Ivan didn't wake up inside a jail cell on Friday, no matter how much last night (early morning?) had felt like a dream. A terrible, terrible bad dream. But. At least he wasn't inside a jail cell.

That thought made him feel slightly better, as did the wonderful smells coming from the kitchen. He blinked the sleep out of his eyes, reached for his scarf, remembered he didn't have his scarf, groaned, and got up.

He met Lovino in the hall, who still wore only underpants, but now held three emptied breakfast plates and was backing out of the door with all the bolts, a snarl marking up his face. Ivan heard noises from the inside of the room—definite human noises—before Lovino slammed and locked the door.

"Dobroye utro," said Ivan.

Lovino jumped and almost dropped his plates. "Shit! Fuck! Ay! Who the hell are you? Too early for this!"

"Dobroye utro, Ivan!" someone called cheerfully from down the hall.

In the shared vigilantes' apartment kitchen, the three others were haggling over the last of the meal: "Can I get a sausage? Can I please get a sausage?" Ivan bid them hello and was delighted to see they had already set a plate for him, but he was more astounded by what sat next to it.

"What is this?" He ran a finger delicately across the smooth surface. He knew what it was.

Felicks, in a sweater, skirt and slippers, plopped down in a seat at the other end of the tiny table and chewed on the sausage he had won. Chin raised, he didn't look Ivan in the eyes. "You're welcome. One of the most expensive orders I ever got."

"We thought it would be best to get you a new one," offered Eduard, in pinstriped pajamas. "You will need it for working with us. Tonight we will find the old one and get rid of it before the police do."

You will not look at it, you will not let anyone see it, and you will forget who gave it to you. If I am not here, you will break it into small pieces and throw them into the river. "I don't know where the old computer is," Ivan admitted, staring down at the shiny new slab of metal. He wondered how the "circle" knew so much about the FBI and the police's movements—surely they hadn't hacked them again? The FBI guys will sweep by later, but if we find that computer… "The cops could not find it the first time, and it was in an obvious place."

"Maybe you just forgot it," tried Raivis. He wore another SAVE THE WHALES shirt, a baseball cap, and a duffel bag, looking like he was just about to walk out the door and into another traffic-blocking protest.

"I never forget," Ivan said, his voice going quieter and quieter as he thought. He's innocent.

Time: just before noon. Location: the back parking lot outside the police department. People present: three FBI agents from two separate divisions, two FBI division chiefs, two cops, one History Museum employee, and two distressed familial absolute units.

"We have a lawyer!" hollered Ivan's sister Natalya. "Where is he!"

"I don't understand how he could just be...gone," muttered Yekaterina to herself in her own language. "It's like when he moved, all over again."

"Ma'am, I promise you that we are doing everything we can to find him," Matthew Williams began.

Natalya stepped up to him. "You are doing everything?" In short, she looked extremely skeptical. "Do not call me your 'ma'am.' Everything?"

Carlos Machado flicked his cigar around. He didn't look too skeptical. "Everything except arresting those most close to him."

Arthur sent a pointed look at Alfred, who looked away.

"This is injustice," hissed Natalya. Yekaterina just kept shaking her head, shaking her head. The high midday sun beat down on Alfred's back, and when Natalya scanned the crowd and stopped on him, squinting out a glare, he felt sweat. He wondered for the first time un-absentmindedly what exactly she knew. She had seen the display in the holding cell room. She had heard the words he and Ivan had shared. But Alfred also knew Ivan hadn't told his sisters about him, out of shame, maybe? Fear; alienation? Or was it for the same reason he hadn't told his sisters he was a spy? "You—all of you—are wrong."

"We're doing what we can do," put in Arthur. His face was hard, but his tone had softened up considerably since how cold he had seemed the day before. "And I'm sorry I have to tell you this, but your brother might not be the person you believe him to be."

"No," said Yekaterina. "Not right." She took her sister's hand and stepped back one step.

