their country. If we seem too forceful about meetings, they may not listen. Just go along with it."

Somewhere between the banquet hall and their first stop, Kim Il Sung University, North disappeared. Convenient, Alfred thought. But maybe it was for the best. After the banquet, he wasn't sure he could even speak to the Korean without questioning him about Mr. Ri's evasiveness or the looks on the faces of the women in the banquet hall. So much for starting over on a good note.

Kim Il Sung University was…impressive, in terms of scale, but disturbing on a multitude of levels.

The first thing Alfred noticed was how empty the giant halls were. At first he managed to convince himself that the students were just in class. But after passing several dark, empty rooms, he abandoned that idea. In the rooms where class did appear to be in session, students sat in front of computers, but curiously, never typed, never scrolled, never even touched the mouse. Only a few rooms appeared to have lectures going on. The rest of the rooms were occupied by students staring silently at papers on their desks or were empty altogether. After a while, Alfred grew tired of trying to figure out how much of what he saw was real and how much was staged, and wished only to move on to the next attraction.

That attraction turned out to be the Juche Tower, a towering granite spire which, the Koreans bragged, was taller than the Washington Monument. After a short moment to enjoy the view from atop the tower, the delegation was quickly ushered on to the next sight.

Not far from the Juche Tower was the North Korean version of the Arc de Triomphe, almost identical to the one in Paris, except for that it was apparently 11 meters taller, a point which the Koreans were very eager to make at every opportunity. If someone asked a question, it would be answered hastily, and then the arc's height would be quickly pointed out again. If the conversation strayed too far from the guides' comfort zones, they would quickly change the subject. For Alfred this grew tiresome very quickly. He was on the verge of taking back his thought from before: maybe it would be better to have North here to talk to. Maybe then, at least, he could say something—anything—to someone without having one of the guides point out for the fiftieth time how tall something was.

By the time it was all over, it seemed like Alfred had seen everything in downtown Pyongyang. Were they going to do this every day? Surely the Koreans would run out of things to show them. It was only the end of his first full day here, and already Alfred was beginning to doubt the prospects for the future.

When he returned to his room at the hotel, he wondered briefly if his stuff had been gone through while he was gone. It wasn't like he had anything to hide—he was sure by now every North Korean in the hotel had been told who he was—but everything was coming as a big slap in the face anyway. It was well known that the situation in North Korea was bad. It was no secret that they had trouble feeding their people or that they strictly controlled the flow of information. But it never really hit him until he got here—until he could see the looks on the faces of the women in the banquet hall, notice the guides changing the subject suddenly, feel the bones of North's hand when he shook it—that it all started to become real. This was reality. These things actually were happening. It wasn't just something that was shown on TV to make a political statement about democracy. Suddenly, he was almost positive someone had snooped around while he was gone.

The next morning followed a routine similar to the first. Breakfast downstairs, bright and early, before the delegation left for another morning meeting; this time with the North Koreans' top nuclear negotiator, Kim Kye Gwan. Previously, Kim had been a leading figure in the Six Party Talks—talks that had since stalled—between the two Koreas, China, Russia, Japan, and the US. Alfred wondered if maybe Mr. Kim's absence from the action would leave him a little more open to negotiating than Mr. Ri.

North was waiting for them outside the Foreign Ministry when they got there, huddling into his coat and bracing himself against the cold wind. He seemed more than happy to lead them into the warmth of the building, and even led them personally to the meeting room. This time, the room was deeper within the building and smaller, a sign that maybe they'd have a little more one-on-one with Mr. Kim. All the while, North seemed to be the only Korean around. It didn't appear that he had any plans to drag Alfred away for any private nation conversations today. Maybe the situation had grown more dire overnight and unnecessary personnel had been diverted from guiding the American delegation to go do their regular jobs instead. Even one of their handlers seemed to be missing. Kang Dae had led them to the Foreign Ministry alone; Ki Young was nowhere to be found.

When Mr. Kim arrived, there was a great flurry of welcomes and terse bows and handshakes. Even Mr. Blitzer had the opportunity to exchange a quick hello with Mr. Kim before he and his camera were ushered out once more by Kang Dae. Mr. Kim was accompanied by his translator and considerably fewer delegates than Mr. Ri had been the day before. Everyone took their seats, and the meeting began.

