A/N: Ah, I noticed the original 7th chapter was a bit filler-y, so I hope that this picks the pace up a bit. If you're Canadian, please correct my usage of 'eh'.

DISCLAIMER: I obviously don't own APH, so this thing is a bit useless.

Chapter VII: Unbroken Connection

If there was one place Alfred was curious about, it was the big black house England so often visited. The Netherlands, Belgium, the British Isles siblings and other people visited it a lot too, but England went there every day.

So one day, as England was walking there, carrying a bouquet of roses, Alfred followed him stealthily (thank goodness, his training paid off). After England went inside, Alfred decided to wait a bit before going in. One, two, three, four minutes? He opened the door and tentatively stepped inside. England was just rising from his seat, but looked at Alfred with a disapproving, surprised expression on his face. "What're you doing here?"

"I was curious," Alfred said and glanced at the ceiling. It was all black, except for one skylight in the middle. Torches lit the room on the walls. Looking around, he saw that there were wooden boxes, no, caskets, in several rows, on each of them a photo of a person. He glanced at them fleetingly; there were so many people, so many happy faces… It scared him. Had these faces been smiling one day, and then had their eyes closed forever the next?

"An indoor graveyard, huh?" he mumbled. "So what are you doing here?" "None of your business," England said briskly. "I'll be off now. You should get out."

Alfred decided to stay silent but shook his head, feeling that arguing with England here wouldn't be proper. England said a gruff 'fine' and walked out, closing the door behind him, leaving Alfred alone among the dead.

For a moment, Alfred stood there, taking in the light of the fire. He noticed that instead of the normally orange-red color of fire, the fire here was white, giving the room some sort of a beautifully mystical appearance.

There were graves and graves and graves. Alfred walked among them, noticing that each one of them had a white rose on the casket, freshly put. He then remembered that England had a bouquet of roses with him when he came in, and he wondered why he bothered to put all these roses on the graves.

Finally, he came upon one that was different. It was the grave England was sitting next to when Alfred came in. On it wasn't a white rose, but a red one, red like rubies and blood. There was a picture of a smiling young man with tanned skin and dark hair, green eyes lit up with his smile.

Underneath, in neat handwriting, was written the name Gabriel 'Portugal' Cabral.

They had stopped searching now.

No matter how much it hurt, they had thought his brother dead and stopped searching. No more search parties, no more nighttime journeys into the forest, calling out his name.

Matthew cried the day they disbanded the search parties.

That's not fair, he thought, that's not fair at all. Why do we have to give up now? Alfred wouldn't, he wouldn't give up.

Every day, Toris would come into his room and try to comfort him, and told Matthew that Alfred was fine, that he would be back soon, that he wasn't suffering or dead or in pain. He was the only one willing to talk about Alfred now, because the others usually avoided the subject, as they were all quite fond of him as well.

At mealtimes, Matthew would be quieter than usual, and that was amzing as Matthew was nearly mute most of the time, and he would eat very little. He didn't have to make breakfast anymore, because everyone felt sorry for him. Breakfast was now some sort of Japanese sticky cake that Kiku made, but Matthew couldn't taste anything on his tongue now.

He was torn between two things. The first one was to believe and accept that his brother was dead as all evidence leads to that conclusion, and the second one to believe that he was still alive and was fighting to get home.

Matthew wanted to believe in the second one, of course he did. But it was hard. It was hard when everyone treated him as if the first option was the truth. It was hard when they've been searching for Alfred for what… nineteen days? Ludwig had allowed them to search for him longer than usual because he, too, liked America's spirit, no matter how much he hid it.

But now, Matthew would often sneak out in the dark, feet meeting forest floor just as Alfred's had before he was captured (that, Matthew didn't know, but he felt it, as if he could feel that Alfred had once been here).

He would often try so hard to find little clues, little signs that his brother was still alive, quietly searching in the dark.

That night, as the moon let little slivers of light pass through the leaves, Matthew stood in the dark, his eyes closed, thinking of his brother.

After Alfred had determinedly dogged him almost everywhere he went, England was starting to show signs of warming up to him. He didn't seem so snappish anymore (although his temper was as bad as ever) and he didn't seem all that eager to end their conversations anymore, either. He was actually a pretty awesome person to talk too.

