Tears might have been streaming down Ivan's face, but he wouldn't be able to tell for a while. Trees and park and people flashed past him, interspersed with sparks of color from the city ahead and glares of sunbeams. He could hear nothing but the pounding of his pulse and the pitter of his steps against the path. He checked behind him to see if anyone was in pursuit and almost choked. The street was a few meters away; the van was gone.

Still not registering his actions, Ivan turned a full 360, checked twice, and stopped in front of his last hope.

Yao Wang was in for a surprise.

"Just drive," Ivan demanded, entering the food truck before the man could even cuss him out.

"The hell?" Yao cried as Ivan fell against the interior side, heaving. "What—"

"Please," Ivan begged, not wanting to check out the windows to see if he was close yet. In a display of desperation, he dug around and pulled out his wallet, offering the entire thing to Yao.

Yao stared at it for a second and then crossed his arms, his long ponytail flapping. "Why do you do this! Who even are you?"

Ivan shook his head. "No time. No time!"

A shout came from outside the truck, and both of them jumped. The dregs of fear were beginning to enter Yao's eyes as he glanced out the window and saw Ivan's chaser. An intense scowl. "You are crazy is who you are!"

"I know," Ivan moaned, holding on for dear life as Yao Wang snatched the wallet, fell into the driver's seat, and blared the vehicle to life.

"You watch your ass. I better be a crazy rich Asian too when this is over due to all the shit I am put through, aru!"

Chinese rap filled the streets as the Wok & Roll truck gunned out of park. Ivan had been secured, but a box of fortune cookies on the counter hadn't, and as they raced down Constitution Avenue the whole thing topped over and turned its contents onto him.

Secret lives destroy lives.

Yes, now would definitely be a good time for a dramatic flashback, he concluded.

Alfred had not yet passed out, but he was close. As the food truck pulled away he bent over and put his hands on his knees—not because he was particularly out of shape, but because of the exertion of overwhelming frustration. Ivan, gone again. Lost!

You will receive help from an unexpected source.

"Get in!"

Alfred looked up, and it was Matt in the Ford. How Matt had possibly made it to their car on time and had navigated all the way over here, he didn't know, but he didn't care. Alfred didn't waste a breath and slammed into the passenger seat. "Hola!"

"Bonjour!"

"Follow that car!"

"Affirmative!" Matthew, a determined sheen on his face, put the pedal to the metal. The whole world seemed to be shaking—or maybe it was just them. Alfred snapped in his seat belt; he was no player.

Reflecting back on the meeting in the park, he couldn't pinpoint the exact moment when things had gone wrong. He knew he regretted a lot of the things he had said and hadn't said, but it was all too quickly becoming a blur. Ivan had seemed to mirror all the taxation he himself had felt; they were both slowly being crushed to death under all the pressure and they knew it. Maybe that's why they had reverted back to using memes and ing each other. Forgetting for a second and relieving the stress had felt so good, and seeing Ivan's smirk and knowing it was his fault had certainly been better than seeing the ghost-white expression of fear Ivan had shown before dashing away, and knowing it was his fault.

"We can't tail him for too long. Not on these streets," Matt was saying. "I did tell the others to follow, but there's no telling how long it'll take them. Any idea where Ivan's headed?"

"Not at all," Alfred returned.

"And...why the Wok & Roll truck? You interviewed the guy who owns it, right? Are they working together?"

"I have even less of a clue on that one," he said. He tried to read Yao's expression through his rearview mirror up ahead, but the best view he got was of a long ponytail flying out the open window. He breathed carefully, fidgeted, and addressed his brother. "Wait—what if they are? Maybe we shouldn't follow them. I don't know if we should. It—it could be unsafe. What if it's another trap?"

"What do you mean 'another?'" Matthew's hands tightened on the wheel. "You can't just let him get away. You saw him. He's in flight response right now. Do you really think he would hurt you—oh, fuck!" He slammed on the breaks.

Alfred, surprised even as he was jolted back in his seat, turned to look at him. "Matt!"

"What? Look!" He gestured ahead of both the vehicles. The ever-familiar cloud of annoyance enveloped them as they beheld a cluster of protesters right at the intersection of Constitution Avenue and 17th Street, blocking traffic.

Alfred nodded decisively. "Oh, fuck."

A long sigh. "And let me guess. Is it…?"

"The whale people," Alfred finished, because what else could be the answer.