Natalya said something to her, and then they both began walking swiftly back to their rental car, throwing angry glances over their shoudlers. The rest of the company subsequently let out a collective long sigh.

"Should we go inside, at least?" Matthew suggested, his hands resting tiredly at his belt.

They followed him to an air-conditioned meeting room deep within the police station, and the door was locked as everyone took their seats. Kiku sat next to Alfred and gave him an encouraging look, though Alfred wasn't exactly sure what he should feel encouraged for until someone started talking.

"To begin," said Elizabeta Héderváry, "I think that we should catch up with each other. We all know we're both busy, and it's obvious lots of things have been happening since we all got an update. Would it be easier if what's left of the gray division goes first? I think it would be easier if the gray division goes first."

Nods all around. "A-Are we taking notes?" meekly asked Toris.

"Depends on if there's a test later," whispered back Alfred, the first words he had spoken in ten minutes, which was uncanny. "And boy do I think there will be."

Héderváry didn't wait for them and jumped in immediately. "I've spent a lot of my time covering some of the work started by Bonnefoy, Beilschmidt the Elder, and Fernandez-Carriedo. I go around town undercover looking for leads on their cases, but it seems the trail is running cold. No more witnesses have come forward, and when I searched the homes of the agents I did not find anything, either, except for their junk. Records—public and private—give me nothing about their whereabouts. I even went to the bowling alley to ask questions." She brushed through her long chestnut hair, her veil of strength lifting for just a moment. "The most unnerving part is that when I checked security cameras in the areas and on routes they were last heard from, all of the cameras were turned off, broken, or just fakes anyway. Nothing from the streets or the subways. Their cell phones are missing and untraceable, too. And since the agents have no known strong connections besides us in Washington…"

Ludwig raised his head out of a bow. "Would you like to say something?" she asked him quietly.

He swallowed. "If you are done, yes."

Aside from the general despair in the room, Alfred found that renewing his interest in the FBI sideplot relaxed him from thinking about Ivan. Toris had been scribbling away on a spare sheet in his logbook; Alfred being separated personally from the conflict made it easier to see the conflict as more of an actual conflict than just some problem he was being paid to occupy his time with solving. He remembered how a few weeks ago he had been vying to be involved. Would his life had turned out better or worse, he couldn't tell.

Ludwig had brought along notes, too. He cleared his throat after getting them out. He looked different than when Alfred had last paid attention to him, somehow. He still gave off the emotionally constipated "closet gay, maybe also a closet furry" vibe, and although his eyes seemed sharper today, there were circles under them. Was he...nervous?

Alfred propped his chin up with his hand. Aaaand that's enough of trying to read the mood for today. I've reached my max.

"I have been visiting Feliciano Vargas a lot recently," Ludwig began. After a short pause, he cleared his throat once more. "I've seen his house, his job, and a few other places he likes to spend his time. Here are some of the things I found uncanny." He put on his glasses and read from his list. "Does not own a telephone or any other Internet-accessing device, including his old destroyed cell phone. Won't talk in detail about his family in Italy. Doesn't have enough income from his job to pay for all his bills and transportation and all the junk he keeps in his apartment—I calculated—yet always seems to conjure up enough. Did not finish the college he was registered to attend here. He is apparently left-handed, but I've seen him...do many things...um…" He paused, picked up a pen, and crossed something out on the paper. Clearing his throat for the third time, he finished: "He asked me about Gilbert. And he—one time we were going home from dinner, and he just took off running. I have never seen someone run so fast. I couldn't catch up, but by the time I did, he...we bumped into each other and broke the special recording glasses."

Alfred assumed he meant the special glasses he himself was supposed to get, or had been supposed to. "Those were expensive," mumbled Kirkland wistfully.

"Anything else?" prompted Chief Elizabeta, and Ludwig's ears began to turn color.

