Chapter 19

If Alfred thought his first few hours in North Korea had been weird, they were about to get a whole lot weirder.

"I can't take you back to the hotel," North said as he started up the car and pulled away from the hospital.

"What?" Alfred whined, pressing the tips of his fingers into his throbbing temples. He wanted nothing more than to go flop down on a bed somewhere, but for now, sinking further down into the old seat of North's sedan would have to do. "Why not?"

"Orders," North replied simply. Alfred understood that this meant "because my boss told me so" and that he probably shouldn't question it. The last thing he needed to do was accidentally insult the Dear Leader. He had a particular feeling, however, that these "orders" had something to do with North's earlier comment about Alfred beating up his guards and running away. North was probably the only person in his country who had any chance of standing up to Alfred's brute strength.

"So, where are you taking me instead?" Alfred asked, squeezing his eyes shut against the light of the sinking sun.

"Home," North grunted after a pause.

"I thought the planes didn't fly for another three days or whatever," Alfred pointed out, not understanding.

"Not your home," North clarified. "My home."

Alfred's eyes shot open, and he stared at North, unbelieving. "What?" Suddenly, Alfred's imagination was kicked into motion. What kind of place would North live in? A concrete structure that had once been a bunker or military barracks? A mansion? A basic apartment somewhere in Pyongyang? It was hard to imagine North living like a normal person somehow. He was so cold and distant, sometimes it was easy to forget he was human.

"Your other option is the cell," North went on. "So behave." He took his eyes off the road for a moment to glance at Alfred. "—And stop giving me that look."

About half an hour later, the car pulled up in front of a decrepit house on the outskirts of Pyongyang. The house had once had a white exterior, but it had grown dirty due to age and lack of maintenance. The roof was dark gray and constructed Korean style, so that the edges flared outward slightly in elegant triangular shapes. Perhaps the most noticeable feature of the house was its blue door and edging, which was chipped and fading. By the looks of it, the place had probably been built 50 years ago. Despite its rough appearance, however, it was noticeably nicer than most of the houses they'd driven by on the way over.

It also had a much better view. The house was situated halfway up a small mountain on a side road that branched off the main one. As Alfred exited the car, he looked out over the valley below, thick with pine trees and the occasional house. The windows of Pyongyang apartments glinted in the distance.

Alfred grabbed his suitcase and followed North, who unlocked the door and held it open for Alfred.

"Don't break anything," he said before Alfred could so much as look around. "And take off your shoes."

"I was gonna!" Alfred protested as he stepped inside. Couldn't North give him a break? Alfred's head was still throbbing, and he had a feeling it was going to stay that way the rest of the evening. He slipped off his shoes and shoved them into a corner in the entryway, seeing North do the same. When he was done, he glanced around at the home's interior.

The walls were covered in red, floral wallpaper, the tacky kind Alfred hadn't seen since the 1950's. The floors were a dark wood to match the relatively dark walls, making the whole place seem kind of dim. From where he was standing in the entryway, Alfred could see the living room, which was only moderately decorated—mostly with pictures of North's leaders hanging above an old clunker of a television and a radio, which Alfred found creepy. There was an old couch in the middle of the room with a low table in front of it. Open areas of the walls were lined with small bookcases, some of which held books, others of which held various decorative vases or trinkets. One wall had a sliding door that led to another room, and opposite to that was a hallway that led deeper into the house.

Alfred would have liked to explore more, but it felt like his brain was trying to break out of his skull.

"Hey, look, can I like…lie down somewhere, maybe?" he asked hesitantly. He wasn't sure what North had planned for him, but he figured the cranky Korean wouldn't mind a few hours free of having to monitor him. "My head's killing me."

Luckily, North nodded. "I have a guest room," he said, motioning for Alfred to follow him. North led Alfred down the narrow hallway and into a bedroom a few doors down. Like the rest of the house, it was also plainly decorated, with just a few framed paintings of the Korean landscape hanging on the walls. A low bed was pushed against the wall under the window. Against another wall was a desk and a chair. A floor lamp stood lonely in one corner while a wardrobe took up residence in another. Other than that, the room was pretty much empty.

"This is where you'll be staying," North told him, hovering in the doorway as Alfred wheeled his suitcase over to the bed. "The bathroom is at the end of the hall."