And one of the things Alfred liked most was that sometimes he sat next to Alfred, instead of Alfred trying to sit next to him. Like this morning, for example.

When England sat next to him at breakfast, Alfred was glumly stirring his muesli, sighing. His eyes were downcast and he didn't seem as bright as usual, although the others have noticed that now this happened sometimes. Both Belgium and Prussia have been asking him about it, and although he knew they wouldn't tease him or anything, he didn't feel like telling them. He didn't know just how seriously they would take it.

"Is there something wrong?" England asked. Alfred shook his head. "No, I'm just tired. Didn't get that much sleep tonight." England scoffed. "Don't lie," he said. "I can tell when something is wrong, especially when it's that obvious. You're not eating your breakfast. Usually you scarf it down so quickly I mistake you for a bear."

Alfred raised an eyebrow. "You've been looking at my eating habits?" England snorted. "It's quite hard not to when you're usually the noisiest one at the table," he said.

"But I really haven't been sleeping well," Alfred said. "I think I noticed that when you started banging on Prussia's door at two in the morning," England said dryly, a very flat, very sarcastic expression on his face. Alfred looked away sheepishly. "That… well, um…" he muttered. "Ithoughtamonsterwasundermybed."

England decided to ignore this. Alfred's childish delusions were none of his business.

"What's wrong, then?" England asked again, and Alfred sighed. "I told you, I'm just not getting enough- oh, screw it. I miss Mattie," he said.

"Mattie?" England said. "Yeah," Alfred replied. "He's my brother. He always knows how to cheer me up and stuff, y'know? Nobody every notices him, though, and that's really sad, 'cause he's this really great guy and he deserves more attention."

England nodded sympathetically. "D'you want to talk to him?" "Are you serious?" Alfred said, and he grinned. "You can do that?" England merely looked annoyed. "'Course I can, you idiot, I can do magic." Alfred stopped grinning.

"Right, I forgot," (England nearly punched his nose at this blatant display of utter idiocy) Alfred said. "So what do I need to do?"

England clicked his tongue. "Well, you just have to be absolutely sure about his exact location and you can't touch the screen. But don't tell him you're treated well here, he'll think you're a traitor," he said.

"I can't tell him that I'm doing fine?" Alfred said. "But what if he get's worried out of his mind?" Again, England merely looked annoyed. "He'll be worried either way. He'll probably ask someone to try and track your location, though. Ask him to try to track you. That'll make it sound real," he said.

"And pretend you're being held prisoner," England said again. Alfred nodded. "But what if they succeed on tracking me down? Not like I don't wanna go home or anything, but you guys are gonna get your asses kicked," he said. "I mean, Mattie's not much of a fighter, but he somehow manages to…" England rubbed his temples. "We'll see who your brother calls. If it's just one of ours, then it will be fine," England said. His expression darkened after that. "But if it's someone who is not one of ours, then…"

"You mean there are people who have actually betrayed you guys? I thought you said…" Alfred said. "Of course, but now is not the proper time to talk about it. D'you want to talk to your brother or not?" England asked, as if he was all too eager to avoid the topic. Alfred, in the euphoria of being able to talk to Matthew again, nodded vigorously, not noticing England's tone of voice.

"He's always in his room at night, so I think that's the best time to talk to him," Alfred said. "Alright, then," England said. "Tonight?"

Alfred quickly scarfed down his muesli, making munching noises.

"Yes," England grumbled. "It's quite hard to not notice your eating habits."

That night, as Matthew was lying in his bed (there's no use, he won't be able to sleep, anyway), he thought of giving up. Maybe they were all right. Maybe the Chanters have gotten their hands on him and…

It was too horrible to think about.

They couldn't have done anything bad to him, of course not, Alfred was too tough for that… And then he remembered, he remembered Yekaterina's brother and sister, Ludwig's brother, Kiku's… They had all left. Nobody ever expected them to, because they were always the ones who seemed to hate the Chanters the most.

Alfred hated them a lot, too. What if… What if… No, Matthew couldn't think about that. He couldn't. Alfred wouldn't join them if his life depended on it.

