Chapter Five

Disclaimer: I don't own Hetalia.

1961

Alfred slammed the pot down so hard onto the kitchen counter that cracks had begun to appear. He was no longer controlling the superhuman strength he had possessed since he was a child; he picked up a buffalo and swung it around when he was a little tyke, barely older then Peter. His heart suddenly reminded him how hard it was to beat, and his lungs took a ragged breath, it had been years since he had last felt this weak, forty years to be precise in his house in Anchorage, Alaska. Love did funny things to the body. Every part of Alfred's body ached to jump on the next plane to Moscow and beat the Commie Son of a Bitch to an inch of his life and demand his son back. But Kennedy had strictly forbidden that he leave the states before he was healed, stupid bosses, stupid Polish assassins. He was almost healed, Feliks had missed all the vital regions of his abdomen and he couldn't die, not without first losing his country at least. Due to being states bound and having nowhere else to take out his frustrations and anger and betrayal on the kitchen that Abigail was always so proud of maintaining had become a place of chaos and destruction. The fridge had lost its door yesterday when he accidently pulled too hard on the handle, he had almost pulled out the faucet this morning to beat Ivan's face in with, Alfred thought the irony of that would be quite funny to the other countries, and now the counter was cracked. Abby would be pissed when she got back from her home in Plymouth, she had left for it before he came back from the hospital in Berlin two days ago knowing that he would need his space to deal with his feelings, she knew him well enough, and Theo had gone with her. The house was an eerie quiet without the sounds of everyone living in it.

There were no little feet running on the hardwood floors in the hallway.

No Elvis being played on the record player in the living room.

No childish laughter.

No Abigail or Theodore.

No Peyta.

Alfred thought his heart might fall out of his chest like that fake one did in Ivan's. His son was gone, taken from him, by a crazy woman who would do God knows what to the child if she ever found out that the boy wasn't just some random state that Alfred had found roaming around the Alaskan wilderness, that he was her flesh and blood too. That she was his aunt. A crazy woman who had been doing the bidding of Peter's other father. A crazy woman that was in love with her brother, a crazy woman that he and Ivan had kept their relationship secret from as much as possible, a crazy woman who would seriously hurt his son if told the truth about their relationship.

No, he couldn't think like that. Alfred tried to shake the bad thoughts from his head. If he thought anymore about Natalia taking his son from his brother's home in Ottawa he might just ignore Kennedy's order and take his private Flying Fortress Bomber to Russia and take back what had been taken from him. No matter his physical condition.

As he wandered around the three story house that had been built right after World War One as sort of a present for himself about surviving the horrendous war, plus he thought that the house in Virginia he had lived in before was too far away from Washington and he was needed more in the capitol. It had never been this empty, many of his states for whatever reason had crashed in his house for a couple of years or so, even the country of Lithuania had lived in this house for about a decade.

1921

"Dude, it's no problem if you hang here for a few years to jumpstart your economy." Alfred said as he led the timid Lithuanian man around the house. He already had Charlotte and Lilo living full time with him and Peter, what was one more going to do? "I won't work you like a dog, promise."

"T-thank you." The light brunette stammered as Charlotte ran up to the two countries. Her once cascading blond hair and huge bonnet skirts of the nineteenth century had been exchanged for a bob cut and bloomers causing a huge uproar with her fiercely protective older brother Charles. Most of the time the representative of North Carolina came off as fairly cynical and a realist, but she like other women in America were greatly enjoying the new wave of feminism in America plus the backlash of the eighteenth amendment outlawing alcoholic beverages.

"The babies are crying." She informed them, and Alfred sighed, he really needed someone like Abigail or Shirley to live with him, someone who liked kids more. It was hard work trying to watch both of his baby territories. He was glad that Juan could take care of himself for the most part and preferred to live with Enrico in Florida, he wasn't sure he could take care of another territory by himself.

"I'm coming," Alfred said and then turned to Toris, "Would you like to meet the two newest additions to team USA?" Toris chuckled slightly at Alfred's casual word to describe the brood that represented his nation.

"Okay," Toris agreed and followed Alfred down the hallway again and down the stairs to the nursery where the sounds of two distinct crying babies could be heard.