Alfred flopped down onto the mattress, feeling it sink down under him. It was no hotel, but North's house was good enough for Alfred. "Thanks, buddy. I'm just gonna take a nap, I think."

He looked up just in time to see North roll his eyes. He probably thought Alfred was being a huge baby, and Alfred was pretty sure North enjoyed seeing him in pain. "Let me know if you need anything," North said before ducking out.

Maybe it wasn't smart to let himself fall asleep in the home of one of his worst enemies, but Alfred's head hurt too much to care. Knowing it would probably be his only escape from the pain, he peeled off his jacket, settled down, and eventually let himself drift off to sleep.

It was the cold that woke him up the next morning.

The previous night, Alfred had not bothered to crawl under the covers of the bed, instead falling asleep on top. By morning, he was cold to the bone. Was North keeping his house freezing cold on purpose? If it was meant as a way to make Alfred uncomfortable, it was working. There were few things Alfred hated more than the cold.

Thankfully, his migraine was finally gone, so he felt good enough to get out of bed and go find his reluctant host. Pulling one of the blankets off the bed, he wrapped himself up snugly before slipping out into the hallway to look for North.

He emerged into the living room, which turned out to be empty. Surely North wouldn't have left him home alone? On the far end of the room, the sliding door stood slightly ajar, so Alfred made his way over and slid it over far enough to slip through. Inside, North sat cross-legged on a cushion in front of a low table by the window, wrapped in his own blanket and drinking a cup of tea. When Alfred entered, he glanced up and motioned for him to sit down on a cushion across from him.

"The power's out," he said, skipping the morning greetings. From the looks of it, he'd been heating the water for his tea with a small camping stove.

Alfred took his seat across for North, carefully sitting so that his blanket still covered as much of him as possible. He wasn't sure how long the power had been out, but it had been long enough for the inside of the house to get substantially colder than it had been when he'd fallen asleep the night before. Just walking across the house had made his feet cold, and he pulled them underneath him as far as he could. North seemed to sense his discomfort and poured him a cup of tea, sliding it towards him. "Here."

"Thank you," Alfred said as he pulled the steaming cup towards him. He held it in front of his face for a moment, letting the rising heat warm his cold nose, before taking a sip. He could feel the warm liquid all the way down to his stomach.

For a moment, they sat in silence, and Alfred quickly began to feel awkward. He hated silence. North wasn't much of a conversationalist to begin with, but without power, there wasn't even a radio or TV to provide background noise. With the road outside being only lightly travelled, there was no traffic noise either. Even the birds seemed to have gone quiet, probably still south for the winter. It was too quiet. So, Alfred tried to get North talking.

"So, uh, not that I don't like your house or anything, but why am I staying with you again?" he asked, hoping it wouldn't come off as rude. Even being on not-so-good terms with North, he didn't want to offend his host. That would just make it more awkward.

"So I can keep an eye on you," North said calmly, making eye contact for probably the first time since he'd questioned Alfred. It was something Alfred had noticed about North. He didn't really like to make eye contact unless he was in full control of the situation. "I suppose I'll have to come up with a way to entertain you."

"Why don't you just show me what a typical day is like for you?" Alfred suggested, taking another sip of his tea. He didn't want to forget why he'd come here—to get North talking to his brother again—but he didn't want to jump into that conversation right away either. He needed to sweeten North up first, or else he might piss North off and close his mind to the idea for good.

North stared at him like it was a stupid suggestion, then blinked slowly and took a sip of his own tea. "Well, I usually get up earlier and go to work, but I can't leave you. So."

Was North really humoring his suggestion for once? Alfred kept talking, trying to keep a conversation going so that they wouldn't have to sit in awkward silence. "What do you usually do after waking up?"

"Drink tea," North replied without missing a beat.

"How long have you been sitting out here drinking tea?" Alfred asked.

"An hour or so."

"That long?"

"There's nothing else to do."

Alfred glanced out the window and noted that the sun was already pretty far up in the sky. How early had North gotten up? He seemed like the kind of guy who worked on a military schedule, waking up before dawn and returning home only after the sun had set.

"How long has the power been out?" Alfred asked. "It's not like there's a snowstorm or anything."

