Hope you guys enjoy this chapter! I apologize for the lack of Arthur, (counting out his three second cameo) Francis, Ludwig, Feli, and others! I did, however, throw winter in there. The next chapter we might be seeing a bit of Natalya, and her crazy mindset to marry her brother. As far as the story goes right now, there's no 'set' pairing, but rest assured, everything will fall into place. I'm thinking of including Canada in this story, since I'm feeling awfully patriotic. What are your guys' opinions?

Please Review if you'd like me to include something. It might not always go as you want it to, but I am always open to opinions.

AND I'M SORRY FOR THE LACK OF SPELLCHECK I'm a lazy mofo that way

LOTSA LOVE

-Sunny

"It's very nice to meet you again, da?"

The words echoed cruelly in Yao's ears as he stood rigid by the door. Mr. Zhao, unknowing of the situation, beamed brightly at the large Russian man seated in the chair. "So I see you've met before?"

"Da, we have." came the reply in a cheery, smooth tenor.

Mr. Zhao's eyes landed on Yao, who felt the slightest prick of sweat gathering on his eyebrows. However, one curious, expecting look from his boss, sent the Chinese man tumbling out of his daze. "It's very nice to meet you again, too, Mr. Braginski. I certainly did not expect to see you at a time like this."

The expression on the Russian's face, which had been completely placid, changed immediately into that of childish glee. "So you do remember me, da? I was thinking that perhaps you'd forgotten all about me! In this case, please accept my apologies for the other night."

Yao shifted uncomfortably under Mr. Zhao's intense stare. The temperature in the office seemed to rise dramatically. "It's really quite alright. Please, don't worry yourself." He desperately changed the topic. "So what is it that you need help in?"

"Well, I see everything is going well." Mr Zhao smiled, seemingly oblivious to their conversation-though Yao could detect the slightest bit of suspicion lurking beneath the man's eyes. "I'll leave you two to it, then. I have to organize the meeting for Thursday."

Both men nodded, and with brief goodbyes, the elder man left the room, leaving Yao-alone-with the Russian.

"So..." Yao mumbled, feeling uneasy under an unwavering, violet gaze. The large man simply remained seated and smiling, as if all was well in the world. His large, childish eyes were trained on Yao, broad shoulders relaxed and pale hands folded together comfortably on his lap.

"I'm sorry, da." Ivan braginski repeated, once again. Yao did not reply, only staring back. "I don't mean to be frightening or anything. Please forgive me if I'm making you feel uncomfortable in any way."

"No, no its okay." Yao muttered. His eyes darted to the round clock hanging on the wall. The bold black letters read 9 O clock. "Um, listen-I'm sorry if this inconveniences you, but I must be going soon. My shift has just ended and I made a promise to somebody that I would meet up with them. Perhaps you could give me a brief explanation of your current problem, and we could carry on tomorrow...?"

Ivan continued to stare intently at the asian man. The smile had never once left his lips. After what seemed like an eternity, he spoke. "The problem which I have is rather.. complex." Ivan brought a finger to his chin, finally averting his gaze towards the ceiling. "You see, I need help with getting all the legal documents handled for a divorce."

Yao's expression darkened. Another divorce? What was wrong with the world these days? Had humanity lost its sense of loyalty?

"It's complicated." Something sad dawned on the Russian's face, his eyes suddenly worn. He looked at the ground, his lips in a tight line. "You see, my half sister-Natalia-and I were engaged. It was an arranged marriage from the start, and I've never been for it. But her interest in the whole thing is rather...impassioned."

Yao knew he was treading on thin ice, but he couldn't help the agitation that was beginning to surface in his chest. "Well, do you love her?"

Ivan blinked. He cocked his head to the side. "Pardon?"

"Well, do you love her or not?" Yao repeated. A frown was etched on his face.

"I suppose, of course-as a sister, not a lover." Ivan replied. "I've always been opposing of anything more than family relations, but Natalia really is ever so insistent..."

"Aiyah." Yao bit back a frustrated groan. "It's going to be messy now, with the legal documents and the court. Why couldn't you have refused the marriage in the first place?"