Just as Matthew was about to close his eyes to try and get some sleep again, a glow lit the corner of his room. Hastily, he sat up and put his glasses on, approaching it, and he grabbed the rifle he kept on his bedside table (he didn't want to at first, but Alfred had insisted, saying that if those dirty Chanters take one step into our room, the first thing we do is boom! Headshot!). It was what appeared to be a circular gray window.

And then he saw Alfred's face.

"Mattie!" Alfred said, and Matthew looked at him in disbelief. "A-Al? You're alright?" he asked, panicking. What have those people done to my brother did they torture him did they kill him already was this pre-recorded oh Alfred oh Alfred…

"Well, not exactly, they're keeping me prisoner but so far no torture," Alfred said with a thumbs-up. Matthew sighed with relief. "Can you track my location, Mattie? They gave me some time to talk to you, for some reason, and I want to make use of this time to… You know, make an escape plan and stuff, and you can send some people to be my back up…"

"Of course, eh," Matthew said and stood up. "Wait here, I'll call Toris."

On the other side of the line, Alfred was stood there, and turned his head, looking at England with amazement. "It worked! It really did! I'm talking to Mattie!" England rolled his eyes. "Of course it did. It's magic."

"What else is?" Alfred asked. "Hey, what's up with those… those flickering green symbol thingies around the screen?" England's eyes widened, his mouth dropped open in shock. "You can see them?" he asked, looking absolutely flabbergasted. "Y-you really can see them?"

"Well, they flicker and they're not too clear and stuff, but yeah, I can see them," Alfred said. "Bloody hell, Alfred, I think you're starting to See."

"Seriously?" Alfred asked enthusiastically, looking like a child who had just been given candy. "Well, Belgium and Prussia have been doing magic around me so-"

"Ssh!" England hissed as he saw Toris enter the room, looking flustered. "Well, umm… my magic is a bit rusty, Mr. Williams… I was never raised as a Chanter, as you know my adoptive father was not a magic user…" he said.

"But you can still do some magic, right?" Matthew asked. "Please, Toris?"

Toris nodded. "I'll try my best. I may have to Chant, though… I am afraid that will wake people up," he said. "I'll explain," Matthew said. He wasn't usually this stubborn, but this may be his only chance of getting his brother back. Matthew was willing to take it.

"I-if you insist," Toris said. "Ah, hello, Mr. Jones, are you doing alright?" Alfred shrugged. "Well, I'm not hurt too badly or anything so… yeah, I guess I'm doing fine," he said, and shot Toris a look. Toris's green eyes glowed for a moment as if in understanding, although Alfred wasn't sure if it was a trick of the light or not.

Toris put his hand in front of the screen, as if to pull something from it. He held it in his hands, and Alfred could see he was holding a faint green sphere. He then began to chant.

The voice was eerie, echoing off the walls and Alfred could hear it from where he stood, and it made him shiver, and he pulled his jacket tighter around him. He never knew that chanting could be this frightening, and Toris was reciting something in a strange language…

The door burst open. A young man, with green eyes and mussed brown hair burst inside. England's eyes flashed as he saw him, and he quickly pulled Alfred down.

"What the-"

Matthew watched in horror as a green flash lit the screen, and then it was gone. He was only staring at the corner of his room now. The green sphere in Toris's hands dissolved. The newcomer looked alarmed. "Who has been chanting?" he asked. "I'm surprised no one else woke up…"

"I… I was trying to track Mr. Jones's location, Mr. Carriedo," Toris said, eyeing Antonio fearfully. "Y-you saw him?" Antonio asked. "Did you talk to him?" Matthew nodded, his eyes unfocused. In his mind, the scene just a few seconds before was being replayed in his mind again and again. Alfred being pulled down… the green flash… the screen dissolving…

Antonio walked inside to comfort Matthew when he looked at Toris. "Wait, you were trying to track Alfred, weren't you? There was a portal he used to talk to you?" Toris nodded. "Then…" Antonio took one of Toris's hands, as if to inspect it. His face twisted into a grim look.

"I know this magic," he said, in thickly accented English. "I haven't seen it, sensed it or heard it in five years, but I know this magic." Matthew looked astonished. "Y-you do, eh?"

"Si," Antonio said.

"This magic belongs to a descendant of the King."