"Since before sunrise," North answered. That explained why it was so cold. "It should be back on soon."

"How do you know?"

"It does this often."

Alfred blinked. "Why?"

"To conserve energy, we rotate what areas get power," North explained. "The lights are probably on in the city right now."

When Alfred had visited a few months ago, only certain areas of large buildings had been heated—and that had been in Pyongyang, the capital city. Was power so scarce that the outskirts and rural areas had to go without power for hours on end?

"So, will Pyongyang be without power later?" Alfred asked. It only seemed fair.

North was scowling tensely at him now. "You ask too many questions."

"I'm just curious!" Alfred said, trying to suppress a chuckle behind his hand. He couldn't deny that he was asking so many questions in part because he knew it would get North worked up. Even if he was on enemy turf, Alfred still liked to mess with his little communist friend. "Relax a little. You think I'm gonna try and go anywhere in this cold? Nah, man, I hate the cold. This is probably the warmest place for miles around."

North seemed to think on this for a moment. Then, Alfred could see him visibly loosen, his shoulders relaxing. He waited a moment, thinking North might say something, but when he didn't, Alfred decided he would have to be the one to continue this conversation.

"So, uh, after you drink tea, what do you do?" he asked.

"Go to work," North replied tersely, as always.

"What do you do at work?"

"…You ask too many questions," North said again, glancing away and distracting himself by taking a sip of his tea.

"I wouldn't have to ask questions if you'd try to hold up your end of the conversation," Alfred pointed out. "I thought you were gonna show me your typical day."

"I can't take you to work with me," North said dismissively.

"Why don't you just tell me what it's like then?" Alfred pressed.

North narrowed his eyes, then let out a defeated sigh. "I wake up early. I drink my tea and drive to the border. I do some things down there for the morning, then I drive back to Pyongyang for administrative things in the afternoon. Sometimes I go up north to see that border, but not as often. It's a longer drive."

When he was done, he took another sip of tea, as if it was the punctuation at the end of his sentence.

"See? That wasn't so hard," Alfred said with a smile, though he realized a second later that North was interpreting it as patronizing.

"I don't need your help to have a conversation," North growled. "I only said that much because I thought it might make you shut up."

"I—geez, sorry," Alfred said, giving North a wounded look. He was just trying to get to know North a little better. After all, they had agreed on that whole "starting over" thing right? They had reintroduced each other with their human names and shook hands and everything. For a while, all had seemed well. Then North went back to ignoring everyone. It was like they were back at square one, but Alfred wasn't ready to let things go back to hostilities just yet. "I just wanted to talk to you. We never get to just have a conversation, ya know? It'd be sorta nice to get to know you a little." To emphasize his disappointment, he sank forward to rest his chin on the table, looking up at North and sticking out his bottom lip pitifully. It was the puppy dog look he'd perfected on Arthur and Matthew over the years.

It seemed to have an effect on North too, because he looked at Alfred, bewildered, then looked away, embarrassed by his momentary show of emotion. "I can give you a tour of the house," he conceded.

It wasn't the deep, get-to-know-you conversation Alfred had been hoping for, but it was something.

"Yes!" he exclaimed, gulping down the rest of his tea, much to North's disgust. North continued to drink his at own pace, but when he finally finished, he pulled his blanket around him, stood up, and motioned for Alfred to follow him.

The first stop, basically right next to the table, was the kitchen. It was small, but seemed to be fully functional with a refrigerator, stove, sink, and cabinets. North didn't spend much time on it, and quickly wheeled Alfred around and back through the sliding door to the living room.

"You saw this yesterday," he said, but went on to point out that yes, he did have a TV and a radio and pictures of his leaders in here.

Moving on, he led Alfred down the hallway and stopped at the first door. He cast it open and stepped inside.

"My room," he said.

Alfred was a little hesitant to step inside, but eventually did so. Personal rooms just seemed like such a private place, but since North was showing it to him, he must have been comfortable with having him there. Like the rest of North's home, it was pretty bare. The wallpaper was slightly less tacky—this time a floral pattern over a white background as opposed to red like in the living room. There were more paintings of the North Korean landscape, but this room also had a few wall scrolls displaying patriotic sayings in Korean calligraphy. A bed was pushed against the wall under the window in the same fashion as in Alfred's room. There were a couple of bedside stands, a dresser, a wardrobe, and a desk with the North Korean flag tacked to the wall above it. Curiously, Alfred noticed a violin on a stand in the corner. Thinking about it, North did seem like the refined, cultured type. It was one of the few pieces of information his room betrayed of him.

