Alfred: ;)(;

Ivan stared at the characters on the screen, still not believing his eyes. The message had come from an empty account, but he knew beyond a doubt it had to be Alfred. None of his meme followers really messaged him directly, and he had even less of a following now that he was too "preoccupied" to post. In fact, his follower count had gone down to 999K instead of one million, which irked him, but there was nothing he could do about it at the moment. Only someone who really knew him would have had the guts to contact him, and in such a cryptic, familiar manner. It was Alfred.

And now the question: did he respond?

"Ugh! If I were you I would tell him to take his crappy sappy messages and fu—"

"Oh my God, but like, why even respond though? He got balls coming to you now. Did you even like him?"

Ivan looked between Lovino and Felicks on the couch. They were haggling over a bowl of buttered popcorn in their robes, boredly watching a Sunday morning soap opera. Eduard and Raivis were still asleep, exhausted after yesterday's escapade, but Ivan was used to waking up early. That and his sleep schedule had been thoroughly bamboozled as of late. "I did," he said quietly, narrowing his eyes. He felt another stab to the heart. "You wouldn't understand what it is like."

Felicks, in the middle of pulling his hair into a bun, looked miffed. "Hah. Try me."

Ivan redirected his gaze to the message: ;)(; What had Alfred been attempting to convey? Usually Ivan was good with Internet lingo, but this...this could mean many things, and his heart felt even stranger trying to sort out the possibilities. Offhandedly, he murmured to Felicks, "Square up."

There was a little gasp from the couch, and then Lovino groaned out "Go to church!" and tossed some popcorn while a peppy theme song began to echo from the TV.

Was Alfred trying to say something about his...feelings? If so, it was unfair and inopportune and...and Ivan didn't even want to consider it an option. Obviously Alfred had ulterior motives. Ivan could already guess what would happen if he responded and used his current IP.

And yet. In the depths of FBI headquarters, he had read the log.

You lied to me, Ivan wanted to type, and leave it at that, even though they both knew it and he had already said it. But another fact was that Alfred hadn't just lied to Ivan; he had lied about Ivan. For Ivan.

And that made his heart doubt itself even more.

But Felicks and Lovino were liars, too, and so were Eduard and Raivis and Feliciano and the three "missing" FBI agents living in a locked room just down the hall. Ivan knew now about many things. He had to sort this one out on his own. He carried the laptop back to his room and shut the door, thinking of how he would approach a response. He had to remember: he didn't like Alfred anymore. The message meant nothing because he didn't like Alfred anymore.

But alas—another liar was Ivan himself.

Ivan: why are you doing this to me.

"He responded!" Alfred practically leapt out of his seat. He struggled to put his glasses back on, accidentally flipping them onto the floor. "He actually responded!"

"What'd he say?" Arthur Kirkland stood up over the wall of cubicles, glancing around.

After a second, Alfred popped back up and met his eyes. "He said, and I quote, in all lower case, but using a period, which means you're real serious in the language of our day, 'why are you doing this to me.'"

Arthur just stared. "And…? Did you get the IP?"

"Not yet; I was just really excited." Alfred's heart was still racing. He had expected Ivan to ignore the message—if he even read it at all. But the response proved two things: firstly that Ivan had found a new device to access the account from, which meant if was dedicating time to looking through memes he had probably at least found a safe place to do so with WiFi, and secondly that Ivan was still at least a little invested in their whole relationship thing, judging from the content of the message itself. Alfred didn't know if that was good or bad, or how to feel about it yet.

Excitement, though. That was a start. A nice change from depression.

Alfred snapped out of it, connected his phone to his computer, and traced the IP.

"Wait—what? North Dakota?"

Kirkland walked into the cubicle with his clipboard and leaned in to see. "Wow. Isn't North Dakota a little...far?"

Alfred was perplexed. "Yeah, it would have taken him like two days, and North Dakota, like, doesn't even exist anyway."

Arthur was also perplexed. "Two days is somewhat doable. Wait—what do you mean North Dakota doesn't exist?"

Alfred stared hard at him. "Have you ever been to North Dakota? Do you know someone who's been to North Dakota? Do you know someone who knows someone who's been to North Dakota?"

