Rushed chapter. I barely made it to the deadline. And thank you theheroineinprogress for beta reading and keeping up with my shenanigans.

-chapter eleven-

The door did not creak when he pushed it open, just enough for him to peak through without being detected. He found her, finally. He had excused himself from their company, saying that he needed to use the loo. But instead he sneaked upstairs, going into areas he was not even allowed to explore, only to look for clues or any of the like. And so, he found her.

She confined herself in the study (he didn't even know Alfred had kept such a room in his flat) ever since they arrived. What could she be doing in there? What was it she was hiding? With thick brows furrowed and eyes squinted, he opened the door wider until he could let himself in.

The hinges made no noise, much to his relief. He did not bother the risk to close it. Green eyes were fixed on her. Her fingers were typing against the keyboard of a computer. She had her back turned to him and all he could focus on was the long pale locks of her hair, swaying along with the breezes that blew against the half-opened window.

He wanted a glimpse of whatever it was she was working on. Maybe the information he could reap from it would be of critical evidence. With this in mind, he took several steps toward her, inching closer and closer with each step, as quiet as a shadow. A trickle of sweat ran down his forehead as he did so, nervous even. He was like a mouse wanting to put a bell on a sleeping feline. When he was close enough to see, he stopped breathing; cautious that she might hear him, for the night was too quiet, too peaceful for Alfred's flat.

The text was in Cyrillic. Tough luck, he was so close to finding out. However, a certain name in English text was found somewhere in the top of the page: Alfred F. Jones. The discovery was enough to unsettle him. What was she planning to do with Alfred? She was right in front of him, unbeknownst of his presence. He could easily just reach out and break her neck and all his worries would be put to an end. Not that she would die, but… But he couldn't really resort to that.

Her fingers found themselves brushing against the surface of the files lied down on the table beside her. The folders were unlabeled but when she opened one of them he saw the American eagle, and the familiar star-spangled flag of the North American nation. He watched her scan the pages until she pulled out a certain page. She read it quietly and began typing on the computer again, while every minute or so she would glance back at the paper as if she's copying its contents on the application. He had a feeling that whatever it was she was pirating, it was classified information. He strongly doubted she was even allowed to see it.

He was about to shout at her to stop so he could pull the plug of the computer and steal the files from her. But Alfred's obnoxious laughter was heard all the way from downstairs. Natalya froze momentarily before sighing heavily. Her shoulders slumped, and he saw her highlight a few paragraphs on the screen. She then deleted the words, leaving an entire page blank.

He had a puzzled look on his face as she did this. Just what exactly came to her mind that got herself to stop? Natalya slipped the paper back in the folder and kept it inside the table drawer and slammed it shut, as if angry. She had her hands pressed on her temples, a gesture indicating that she was exasperated and frustrated… probably with herself.

Without thinking, he exhaled audibly. He bit his lip sharply after realizing the mistake, his green eyes alarmed as the belle turned abruptly to face him.

"What are you doing here?" Natalia demanded. The program she was using was minimized immediately. So he was right, it was something very confidential. Whatever she was up to, it would lead up to no good.

Arthur took a step back. "You're called downstairs for tea," he lied, exerting much effort to keep his voice from breaking.

"He doesn't even have tea," she argued, eyes staring daggers at him. Though, he could swear that for a moment her gaze broke and a slight hint of fear came from her purple eyes. A familiar scowl masked the particular expression however, and if had not paid close attention and missed that second, he would never have detected the clue. But, what could it possibly mean? It was either she was afraid of having her cover blown, or she actually had a heart to feel a bit of guilt. Either way, she was planning something she didn't want him—or Alfred—to find out.

His lips curled down to a frown. "My mistake," he told, his stance stiff in position, ready to move in case a need for self-defense is called. He didn't bother formulating an excuse to support the lie he'd told.

The doorbell rang, and Alfred's voice loudly called that he would get the door. He announced that the pizza was delivered and it was time for dinner. Francis' voice was heard as well, the Frenchman complaining about the choice of food. The argument eventually ended with him taking the initiative to cook a decent dinner himself, commenting that he was doing them a favor.

"Alfred is looking for you nonetheless," Arthur said when the voices died down. "You should head down." He was hoping she'd go with his suggestion so he could snoop around and take a look on the files she kept in the drawer. But he didn't expect her to be that careless.

