Dro: Don't ask where I've been. Just enjoy the chapter.

Chapter Summary: Alfred moves into Ivan's house despite the opposition. Some people talk.

Warnings: Language; Violence

Disclaimer: It's only been a week. I couldn't possibly have made that much money.

Traitor was a word he kept hearing. Fool was a close second. A barrage of "ignorant," "stupid," and "insane" followed them every few seconds from what Alfred assumed were the bystanders of the vicious argument unfolding on the other side of his hospital room door. It was Francis versus Ivan, and Alfred was honestly surprised that it hadn't escalated into a fistfight yet. Though he was sure that had more to do with the fact that Ivan was at least twice as big as the Frenchmen. But even so, Francis didn't seem to have any fear at all calling Ivan out on what he seemed to think was a move that would get them all killed.

Alfred moving into Ivan's home.

It was such a simple idea. He would just pick up his things, pack them, get in a vehicle, and drive to a place that would house him from now on. But for some reason, such a common and simple idea had been warped into what some people thought would trigger the apocalypse. Alfred almost laughed at that thought. Apparently, they didn't realize that their apocalypse had begun long ago, long before he'd ever set foot in this world, long before any of them had a way to stop it. But maybe that was just it, he surmised. Maybe the nations who had so foolishly trusted the Empire before were now trying to make up for it by attempting to stamp out any possibility of betrayal from this other America, who many of them believed to a great threat to them.

If Alfred had had all his strength back, he would have faced them all himself and called them out on what they were: bitter and broken people who had given up on their world and were trying to make themselves feel better about it. That was really the only way to see this. Alfred had been cleared by several different doctors and psychologists by this point. They'd had interrogators come in and hook him up to a lie detector. They'd tried to intimidate him on every front in order to get him to "spill his secrets." And none of it had borne any of the putrid fruits they were searching for. Because there was nothing there but a man who was emotionally hurting and who desperately wanted a reprieve from all this madness.

And yet, it seemed he would never get such a thing.

Unless Ivan could come through for him. Which he was praying for at this point. Ivan didn't seem to be backing down from his stance, but Alfred couldn't be sure that he would win this. He had people on his side—Switzerland, for example—but his supporters were vastly outnumbered by the people who apparently believed Ivan had either developed a major mental disorder or had been "brainwashed" by Alfred.

Alfred was glad he couldn't actually see the hallway. He couldn't imagine what it would be like to stand there in front of them all and watch this insanity unfold in front of his eyes. He knew what those people were capable of now, and the very thought of them being anywhere in his line of sight made him cringe. He was trying to keep himself calm, but he kept expecting them to barge through the door and kill him any second, which was not helping him keep his impending panic attack at bay. It certainly didn't help that no one was in the room with him. If he'd at least had someone to talk to, he may have been able to stop thinking about what was happening just outside.

But he had no such luck.

A few seconds later, the door burst open, revealing an angry and frustrated Ivan. He slammed the door in the others' faces despite their continued heckling, and marched across the floor, swiping up Alfred's long-packed bags in the process. Ivan had intended to get him out of here the day before, but when the others had caught wind of his plan, all hell had broken loose in a matter of minutes. They'd been constantly arguing with Ivan for the better part of a day, and Ivan looked like he was ready to pass out. The bags under his eyes—though there long before this point—seemed darker and more pronounced. His eyelids were sagging, and he looked like he'd been awake for several days without a moment's rest.

"Ivan?" Alfred nervously questioned.

"We're leaving. Now." Without another word, he grabbed Alfred's arm and hauled him up. Alfred, wide-eyed and terrified, grimaced as Ivan heaved the door open again, exposing them both to the enraged nations on the other side. But instead of the outburst he expected, everything suddenly quieted to the point where a cold chill crept its way down Alfred's spine. All the nations were staring at him, some of them fearfully, others angrily, others with utter confusion, all of them split on how to approach this situation.

And in front of them all was Francis, who was angrily sneering.

"I sincerely hope you know what you are doing, Ivan. Because if you are wrong about him, then you could very well be dooming us all."

Ivan snorted. "And if you don't get back to work and do your damned job, we will be. You forget, Francis, that I allow you and your refugees to stay here because you contribute to the war effort. But I am perfectly willing to kick you out if you fail to keep up your end of the bargain. Don't forget that your country fell because of your incompetence."

Francis' lips trembled, his eyes on fire, and Alfred was honestly sure that he was going to lunge for Ivan's throat with his teeth, but somehow, he managed to restrain himself. "And it looks like you are well on your way to doing the same." With that, he turned on his heels and marched off down the hallway, the crowd that had backed him quickly dispersing, none of them willing to face Ivan's wrath without their leader.

Ivan didn't waste any time. Less than five minutes later, they were securely in a car that was quickly racing out of Moscow. Ivan sat as close to him as possible, his eyes darting back and forth as if he suspected an armed Francis to reappear next to them at any moment. And for all Alfred knew, he did. All of the nations seemed paranoid, some of them obviously more so than others. But this war with the Empire had taken its toll. Despite the fact that they were all supposedly allied, they seemed awfully distrustful of one another. And Alfred honestly winced at the realization that, if he had been the Empire, he would've exploited that to its fullest.

And that led him to wonder if the Empire already had.