Arthur stared hard back. "No, only because I'm from bloody England!"

"Exactly. It's a sketch state. He's using a virtual private network to disguise his real location, obviously." Alfred leaned back in his seat, thinking. "He's good at this. He would never have fallen for the trick again if it's what got him last time. He's smart, you know? But two can play at that game." He went back to the messaging page on his phone and prepared his thumbs to type, grinning a little. This could be fun. "I'm gonna use a VPN that says I'm at the Denver International Airport.

The Chief shook his head. "I think I'll leave you to that, then. Tell me what you find."

A spark flashed in Alfred's brain. It was funny how now it was okay for him to interact directly with Ivan, and the Chief could know about it and everything. "Affirmative." He wondered if Arthur could detect just how juiced up he really was. This was the first time he had talked with Ivan since the incident at the cell block; for days.

Did he miss it?

Alfred: i was thinking we should talk.

Ivan: …

Ivan: i agree, but i know exactly what you are trying to do, and it will not work.

Ivan: just so you know. (^‿^✿)

Alfred laughed at the emoji use and then slowly covered his mouth when he realized.

Shit. He did miss it.

He waited a few seconds, and then typed again. It would be so easy to slip back into the free-speech mindset he normally used when chatting, but he had to be careful. He had to craft and censor his messages to try and get a detailed response, yet not reveal any essentials about himself in the process.

Alfred: so...cómo estás

Smooth. Direct. Off to a good start. Ivan took a few moments to respond.

Ivan: i am fine. and you? are you having a nice time at the headquarters of the New World Order?

Shit. Ivan was better at this. He knew where he "was." Time for a diversionary tactic.

Alfred: in fact i am. how good of a hacker are you anyway?

Ivan: as good as i have to be.

Alfred: what does that mean?

Ivan: how good of a hacker are YOU?

Alfred bit his lip. This was getting intense. He opened the bag of Cheddar Jalapeño Cheetos®️ he had brought along and began to stress-eat.

Alfred: as good as I have to be.

Ivan: That is just what I said! Not answering the question!

Alfred: Well you didn't answer MY question

Ivan: Yes I did. You go first. You are the one getting paid for it.

Alfred: Okay so if you're NOT getting paid for it then why are you doing it?

Ivan: If you are really that good I guess you will be finding out soon.

Alfred: I know enough to know you're not really in North Dakota. You're still right here in DC.

There was another short pause before Ivan typed back again. Alfred breathed through his mouth.

Ivan: There is no way you could have known that.

Ivan was right. Alfred hadn't known. He had guessed.

"Bingo!" he shouted.

"Everything all right over there?" The Chief's voice drifted from afar through the still humidity.

Alfred: ;)

It thrilled Alfred to have won a marginal piece of something over Ivan now. To have proved himself capable of being truly sneaky and tricky. But the fight wasn't over. He wanted more.

Ivan: Not possible.

Arthur came over and read through the conversation so far. He began to nod slowly, impressed? "What should I do next?" Alfred asked, an eager beaver.

"This is progress," Kirkland replied, studying how the tones of the texts had changed from casual lowercase to formal grammar. "If you can keep him interested in talking, perhaps we can arrange a rendezvous."

"A meeting? To capture him again?" Inquired over a handful of Cheetos®️.

"Perhaps, but we will have to come prepared. Pretend to want to hear him out."

"Oh, I'm not pretending." And he really wasn't. Finally, Alfred had a chance to get the motive and the backstory—to piece together the smiling, scarred puzzle that was Ivan.

Alfred: well, you've gotta know i'm not really in Colorado

Ivan: Of course. You're still here in DC too.

Alfred: Yeah.

Alfred: I was thinking we should meet up.

Ivan: Some of your ideas were good and funny like the nachos or the video game you told me about, but I do not like this one.

Alfred: Why?

Ivan: Do you really think I want to see you?

Now they were encroaching upon troubled waters. Alfred had to keep sailing, though. He wanted to. Needed to.

Alfred: Why else would you still be talking to me?

