VII

Ambush

Alfred F. Jones was completely prepared to deal with his unwanted ectoplasmic houseguest the morning after it drove him out.

And if his enthusiasm had more to do with the extra caffeine consumed that morning than anything else, well, that was his business.

"I still think we should talk to Jess before we do this, just so she at least knows you're back in the country," Matthew complained as he got out of the car with Alfred. Heading toward the back, he added, "You know, so she can stop bothering my people."

"I'll have my people call your people about that," Alfred replied with a straight face, only breaking posture when Matthew threw a half-empty water bottle at him. Ducking, he said, "Next thing you know, you'll be telling me we should call Arthur about this, since he's the master at kicking ghosts out of houses."

"We're not allowed to do that anymore, Francis threatened to cut off trade networks with the two of us if we did," Matthew said, grimacing. "All because you wanted what you thought was the ghost of Marquis de Lafayette out of the federal building downtown. Not only did it turn out to be a poltergeist, but also Arthur sent it to Francis's house in Marseilles. What I'm trying to say here is, what if it's not Confederacy, but another ghost that just happens to dislike you?"

"Biggest regret, Mattie, it said, 'I am your biggest regret'," Alfred said impatiently as he opened the trunk. "Now help me get this monster into the house."

Matthew sighed, and hoisted the back end of the large contraption as Alfred pulled out the front end and the nozzle. "You owe me a new vacuum cleaner, along with everything else you gutted for this," he grumbled as Alfred shut the trunk with a foot.

"Don't worry, Mattie. I've got this all under control," Alfred said, readjusting his grip on the machine. "I swear though, if Tony pulled this on me just so he could have another party without me here, I'm going to start charging rent."

"He did that once?"

"Yeah, when we were having the conferences back in Prague, the year Gilbert let those terrorists in by accident," Alfred said as he started to walk slowly toward the front door. He was already planning his attack, and knew to approach the problem as though there were multiple ghosts because really, one couldn't be too careful. "Ready?" he asked.

"No."

"All right, on the count of three, we're going to charge in there. I'll kick the door down, and we go straight to the hall closet and suction-cup the idiot in there and then I'll deal with it later," Alfred said, eyeing his hastily-thrown together contraption that, if it worked properly, would suck the ghost out of the closet and store it until he could get rid of it. "Maybe I should have the Winchesters look this over before I use it…"

"No. No, no, no, no. Not after they brought those two demons to my house just because you were spooked by something on our shared border," Matthew snapped as he nudged Alfred with a foot toward the door. "Come on, let's get this over with. Kuma, keep up," he added as the bear finally pushed the passenger car door open and lumbered after them, sniffing along the ground as though searching for food.

"I think I left snacks for him in the kitchen. And I promise to feed you breakfast after we get rid of whatever the heck is in my house."

"After all the trouble you've made me go through on a Monday, I'm expecting full reparations at this rate," Matthew grumbled as the two approached the house. "Not to mention the dramatics I know you're about to do."

"Whatevs." Alfred examined the door and said, "Stand back."

"Case and point," Matthew muttered under his breath.

Alfred leaned back and kicked the front door open, marching bravely inside as he revved up the machine threateningly. "All right ghosties!" he shouted into the empty house, "It's ghost-bustin' time, starting with the loser in the front hall closet!" Cackling to himself, he stormed in, Kumajirou darting between him and Mattie in a bid for the kitchen down the hall. Glancing around the entrance hall, he said, "Mattie, you ready to bust the idiot in the closet?"

"Didn't Arthur tell you to leave this one alone, like, sixteen hundred times?" Matthew asked wearily as he followed Alfred into the house. "I'm not getting paid enough to put up with you sometimes."

"Well, consider it paybacks for inflicting that brat singer of yours on the rest of the world, especially me. Do you know how much crap I get from everyone else because they all assume he's American?" Alfred complained as he dragged the machine (and Matthew) to the front hall closet. It was now or never, he was going to lose his nerve if he didn't do anything. Letting out a war cry from his colonial days, he charged forward, slamming the closet doors open with the nozzle. He searched around for the ghost, and frowned when he found nothing but shoes and jackets.

"Oh, how threatening. A winter coat," Matthew said dryly from where he was standing.