"It's not that simple, you know," Ivan frowned, flashing Yao a hard look. "You've not met her before. She's rather...stubborn in what she believes, and if things do not go her way- they WILL go her way."

"Right."

A heavy silence ensued. Yao could hear the faint ticking of the clock set in the wall. He was running out of time.

"You have to be going now, don't you?"

Yao was snapped from his reveries, staring in surprise at Ivan. "I do, as a matter of fact. I need to meet someone."

"Really, now?" Before Yao could respond, the Russian continued. "It would be most convenient that I drive you to wherever you need to be, since I happen to be leaving now as well. We can continue on our business tomorrow." He rose from the chair, his large figure towering over Yao's.

"It's alright, I can make it on my own." Yao replied. "But thanks for the offer." he added quickly.

"No one has ever declined my offers before." Ivan said. It came out as a statement, his haunting eyes boring deep into Yao's own. The smaller man cleared his throat in discomfort.

"I wouldn't want to burden you, especially since I'm fine getting around on my own. I would only delay you."

"Nonsense!" Ivan exclaimed cheerfully. "You won't cause such a thing, and even if you do I wouldn't mind."

Yao twitched at the last part.

"Though I hope it doesn't bother you that I need to make a quick visit to the hospital first to pick up a few things. I left my bag in the office at the front desk."

Yao's eyes widened. "You work at the hospital?"

"Da." Ivan smiled. "Dr. Braginski, at your service."

Yao blanched. He had no way of escaping the situation now. "Well, it just so happens that I need to go to the hospital too." he lowered his voice to barely a whisper. "To see someone."

"Family?"

Yao hesitated before replying. "My brother."

Ivan stared at Yao with an unwavering gaze. The asian man cleared his throat. "I apologize, but I really do need to be going now."

In an instant the other was inches away fromYao. "I will drive you. It will be convenient, da?"

Yao nodded. He watched as Ivan flashed him a bright smile before brushing past. The two made their way out of the office, briefing farewells to coworkers as they went by. Yao pulled on his jacket as they walked quickly in the lobby, feeling a slight chill of the evening creeping into his bones. The automated doors slid open, swallowing the two men into the night.

"It's a nice night, da? Very warm."

"Warm?" Yao almost laughed, pulling up the collar of his trenchcoat. "It's freezing."

"This little breeze is nothing compared to my homeland." Ivan replied. "It is much colder in Moscow than it is here. America is a very mild country."

"Is that so." Yao mumbled. They stopped before a black Rolls Royce, which appeared spotless under the streetlamp. Ivan unlocked the passenger door, motioning with his hand for Yao to enter, who merely smiled back. He did not like to be treated like a lady, but at that point, Yao was too tired to care. He slid into the leather seat, sinking into it comfortably as he felt the other door open and felt the car rock slightly before Ivan was settled in as well. When the driver made no attempts to speak up, Yao cleared his throat. "My hometown is very hot all year round, and if it is not hot, then it is humid."

"Oh?" Ivan fastened his seatbelt and turned on the ignition. The car hummed to life. "Where is your hometown?"

"Beijing, China." Yao said. He smiled, familiar sights and sounds rushing back into his mind. If he listened hard enough, he could almost hear the ringing of a bicycle bell and the yelling of a street vendor.

"You are very fortunate to have lived in such a nice place." Ivan backed the car out of the parking lot, heading down the main road. "And the food, mmm," Ivan smiled. "I like Chinese food."

"Ah, and what sort of chinese food are we talking about?" Yao asked, a small grin gracing his lips. His hands were no longer tensed at his side, and he was able to relax in the seat. "Are we speaking of the generic oil bathed, fat fried vegetables and meat that you find in restaurants, or a nice, genuine home cooked meal?"

"There is a difference?" Ivan asked. He sounded so surprised, that Yao could not bring himself to feel offended.

"Of course."

Ivan's eyes widened. "Then all those delicious dumplings I've eaten weren't actually genuine?"

"No, no-they were. It's just, you've never had a real Chinese person cook homemade food for you, have you?" Ivan shook his head no. "Aiyah. You haven't lived then."