Alfred: …

Alfred: I kinda do wanna see you

Ivan: I know you want to see me to put me in jail again! Do not pretend!

Ivan: And don't say something about feelings either because I don't want to hear any of it. Cruel.

Okay so that hurt a little. Alfred had thought he was done with crying in couch forts at midnight and onto the shoulders of Matt or Kiku. He hadn't considered—well, he had, but he couldn't judge the truth of it—that maybe Ivan had been real about the whole thing and was hurting, too. It made Alfred want to reach out and comfort him, but it also made him angry. It was a manipulation tactic.

Alfred: What CAN i say?

Ivan: I do not know.

Alfred: Don't you want to sort this thing out?

Ivan: Yes.

And he didn't go on or clarify. Alfred, scared he was losing him, responded back quickly.

Alfred: If you won't tell me WHY you're a spy, will you tell me how? Just a little bit? How you became like this?

Ivan: It wasn't my fault.

Alfred: How come?

Ivan: I didn't know what was happening at first. I was stupid. I didn't want to be.

Vague. Alfred grumbled to himself. It was somewhat dramatic of a confession, and it served its purpose at stirring some part inside of him that had gone dormant, waking it up. He wanted to lash out and put, How do I know that's not another lie? But before he could, Ivan was already typing.

Ivan: I do not know how to say this, but I swear I am not lying here. All of this is true.

It was like the "Mr. FBI" period all over again: Ivan was answering things Alfred hadn't asked yet. It made Alfred want to smile. It hadn't been that long ago since he had last watched Ivan, or last seen him irl, sitting on the grass, kissing him innocently on the cheek...

Alfred: Well thanks for telling me.

Ivan: Yes. Now you tell me about how you became FBI and hack into peoples phones and watch them do things for fun.

He—

Alfred near choked.

How could he know? How could he possibly—

Shame overtook him, crawling its way up his stomach, making him sick. A flare of red passed over his face. "Toris," he wheezed out, reaching over to weakly pat the wall. "Toris, he knows."

A concerned brunet head popped up. Toris's eyes were wild. "What are you talking about?"

His voice was a whisper. "Ivan knows."

"Knows w-what?"

Alfred set his phone facedown on the desk and wheeled around to regard his coworker, adrenaline speeding through him. "I don't know! W-Why don't you tell me? You were the one who used to watch him all the time when I couldn't! You were the one who knew we had been hacked before Kirkland even told us! You take all the notes! You drive me to all the places! You're the one who thinks this job is problematic and that it's all a 'circle with no end!' You're the one who knows everything! Tell me why!"

Ain't nothin' but a heartache...

"Alfred." Toris reached out and touched his arm in what was, for him, a great display of care. "Breathe. It is okay."

Arthur Kirkland came back to assess the commotion. Even Ludwig and Elizabeta were looking over. "What's happened now?"

Alfred fell hopeless in front of his boss. "Ivan knows," he whispered again, flashing the phone screen. Kirkland studied it again.

The Englishman's eyebrows furrowed. He looked down. He looked back up. His frown cut deeper into his cheeks. He pursed his lips, then opened them. "This is not ideal."

"I don't know how." Maybe Alfred shouldn't have eaten such a snack, because it sure wasn't settling well.

Arthur looked up; he too looked lost, but agitated, like he was lost somewhere and agitated about it. He glanced for a second at Toris, squinted, and then moved back to Alfred. When he spoke his voice was the gravest, most solemn Alfred had ever heard him, and Alfred had heard him say some pretty grave things. "We need to get on that meeting as quick as can be."

Ivan: ;)

Alfred wasn't an eager beaver anymore, however, and now that he thought more and more about seeing Ivan again and knowing that Ivan knew...he didn't want to go through with it. Embarrassment clogged up his veins, rendering his arms immobile. And shame—not over the fact that Ivan knew, but over the fact that Alfred was the one feeling bad when Ivan was the one who should feel worse about it. Or was he? He hadn't been caught…

Alfred swallowed the lump in his throat. "Okay."

Arthur Kirkland walked away silently.

There would be outrage.

Alfred forced himself to ignore Toris and type. I need to see you.