In the nursery were two children, the older one a tan girl was no older than three, who already had long black hair that reached her mid back, sat on the floor surrounded by colorful wooden blocks. "Peter knocked them over." The girl said pointing to the younger one who was hardly looked one and half years old who also sat crying on the floor.

"Toris, this is the former island nation known as Hawaii or Lilo." Alfred indicated to the girl. "And this is Peter, he represents Alaska." Alfred indicated to the silver haired boy who looked about a year and a half. Toris nodded and said hello to the two youngest representatives probably in the world. "Now Peyta, what have I told you about sharing?" Alfred asked chiding the silver haired boy.

1961

Alfred had arrived in his wanderings around the house to Peter's room, the white door was slightly ajar and so light barely trickled into the dark room, but even with minimal light he could see the book shelves that contained Peter's books and small toys and the rocking chair that Alfred could remember countless times rocking Peyta in when the boy was a small baby. Now his silver haired son adored rocking the chair himself till he fell out of it. A small stuffed wolf sat on the brown chair, Peter's favorite toy. The silver haired boy had pitched the biggest tantrum when he realized he had left it at home.

This was all Ivan's fault, that son of a bitch couldn't let Alfred try to have a happy, normal life without him. Why couldn't the commie realize that he didn't want Ivan in Peter's life, not like he was. How did Ivan expect to be a father without his heart, he couldn't even emphasize with his people and that was primal instinct to nations? It wasn't that Alfred never wanted Peter to have a relationship with his other father, he just wanted Ivan not to be crazy, and maybe Ivan had always been crazy and Alfred had been to blind by love to see the silver haired man's insanity. Love had blinded people to worse things. A love that was now covered by hatred, he wasn't even sure if he still was in love with Ivan anymore, and if he was it was covered by so much distrust and anger that he could no longer detect it.

1873

Alfred sighed as he walked into the D.C. house, he had just come back from San Francisco on a vacation of sorts with Ivan, they had been supposed to talk business but somehow the whole trip had turned out to be more pleasure than anything else. Abby was there as was Louis, both of them had been taking care of Peter while Alfred had been in California. "Look Peter, it's Daddy." Abby said as she took the baby's small hand and made him wave to Alfred. He couldn't help but laugh at the scene.

"Hey Peter, did you miss me?" Alfred asked as he took his son from Abigail, Peter giggled, his sparkling blue eyes held delight for his father. "Gosh, you're getting so big." The silver haired baby looked only to be about a year old though he had been born almost five year before. "Is Theo here?"

"Yes," Abigail replied as if she was mentioning something unsavory, "He's in the dining room I believe." Alfred nodded and wondered if Theo had said something about Abby's relationship with Louis.

"I see, thanks." Alfred said as he walked into the house, Louis's sapphire blue eyes narrowed at Theo but the tan boy said nothing to the state of New York before he stalked off to the guest room he was staying in. Alfred was really glad that the only permanent residents of the house was himself and Peter, having all the states here would be crazy and just the few that were here now were bickering with each other.

"You know it's time for Peter's nap." Abigail reminded Alfred,

"Right, tell Theo that I'm putting Peter for his nap and I'll be right down to discuss immigration issues." Alfred said, Abby let out a huff and glared in the direction of the dining room where Theo was. Alfred just smiled and laughed to himself as he made his way up the stairs with Peter clinging to his shirt.

"Guess what," Alfred said as he tucked Peter into the bassinet, the silver haired baby cocked his head slightly as if confused, "I saw your Daddy this week. He can't know about you." Alfred sighed as he sat down on the rocking chair beside the bassinet. "My bosses won't let me, but I bet if he knew about you, he'd eat you right up and protect you with ever fiber in his body just liked I would. I want to tell him about you so badly; I don't want him to miss anything more with you." He leaned over to pet Peter's hair and push it back. "One day he'll know about you and then we can be a family."

1961

Ivan had ruined that dream, the dream of being a family, when he converted to communism, when he decided that just Russia wasn't enough and he threatened Alfred's way of life. And now Ivan knew about Peter, and now Peter was gone. And the empty room only seemed to fuel the anger Alfred felt for his ex-lover. Alfred shut the door and turned from his son's room, heading back to the kitchen. He needed to break something and seeing as he had already wrecked that room a little more couldn't hurt. He wanted to make Ivan hurt like he was hurting, nothing else would give him more pleasure at the moment. His whole body shook as he walked, his hands trembling in fists at his sides just waiting to punch something, something he could imagine looked like Ivan's head. One day he would wipe that stupid smirk off the Russian's face.