The Wok & Roll truck, braked ahead of them, shuddered. Wang Yao honked his horn but only got a windshield full of MARINE FISHING IS MEAN FISHING in return.

"So maybe this isn't a trap," Alfred slowly said, mostly to himself. He tugged anxiously at his seat belt. "I don't know, I don't know! I don't know what to do! Ivan is so—erratic, so unpredictable! You never know what's going through his head!"

Matthew met his eyes. "You didn't used to think that. By this point you know him pretty well and you know it."

Alfred looked away, the pressure in his head bubbling up as he beheld what was happening on the street. The door to the food truck was swinging open, and there, less than twenty feet away, was Ivan, leaping out of it. His feet caught the pavement, his head caught a glimpse of Alfred, his scarf caught the wind. He continued running away on foot, straight through the intersection up ahead.

Alfred was shaking and sweating buckets. He didn't move. "Matt."

"Al. What are you waiting for?" Matt unlocked the Ford's doors. "You loved him, didn't you?"

Alfred was surprised he still had the strength left to nod.

"Go."

And so he summoned everything else he still had left in him and went, not even bothering to close the car door in his wake. The hot Washington air whooshed around him and passed through him as he ran, following the gleam of the sun off Ivan's scarf. He zipped past Wok & Roll, into the street, into the crowd of protesters. It was there he almost lost sight of Ivan, weaving between high-strung throngs of people all shouting things at Alfred and flashing elbows that knocked into Alfred's sides. It took a lot of determination and a lot of "sorry" and "excuse me" and "out of my way" to get past. He broke into the center of the stopped square and scanned around for Ivan's height and white-blond hair, and there he was, continuing southeast, following a clear concrete path up a particular grassy hill.

Déjà vu; he had been in this place before, but higher on the street, and he knew it was his time to go. Behind the trees and the sky Ivan's destination rose. Silent, stoic, mysterious. The Washington Monument. The place they had first met.

Alfred wasn't looking forward to the climb, but at least it was a wider terrain. If Ivan was aiming for the top of the hill, he really must not know what he was doing or where he was going; Alfred could feel the panic radiating off of him. Their combined intensities bounced between their bystanders, warding everyone to watch out. Some saw Ivan's expression and all but extended their arms, lost in the response to help him, and others saw Alfred's uniform and paused cautiously and obediently, pulling their children off his path. But Alfred couldn't focus on them. As they neared the top of the hill, closer to the foot of the obelisk, Ivan was beginning to slow, and he was beginning to catch up.

He wondered what images were flashing through Ivan's mind at the moment. Could it be images of themselves, sitting under shade, eating fortune cookies, ruminating over government conspiracies? Themselves, video chatting in the wee hours of the morning, laughing their heads off at the slightest funny something? Themselves, on their date, eating cold soup and soggy nachos, lying through their teeth? Themselves, at the police station, screaming at each other, hearts filled with distrust? Themselves, a city away, falling asleep to loneliness and tears? Themselves, texting up a storm? Themselves, just a few minutes ago, exchanging redundancies and pleasantries? Themselves, here, now, running after each other to nowhere?

Together.

Separate.

Together.

When they were close enough, and the flags circled around them as well, Alfred stopped, took his last deep breath, and shouted loud and clear for all to hear, "FBI! DON'T MOVE!"

Ivan, the energy zapped from him, came to a staggering halt. He gasped and gasped, turning around, his entire face red and tear-botched. He didn't move any more.

The world turned on its axis as they stared at each other, catching their breaths, crying. Somewhere was the drone of sirens. Somewhere was the rustling of wind through the trees. Somewhere there was a cold country, and somewhere there was a hot city. Here, it was utterly silent.

Time moved slowly, leisurely, allowing Alfred to wipe his own tears off his glasses with his thumbs and think of what he wanted to say. It was hard, thinking. Especially like this. He wanted to move again, to go up to Ivan, to use action and not words in this moment, but he knew he had to get something out first.

Ivan waited and watched him—not analyzing him or trying to read him, but just watching for once. It was peaceful, watching.

Finally, Alfred said it. He looked Ivan in his purpley, watery eyes and said it. "Everyone knows I loved you, but it's not true. I did love you then, but I still do now. It never stopped. I love you and I am in love with you."

Ivan's eyes went wide and he let out another single fresh sob. Alfred was distressed at this but kept his vow to himself and didn't move until Ivan whispered it back, softly and freely. "Ya tozhe vlyublen v tebya."