Ivan: Why can't you just hack my phone again? Then you can see me all you want. Maybe you have not had enough.

Alfred: That's not what I mean.

Ivan: Are my sisters safe?

Alfred: I can't answer that

Ivan: WHY?

Alfred: I don't think we've arrested them yet if that's what you're asking.

Ivan: Tell me everything you know about them and then I'll meet you.

Alfred gulped again. An ultimatum. The drone of the building above him hummed louder in his ears. Without moving, he called to Toris, "What's the latest on Ivan's sisters?"

Toris responded in a heartbeat. "They have been questioned separately at least three times each, but have so far proven to be innocent. They are living at a hotel. They also have a lawyer and have arranged for an audience tomorrow at the police station."

Alfred grunted and relayed all of it to Ivan, including the words They're perfectly safe for good measure. "Tell them to forget the lawyer. There's a better meeting in the schedule."

Ivan: And you are not lying?

Alfred: I swear it's true. He was repeating Ivan's own words from earlier back to him.

Ivan: Fine. Where do you want to meet?

It had to be someplace public to be cautious, yet not too public to draw attention. Lucky for them, Alfred and Ivan had spent a lot of time together at just the location.

Alfred: the Gardens

Ivan: ...Fine. No weapons. Come alone

And then Alfred felt the weight of their situation fall back down onto him. No weapons. Like they would intentionally injure each other? What had they been just a few weeks ago—two bois sitting in the grass, lazily pondering over fortune cookies and conspiracy theories and laughing?

Alfred: No weapons, but i might have to bring some other agents with me. For protocol ig

Ivan: Then i will bring my friends then

So he did have friends.

Alfred left it like that for a couple moments. He peered around: at the top of Toris's head in the next cubicle, at the concentrated shoulders of Ludwig at his own desk, at Héderváry's pantsuit as she moved around near the kitchen, at Kirkland's eyes on him. He wondered how they would all feel about standing under the tree looking out at everything they had been hunting for so long. It was like going into battle, kind of, but the war was silent. And he had a premonition that Ivan wasn't going to look the same.

Alfred: fine by me

Ivan: good

Alfred: great

Ivan: fine

Alfred: peachy keen

Ivan: bee's knees

Alfred: cat's pajamas

Ivan: ...good.

Alfred: gucci

Ivan: never say that please

Alfred: ok

And did he miss it? Being able to see Ivan's face through his computer at the same time they texted, watching Ivan's big nose scrunch up when he laughed, watching his purplish eyes sparkle through the phone camera lens, thinking Alfred was oblivious to how good Alfred made him feel, when really Alfred was wishing Ivan would show this to him in real life—these little, precious, private moments where they thought they weren't together but really they were but really they weren't but really—but really—they wanted to be?

Or did he just miss Ivan?

Alfred: just so we're clear on this, can you send me a video of you holding up three fingers or something to prove it's really you? just gotta know

Ivan: yes one sec i will send a link.

Did Ivan regret it? Being able to lose himself in Alfred's stolen phone information, the lines of code across the screen, the taste of accomplishment in his mouth, although it was tinged by competitive betrayal and envy and the wanting to get back at Alfred, to connect with him in a dangerous, intense way that he was scared to, in a way neither of them were ever supposed to connect but probably would never have in the first place if they hadn't—but they had?

Or did he just regret losing Alfred?

Whatever the case, he did it anyway. He watched Alfred's expression through his front phone camera lens through his hacker computer as Alfred obliviously opened the link to the infamous YouTube page of Rick Astley's "Never Gonna Give You Up."

save as draft - katy

HHHHHHHHHHHHHNNNNHH

wow my heart is rAciNg holy fuuu do you feel it too

(My sincerest apologies to all those who are "from" North Dakota. I've just never really bought it.)

LOL REALLY REALLY REALLY SORRY NOT SORRY FOR ENDING EVERYTHING ON UBER-DRAMATIC CLIFFHANGERS ALL THE TIME BUT GUESS WHAT NEXT CHAPTER IS ANOTHER OFF-PLOT SIXER SO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS…

do you think you're ready?