"Tell Alfred I'll go down when everyone's ready at the table," she said, turning her back on him to face the computer again. She opened a random page on the screen, pretending to read whatever it was on there. He suspected that she was just waiting for him to take his leave. That was why when she heard no footsteps, she bluntly pointed it out for him. "Go away. Leave me alone."

He heard Francis' French cussing. A rather loud sound of what seemed like a frying pan being hit on something was also heard, and what came after that was Alfred's pained complaints. Apparently, he was infuriated at the contents of his fridge—which were mostly beer, hotdogs, and ingredients for burgers, or so Francis loudly pointed out.

It didn't seem to bother Natalia at all, and he couldn't care less himself. She was more concerned of him still being there when she specifically told him to leave her alone. She grunted angrily at the Brit, raising her voice as she told him once again to get the hell out of the room. "I wish to speak with you," Arthur said, trying his best to keep calm despite being treated so impolitely by the Slav.

"As far as I know, Alfred was the one who needed to talk to me, not you." Natalia stood up, looking at him with those angry lilac eyes. He remembered Alfred's long talks about how pretty her eyes were. To be completely honest, he couldn't understand what he found so attractive in them. They were full of hate and anger. It was the kind of glare she used to give to Alfred. Maybe after looking at her glistening tear-filled eyes, he found something so beautiful about them. It was a sight Arthur was never to see, or will he ever hope to see, and may never understand.

A sigh escaped his lips. "Can I just have a moment with you?"

"No."

"Just a moment—"

"I said no!"

Of course. He hadn't expected her to be very cooperative in the first place. "I see," he mumbled, swallowing his irritation and holding back a few harsh retorts. Her attitude was starting to get on his nerves, however. He must do something or his efforts would be for naught. He just needed to find a way to convince her to leave this very room. "But we must hurry down," he urged. "Alfred is waiting."

What would he even accomplish if she did agree to talk to him? She probably won't answer anyway. Maybe if he put it bluntly enough he would have extracted some useful intelligence from her reactions. Still, how could he corner such a dangerous lurker? He knew, under those skirts she carried her weapon of choice. Maybe it was an ill decision to stray close to her without carrying a gun of his own. If he had time, he would've maybe used sorcery to force the truth out of her worthless lips. But his magic skills were undesirably weaker around that point, and he knew it would be much easier to rely on firearms.

Arthur took the initiative to be the first to unfreeze. He moved, heading back to the door and opening it wide, gesturing that he was insisting she must go ahead of him. Natalia squinted her eyes at him, watching him as if she was afraid he might do something to her. And maybe he would do just that. As she was about leave through the door, Arthur slammed it shut, his fingers turning the lock on so no one outside the room could bother them. Natalia hissed, reaching for the door knob so she could unlock it and flee, but he caught her. His grip on her hand was tight, squeezing it without any consideration if he might be hurting her.

Enough playing games. "Just what kind of mischief are you up to?" He murmured low, the threat was plain on his tone of voice. Enough with the feigned ignorance. This must be settled now.

"Let go of me!" The belle angrily exclaimed at him. Arthur was unhappy with how loud she was being. He couldn't risk the chance of having Alfred or Francis getting suspicious. Alfred would just protect his precious Natalia and Francis would just scold him for not listening.

"Be quiet!" He spoke through gritted teeth. He trapped the belle in his arms, resisting her struggles with all his might, and it was enough to last for a while. He just needed her restricted for a few moments, just enough for him to interrogate her and squeeze some valuable answers out of her.

Natalia loudly cussed in protest, but he cut her halfway, his hand pressing over her lips, sealing them so she wouldn't make too much noise. "Tell me," he said, his hold tightening around her as she grew more aggressive. "Tell me what you have been planning to do to Alfred."

It was an idea Francis suggested, though never really intending to evoke suspicion from Arthur. Weeks ago, Arthur pointed out how it was a waste of time to constantly check on Alfred and Natalya's status. Though he must admit, it was an unusual pair, and one that the world did not see coming. He guessed it was intriguing, but the French's keen interest over the subject was just ridiculous. Little interaction between the United States and The Republic of Belarus has been made for the past two decades. And if anything, both countries have dissimilar views. The contrasting factors made it difficult for them to get along. And to think that Alfred and Natalya would persist still despite it all…

Something was not right. Something was taken too lightly that one can choose to overlook. He was convinced that both parties were sincere enough with their affection for each other; however could their leaders ever let this opportunity pass without extracting something lucrative out of this connection? It was tempting, yet wrong—yet again, tempting. Besides, for the betterment (and for the security) of the entire country, when did wrong ever became truly wrong? Compared to wars where killing lives and risking those of your citizens', breaking hearts seemed rather feasible.