Things progressed similarly to the last meeting. Dialogue or war. Ready for either, the North Koreans said. Show restraint. Don't respond militarily, the Americans would say. It was beginning to look like a carbon copy of the day before, and Alfred was getting bored quickly. He wanted to say something. Of all the people in the room, North would be the most understanding, he thought. Surely North shared his dismay at having to sit in on a meeting but not being able to share a single opinion. And despite the tone of the meeting, the two of them had had a conversation about starting over. Maybe, of all the people on the Korean side, he'd be the most open to something different—the most open to changing the tone. If Alfred could just get North to somehow express interest in one of the Americans' ideas, or advise his comrades to be open-minded, or something.

Finally, to his great relief, the conversation began to shift from its repetitive course. Maybe it was a change of strategy Mr. Richardson had discussed with his advisers the night before, because he began suggesting his own ideas to the North Koreans.

"Look, you've got to make concessions somewhere," he said. "Or nothing's ever going to move forward."

Among the things he suggested were allowing nuclear inspectors back into the country (Alfred could tell North did not like this idea at all. When he looked over at him, the Korean was making no effort to hide his eye-rolling), selling their fuel rods to South Korea, and establishing an emergency hotline between the two countries. The last two seemed to be topics of intrigue to the Koreans, as suddenly, they began asking questions. Would the South really buy nuclear fuel rods? How many? For how much? Would they use them to make their own weapons? How would the hotline work? Who could access it? Would the Americans be eavesdropping on their calls? After at least an hour of fairly intense conversation over these topics, Alfred was feeling a bit more hopeful. It seemed they'd just made a breakthrough.

But then: "We'll consider these options."

It wasn't the perfect ending he'd been hoping for, but what more could he expect? It was becoming more and more clear that information in North Korea only flowed up. Even high ranking officials like Mr. Kim probably couldn't agree to anything officially without final word from the Dear Leader.

After a quick lunch (which again, Alfred only picked at), the American delegation was taken sightseeing, led this time by Kang Dae and North himself. Alfred couldn't help but wonder what had become of Ki Young. Had he been transferred somewhere else? Was he doing a lousy job of guiding the Americans and had simply been removed? Alfred felt the latter would be especially unfair, considering Ki Young had only been leading them for a day and a half.

The first stop was the Grand People's Study House—or the national library, in non-nationalistic terms. Like Kim Il Sung University, it was huge and curiously empty. The entrance had a huge statue of Kim Il Sung sitting on what seemed to be a throne. It was like the Lincoln Memorial in a way, but much creepier and communistic. The halls were wide and well-swept, every tile in pristine condition.

About halfway through the tour, Alfred saw North suddenly break from the group and duck into a side room, pulling what appeared to be a phone from his pocket. Well, the high officials of North Korea had to communicate with each other somehow, he guessed. It was just strange to see someone in North Korea actually using a cell phone. It wasn't unheard of. Just strange. But, it gave him an idea. If North and South Korea could have a hotline, why not North Korea and America?

When North returned to the group, Alfred waited several minutes before nudging North to fall behind the group and dropping the question. "Hey, North... Do you have a phone?"

The Korean just gave him annoyed look. "I'm not letting you use it."

"No no no!" Alfred said hurriedly, smiling, but trying to keep his voice down. The rest of the group was several yards ahead of them by now, but by no means out of earshot. "I don't wanna use it. I was just asking if you had one." Hopefully, North hadn't noticed Alfred watching him as he snuck off to take a call.

North eyed Alfred suspiciously, as if trying to figure out where he was going with this conversation. He answered slowly. "Yes... I have one. Do you think I am that behind technologically?"

"No!" Alfred replied as innocently as he could. "I trust you know your stuff. You have an international network and everything?"

"I have a card that gives me access to one, yes," North answered slowly. "Why are you asking? What do you want? Are you planning to try and steal my phone and call someone or something? What are you—"

"Gosh, calm down!" Alfred said, holding a finger to his lips, a gesture to try and get the Korean to quiet down. "Man, you're dense! I'm asking for your phone number!"

"You're..." North looked truly perplexed.

"Yeah! You know!" Okay, well, maybe North didn't know. Cell phones, even if they were becoming more common, were not the norm in North Korea. North probably only exchanged numbers with high officials and emergency contacts. Having an American ask him for his contact information (in the fashion that a guy might ask a girl for hers, no less) had to be totally out of his comfort zone.

