Today, Arthur and Francis were making a trip into the Greater city of London; so, naturally, Ivan was tagging along with them. Since the six-year-old boy was still incredibly wary of other people, they didn't feel comfortable with having someone baby-sitting him while they were gone, so he was often brought along on errands that took both Arthur and Francis out of the house.

Ivan didn't seem to mind being dragged from one place to another by his adoptive parents, his purple eyes taking everything in with guarded curiosity. His parents were trying to use these little excursions to help teach him English; they would point out very simple things to see if he could name them, or at least attempt to repeat it after either Francis or Arthur sounded it out for him.

"Alright, so I'll meet you back here once I've finished speaking with my client, and then we can all go out for lunch," Arthur said, smiling down at Ivan as the boy hugged onto Francis' leg and glanced around at the bustling streets of London.

"That sounds lovely, Arthur. We shouldn't take long with our little errands, so if you think that you'll run late with your meeting, just give me a call or text," Francis replied, giving his partner a quick kiss. "Oh, and good luck, Lapin~" he added in a reassuring tone, rubbing Arthur's arm comfortingly.

Arthur cleared his throat, trying to dispel his embarrassment as his angular face flushed a light red from the attention. "Ahem, yes, well...," he coughed, kneeling down in front of Ivan. "You be a good boy for your Papa, hm? Make sure he doesn't wander off, or anything else the silly twit might get it into his head to do," he murmured in a professional voice, fussing over Ivan's coat and shoes. It was rather chilly today, and he didn't want the little boy catching a cold, so he was making sure that the coat was all zipped up and snug. As for checking his shoes...Ivan couldn't really tie laces yet, but he also didn't seem to grasp the concept of Velcro, so Arthur was always double-checking to make sure he didn't lose a shoe because he hadn't tied them.

Ruffling Ivan's soft hair after the boy gave a quick nod to what he had just said, Arthur stood up and fixed his tie. "Well, I'd best be off now...Have fun, you two!" he said in a light tone, waving as he walked off down the street.

"Alright, then, why don't we head to the super market? We need to pick up a few things there, and then I need to stop by the laundromat. But, after that, we can do something fun~" Francis hummed, taking Ivan's hand as they walked back to the car.

After picking up one of his favorite shirts from the dry cleaners - which had been sullied by an abhorrent amount of mud when Ivan was playing outside one day - and getting a few extra ingredients from the store for dinner that night, Francis was looking over his list of to-do's for anything else they could accomplish today.

Distracted by a text from Arthur, Francis didn't notice Ivan wander off from his side.

"Daddy's all finished up with his client, so why don't we start heading back, Ivan," Francis chirped, putting his phone into his jacket pocket once more as he looked up. His heart skipped a beat when he didn't immediately see Ivan, so he called out in a louder voice, "Ivan?"

The only thing to answer back was the loud, yet muffled, noises of the city streets.

Blood running cold as his heart almost came to a complete stop, Francis stumbled through the light press of people and down the street in a panic. "Ivan!"

Ivan was starting to get a little scared, too.

He had seen a little white dog walk by while his Papa was loading the groceries they had bought into the back of the car, and he had pointed at it excitedly and proudly declared, "Woof-Woof!". Glancing up at the wavy haired blonde to see if he had gotten it right, Ivan's face fell a little when he saw that Francis was busy fiddling with his phone. So, Ivan decided to follow after the white dog, intent on bringing it back so that he could show his Papa that he got the "Woof-Woof" right all on his own.

But Ivan's little legs couldn't keep up with the dog's legs, and he quickly lost track of it in the crowd. So, feeling rather defeated, Ivan turned back around, but he couldn't see his Papa anywhere! He hadn't gone that far, had he? But this place didn't look very familiar, and all of these people around him were big and scary - even if it seemed like they weren't aware of him at all.

Ivan walked a little ways away from where he had lost sight of the white dog, eventually reaching a crosswalk. He'd never crossed the street without one of his parents before - or, at least, someone older than himself - so he wasn't sure if he should try to cross or not. Nibbling anxiously on the inside of his cheek, Ivan took a wobbly step out into the street, and was almost immediately sent scurrying back to the curb by the blaring honk of a car horn. So, being the scared little six-year-old that he was, he did what any scared little six-year-old would do in his current situation: He plopped down on the cement, and started bawling.