Arthur would have been oblivious of this possibility if not for Francis' blathering. He was the one who told him all about this, but in a joking matter as if he never really thought (or cared) that it might actually be the case. It disturbed him so much that he began to actually ask the French for some information regarding this couple. From what he heard and seen, they both loved each other, though Natalia was more discreet about it. He had to know and see for himself if ever this unintentional theory was indeed affirmative.

And basing from what he just saw, he concluded that it might actually be, without doubt, the truth.

With her free hand, she clawed on his skin. Red painful scratches were aching from the back of his hand. If only she could reach her knife, but no. It was strapped on her other thigh. Reaching it with this hand and from this position would be impossible. Her back was pressed on the Brit's chest, his arms keeping her from breaking out of this lock. Besides that, his grip on her wrist was too tight that blood flow was blocked.

"Are you a spy?" Arthur asked, squeezing her to such extent that breathing became a struggle. It wasn't like he was being unmerciful. It was only just. In fact he was merciful enough not to threat her with weapons. If only she had obliged to his earlier request, for to her sit down and have a nice chat with him, this kind of hostility could have been prevented.

Her only answers were gibberish words and angered shrieks, all muffled by his hand still pressed on her lips. "If you promise not to scream," he said, murmuring against her ear. "I'll let go." She didn't respond, but Arthur did it anyway. He removed his hand from her face and asked the same questions.

Natalia yelled him an insult.

It was loud enough that he was sure it was heard below. He just hoped Francis was still yapping his complaints to Alfred that they both wouldn't even notice the commotion that was happening upstairs.

"Why you little—"

"LET GO OF ME!" She struggled to break away, but yet again failed.

"You—" Arthur stopped himself. If this continues, he'll end up raising his voice as well. With his fingers, he cupped her cheeks, not in a gentle way as a lover might do, but something aggressive, his fingers digging into her skin. "Fine. Go ahead, scream. It would make the explaining much easier for me to do."

Natalia grunted, completely agitated at how she was unable to even make any progress. She cursed a couple of times at her failed attempts. Pointless insults were thrown at the Brit, but as if that'll help her. "I don't even know what you want!" She exclaimed, her voice ending in a groan.

Her lies did nothing to assure him one bit. "A pathetic lie," he mumbled. "Look, the truth is uncovered anyway. Mind as well confess." He could feel her body tense, yet her movements were not as vigorous. She was purposely trying to steady her breathing, inhaling and exhaling deeply as if to calm herself. Arthur waited, loosening his grip on her as he did, yet not loose enough for her to escape. "Are you done? Start speaking, love."

Arthur came here with the intention of avoiding this kind of approach toward her. It seemed that his belligerent behavior had resurfaced. Though for years he had been much gentler with women. He was a chivalrous lad, one with a not so chivalrous past. Truly at times like this, his ragged manner would be awakened. For Natalia, this approach seemed just appropriate. Despite how awfully ignorant Alfred was, he was still family. Arthur acted like his elder brother once, and he couldn't just let one person ruin him. The road to that oaf's independence was something unpleasant. He couldn't bear to watch him suffer because of his free choice to love this woman.

"What does it matter?" She retorted. "You seem confident of this 'truth' you speak of. I don't see any need confessing it."

They heard footsteps. Two pairs of feet were scrambling up the stairs and probably were headed for the library. When they waited enough, the expected knock on the door was heard. "Bela?" Alfred's familiar voice called from the other side. He tried turning the door knob but when he found that it was locked, he knocked again, only this time pounding his fist on the wood. "I heard yelling! Is everything okay?" Both Arthur and Natalia did not dare answer back. Because of this, the American persisted with trying to get their attention.

He frowned. Alfred, I've once wondered why you love this woman. Despite how heart-warming it is to know that you finally have her, it has to end. He had thought about this long and hard. Though it pained him to intervene like this, to try and break off this fling, it was only necessary.

"You'll never believe it," Alfred happily announced over the phone one day a few months ago. "She said yes!"

"Wait? Who? Said yes to what?" Arthur asked. Alfred's only answer was a heartfelt chuckle. "What is going on?"

Alfred laughed again. Though the American was a usually cheerful person, that particular time was different. It was similar to the time where the American flag was planted on the barren surface of the moon, where Alfred's euphoric state was at its peak and his gradual decline in interest lasted for quite a while. "Bela! She said yes!" The information took a minute to process in the Brit's mind.