A room can say a lot about a person. Alfred thought about his own room. Though it was different in each of his residences, it always had a little bit of him in it. Whether it was a bunch of superhero posters or artifacts from the days of the Wild West, anyone walking into Alfred's room could have gotten an idea of the kind of person he was. North's room wasn't like that. It had all the air of something very faceless and official. It had no personalization. It was like North's government had come in and decorated his room to be exactly the same as everyone else's. The violin in the corner was the only outlier that told anything about North. It made Alfred wonder what North was really like. Surely his government hadn't sucked all the personality out of him.

They skipped the guest room, since clearly Alfred had already seen it.

Across the hall was a little study whose walls were lined with bookshelves. It looked comfortable and well broken-in, and Alfred suspected North spent a lot of time in here. There was an ornate rug covering most of the floor and an armchair and a lamp in the corner near the window. There was another desk with a phone and some paper organizers and a lamp, all neatly arranged on its surface. Finally, the space in the middle of the room was occupied by an old piano. Actually, looking farther back into the room, Alfred was pretty sure he saw the cases to a French horn and the violin he'd seen in North's room.

"You play?" Alfred asked, referring to the piano, but wondering how many instruments North was versed in.

"Yes," North replied. "Why else would I have it?"

Well, he had Alfred there. What a smartass.

"It could have just been for decoration," Alfred surmised, but with how old the piano looked, he doubted that. "Can you play something?"

"Yes, but I won't," North said, glancing at Alfred to see what sort of affect that answer might have on him.

It had the effect of making Alfred feel like he was talking to Arthur. "Can I go play outside?" he might have asked as a child. "I don't know. Can you?" Arthur would answer. It drove Alfred crazy.

"Aw, that's a shame," Alfred said with a slight pout. "I bet you're pretty good." Maybe appealing to North's pride would make him like Alfred a bit more?

But it didn't, and North didn't even humor him with an answer, instead leading him back out to the hallway.

There was one more door in the hallway, but North skipped it and went straight back to the living room.

"Hey, wait!" Alfred called after him. "There's one more!"

"It's locked and it's none of your business," North said, hesitating at the end of the hallway to make sure Alfred was following him. "Just storage." Alfred nearly tried the doorknob to see if it was actually locked, but thought better of it. If there were any government secrets locked in that room, North would surely punish him harshly for trying to get in. He already felt like he was on thin ice. North may have been treating him well so far, but that could all change in an instant if Alfred misstepped.

"That's everything," North said once Alfred rejoined him in the living room. "Unless you want me to show you outside, but I don't think you do."

Yeah, it was too cold for that. "Nope. I'm good. What next?"

North didn't seem ready for that question, because he looked away and thought for a long, hard moment before turning back to Alfred with an answer. "The power's not back yet, so I suppose I'll have to take you into Pyongyang for lunch."

Oh, boy, food! After the interrogation and subsequent headache he'd suffered through the day before, Alfred hadn't eaten anything. The last time he'd eaten was back in Beijing. Now, he was starving. "Sounds great," he said. "I'll go get my coat."

After a quick trip back into the guest room to grab his coat off the bed, he returned to the entryway to throw on his shoes, rejoin North, and follow him to the car outside.

North drove to the middle of Pyongyang, where the lights were indeed on and the heat running as if nothing would have dictated otherwise. Away from the towering statues and monuments of the tourist areas, Pyongyang looked like any other major city, if not a bit old. Pedestrians walked by on their lunch breaks as North led Alfred into a nondescript restaurant. They ordered Pyongyang cold noodles, a dish North insisted was famous but Alfred had never heard of. Then again, how many people had heard of anything in North Korea besides nuclear weapons and famine? He'd let North have this one.

After lunch, North took Alfred to see some everyday things around Pyongyang.

"You paid for a tour," North said. "But they'll just show you everything you've already seen."