"Why?" Alfred shouted as his fist made contact with one of the cabinets, the door broke into two pieces, one part fell on to the counter beneath and the other hung just barely on its hinges. Well the cabinets needed to be remodeled anyway. "Why does it hurt so much?" Was it because his son was taken from him? Or was it because Ivan had been the one to take away his son? It was because of his son was taken from him, Alfred told himself, it wouldn't matter if it had been Ivan or if it had been Sadiq or José or any other country. It hurts more because Ivan took him, a small voice in the back of Alfred's head said. He pushed that voice away quickly; he didn't want to think that he might still harbor feelings for the bastard.

"Alfred." Alfred spun around from where he had been about to take out another cabinet by punching it again to see his brother still sporting wounds from his run in with Natalia. He dropped his fist as he looked over the other blonde's wound. Four days later and there was still a black eye and he was definitely favoring his left side over his right. He wondered what other wounds were hidden by his brother's clothes, wounds he didn't want Alfred to see.

"Matthew, are you sure it's okay for you to be up and about?" Alfred asked, Natalia had done a number on his brother according to Arthur who had come to see Alfred before the American had been off bed rest one day after his run in with Ivan on the wall. That had been three days ago.

"Alfred, becoming a one man wrecking crew isn't healthy." Matthew said ignoring Alfred's question. "You've got to stop this." The Canadian's purple eyes were hard with resolved, he wasn't going to back till he got the result he wanted from Alfred.

"I told everyone I wanted to be alone." Alfred said more harshly then he wanted to. Every time he looked at that bruised eye he was reminded of who he had failed not only as a father, but as a big brother. He had allowed Natalia to attack his brother, to brutalize his brother.

"So you can what, wreck your house some more? Wallow away in your pain? You are angry, and you have every right to be. But you can use that anger to save Peter. We can still save him." Matthew's voice softened as he spoke about his nephew. Matthew also felt that he had let his nephew down by not being able to protect him.

"I always told him I'd be his hero, that I'd save him." Alfred said in a quiet voice to his brother and for the first time in four days Alfred began to feel tears form in his eyes. "I failed him, Matthew, I failed you both. When I was needed to be the hero, I wasn't there and I failed to save what matters the most."

"Even Superman can't save everybody." Matthew said putting a hand on his despondent brother's shoulder. Alfred gave a small shrug. "We can still save Peter, we know who has him and that's usually ninety-nine percent of the problem."

"We're not just going to be able to waltz right into Moscow and demand my son back."

"Does Ivan have any weaknesses we can exploit?"

"One," Alfred let out a long sigh; they would have to find Ivan's heart in order to save his son.

It shouldn't have surprised Ivan that Alfred had raised such a spoiled son in his capitalistic society, it would fall one day. One day everyone would realize that he had been right all along and they would accept him and want to be his friend. The boy had been screaming for the past half hour for something called Halloween, it must have been some brain washing technique in a capitalistic society or something like that. Trick or treating must be some way of helping little kids understand their economy or something. There would be no more 'Halloween' for his son.

"Really?" Gilbert asked Peter as the two sat in their joined bedroom which had once been used by a duke's children and their governess, unaware that Ivan was watching them. He was greatly jealous of how his son had opened up to the Germanic nation but not to him. Peter seemed to shy away from him and never listened to anything he said. A trait he had inherited from Alfred no doubt, Alfred never listened to anyone when he didn't want to.

"Yeah, and then Abby would make cake and the fireworks would go boom." Abby, Ivan had determined, was the girl he had knocked out the time he had tried to take Peter from Alfred's arms. The representation of Alfred's state Massachusetts no doubt. He remembered Alfred talking about her. They were talking about celebrating Alfred's birthday. "We go to Daddy's boss's house too, its big and white and there's lots of people. I like Daddy's boss, he has friends to play with."