"Shut up, Jones!" Arthur heard Natalia yell from the background. "I'm trying to sleep here."

"Right—Sorry, Princess," Al apologized, though his voice still reverberated with excitement. He heard Natalia grumbled a threat to strangle him if he doesn't keep quiet, but Al just laughed it off. "Okay, back to sleep you go," he said. Then he turned back to Arthur in a hushed tone. "She said that she loved me!" Despite the soft whisper, the exclamation was obvious in his voice.

Arthur was unaware that he was smiling as he listened to the two converse. "Well, isn't that just wonderful?" He said, unable to hold back a soft laugh. "I'm actually happy for you—"

"Oh! Oh! Oh! Wait 'til you hear the details of what we just did—"

And finally the female snapped. "I SAID SHUT UP!"

After that he could hear Alfred's complaints and whimpers, and judging from the sounds he was making, Natalia was probably strangling him. Arthur laughed again, shook his head, and hanged up the phone.

But that warm feeling he had toward them was during the cold of the winter. Now at the beginning of summer, he grew cold. There were uneven pieces—those that won't fit at all. They had mutilated them to try and fill in the gaps of one big picture. And just when they thought everything had fallen rightfully into place, only had they discovered that the pieces that they tried fusing together had made an ugly and senseless image. It was just not right.

"You intend to leak some classified information from his archives, don't you?" Arthur anticipated her next moves, her next words. She wasn't protesting now. She calmly just stood there, waiting for him. Eventually she knew that he would let go, and that's where she would strike hard. With a knife, in his throat. First there was only silence, as if she was searching for the right words to say. Arthur expected that she would deny it, tell some vile lie that what he saw was wrong. Or maybe even reason out that she loved Alfred with all her heart and she would never do such a thing as betray him. She did none of that. Instead, Natalia gave a small, mocking laugh.

"Go ahead, turn me in."

Was it a challenge she was asking for? Does she really think the US authorities would let this pass unacknowledged? How careless could Alfred be, to let this ferocious little fem fatale wander around his own home without any surveillance? God forbid, was he blinded by this love he claimed to exist?

"So you admit?"

He saw the corners of her lips tug into a grin. He watched every slight movement of her lips, even the subtle ones as she breathed. "Not so satisfying, is it?"

He frowned. What kind of satisfaction was she expecting—would she prefer it if he would beat the answer out of her? Arthur wasn't sure if he'd like to resort to such measures. Sure there were many ways of executing torture—most forbidden by the current law—but he wouldn't dare stir that much bad blood between their nations. Besides, his morals were much different now unlike the olden times.

Beyond the door, they heard Alfred curse. "Wait, I think I have a key somewhere in my room," he said, though addressing someone that was accompanying him outside. "Hurry," said another voice, low with a European accent. Francis was with him as well, just waiting to give Arthur a piece of his mind once the door opens. He didn't have much time.

"It's all that was necessary," he murmured, finally letting go of her. She pushed herself off him, glared at him and produced a small yet lethal knife from under her skirt. He expected it to happen, and was prepared for it despite the lack of weapon.

She held her position, looking at him from head to toe as if she was deciding where to strike first.

"Charming," Arthur said. "You can't do anything now."

She knew that. But can she really let him walk away without having anything at all to say? It felt like she was defeated here, and it angered her to have him intervening in her affairs. She clutched the knife in her hand tightly that her hand began to shake. It felt like her arm could hardly even move. It didn't matter to her what the Brit would think, or what he would do to stop her. However, there was Alfred coming into the picture. Was she really prepared to let him know what she had been scheming behind his back?

It scared her. She felt her eyes stinging, tears threatening to fall. She wiped the brimming moist in the corners of her eyes before they could even trickle down her cheeks. No tears will be shown tonight. Part of her was screaming she earned it. She was lucky to have someone like Alfred to love her despite all her flaws and loose gears. Despite how corrupted she was, he, who clearly deserved only the best for being the best, looked after her, loved her, and treated her like human, unlike the others who only have eyes on her because she was a potential investment or just because she was physically attractive. She would never voice it out, but Alfred had seen through the shell that she had been hiding inside of. Betraying him like this was not the kind of gratitude he deserved.

The next thing she knew was that her knife was dangerously close to his throat, his breathing put to a halt, and the door suddenly opened.

"Bela!"

She would like to say that it was a dispersed blur of events to at least save her from the horrible guilt, but no. She knew how everything happened, frame by frame, word by word.