"I have heard nothing from my brother. I have to feed his bird now and it's abominable." He stacked his papers promptly and neatly, the sound coming out harsh over the quiet tones everyone had been using. "That is all."

"I'm sorry," said Elizabeta. For a moment she looked as if she were about to ask something else, but then thought better of it and let her face settle. She slowly glanced at Alfred. The chummy inclinations that had existed between them had faded into a sort of uncertainty, as it had now with everyone Alfred knew. He sniffed and examined the grain in the table. "Would you like to go?"

"We've been through most of it already," sighed Arthur, "I examined Braginsky's phone, and everything matches up so far with the story he's given."

"What story?" Ludwig questioned.

"Well." Arthur straightened his tie, his eyes on the ceiling. "You see, for a few weeks, unbeknownst to me—"

Alfred looked up. He could talk for himself, dammit, he could talk. "Ivan and I were dating," he blurted out.

Héderváry's eyes went wide, and she let out a little snort of polite laughter, covering it with her hand. "Oh. Oh, excuse me, please. Oh."

Alfred found himself to be not offended. He just tried to keep his breathing steady.

Ludwig leaned forward. "Really? But—how?"

He would. "We just kept meeting," he explained, shrugging. "It was an accident at first, but then it just...I don't know...happened. I mean, nothing happened! We just...I don't know. We went on one official date. And then he turned out to be a hacker. Sad. Alexa went and played 'Despacito.' I'm fine now if anyone was wondering." Liar.

Ludwig was shaking his head. "I don't understand. How could you stay with him if you knew the repercussions?"

Alfred blew out a puff of air. He opened his mouth to respond, but just like when he had tried to tell Kirkland about Ivan that one time long ago, nothing came out. He realized that it wasn't something he could answer. Matthew met his eyes.

"Sometimes we don't know why we do things," Matthew said softly.

"That's for certain," remarked Arthur Kirkland.

Ludwig slowly sat back in his seat.

"But you understand now that it's against the rules, correct?" Elizabeta Héderváry inspected the faces of all three agents sitting in the room, concerned. "I am all for love, but there is so much at stake."

Toris, Alfred, and Ludwig nodded in unison.

"Maybe after all this is over," she resumed, "we can put protections in place so no one gets hurt again. Your procedure is quite...intense."

Arthur exhaled. "If this all is over and there's anything left to reform."

Kiku raised his head and spoke for the first time. "What do you mean?"

He ran a hand through his messy hair. "Nothing. Just a slip of the tongue. Perhaps we should get to managing the situation. Braginsky's escaped."

Carlos shook out his dreads. "I was on that night shift! Telling ya, I saw nothin'! It was quiet. Most boring I've ever done. The only thing that happened was a couple of those whale people came and tried to pitch their sale to me. Wasn't havin' it."

"I checked the security footage right when I came in and it was running loops of blank hallways and full cells," added Matt. "But the time points us to somewhere between two and three in the morning when he escaped. We found that the alarm in the nearest emergency exit door to the cell had been disabled, and there are tire marks on the pavement. If he escaped by vehicle, he could truly be anywhere by now."

"Wait, hold up, amigo." Alfred raised a hand. "Whale people. At two in the morning?"

"We get all kinds of crap at two in the morning. It's not surprising, kid." Carlos stuck in his cigar.

Alfred faked a cough.

"Were the outdoor cameras disabled as well?" asked Arthur.

When Matthew nodded, Elizabeta put down her pen. "This sounds exactly like the kidnappings. Is it possible Braginsky was taken unwillingly?"

"There were other guards on duty," Carlos answered. "They said they heard no scuffle. And whoever messed with the cameras...had to have done it soon before."

The table's occupants glanced around dumbfoundedly. Everyone was thinking the same thing: to escape from a high-security prison in Washington DC, the nation's capital, was no small feat. It was near impossible Ivan had done it himself, however great of a spy he was.

After a silence, Arthur turned to Alfred. "Did he have any connections around here? You said he didn't have many friends."