"Shut up, there really was something here," Alfred protested, moving the clothes with the machine nozzle, scowling when he found nothing. "Maybe he moved to the living room, the little rat…" Forgetting about Matthew, he dragged machine and brother into the next room, ignoring his brother's half-French, half-English insults (some of which he hadn't heard since they were colonies). "Do you kiss Francis with that mouth?" he asked the second there was a pause in the tirade.

Whing!

He ducked to avoid the second water bottle; sailing over his head, he grimaced when he heard it crash in the living room. "It's definitely a good thing that Arthur doesn't live with us anymore, he would have skinned the two of us alive for that."

"No, he would have hit you way before now for the vacuum contraption thingy. We're leaving streaks on the carpet," Matthew said, glancing back at the muddy tread marks on the cream carpet.

"Really? Stan owes me anyway. The guy who owns the carpet-cleaning company that is," Alfred said, glancing around the living room. The water bottle had knocked the television remote off the coffee table, but more importantly, he found cardboard remains of what used to be a box of ice cream cones in the freezer. He paused, and then asked, "What are the odds that it was Tony getting rid of me so he could have another house party?"

"Well, I would have said 'zero', because who would he have the party with, but the term 'another' seems to imply that he's does it regularly," Matthew said, setting down the machine so that he could examine the empty box.

"Remember when you were here two years ago and the President's kids were on sugar highs and no one could figure out where the sugar was coming from?" Alfred asked, glancing at Matthew.

"Don't tell me…"

"Tony had emptied out my freezer in revenge for me losing his workshop keycard the first time. Luckily, there was a nice lady from Atlanta who returned it when she came to DC on business," Alfred said, scowling at the few dirty dishes sitting on his table. "Oh, come on! I swear, it's like burglars are attracted to this house," he complained, dropping the contraption without warning. "Tony! You have ten seconds to get your pals out of here!"

Silence.

Alfred closed his eyes and silently counted to ten. Then to twenty. Then to thirty. He already had bickering politicians, a feuding Congress, an irritated brother, a soon-to-be-irritated Arthur, a pissed off housemate, and a polar bear on the verge of eating him out of the house again. He did not need this on top of everything else. He tried to expand his nation senses to get a better idea of who was in the vicinity. He'd be able to detect any non-Americans on this region of soil.

His eyes flew open as he stared up to the second floor.

Granted, he couldn't detect the nationalities, but there were four patches of wrongness upstairs, four people who shouldn't be up there. "Matt, take a bat. Four intruders upstairs, two are yours, two are mine. Try not to kill anyone though, not in the mood for legal lawsuits," he said, glancing back at his brother, who nodded. "Chase them out if you can, but if you have to…"

"I know, I know. I haven't forgotten that stint we did up near Niagara Falls," Matthew said, repressing a sigh as he walked with Alfred to the pantry cupboard where Alfred kept the two baseball bats.

"Really? I just remember that we went over the falls and Arthur almost murdered us for doing something, and I quote, 'demonstrates the blatant stupidity that is becoming less of an isolated case and more of the norm with adolescents nowadays'," Alfred said, mimicking the Englishman's accent as he grinned at the memory. "Don't know what he was complaining about, our people did it and survived. You know, except for the one or two who didn't," he added as he handed over a bat to Matthew.

"I think it was less that we were doing it, and more of the fact that you told him, 'what's the point of immortality if you can't test it out every now and then'?" Matthew said as the two of them began to climb the stairs. "Although, to be fair, we were also on a bit of a time schedule since Arthur was still fretting about Her Majesty's Diamond Jubilee, and hadn't even thought twice about the Olympics at that point," he pointed out as they reached the top of the stairs. "And for the record, Alfred, you are not immortal…"

"I'm sorry, how many times did I die during World War Two and still came back to kick Ludwig's butt?" Alfred asked, winking at his brother.

"Seventy-two, and that's in the European theater alone. Only God knows what you did while over in the Pacific," Matthew grumbled. "I would know, I was the one who dragged your sorry hide back to camp each time to keep your troops from thinking that you were a German experiment."