It was strange, Alfred thought. If North wanted him to see the best of this city, then why wouldn't he take him to the big monuments and proven tourist attractions? After all, everything in North Korea was so strictly controlled—the things shown on the tours were things that North could only be proud of. And yet, here he was showing Alfred convenience stores and a shopping mall, none of which were particularly impressive. Was it just to remind Alfred that real people lived here? After all, it was easy to believe that the North Korean capital really was just a showcase city where all the "citizens" were actors, that North's government had stripped him of all personality, and that the North Korean people were Kim Jong Il loving drones. When those were the things that had been said of North Korea consistently for years and years, it was easy to start believing them, even though the logical voice in the back of Alfred's head told him they weren't completely true. For years, North had even seemed to play along—insulting America at every opportunity, denouncing capitalism, spouting his government's "official BS." Only recently, now that Alfred had been to his country a couple of times, was North's exterior façade beginning to crack. He was less a propaganda mouthpiece and more a socially inept outcast. He was quiet and didn't seem to know how to deal with Alfred other than resorting to anger, but as the day drew on, even that aspect of North was beginning to fade. Was it on purpose, Alfred wondered? Or had North simply gotten weary of being constantly angry?

When they stopped inside a convenience store late in the afternoon, North asked if Alfred needed anything. Alfred ended up getting a bottle of imported Chinese soda and a puzzle book, thinking he should at least have some entertainment the next time the power went out. By the time they stepped back out onto the street, the sun was dipping below the buildings. It was time to find where North parked and head home.

North had picked up a few vegetables at the store with what looked like a ration book, and upon arriving home began chopping them up for dinner. Luckily, the power had come back on while they were gone, so at least Alfred wouldn't have to wait in the cold.

"Go do some puzzles or something," North told Alfred. "It shouldn't take long."

A short while later, the two of them were enjoying bowls of bibimbap at North's table. The rice at the bottom of the bowl was topped with several vegetables, many of which Alfred didn't recognize. He saw North mix it all up and he did the same, trying to be as authentic as possible here. It might make North more open to talking to him, and they did have some things to talk about. All day, the conversation had been pretty one-sided, with North showing Alfred around and telling him all about the things he was seeing. There had never been an opportunity for Alfred to try to talk to North about the talks with South or the impending drills, which had been the entire reason for Alfred coming here. Now that he was sitting across from North and it was again silent between them, he considered bringing it up—but he hesitated. There was something else bothering him—something that he felt he needed to ask about before he could bring up the talks or the drills.

"Hey, North," he said, struggling to get his chopsticks around a particularly slippery piece of vegetable. "Can I ask you something?"

"Is it a stupid question?" North asked, apparently trying to nip Alfred's question asking in the bud before it began.

"No, it's a good one," Alfred replied. "Promise."

He looked up in time to see North giving him his usual displeased look before he looked back down at his bowl. "Ask."

Alfred smiled. "Okay, so, I've been wondering—what…what did I say when you shot me up with that drug yesterday?" He saw North pause, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. "Because I mean…you've been almost nice to me today. Almost. In your own sort of way."

North quickly went back to scowling at his food, digging his chopsticks down to pick up a vegetable that was clinging stubbornly to the side of the bowl. "You're my guest. It's not niceness—it's civility."

That may have been a good enough answer for some people, but not Alfred. "All right, call it whatever you want, but you've definitely been less tense. You haven't accused me of spying or even called me a 'capitalist pig' or whatever once today." Alfred didn't say so, but he was sure this change was because of something he'd said under the influence of truth serum at the hospital. What else could have produced this sudden change in North's attitude? "That's not like you."

"It's civility," North insisted.

"All right, fine," Alfred sighed. "Why don't you answer my first question then?"

"What you said during the interrogation?"

"Yes."

North wrinkled his nose and stared down at his food, frowning. "You kept saying you wanted to be friends."

Alfred stared at North for a moment, and then his face broke out into a smile. "Yeah! Is that so weird?"

He did want to be friends with North. The last time he'd visited North Korea, Alfred had thought about the possibility. The big problem with North was that he wasn't treating diplomacy as a two way street. He was reactionary rather than proactive—except when he did something he knew was dangerous in order to draw attention to himself, like threatening war or attacking boats. He never tried to reach out to anybody, and yet he expected people to be conciliatory with him. It would be better for both of them if they could get along and not have to worry about who might throw a missile at the other first. No one liked to have enemies. Alfred didn't, and he felt a bit bad that a large part of his motivation in trying to get North to open up to him was to reduce the risk to himself. And yet, the more time he spent with North, the more the little Korean was beginning to grow on him as a person—the same way his brother had so many years ago.