"I mean, it'd be kinda like you and South having a hotline, right?" Alfred continued, trying to explain his line of thinking. "You guys seemed pretty interested in that, right? And you're always complaining that the guys in Washington won't talk to you, so maybe we could have our own hotline! Just you and me. Nation to nation. Like, you can call me if you wanna talk about something, and I can try and do something about it if Washington's not listening."

"No," North said simply, picking up his pace to try and rejoin the group. "That's a terrible idea."

"Why?"

"I don't need you calling me! And I don't need to call you!"

"Why not?" Alfred reached out to the take the other's arm and pull him back, a move that had the Korean whirling back to face him almost immediately. Alfred let go a second later, realizing he'd breached the Korean's personal space. "We said we'd start over, right? Remember? We shook hands and reintroduced ourselves and everything! And you said you'd be productive. So let's start being productive. All right? I'll stop making childish jokes at you and you...stop acting so hostile. It's all good."

North considered this for a moment before, to Alfred's delight, he grumbled and stopped to pull out a pen and a piece of paper, which he hastily scribbled his number on before shoving it back at Alfred. "If you call me without good reason, I'll—"

"Hey! Productive, remember? No more threats!" Realizing North might like to call Alfred sometime, Alfred tore off an unused section of the paper North had given him and jotted down his own number before handing it back to him. "There. Now you have mine."

North nodded and stuck the paper in his pocket, then went back to walking, but Alfred wasn't quite ready to drop a rare conversation with the Korean so quickly. "So...does South have your number?"

"Of course not," North snorted.

"China?"

"Yes."

"Russia?"

"Maybe."

A thoughtful pause.

"Iran?"

"Not your business."

Alfred chuckled. "So is that a yes?"

"It's not your business is what it is. I thought you were going to stop with your childish jokes."

"That wasn't a joke!" Alfred protested. "It was a serious question!"

The Korean shook his head and proceeded to ignore the American. Alfred frowned, but after a few moments of silence:

"Do you and Iran gossip about me?"

"No."

"Do you guys have a super-secret nuclear club you go to?"

"No!"

"Do you liiike her?"

"No!"

Alfred snickered and held his finger to his lips again, shushing the other quietly. "See, that was a childish joke. But I'll stop now, okay?"

North scowled and strode ahead to rejoin the group. "This is why I don't deal with you," he said.

Later that afternoon, they spent some time in a foreign language high school in Pyongyang, where North Korean high school students tested their language skills. Alfred was quite impressed with the students' English; some of them spoke with almost no accent. North seemed rather proud of this fact and smiled at Alfred smugly.

When the tour was over, the American delegation was driven back to the hotel. Though there was still an hour or two of sunlight left, a chill wind was blowing in from the north, causing the delegation to shiver and shudder every step to the van. Kang Dae, too, deemed it too cold to do anything else but return to the hotel.

"Too cold," he grumbled. "There are things to do at the hotel anyway. Go to the karaoke bar and relax."

Mr. Namkung, however, would have none of that. When the group arrived back at the hotel, he immediately pulled everyone aside into one of the hotel's meeting rooms. Kang Dae and North were still trailing them at this point, but Mr. Namkung didn't bother telling them to leave. Every room in the hotel was probably bugged anyway, so it didn't matter if they overheard.

"Look," he said. "Even though the Koreans seemed to be open to our suggestions in the meeting today, I still think this situation could become very dangerous, very quickly. As far as we know, South Korea is still planning to go forward with their live fire drills. What happens if we go to war? What's the first thing the North Koreans are going to do?"

"Close the borders," Mr. Blitzer said.

"Right," Mr. Namkung affirmed. "Whatever flights they have going out of Pyongyang, they'll cancel them. They won't want to mess with them. Flying out foreigners would be the least of their problems."

"And we'll be stuck," Mr. Blitzer realized. "What should we do?"

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Mr. Namkung said. "I think we need to start looking for an alternate way out of this country. Find someone who could drive us to the border with China, maybe. Or see if there's a way we can rent an SUV."

Alfred glanced back at North and Kang Dae, both of whom suddenly looked very uncomfortable. Alfred didn't think Kang Dae would be able to do anything without approval from a superior, and he was fairly sure the Korean wouldn't have wanted to anyway. Maybe North would have, but if war broke out, North was sure to be one of the least available people around.