"But I know no one who can." Ivan sighed, stopping at a red light. "Now you have created a new aspiration for me. I want to sample 'real' Chinese food, cooked by 'real' Chinese hands."

"I guess I could cook you something sometime." Yao said.

"Really? That would be nice," Ivan smiled. "The last time I had someone cook something for me was when I was still living with my older sister, Katyusha. That was years ago, though."

"Oh. That's nice though. You had an older sibling taking care of you."

"Da. It was nice."

The rest of the ride was in comfortable silence. Yao looked out the window, watching as lights blurred in with the night. He noticed a small red, black, and white painted matryoshka doll dangling on the rearview mirror. "Oh, god, that's so cute, aru!" Yao exclaimed, but turned a beet red as he realized what he had just said. "I mean, it's really neat, aru."

"You think so?" Ivan asked. "I made that one a few years ago."

"You made it?" Yao gaped. He leaned forward to give it a closer look.

"Yes. My grandmother was very good at woodcraft. She made all sorts of traditional Russian toys and accessories." Ivan replied. A wistful expression settled into his eyes. "But I was never able to make anything else properly other than these dolls."

"Well, it's amazing." Yao scrutinized the wooden figurine. It was a male solider, dressed in a red army uniform. It reminded Yao of the nutcracker. "Kiku would have loved this. He loves anything miniature."

"Kiku?"

"Oh," Yao looked down, suddenly realizing that he had been more open-too open-to a complete stranger. "Um, he's my brother. The one I will be visiting in the hospital."

"Ah."

The car pulled up to a stop in front of its destination. Both men unbelted themselves from their seats and pushed out of the car. Yao grabbed his briefcase and closed the door. "Thank you for the ride."

"No problem, comrade."

Yao raised an eyebrow. "People don't generally use that term anymore."

"Why not?" Ivan asked. "Comrade stands for companion, or friend, doesn't it? I didn't think things here in America were that different."

"No, well." Yao shrugged. "Nevermind."

When they entered the building, Ivan smiled at the receptionist. "Good evening, Clara."

"Oh, Evening to you, Dr. Braginski." the lady at the desk smiled. "I thought you had the rest of the day off?"

"I do," he replied. "I believe I left my bag back in my office."

"Ah. Well you are dedicated to drive all the way back."

Yao stood by, unsure of what to do. He ought to say goodbye to Braginski and be on his way.

Ivan turned towards the Chinese. "So you will be going now, I guess?"

"Yes. Thank you very much for driving me here." Yao smiled.

"And how will you get home?"

"Well, I always take public transit, so I'm fine." Yao assured. He was aware the lady named Clara was staring at them.

"I might be around here for a bit longer, to sort things out. Perhaps I could drive you home as well?"

Before Yao could make up some random excuse, a stocky, dark haired man came bustling by. He wore a long white overcoat and held a clipboard in his hands. His eyes were black and beady, hovering over Yao for a split second before turning to Ivan. "Ah, how convenient it is that you are here, Mr. Braginski. I am in dire need of assistance right now."

"Dr. Winter." Ivan's face went through instant age, lines that had not been visible before now more prominent than ever. "I was just dropping by to collect a few things."

"But surely you have a little time to spare?" The older asked. To Yao, it sounded more like a statement. He immediately felt a dislike towards the other doctor. Being superior did not give you the right to belittle those with less experience.

"I, guess," Ivan replied, evidently uncomfortable. "But I can not stay for too long.."

"That's fine." Dr. Winter waved Ivan off. "Now, come."

Ivan turned to Yao, his eyes suddenly helpless and tired. "I'm sorry, Yao-we will talk tomorrow, da?"

"Ah, it's fine!" Yao replied, returning an equally forced smile. "Tomorrow then."

He watched as the two doctors disappeared around the corner.

"What was that all about?" Yao muttered to himself.

"That poor Braginski," Clara spoke up, her eyes gazing sympathetically at where Ivan had vanished. "He is such a genuine, pure hearted doctor. He works his rear off and is always such a mood lifter, but Dr. Winter is always picking on him."