And it was like the rest of the world didn't exist, or maybe this was the only world that did. "I'm sorry," said Alfred, taking a tentative step closer. "For all of it."

Ivan's head bobbed as he respectfully nodded as well and took a closer step of his own. "Pozhaluysta, izvini menya."

"Is it okay if I hug you?" Alfred asked carefully, wanting comfort but not wanting to ruin this small, beautiful moment of theirs.

Ivan responded by taking another step forward and wrapping his arms around Alfred, burying his face in Alfred's shoulder and crying some more. Alfred gently rubbed his back and pressed his cheek against Ivan's scarf. It was just as soft as it looked, and Ivan's smell was all over it.

They remained like that for an eternity, despite their fatigued bodies and the wet from sweat and tears. Alfred didn't want it to end, and he wished that when Ivan had offered to come to his house in the middle of the night and hug him so long ago that he would have agreed.

After a little while, when both their eyes were dry, Ivan pulled slightly away, but only to ask in the sweetest, most attentive of voices, "Can I kiss you?"

Alfred responded by flicking off his glasses and meeting Ivan's lips halfway.

It was amazing how just a small touch could incite such comfort and relaxation into a human being. Alfred had dreamed of this, he knew, as he ran the back of his hand along the delicate skin of Ivan's face. He smiled when their noses bumped and he tickled when hair brushed against his eyelashes. This kiss felt more climactic than the kisses on their first date, probably because it had been so long since, and the road leading to this had been messy and scattered. Alfred couldn't imagine going back. He held Ivan's face with both his hands and leaned in all the way until their hearts were touching as well, and he knew that this time, no one had lied.

Just as slow, careful, and hesitant as before, they parted. When Ivan looked at Alfred it was like he could see right into him, everything. Alfred felt suddenly funny, but, like, good-funny, and had the strangest urge… "Wow," he slipped out.

Ivan's cheeks were red no longer from the running, but from the blush. He laughed and it was marvelous and fantastic and something Alfred wanted to keep hearing forever.

The world around them certainly had stopped. The several visitors in the vicinity were frozen, in awe and confusion alike, until gradually someone started awkwardly clapping and it caught on, even as the sirens neared.

They pressed their foreheads together and Ivan mumbled, "I missed you. Very much."

"Me too," said Alfred. "I couldn't handle losing you."

Ivan's fingers lightly clenched ahold of Alfred's arms. "Do not let them break us apart again, please. I don't want to go back to them."

"Me neither," admitted Alfred, trying to soothe him. "We're staying with each other this time, no matter what happens."

No longer traitors. No longer enemies. No longer at war.

This was a new image, a new version of themselves, standing under the Washington Monument, holding each other, their emotions splattered far and wide enough to cover the whole city. Complete understanding. There was nothing between them in this moment. No screens, no bars.

Alfred felt something stirring inside of him that had been asleep for so, so long—the beginnings of trust.

Neither Alfred nor Ivan had bothered to look before, but trudging up the hill was an assortment of their comrades, minus Kiku and Ivan's sisters and the escaped hostage trio, wherever they were. Two police cars, two company FBI cars, one van-that-must-not-be-named, one Ford F-150 and one food truck sat on the street. Life was catching up with them.

And Ivan and Alfred, Alfred and Ivan, holding hands, turned to face it.

As promised, they didn't leave each other's sides, even when ushered into the back of one of the police cars. Ivan didn't look at his friends from the hacker group, and Alfred kept his head down as well as his boss took the driver's seat. Toris rode shotgun.

In the car, everyone took a deep breath. Kirkland, nearly all out of steam himself, laughed once before starting the engine. "Well, boys. Wasn't that an adventure."

Everyone exhaled.

"Where are we going now?" Ivan questioned.

"Back to the station," came the answer. "Or perhaps to headquarters. Or perhaps...just...home. I honestly have no idea where we go from here."

Alfred spoke up. "And you don't just mean that about our physical destination."

Kirkland smirked. "You've learned things. I'm not sure if I should be proud or scared."

Alfred grinned, leaning back into his seat and squeezing Ivan's hand, which let Ivan know then that they were safe. Unafraid, he rested his head on Alfred's shoulder.

Toris was looking out the window. Quietly, he mentioned, "The rest of them are going now."

The Chief turned the air conditioning on at full blast and handed him the AUX cord. "So shall we."

And so.

They went.

americano - lady gaga