Ms. Dillingham followed Alfred's gaze and caught Kang Dae's attention. "Would you be able to help us arrange for some emergency transportation?" she asked.

"I can't do anything," Kang Dae said, shaking his head. "Not authorized."

All eyes turned to North, who seemed to shrink away uncomfortably. "Travel permits are hard to get," he said. "To get all the way to the border with China, someone with a lot of clearance will have to take you."

"What about the border with South Korea?" Mr. Richardson asked. "It's not as far. Surely someone has the clearance to get to the DMZ."

"Maybe," Kang Dae admitted. "But to cross? Arranging that may be more difficult than just trying to get you to China."

"Would it be possible for you to check, at least?" Mr. Richardson asked. "Just see if someone might be available to help us, even if you can't yourself."

Kang Dae hesitated. "I can see..."

Mr. Richardson shot him a friendly smile. "Thank you."

Mr. Namkung and Mr. Richardson spent a while longer discussing their options, but the rest of the group dispersed. Alfred caught a glimpse of North trying to slip away and quickly followed, eventually catching up to him in the hotel lobby.

"You've got to have more clearance than anybody," Alfred said, stepping between the Korean and the door. North scowled, trying a few times to step around the larger American, who continued to block his way.

"As far as they are concerned," North said, referring to the American delegation. "I don't."

"Okay, fine," Alfred said, stepping into North's path once more. "Maybe you can't take us personally, but you've got to have some government influence too, right? I bet you can give someone else permission to take us."

"No," North said flatly, finally standing in place and glaring up at the American, as if giving him dirty looks might somehow be more effective in getting him to move.

Alfred frowned. "No, you can't? Or no, you won't?"

"No, I can't, and I wouldn't anyway."

And at this, Alfred was genuinely offended. Was he the only one putting any effort into this starting over thing? North was about as uncooperative and unhelpful as a rock. "Why not?" Alfred demanded, leaning in a little closer, trying to use his height to intimidate the Korean, though North never seemed to be intimidated by much of anything the American did.

"I'm not in charge of that—"

"You're North fucking Korea!"

"Keep it down!" North snapped, glancing about the lobby. "All travel has to be approved. I'm not in charge of approving it. Even if I was, I wouldn't clear you to leave the country early. You came here to make a peacekeeping effort. Not run away."

"We're not leaving early!" Alfred insisted, growing frustrated. "In the event of a war, would you, or would you not be able to help us find a way out?"

"Maybe."

"That's not a helpful answer. I thought you were going to be cooperative from now on."

"Cooperating is not the same as bending to your every whim, American."

"This is a request! That's all!" Alfred didn't want to have to resort to pleading with North, but he had a responsibility to his people, and he wasn't about to let them be caught in the middle of a war if he could help it. He crossed his arms, irritated. "Can you please just check? You've got to have more power to do things within the government than Kang Dae does. I know you do."

"I can check," North shrugged, "but I can make no advance arrangements."

Well, that was better than nothing.

"Just try," Alfred sighed, finally stepping aside so that North could pass. But before North could get too far, Alfred reached out and stopped him again, catching him by the back of his coat. "Wait. One more thing."

"What?" North demanded, pushing at the American's hand.

"I just want to remind you that we started over, okay?" Alfred said, drawing his hand away, but keeping his gaze fixed on North. "Remember what I said before: I don't want anything bad to happen for anybody, and that includes you. Yong Soo's a great friend of mine, and I want to see you and him live happily alongside each other one day. I know we're not really allowed to say stuff at the meetings, but I think you guys should seriously consider some of Mr. Richardson's proposals. Even that hotline would help."

He paused, looking for some sign of agreement in North's dark eyes, but the Korean was as silent and hard to read as ever. "Okay?"

North was silent for a long moment. "We'll see," was all he said. Alfred let out another sigh.

"Will I see you in the morning?"

North nodded.

"I will be with you the rest of the time you are here—until the South Koreans start their drills, at least."

"And what then?"

North averted his gaze, seemingly uncomfortable again. Alfred's heart dropped. This wasn't a good sign at all. More than likely, if South Korea started their drills, North would be called to the DMZ. If the Koreas went to war, Alfred might not see him again, at least for a long time.

The Korean just shook his head, turned and headed for the door. "We'll see."