"Huh. Is that why Patton got twitchy every time something happened? I meant to ask, but it slipped my mind," Alfred said, expanding his senses. "Okay, one in the master bath, two in the guest room, and one in the attic."

"I'll take the two in the guest room, you can have the master bath, and we can tackle the attic together. You're still twitching, which tells me that you're still expecting a ghost despite your chatter otherwise," Matthew said, hoisting the bat to rest on his shoulder. Then he said, "Kuma's still downstairs, isn't he?"

"Yeah. Replace the food he eats and I'll replace all the equipment that I stole from you. Deal?" Alfred offered.

"Throw in a bottle of syrup and we have a deal."

"Dude, you say that my stuff is crap and then you want it. What is the big idea?" Alfred complained as he stood in front of the open door to the master bedroom.

"All that matters for me is that it's free," Matthew said, grinning before disappearing into the guest room.

Alfred rolled his eyes and went into the master bedroom, tapping the bat into his other hand as he walked into the room. "All right, buddy, I really don't want to get messy about this, I'm been having a hell of a week already. You being here is not helping at all," he said, scanning the room for any signs of disturbance. "It makes me even more angry that you're here in my personal space," he added, pulling a white silk handkerchief off the photograph he'd snuck of Arthur from V-Day. Placing the handkerchief reverently on the dresser, he considered getting down on all fours to check under the bed, but then decided that he'd be at serious disadvantage in case of an ambush.

He was reaching for the closed door that led to the bathroom when he heard a loud thunk from the other room. "Matt?" he yelled, stilling in his tracks. He listened for a few moments, but all he could hear was his own thudding heartbeat. "Matt?" he repeated when he didn't hear a reply.

"Okay, I'm okay!" Matthew shouted back, voice muffled. "I just, uh, tripped!"

"Do you need back up?" Alfred asked, shouldering his own bat as he left the master bedroom and headed for the guest bedroom.

"Nope, keep looking in the master rooms! I'm fine, I'm fine," Matthew said, and Alfred paused, glanced back at the master bathroom, and then shook his head and left the master bedroom.

"Dude, I need to make sure you're all right," he said, warily hoisting up the bat to whack the first person to come through. Tapping on the now-closed door with the tip of the bat, he added, "Preferably now."

The door promptly opened, and Matthew came out, still gripping the bat and looking a little shaken. "Close call with the bed sheets."

"Hell, really?" Alfred shouldered past his brother, easily for once. Scowling, he took note of the messy sheets and the half-open closet. "Dammit Tony, what did I say about sleepovers after the fiasco of 1969?" he complained as he turned around the room. Someone had done an excellent job of messing the entire room up. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Alfred said, "Oh, come on Tony, it was a damn mistake. Geez Louise, it is not an invitation to mess things up and invite people over." Glancing around in the hall outside, Alfred muttered, "Coward, won't even come out to face me."

"Why is he here if he's such a pain?" Matthew asked, frowning.

"Because he's also my best friend and I can't very well kick him out. Although I might have to move him to a different house or better yet, send him to Rita's house. She loves having him over, he only doesn't like it because she speaks primarily Spanish and Tony and Izzy have never gotten along," Alfred said, shaking his head in dismay.

" 'Izzy'?" Matthew repeated, bewildered.

"Our sister, genius. You know, Mexico? I swear we haven't gotten along since the Mexican-American war but at this point, I cannot remember who started that one. You wouldn't either; you and Arthur were still sulking over the War of 1812. I think Arthur started that one. Oh no wait, I did," Alfred said, frowning as he thought back to those points in particular. "But it meant Arthur left me alone after that."

Matthew just looked confused as he followed Alfred out of the hall and back towards the staircase.

"Anyway, Rita's been attached to Tony ever since they first met because she likes to have someone around her height. Apparently I, along with you and Izzy and Antonio, we're all 'hulking giants', although I swear she's exaggerating because I was just barely over six feet last time I checked and my national average height is not getting any taller. Last I checked anyway," Alfred said, reaching into a pocket and coming up empty-handed. "Whoops, forgot my phone. I knew I'd forgotten something. I'm going to call Jessie so she can get her irritation out of her system so that it'll be sunshine and daisies when we get back to work tomorrow." Alfred paused halfway down the stairs, and then, glancing back at his brother, said, "Well, as sunshine and daisies as you can get on Capitol Hill, I swear that at least half of those politicians haven't even seen the sun in weeks. Of course, that's more than I can say for what Arthur gets on a yearly basis…"

"Have you even been to London lately?" Matthew finally asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Not since August, why, have you?" Alfred asked, stopping again to glance at Matthew, who shook his head.