Alfred nodded carefully. "He never mentioned he was close to anyone but me and his sisters. Maybe...Yao Wang? You know, the Wok & Roll guy? He ate there a lot. Or maybe someone from work?"

"It might have been smart to keep his sisters here," Elizabeta mumbled.

"It did seem suspicious that Braginsky was suddenly caught only when others close to him entered the picture," Arthur mused, scratching his chin.

"Which may have been my fault again," answered Alfred in a quiet tone for his normal voice. Somehow he couldn't picture the sisters being in on it. Natalya had slapped the tic tac out of him, sure. Would she have if she was a hacker, trying to play it cool but not too cool? Hard to say. Also, their emotional displays just seemed too genuine, combined with the fact that they hadn't known about Alfred. Either that or they were tremendous actresses, but Alfred had spied on them himself, and when Ivan had ripped his phone away from Yekaterina on that beach… When Ivan had said "I was prepared to take you to meet my sisters…" They were just a normal family; dysfunctional, distant, caring. Not that Alfred was prepared to believe anything they said from here on out. Ivan had sucked all of them, Alfred included, into his black hole.

Matthew straightened his tie. "I think...we should stick with what we know, first. And we know for certain that Ivan's out and about. If we can catch him again, he'll lead us right to the others, if there are others."

"Smart move," said Kirkland. "So, the only problem is...where is the bloke?"

Silence fell again. And again, everyone's eyes drifted to Alfred.

He cleared his throat, pawing at the table. "I have no clue. Like, really."

"If he is in a vehicle and has not stopped driving since two in the morning, he could be in another state at this point," thought Ludwig.

Toris looked up from his notes. "He could not have gone back to his apartment because we are searching it tomorrow, right?"

"No, he's too smart for that." Alfred kicked at the wheels on his chair. (The back of his mind took delight to realize his chair had wheels.) "I think he would stay here. But...it doesn't really matter, does it, if he was taken by someone else? Like, think about it. There's no way he could have broken out himself."

"Just like Feliciano," Ludwig murmured to himself. "One step ahead."

"So the only potential connections we have right now are his sisters, who can barely speak English, Yao Wang, a street food vendor, and SAVE THE WHALES, a wildlife preservation organization." Arthur Kirkland snapped his folders shut. "Now, I don't mean to sound silly, but I think the only thing we can do now is split up and look for clues."

And it was at that moment Alfred's neck snapped forward as he remembered what he had meant to mention. He prepared to speak, but didn't. On purpose this time. It would sound even sillier to mention the meme account, and Alfred wanted to keep as much of his and Ivan's relationship out of public eye (private eye, really) as possible. So as everyone began to clear, he trailed his boss. He had learned his lesson in not telling people things.

"Oh, yes," said Arthur in the parking lot. "I still need to go through your phone."

Alfred grunted through the nausea that sentence gave him. He countered with, "I think I know a way to reach Ivan."

Arthur let out a tired puff of air and studied him for a second. "Okay, you know what? Sit down, boy. Let's...talk."

Alfred didn't really want to "talk" again, but he followed the Chief to his car and fell into the passenger seat anyway. Losing Ivan had really taken the gusto out of him.

"Did you know," he blurted out, "that Washington, DC is one of the gayest places in America? Like, the nation's capital?"

Kirkland put a hand to his forehead. "And why did you feel it necessary to begin the conversation that way?" A pause. "Is that some kind of...excuse?"

"No. I don't know. It just...came to me."

Arthur put his hands together. "How nice. And, as much as I'd enjoy continuing this interesting conversation about the wonders of your love life, I still have to ask." He finally met Alfred's eyes. "What were you thinking?"

Sometimes we don't know why we do things. "I wasn't thinking." That's what it was—a mistake. The whole thing had been a mistake, and he was over it.

"Do you want to know what I was thinking?" Arthur questioned.