"That sounds like fun, Peter. When my brother was little to celebrate his birthday we'd decorate the whole lake beside our house with candles and let them float in the water as we set them adrift." Gilbert said, "He used to make up stories of where the candles went and the adventures they had. Then he grew out of that and he told me it was a waste of candles." Gilbert let out a small laugh. "He's very continuous about wasting stuff. When Old Fritz was still alive, he was my favorite boss I ever had, he would light fireworks from his palace in Potsdam to celebrate my birthday. And sometimes a huge military parade."

"Wow, Daddy always brings cake home to celebrate my birthday and Uncle Mattie and Uncle Francis, and Uncle Arthur come over as well as Abby and Theo and Lilo and all my friends and there's lots of balloons. And Daddy brings me lots of presents." The little boy wrapped his arms around his knees as he spoke about Alfred. "I miss Daddy." Ivan's favorite birthday memory was one between him and Alfred, the American had somehow managed to slip away from D.C to spend Western Christmas and New Years with him, back then their calendars had been different. His birthday fell on New Year's eve and he and Alfred had enjoyed the day together around Saint Petersburg. Alfred had loved the performance of the Nutcracker they had watched together in the Tsar's private viewing.

"You want to know a secret?" Gilbert asked rubbing Peter's silvery hair. "I miss my little brother too." Peter looked up at the older nation, his blue eyes glittering with tears.

"Where's your brother?"

"He lives on the other side of the wall. And I can't see him anymore because my boss and his boss don't get along. But one day I'm sure we'll be able to see each other again just like you'll see your Dad again." Peter looked happier as Gilbert told the young boy his hopes about his brother. Ivan frowned, he did not want Gilbert to see Ludwig anytime soon without Ludwig first coming to the Communist side. But the Russian was more than far aware of how stubborn the Germanic nation could be, Gilbert was extremely stubborn and Ludwig was even more so. Why couldn't Gilbert see that his people were better off on this side of the wall? One day there would no longer be any need for a government and people would do what they were supposed to for honor and duty. And Marxism would have proven triumphant over Alfred and his capitalistic system.

"Why do people not get along?"

"Because people don't always believe in the same thing, and sometimes when people don't always believe in the same thing it causes conflicts and people get hurt. Sometimes it's people we love and other times its strangers. I have seen many wars Peter, more wars then your dad, more wars then could be considered bearable. I could list a dozen reasons as to why people don't get along but I'll never truly be able to answer that question." There was an ancient look in Gilbert's eyes and anyone who knew the obnoxious Prussian well would know that he was telling the truth, he had seen many wars, many conflicts and yet not even he could give an exact reason why humans did not get along, why they fought. Ivan had seen violence many times as he grew up, being under his sister's control, the Golden Hoard, Ivan the Terrible, the expansion of his empire. He had seen what violence did to people at a very young age and perhaps that explained why he had such a hard time understand others, why he came off as scary and strange. But Alfred had always looked past that, and he was somehow able to see the true Ivan, the one who just longed for a friend.

"One day I'm going to find the answer." Peter declared, Gilbert let out a small snort but smiled none the less and rubbed Peter's mop of silver hair.

"You do that kiddo, you do that."

"I'm going to be a hero like Dad and save people from the bad guys. Have you ever been a bad guy?" Ivan watched with amusement as Gilbert visibly paled, despite the fifteen years since the war his people had not forgotten the brutality of the invading German army.

"Yes," Peter let out a small gasp and backed slightly away from Gilbert. "My brother and I had been humiliated years before by your uncles Francis and Arthur and a little by your father, we wanted retribution. It wasn't right what we did, we started a war, a war that devastated Europe, but more than that our boss ordered the mass killings of innocent people. But your father, he was our hero; he saved my brother and I from our dark places and showed us kindness when we deserved none. Your father is a hero, to many people. He should never stop, and I think that it's very smart of you to want to follow in his footsteps."

"Really?" Peter asked scooting back closer to Gilbert. "Daddy saved you, is that why he left for a while and Abby watched me and I was alone for a while?" Gilbert nodded, Ivan could have laughed, when Alfred set out for World War Two he had no intentions to save Gilbert or Ludwig, he had been out for revenge on those who had dared attack his country. Of course through the four years he fought he decided that he needed to play the hero with Germany as well because the rest of Europe was enough for him. If Ivan had his way, neither Ludwig or Gilbert would ever see the light of day again and Germany would be just another country in a long line of nations who had tried to control that region. Even Francis who had been anti-German for the past century had voted against Ivan's idea. Damn fickle French. One day he would have his true revenge on the German people and their constant invasions.