Arthur stood rock still, fear never surfaced on his face, not even through his emerald eyes, which Natalia was closely watching until she met Alfred's blue gaze. He reached for her wrist first, successfully diverting it away from causing any harm. His grip was so strong that she let go of the knife only after a few seconds. Alfred didn't let go immediately, in fact he held onto her for quite a while, his grip never loosening. It was even worse that Arthur's grasp. He had been so gentle and persistent with her that she forgot how strong and aggressive he could be.

"What is going on here?" Francis asked, pulling Arthur by the shoulder. "Don't tell me you…"

Arthur eyed him dangerously, but quickly returned his gaze to the other couple, watching closely for a chance to tell Alfred what he had learned from Natalia herself.

"Bela…?"

"Let me go," she told Alfred, tugging at her wrist.

"Tell me what happened," he pressed, clutching her tighter without even realizing it.

Arthur couldn't help but to interrupt. "Well, does it ever cross your mind that your girlfriend might be using her close relations with you to gain valuable intelligence? Those that she might use against you?" The words were accusingly thrown, his confidence made it seem convincing. Arthur would have said more, if it wasn't for Francis' attempts to stop him. "He deserves to know!"

"Not like this," Francis grumbled, shooting him a glare that demanded him to shut up. "Consider a different approach. Not like this."

"S-Stop," Natalia weakly whispered. She can't possibly talk at this state now. She couldn't even find the right words to say, if ever there were still. Her eyes dropped, unable to look at Alfred's any longer.

But he spoke, and worse, he spoke in her defense. "But Bela would never do that!" Alfred pressed, distrusting Arthur's accusations. "She wouldn't..." But his voice dropped to a whisper at the end, a sign that even he was becoming uncertain.

Just stop! You should never have given me a chance in the first place. She didn't want to deal with this crap right now. She tried tugging again; the distress was blunt on her face. "Let me go, Alfred!" With a low grunt, she used her legs, kicking him at the frantic attempt to get him to let go. You should have known that I was a threat, and that you would have gained absolutely nothing from me.

But Alfred rock solid, she couldn't get him to move by force. "Alfred—you're hurting me!" So words were the only thing she could resort to if not tears. Though she did not lie, his grip was painfully tight. "Let go—please!" Her voice was high-pitched yet husky. She tried to pull her hand, and ended up stumbling a few steps back as he responded to her wish, though abrupt and unwarned. If you never have trusted me, or loved me, I wouldn't be doing this. I wouldn't be suffering from this guilt. Yet she knew that she'd still be a horrible wreck, if he never had found her.

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to hurt you." Alfred excused, walking forward toward her. And I didn't mean to hurt you either, Natalia thought. He was always afraid of hurting her, as if she was some fragile treasure. Yet Natalia knew that she was anything but valuable treasure. "Are you alright?"

She pushed him away as he approached her. No, don't touch me. You should condemn me. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but words failed her. So instead she gritted her teeth, put her feet to work and ran out the door, away from all of them.

"Stop her!" Arthur yelled, but was quickly retorted by Francis' suppressed shouts.

Natalia couldn't possibly withstand explaining to Alfred, not with all those eyes staring accusingly at her. Only Alfred mattered to her, but she couldn't possibly have him all to herself, not with that Brit in that room with them. So she ran down the stairs, almost tripping halfway. With a swift and distraught pace, she ran through the front door with one thing in mind: Run to the place where she once ran to before. She'll go to that street where conflicts were resolved, where the first foundations were built. It was where she first felt the comfort his arms had offered.

Natalia had high hopes that its nostalgic value could influence the things that were about to happen—to at least assuage what she feared.

And what she feared was the worst.

-end of chapter eleven-

YOU KNOW THE DRILL:

First of all, let me say I'm sorry. You know why.

Okay so. Here. I got really lazy on this series all of the sudden since I started working on a new multichap that won't be published until it is finished-which would probably be out around march-may. And my new schedule is really hectic btw, so less time allotted for my hobbies. The next five months would be full of frantic activity and a lot of crying for my part probably. So I may not make it to my next deadline (though I would try my best to make it) which is on the 30th of November. I think it's ambitious to try and upload once a month =.= but I shall try since I want this thing to finally be done.

As for the plot, I have no freaking idea what I'm doing. Seriously, I'm not even kidding. Some may appear inaccurate with history or the current status of the world, but hey, I'm just experimenting here. So I apologize for that.

Please review, I'd love to hear from you :)

Stay awesome.