"Why?" Yao felt agitation.

"Winter does it to everyone," Clara replied. "Can't be helped."

"How rude."

Yao departed with a brief goodbye, making his way to the hospital room he was so used to seeing.

He was still the same.

Motionless, dead. Lying on the hospital bed with not a ghost of a movement. Yao felt his knees almost give in, his breath shaky. But he quickly collected himself and brushed into the door. He opened his briefcase and drew out a small, paper crane. It was navy this time.

"Kiku, look, isn't this colour nice? It looks like the ocean." Yao said. "You like the ocean, don't you?"

Placing the paper down onto the end table, Yao clasped his fingers around the other's cold, drawn ones. "You'll make it out, believe me. We can make it out, I'll always be here to help you until you wake up. So just, just rest up and get stronger. Then you can open your eyes sooner, okay?" he stroked the dark crown of hair gently. "It's okay, Kiku."

Yao was so tired. So very tired.

He laid his head down on top of the Kiku's hand, and searched for the familiar scent that was his brother's.

It was not often that one could proudly state that they had saved an apartment full of people from burning to their deaths.

Alfred begged to differ.

He hummed happily as he flopped down onto the couch, his hair damp from a fresh shower. He let his head loll to the side, wetting the cushion of the chair. He was glad Yao was not home yet, or else he would be yelling his head off at him to get his hair dried. Alfred grinned lazily as he heard the Chinese man's words in his head. 'You will catch a cold, aru! Go get your hair dried! It's making everything wet! We're going to get mould, aru!'

Alfred smiled. He wanted to tell Yao about how he had saved the day, and how he had actually been a hero. He had even been interviewed on the news! Yet even as he told himself this, the American found his eyes growing heavier and heavier, until the dark consumed all his thoughts, and he was placed into a deep slumber.

When Yao arrived home, the first thing he noticed were sneakers strewn haphazardly on the floor mat. Groaning, he picked them up and placed them onto the rack. "Alfred, would it kill you to be less of a slob?"

Yao walked to the living room, where the television was still running. He picked up the remote and turned it off, turning around to scold the blond, but stopping as he saw how exhausted the other looked. Alfred's hair was wet, soaking the armrest through. Yao scowled. He lifted the head off, expecting the other to awaken. Alfred continued to snore, as still as a log. Sighing, Yao brushed his fingers through the wet hair, hoping it would help dry it faster. "Aiyah, you're getting too old for this!"

"Mmm." came a moan from Alfred as his eyebrows furrowed slightly from the contact.

"Wake up, numskull."

...

There was no way this was real.

'That's it,' Alfred told himself. 'This was all just a bad dream. Just a bad dream.'

The thick furls of dark smoke attacked him violently, and he covered his nose with a hand while attempting to swipe away the ash with another. The heat was unbearable, and he felt that his clothes were melting into his flesh. Everything was burning, burning, burning.

Hadn't he saved everyone in the building earlier? And where was his firefighting gear?

What was going on?

Then he looked up, only to find wide green eyes staring back at him.

"Arthur!"

Alfred watched in horror as the British man leaned dangerously out of a window frame above, looking down at Alfred and the concrete stairwell. His eyes darted around wildly, but his lips were sealed.

"Arthur, get down from there! What do you think you're doing!" Alfred screamed, but his voice came out as a rasp, raw from inhaling all the smoke. The ashes burned his throat and his eyes, and Alfred found he was starting to lose sight of the other. "Arthur!"

"I can't jump, you fool!" Arthur's voice came out high, panicked. "It's too high up!"

"Don't jump then!" The smoke almost blocked out all of Arthur now, as Alfred choked his words out.

"I can't! There's a bloody fire and no way out!"

By now, Arthur was just a wall of thick grey gas, and Alfred was on the ground, his chest heaving. It was burning, and he could barely make sense of anything. If Arthur did jump, there was no way he could possibly catch him.

"Alfred!" The cry was so strained that it hurt to listen. "I want you to know, I never-"

He did not get to hear the end of it, because soon voices and footfalls grew stronger and stronger.