Alfred frowned. "Wait, what? So you did know? The whole time? Oh my God. Oh my. I had a feeling, but I wasn't sure—"

"I knew from the beginning that there were things you weren't telling me," he explained. "But not for this reason." Then he laughed a little. It was strange to hear him laugh, but somehow not a bad sort of strange. "By George, not for this reason. I couldn't say anything to the rest of the group or to anyone because of this, but I thought you were a mole, Alfred Jones. For the longest time I was completely convinced there was a spy in our division. I thought you were telling Braginsky things, feeding him info. And you were, just not the info I was looking for. That's why I told Mr. Williams and Mr. Honda not to say anything to you when we caught him. I was ready to arrest you at the station that day until I saw your reaction. I mean, Chief Elizabeta did say our routine was intense; it's unbelievable."

Alfred tried to breathe slowly. "Wow," he uttered. "But no, I'm not a spy, I'm just really dumb."

Arthur's faint smile slipped away. "Truly, I don't think you're really dumb, either. I became a little crazy and obsessive myself. It is correct that we all need better communication."

This was the first time in a long time Alfred felt reassured when talking to his boss. "Gee, thanks."

"So, speaking of communication, what did you have to tell me? You know a way to contact Ivan?"

Alfred nodded, smoothing his hands down his pants. Here goes nothing. "So you know that he's into memes and stuff?"

An eyebrow arched. "Er..."

"I was thinking maybe I could message him. Through his meme account. If there's some way he's gotten ahold of some new device and can access it, all we need is for him to respond and maybe we can trace it to find out where he is."

Both eyebrows were arched now, and Kirkland's arms were crossed. "I'm usually one to agree with the philosophy that the Internet ruins everything, but I think that's actually a good plan. This isn't because you want to talk to him about any lasting feelings you might have, though, is it?"

At first it had been, but now Alfred had to be sure it wasn't. "I don't feel anything for him anymore." There was a time Alfred had been so devoted to Ivan that he was willing to risk his job, but he had decided that time was over. No matter how much he still thought about Ivan. No matter how he wondered if, right now, wherever he was, Ivan was thinking about him, too.

Ivan wasn't thinking about him. Ivan really wasn't. He wasn't thinking about how the inside of his now-vacant apartment might have looked to Alfred through the camera of his phone, or what Alfred might have thought about Ivan's meager belongings. He wasn't thinking about how they might have sat on the couch together here or made dinner together here or watched Vines together here. He wasn't thinking about Alfred at all.

He saw the sunflower on the sill and gasped. "It is dying!"

Raivis, his lock-picking kit in tow, glanced over. "Best not to water it, or they will know someone was here."

But Ivan didn't care. He wouldn't be staying anyway. He filled a tall glass with his gloved hands and emptied the entire thing into the pot, hoping it was enough to keep the flower alive for however long he would be gone.

"Um, where did you say the computer was?" Raivis asked, a few rooms away. Ivan followed the teenager to the bathroom and they checked under the sink together.

Nothing. Gone.

"She moved it," he whispered to himself. Somehow, Natalya had known. She had seen Ivan using it that day when she had accidentally come into the bathroom. Maybe she hadn't known what its purpose really was, but she had known that it was an object of great importance to him, and had hidden it from the police in the spare seconds she had had upon being woken up in the middle of the night. "But where?"

He searched the rest of his bedroom, Raivis keeping watch outside. Wedged under all the scarves in his knitting/scarf drawer, wrapped in the scarf he had taken off before he had been taken, he found it, along with a note in Katya's handwriting. "We love you."

telephone - beyonce & gaga

I just wanna say another big group thank you to all the people who keep leaving big wonderful comments, especially to those who do it frequently and/or for multiple chapters. (Some of them won't allow me to respond on here, probably because you're on guest or something, but you know who you are.) I know I respond kinda late but I love each and every one of you so much and I read them all multiple times over and you have no idea how great they make me feel. Never be afraid to say something!