"I mean, think about it," Alfred continued. "If I didn't care about you at all, why would I waste so much time and money coming here? I could just as easily stay at home and play video games and let the politicians take care of it."

North continued to stare down at his food. It was easy to see him being Yong Soo's brother. The more Alfred watched him, the more he saw similarities in their habits—while Yong Soo would swirl his drink with his straw when he was deep in thought, North would push his food around with his chopsticks.

"I don't know," North admitted after a long silence. It was clear that Alfred perplexed him. As much as North wanted to believe that the American was out to get him, that belief had been contradicted by whatever Alfred had said in the interrogation room. Truth serum may not have been fool proof, but Alfred could see North working through the logic in his mind. If truth serum made it harder to lie, wouldn't it be easier for Alfred to tell the truth than concoct a lie about a complicated friend-making scheme? Maybe that was part of the reason Alfred was staying at North's house too—so North could assess him better.

"I'm telling you, man," Alfred said, smiling. "It'd be better for both of us."

North didn't seem to buy it, but at least he wasn't acting hostile. There was hope for him yet.

They finished their meal with no further discussion of the interrogation. Clearly, it had been enough for one night.

After dinner, the two watched some old Chinese movie on North's clunky television before heading off to bed.

Or, at least, that's what Alfred thought.

Alfred had gone to bed, this time wisely nestling into the blankets in case the power went out again. Contrary to his assumption, however, North hadn't. Sometime during the night, Alfred woke up with the urge to go to the bathroom, so he quietly rose from the bed and tip-toed down the hall to the bathroom to do his business. When he came out, however, he noticed light filtering down the hallway. Against his better judgement, he went to investigate.

All the way at the other end of the house, North sat at the table in the kitchen, doing what looked like paperwork. The sliding door had been left open just a crack, and Alfred slid it open a bit more so that he could poke his head in.

"What are you doing up?" he asked, making North jump. He pretended to cough so that North wouldn't see that he was laughing.

North recovered from his initial surprise and let out a huff. "Just some paperwork."

Despite North clearly having papers in front of him, Alfred wasn't sure he bought that excuse.

"You know, I'm not gonna try to escape or anything," Alfred said, letting out a yawn. "You don't need to stay up pretending to do paperwork."

"I'm not pretending."

"Okay, dude. Just sayin'."

To help put North's mind at ease, he wandered towards the sink and asked, "Where do you keep your cups? I was just coming to get a glass of water." He faked another cough, as if that were the reason he was coming for water. He didn't want North thinking he'd been up trying to sneak out the front door or into the locked storage room.

"In the cabinet next to the sink," North answered, watching Alfred for a moment before going back to his paperwork. Alfred filled up a glass, gulped it down quickly, then made his way toward the sliding door to leave.

"But yeah. You don't need to stay up to watch me," Alfred said as he left. He didn't look back to see how North was responding, but he did hope he'd gone to bed after that.

The next morning went much the same as the first, except the power was on. Alfred joined North at the table for a cup of tea and some light conversation—how he'd slept, if he was tired from the day before, if he wanted to see more of Pyongyang.

He did, and after lunch in a barbecue restaurant (that he very much enjoyed), North towed him around for more sightseeing. This time, they stayed along the bank of the Taedong, the river that ran through Pyongyang's heart. There were a lot more tourist attractions along the river, such as the Juche Tower and Kim Il Sung Square, but North more or less skipped those, knowing Alfred had already seen them. They walked by little shops and businesses, and Alfred vaguely wondered how they worked in a state without capitalism, but knew better than to ask.

At one point, he saw the familiar shape of a Navy ship down river and asked North, "Hey, is that the Pueblo?" to which North mumbled something like a 'yes' and quickly led Alfred in the other direction. It was a discussion they'd save for another day.

When they returned to North's home late in the afternoon, it was not yet late enough for dinner, so Alfred suggested North show him the area around his house. North agreed, and soon the two were bundled up and walking along the secluded road that wound up the mountain.