"Gilbert, I would prefer if you didn't spread lies in my son's head." Ivan said stepping out of the shadows where he had been hiding for a good part of their conversation. Peter let out an audible gasp that Ivan chose to ignore for the time being. And then he kicked Gilbert's gut and the Germanic nation groaned in pain while Peter let out a cry in horror. This would be a lesson to them both about pushing the limits in his household.

"Stop!" Peter cried, tears had already sprung to the toddler's eyes.

"What lies?" Gilbert managed to gasp out before Ivan's next onslaught of attacks against his rib cage.

"Alfred is no hero." Ivan spat, "If he was, you wouldn't be here would you." Ivan smirked as he saw the hatred in Gilbert's eyes. What he hadn't expected was the tiny fist the felt in his side, a tiny fist that had packed a hard punch. He whirled on his assailant only to find Peter stand there, tears leaking out of his eyes and his tiny hands balled into a fist at his sides.

"Leave Mr. Gilbie alone!" Peter shouted in his childish voice, "My Daddy is too a hero, and he's going to save me."

"Your father will never make it this far into the Soviet Union. I doubt he'll even leave the safety of West Berlin." Ivan growled, "He is a coward who hides behinds his own set of morals, he oppresses his people when they should be free from the bondage of social class." There was a wild look in Peter's eyes, a look that reminded him of Alfred, the way Alfred would defend with his life something that he loved. Before when he had be the Russian Empire Alfred had only ever looked at him once like that and that had been when Ivan had suggested that he should punish the southern nations for rebelling against him. Ivan never brought up the subject again; it wasn't his place to tell Alfred how his nation was to be run.

"Liar, Daddy's coming." Peter said and there wasn't a shred of doubt in his voice. He had every faith that Alfred would come for him, and Ivan didn't doubt it. He knew Alfred well enough, no crossing of enemy lines would prevent him from kicking down his door to take Peter back, he would have to try to sprout the seeds of doubt in Peter some other way.

"Leave the kid alone." Gilbert managed to gasp out, sitting up.

"I'm sending you to Siberia," Ivan growled, Gilbert snorted but made no other response before Ivan left Peter's room. He would come back later to talk to the boy, to tell him the truth about his parentage, the real reason why he was so desperate to take him from Alfred.

Ivan sighed, he was sitting in his study, his boss was making some kind of deal with the new Cuban Communist government, something top secret and would take a few months. Alfred's failed Bay of Pigs had left a bad taste in José's mouth especially since Alfred now had Guantanamo Bay. Not his problem. If any secret deal was made Khrushchev would let him know. Ivan liked the bald man who had taken over after Stalin died well enough. He didn't inflict pain on Ivan for the fun of it or strike terror in the hearts of every man, but he didn't back down either very well. The U2 spy plane situation had been fun to watch Alfred try to squirm his way out. And he loved the fact that they were watching the Western World nervous with their more advanced space program. He would beat Alfred to the moon and back, how could he not? He had beaten the idiot to everything else up there no matter what the Capitalist Pig and his Nazi scientist did.

He wished he could say that he had squashed out every bit of love out of his heart for the American man, it would make Alfred's destruction that much easier. But part of him yearned for Alfred's touch, the light fingers dancing against his skin, the warm laughter that made him feel like the luckiest man alive.

1859

Alfred's naked body lay flush against his, their breath's ragged as they came down from euphoric highs. There was laughter on Alfred's lips though no real sound came out and he looked happy, happier then Ivan had seen him in a long time. The tension that had spread through his country had taken its toll on the normally happy man. Ivan smiled back happy that only he had ever seen his precious sunflower like this. Alfred lifted his right arm slightly to touch Ivan's cheek. "Wow," he said breathily.

"You should come to Russia more often, I miss you a lot." Ivan said, "And our house is very big when it's just me." Alfred gave Ivan a small smile and pushed some of his silver hair back.