Ivan's house was a bit more modest than he'd expected, but he saw the practicality of it. It was cozy, wood-lodge type two-story house nestled discreetly in the middle of a large patch of forest. Anyone driving by or flying by would be highly unlikely to see it underneath the tree cover. Which made a lot of sense seeing as it housed the de facto leader of what was essentially the last remnant of resistance preventing the Empire from completely taking over the planet.

The car pulled up the front door, and Ivan helped him out, the guards that accompanied them grabbing Alfred's few belongings. Ivan guided him inside without a word, and Alfred sighed as a warm blast of air rolled over him as he stepped through the threshold. It was a welcoming home, and he was immensely relieved to be rid of the whitewashed too-sterile hospital room walls that he'd been surrounded by for countless weeks now. Ivan led him up the stairs silently, guiding him with a light touch on the arm, until he stopped in front of a closed door.

He pushed it open, revealing a plain room with clean blue sheets and a fluffy matching comforter. A window on the far side overlooked the nearby trees. The room smelled like freshly cut wood, and Alfred felt himself smile. This was much better than he'd originally imagined. There were no hordes of doctors and angry nations waiting around the corner. There was no constant hum of paranoid activity. There was just a still and silent room waiting to be occupied.

"Well, is it good enough?"

Alfred snapped himself out his reverie and stared up at Ivan. "Are you kidding?" He asked breathlessly. "It's perfect!" His eyes trailed around the homey room again. "Are...are you sure you want to me to stay here?"

Ivan's weary eyes softened. "Of course. I would have never made the offer in the first place if I wasn't completely sure about it. You deserve to be comfortable and safe, Alfred. Your presence here has complicated things, but see, that's just it. If it hadn't been this way, I would have been so ignorant to the inner workings of my own alliance." He shook his head. "I'm glad you're here. Your presence has exposed just about every hidden weakness in the people I consider my allies, and without it, those things could have gone unnoticed by me until it was too late. Francis' paranoid recklessness is a danger to us all, not just you and not just himself. And after…and after what has been done to you, I am absolutely dedicated to helping you in whatever way possible." He squeezed Alfred's shoulder gently.

Alfred bit his lip. "Thank you." It was all he could think of to say.

"There's no need. You have done far more for me than you realize." He patted Alfred's back and motioned to his guards, who unloaded Alfred's bags into the room. "Please, make yourself comfortable. I have some things to say to my men, and then it will just be us for the rest of the day." With that, Ivan disappeared through the door, his guards trailing behind him.

Alfred cleared his throat and looked around the room once more as he slowly paced around it. It reminded him a lot of one of the homes he'd lived in as a child, and a few moments later, he found him splayed out on the bed, staring wistfully up at the ceiling. Everything had been so much simpler during his childhood. He wouldn't give anything he'd gained since then up, of course, but he just wished that, occasionally, he could just stop, lay down, and have the clear blue skies and tall green grass as his only worries in the entire world.

He was jolted awake from a dream of puffy white clouds and grass tickling his legs, only to see Ivan hovering over him, looking apologetic. "I am sorry. I did not realize you were asleep."

He sat up and waved away Ivan's concern. "It's fine. I didn't realize I'd fallen asleep."

Ivan looked around sheepishly. "Um, well, my men have all left for the night, and, um…I have fixed some dinner. Are you perhaps hungry?"

"Oh, I…" He blanked. "Well, yes." He'd been constantly hungry when he'd been living off of hospital food, and the only thing that had saved him was some goodwill fast food runs.

Ivan coughed. "Oh, good. I hope I made enough. I usually just cook for myself."

Alfred blinked a few times, trying to imagine Ivan standing in front of a stove with an apron on. He snorted. "So you cook your own food, huh?"

"Usually." Ivan wouldn't meet his eyes.

"You any good?"

He could have sworn Ivan blushed. "Well, I….do not know, actually. This is the first time anyone but my sisters will have eaten my food. And I seriously doubt they would ever not compliment me on something, despite whatever ability I have or lack."

Alfred grinned. "Ready for a honest opinion?"

Ivan raised an eyebrow. "Honestly? I am not sure."

"I told you he knew nothing of his brother's disappearance! Why didn't you listen to me?"

"I had to make sure. You know if that if he did have a lead on something, then it would complicate our plans tremendously. America's disappearance is not an advantage we can surrender easily. If there is any indication that America will return, then we need to go to any length to make sure it doesn't come to pass. This is not an opportunity we can allow to slip through our fingers."

"And what about Russia? You shot him. And it didn't kill him! What were you thinking?"

"I was thinking that Russia and Canada teaming up was a disadvantage to us. The way I set it up, Canada has no way to prove his innocence, and by the time that Russia recovers—if he recovers—the damage done to Canada's reputation will already be permanent. The world was already beginning to think that the boy had lost it, and this just confirms their fears. Any ability the boy had to discover us is now gone. And we need to make sure that it stays that way for all of them. I don't want any slip ups here, understand?"

"And what if Russia saw you?"

"No one saw me."

"And what if someone begins to suspect that something else is going on?"

"Well, we'll just have to make sure some unfortunate accident befalls them. Have you gotten any word back from Turkey yet?"

"He agreed to our terms. However, he seemed apprehensive about the whole thing. He seems to think it's a little too early to make a move like this."

"Then I suggest you convince him otherwise. And if you can't, then make sure you tell him that accidents can befall anyone."

Dro: Hm, interesting conversation...

Next Chapter: Francis and Arthur try to figure out what the hell happened. Meanwhile, parallel!Matthew finds himself in a bind.