There was actually a very specific reason Alfred had suggested they go for a walk—since he'd been interrogated, he had not brought up the talks with South or the impending military drills even once, and talking to North about those two things was the entire reason he'd come. A flight out of Pyongyang would be leaving the next day, and he was sure North intended to put him on it. It was now or never, and he knew North wouldn't want to discuss these things if he thought someone was listening. Alfred had considered the possibility of North's house being bugged, and decided he would have to talk to North somewhere else. Pyongyang was too busy, so the road was their only option.

"I need to ask you something," Alfred began when they were sufficiently far from the house.

North raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Okay, so," Alfred started, the same way he always did when he was about to enter dangerous territory. "What happened with those talks? Yong Soo said you walked."

North hesitated. "They weren't going anywhere," he said slowly.

"But why just quit?" Alfred pressed. "Now you definitely won't get anywhere."

"You wouldn't understand," North sighed, sounding surprisingly subdued discussing a topic that really should have gotten his blood boiling. "Why do you care, anyway? It's better for you. When we don't talk, you can point fingers at me. Accuse me of being insincere. Justify military action." He gave Alfred a pointed look, and Alfred knew he meant the drills.

"I care because it would be better for you both if you came to some kind of understanding," Alfred replied. "Not just as nations—as people too."

"No," North disagreed. "It wouldn't."

"Why not?"

North shot Alfred an irritated look. "It would be an unbalanced understanding," he said. "You and South and most of the UN against me? It would be stacked in your favor."

"No it wouldn't!" Alfred insisted. "Not if it started with you and South."

"Don't be stupid," North spat, picking up his pace as if he intended to leave Alfred behind.

"How am I being stupid?" Alfred asked, increasing his stride length to keep up.

"You're trying to tell me it wouldn't be unbalanced," North said, "when every other agreement you've tried to make with me has been horribly unbalanced." He stopped and turned around, staring Alfred in the eye. If he hadn't been worked up before, he certainly was now. "Everything is intended to strip me of any defensive capability. 'We won't talk to you about nukes until you get rid of them.' 'We won't talk to you about security issues until you stop defending yourself.' 'We won't acknowledge your sovereignty until you're weak enough for us to take it from you.' How is that fair? Why should I listen to anything you have to say to me?"

Nearly frozen to the spot, Alfred wasn't quite sure how to respond. Every agreement Alfred's politicians had ever tried to craft with North Korea—even the best ones—had fallen apart because there was no trust. No one wanted to make the first move. America wasn't ready to loosen up sanctions and restrictions on North Korea because no one wanted to risk being attacked, so the North Koreans were asked to disarm first. But, North Korea wouldn't disarm, because it left them open to attack. Neither side trusted the other not to attack, so, by fundamental design, no agreement between them could ever work. When Alfred looked into North's eyes, behind the coldness and the hostility, he saw fear—the deep seated kind that couldn't simply be shrugged off or dulled by time. It was persistent in every aspect of North's country—the nukes, the obsessive control, the isolation, the paranoia. Every action was a measure to keep harm from coming to him.

It was then that Alfred realized being friends with North wasn't going to get him anywhere if they didn't have trust. Somehow, he was going to have to get North to trust him.

"North…" he said softly. He had no idea what to say. There wasn't anything he could say that was going to ease the situation when North was so worked up, so he simply said the first thing that came to mind. "I'm…sorry. I'm sorry it hasn't worked. I know you don't trust me. I don't know how to make you understand, but I want to help you. I'll take another round of truth serum. I'll let you blindfold me and take me to where you can do the lie detector test. I don't know."

"But…why?" North asked, his anger fading into perplexity. "Why are you trying so hard?"

That, Alfred didn't have an answer to.

"I wish I knew."

Author's Notes:

- We're finally starting to move along here! This chapter ended up really long.

- Bibimbap is a Korean dish that consists of rice topped with vegetables and sometimes meat or an egg. The ingredients can vary, but some common ones are carrots, cucumber, zucchini, bean sprouts, spinach, mushrooms, an a variety of other native vegetables.

- The Pueblo is an American Navy vessel that was captured by the North Koreans back in 1968. It's the only commissioned US Navy vessel still being held captive.