"I've almost got all the details worked out with Theo and Charles, and then I'll move here and we'll never have to leave our world." Alfred promised, Ivan couldn't say that he didn't like the idea of Alfred living with him at the hunting lodge in the Urals, but he worried what would happen to America if Alfred stopped caring about it. He'd never heard of a nation abandoning their country, leaving someone else in charge. And though some may consider Ivan a selfish man, he did care about the state of the world. Well as Alfred said, they'd cross that bridge when they came to it.

"Hm, sounds nice." Ivan said closing his eyes and Alfred slid his hand down Ivan's chest. Did he want to go another round?

"Laura will send us sunflowers every summer." Ivan nodded, leaning his head back as the American began tracing a particular scar he earned in the Seven Years War from Gilbert. And then he felt Alfred's breath on his face and he opened one eye to see the American hovering over him, he leaned up and pressed his lips to Alfred's before grabbing the tan shoulders above him and quickly rolling over so their positions were now swapped. There was no way Alfred would ever be on top.

1961

Ivan stood outside of Peter's room, his hand on the door knob as he entered an inner struggle about what he was about to do. He had never been so unsure of himself, of a situation of anything. He liked to be in control, even when he actually wasn't he was able to make everyone believe he was. It made Alfred furious how calm he seemed when he was losing it. He had to do this, he had to tell Peter the truth, the boy deserved that much. He wouldn't hide the truth, not like Alfred did.

"Peter," Ivan said opening the door; the little boy looked up from where he had been playing with some wooden, alphabet blocks. The letters were Roman letter; Katyusha hadn't thought it was a good idea to confuse Peter with another alphabet system. That would come later when he was acclimating Peter to Russia.

"Go away," Peter said.

"Did Alfred ever talk about your father?" Ivan asked stepping inside the room and closing the door behind him.

"He's my Daddy." Peter replied pretending not to notice that Ivan had sat down beside him. Ivan laughed a little to himself.

"What about you other Daddy?" the word felt strange on Ivan's tongue, but it was American vernacular that had come about after Ivan had been learning English. Peter gave him a strange look.

"He's lost," Ivan raised one of his silver eyebrows. Lost?

"What do you mean?" Peter gave a small shrug.

"Daddy said he was lost, that he was no longer here and that one day he would come back, that Daddy would save him, and then we could be a family. But he hasn't come back." Ivan felt his heart drop; Alfred still believed that he could save him? Why? Hadn't he shown him already that Vanya was gone? "Daddy says we have the same color hair." Peter pulled at his silver cowlick. "You have silver hair too. So does Mr. Gilbie," Peter babbled, "but he's not my other Daddy cause he loves Uncle Mattie. He's sad though because he can't see Uncle Mattie."

"Peter, what if I told you that instead of Alfred finding your other Daddy, your other Daddy found you?" Ivan asked awkwardly reaching his hand out to touch Peter's hands. The boy cocked his head as if his mind was trying to work out Ivan's words.

"Then why don't I see him?" Peter asked innocently,

"You do, he's sitting right beside you." Peter's blue orbs opened very wide and his mouth fell agape as he looked at Ivan.

Author's Note (The part of the story where the author comes out and writes a silly note): I called Werner von Braun a Nazi scientist! He's one of my heroes (and he was a Nazi scientist sort of… shhhhhh), Werner von Braun developed the V-2 rockets for Germany during World War Two, but he was more interested in space then he was in warfare and he surrendered to the Americans very quickly because he knew they'd have the money to fund his dream to go to space. His other greatest creations took us to the moon and back. Whether or not he was a hero or not is up to you to decide, I love him, I think his dream was amazing. But anyway… we saw a very angry Alfred (which was interesting to write because in the first draft had I had him crying the whole time, wrote the whole darn thing (minus the part with Ivan) and then realized that I had totally written his character wrong) I like this version better. If you want to imagine the type of refridgator he's beating up just think of the one Indiana Jones used to escape the Hydrogen bomb testing in the fourth Indiana Jones movie (if you still don't know what type I'm talking about look it up) (Those are some indestructible refrigerators). And no, I'm not creating a pattern that every other chapter has flash back sequences, it's just working out that way right now.

On another note, I'm in the thick of marching band season so my next update might take a while. I wasn't sure if I was going to be able to finish this one anytime soon with the way my schedule is.