"Don't have time for the trip… busy and everything…"

"I won't tell Arthur you said that. I know you flew off to Paris for six months before the Olympics, and now you're telling me you don't have time to visit Arthur? At this rate, people are going to think that I'm part of the Commonwealth and not you since I'm over in London more frequently than you are." Alfred stopped again at the thought, bracing himself on the stairs as Matthew walked straight into him. He shuddered and then said; "Now there's a terrifying thought. Tell Arthur I said that and I won't talk to you for a week."

"Um, okay."

"No, seriously. I won't talk to you for a week, all I gotta do is move south for a week and put up with Isabella calling me every other day just because we can't agree on border policies," Alfred said, shuddering even more at the thought. "Or maybe skip on over to Puerto Rico and hide out at Rita's, I can avoid both of you at once…"

"Or not, now that I know where you are."

"Dude, I've just given you three possible locations, four if you include a trick trip to the Northeast," Alfred said as he came to the bottom of the stairs and began walking toward the living room where he picked up the house landline. Turning around, he kept his bat braced on his shoulder as he dialed Jess' office number.

He waited, but frowned when he heard the answering machine "Hi Jessie, it's me, Alfred. Wanted to let you know that I, er, came back. To the U.S. With Mattie. And there are people in my house, along with a ghost. Can you please come get the ghost? And if there isn't a ghost, can you call the police? Preferably before I whack someone? They've already attacked Mattie, but he's perfectly fine. Anyway, house key is where I usually leave it, if for some reason I can't get to the door. Talk to you later," Alfred said, before hitting the 'End' button. Sighing, he turned around to leave the living room. "Matt, do you think-"

WHAM!

Alfred blinked, staring up at the ceiling. How the hell did he suddenly end up on the floor like that? His head throbbed in two places; where the bat had made contact with it from behind and where his head had made contact with the living room floor. He was quiet for another moment, watching his brother's imposter carefully step closer while clutching the bat. "You're not Mattie, are you?" he finally asked.

The imposter hesitated, and then quickly shook his head.

"Yeah, thought so," Alfred said, letting a breath out slowly. "He would have hit me hard enough that I would have been unconscious for the next week, we've tried that. One more question before I pass out."

"Um… okay…" the imposter said hesitatingly, and Alfred could now see how the other's eyes were blinking rapidly behind the glasses; he couldn't see well. Just as Alfred couldn't see very far without his, those had been knocked away somewhere.

"Are you the personification of the United States of Colombia?" Alfred asked with perfect seriousness.

The imposter stared at him. "What? Erm, no…" he said, nervously backing away as a blurry figure slowly approached the two of them.

"Okay, just had to check. His England is so incredibly cranky that just remembering it is making the migraine worse," Alfred said calmly as two more blurry figures joined the first. "Now, if you hurt my real brother, I am going to kick you into next week. So it might be a good idea to make sure he's all right because I rarely get that aggressive nowadays but Mattie is a good reason to. And football, but don't tell him I said that. He hates football, and that's why we settle our fights out with hockey. Except that one time on the White House lawn, because that never happened since we weren't there when Jessie came looking for the idiot that sent a puck through her office window."

"Um… okay…" the imposter said nervously as three more figures joined the others.

"And tell your friends they'd better be outta my house by the time I wake up because there will be this awesome thing called 'absolute hell' in store for you guys if you are still around. Take anything, and I'll find you. I've got all the time in the world," Alfred said, managing a nasty smile before darkness overwhelmed him

The last thing he heard before completely passing out was, "You complete and utter moron!"

A/N: 'United States of Colombia' is a reference to the awesome AU story 'Grey Skies over London' and sequel 'Every Generation' by Gemini Star01, as well as the subsequent third part 'Lost Time' on the Hetalia Kink meme. Still one of my favorite series.