"He's there!"

"Someone grab him quick! He's going to die!"

Alfred felt hands gripping his arms and legs and head. And being the stupid man he was, he refused to budge even in his stupor state. Where was Arthur? He needed Arthur!

"Get him around the middle."

"Hold on there Alfred, you hear me?"

Someone was slapping his face, and had it been any other day, Alfred would have snapped his eyes open and lunged at the assaulter. Instead, he remained motionless. His chest was hurting too much, and it was not just from inhaling too much carbon dioxide.

With closed eyes, he sensed the environment around him lighten. The air was fresher, and despite his will to remain silent, he found himself hacking at the clean oxygen. Fingers were running gently through his hair and brushing his forehead. Alfred let out a small, distressed noise. He fought back a sob.

He was not hero. He could not even save the person dearest to him.

He was a failure.

...

"Wake up!"

Alfred's eyes fluttered open. The room was a blur, and without his glasses he could barely make out separate objects. "Why am I here!" Alfred's voice asked, panicked. "Where am I?"

"Alfred, you're in our apartment." Yao replied calmly. "You were having a nightmare, twitching like a madman. Relax, aru. It's okay."

Alfred's eyes were wide open now, as he looked up to see his room mates face hovering above his. Hazel eyes regarded him with caution. "Breathe, Alfred. You need to breathe."

And he did. He breathed deep, with his body shaking and his fingers gripping Yao's white shirt mercilessly. All the while, fingers continued to massage his scalp. He felt safe. Unharmed. Untouchable.

"Better, aru?"

Alfred flashed a grateful, relieved smile. "Yeah."

"Good."

"Can I have a kiss to make it better?"

"Don't push your luck."

Alfred grinned while letting his head slump unceremoniously back onto the elder's lap. "Buzz killer."

They sat in an amiable silence, until Yao announced he had to shower and get to bed. Alfred's eyes never left him as he exited the room. Alfred allowed himself to slip into unconsciousness, hoping all the while that his nightmare would not dare repeat itself. But he was less frightened now, because he knew that Yao would be able to wake him if need be.

"Can you do it?"

Ivan stared at the papers in his hands, his lips a straight line. "I'm not so sure, Dr. Winter-like you said before, I'm not quite experienced enough to perform such complex tasks by myself-"

"Which is why you will have helpers."

"I mean, I don't think it would be appropriate for me to lead the whole operation." Ivan corrected, dropping less than subtle hints that he had no interest whatsoever. "Perhaps someone else could...?"

Winter leaned back on his chair, holding a hand to the bridge of his nose. "Why are you so scared of this entire thing?"

"I'm not scared," Ivan replied. "I just do not feel capable of handling such a complicated task."

"You should not be working here, since you aren't prepared." Winter jeered. "Perhaps I was wrong in keeping you in your position for so long. Clearly, you aren't deserving of the title of the, Head Surgeon Doctor Braginski."

"Dr. Winter," Ivan began, trying to rationalize. "I can make up for this by doing more work on other things, just-"

"I understand. It can wait." Winter waved him off. "Give or take a couple of years, you'll have enough balls for this. You'll look back on this and know how much of an idiot you were for refusing."

Ivan's hands were balled tightly as he forced himself to stare at the opposite wall. He tried to channel out the cruel, biting words of his boss. He thought of his cat at home, and how it was probably waiting for him by the doormat. He thought of the three sunflowers he had planted in a pot on the windowsill. One of them had begun to sprout, while the others had not come out yet. How long would it take for-

"Were you listening, Ivan Braginski?"

Ivan swallowed silently. "Yes, Dr. Winter."

"Get out of my office. You have night shift tomorrow. Don't forget." Or else.

"Yes, I won't. Goodnight, sir."

Ivan backed out as calmly as he could, and it wasn't until he was sure he was completely out of hearing range, did he let out a feral snarl. "I'll get you, Winter. One of these days, I'll get you." A twisted smirk played on his lips. "You just wait your turn, now."

Meanwhile, in Soviet Russia...

Reviews plz?

Or I'll send Belarus after you tonight. kolz.