Someone standing near the sobbing boy knelt down to his level on shaky legs, a bony hand cupping his chin and gently raising it so that they could see the young boy's face. "Vanechka*?" a voice like splitting ice asked, sounding awed and tearfully hopeful.

"Ivan! Oh, mon Dieu, merci*...," Francis cried out, murmuring relieved thanks under his breath as he ran up to the boy and the older man. Kneeling down in front of Ivan and giving him a quick look-over, Francis pulled the crying child into a tight hug. "You're okay, you're alright...Shh, it's all okay," he said in a low, reassuring voice, patting the hiccoughing boy on the back as he stood up.

Turning to the older man standing beside them, Francis gushed out gratefully, "I can't thank you enough for finding my son, sir. One minute he was right next to me, and then the next he was gone!"

"It...was no problem," the gray haired man rumbled out, his expression brooding. "Though it may not be my place, could I ask you a question?" he inquired after a moment's thought.

"I don't see why not," Francis hummed, lightly bouncing Ivan in his arms as the young boy continued to mewl against his neck.

"You said that this boy is your son, yet you do not seem to share any resemblance. Why is that?" the man stated gruffly, staring at Francis and Ivan closely.

"Ah, I understand your confusion. My partner and I actually adopted Ivan from Russia almost two weeks ago now, and it's been the best decision of our lives," Francis answered unabashedly.

"Adopted from Russia...," the other man uttered under his breath, his expression once again thoughtful. "May I...inquire as to where, exactly? I understand if this seems strange, but I...I need to know very much where this child is from," he asked hesitantly.

Francis blinked, but replied nonetheless, "An orphanage in Moscow...Why?"

"I have been searching for my daughter's children for several years...and now, I've finally found my darling Anfisa's маленький* Vanechka," the gray haired man said in a wispy voice, tears forming in his ice blue eyes as he smiled. "I am Ivan's Dedushka*, Nikolai Zima*."

Struggling to translate the little bit of Russian, Francis finally understood what the old man was saying. "D-Dedushka?! You're Ivan's grandfather?!" Francis spluttered out in shock, his eyes going owlishly wide.

"Well, this is absolutely astounding...Truly, the odds of something like this even happening are astronomical!" Arthur breathed out in amazement, staring in disbelief at the numerous baby pictures Nikolai had stashed in his wallet. It was quite undeniably Ivan in some of the bent and folded pictures, his unique purple eyes standing out vividly. The other photos, Arthur assumed, were of Ivan's two sisters.

"Yes, it is quite a miracle," Nikolai agreed in a soft tone. "I spend years trying to find my dear daughter's little children, and yet I can find nothing. Then, when I am on the brink of giving up my search, and I leave the country to escape the memories there...if only for a little while...That is when God sends me a gift to tell me not to give in, and I am reunited with my only grandson...My little Vanechka," he murmured, placing a pale hand on Ivan's head as the boy occupied himself with coloring on the paper place-mat in front of him.

"And what a gloriously beautiful miracle it is, non?" Francis exclaimed jubilantly, his smile dazzlingly bright.

Arthur scowled fiercely at the blonde Frenchman, crossing his arms and tapping his foot agitatedly under the table. "Quiet, you; I'm still very cross with you."

Francis deflated a bit at his partner's anger, but he completely understood Arthur's distress; if it had been the other way around, Francis knew he would be absolutely furious. Still, that wasn't going to stop him from sulking.

Clearing his throat, Arthur turned his attention to Nikolai. "Ahem, well...We'd love to keep in contact with you once you return to your home in Russia, and if Ivan's biological mother and father would like contact as well-" he started to say, but was cut off by the older man waving his hand dismissively.

"I'm afraid that is not possible. Ivan's mother is...passed away. Several years now, in fact...And his father is no one you would want around this - or any - child," Nikolai rumbled out, letting his hand fall from Ivan's head.

"Oh...I'm very sorry for your loss," Arthur murmured regretfully, lowering his eyes to the restaurant menu.

"I have made my peace with her death; Anfisa would not want her family to dwell on such unhappy matters. My only thoughts now are for her children, and whether or not they are happy and safe," Nikolai stated firmly, a sharp look in his ice blue eyes as he looked at both Arthur and Francis. After a moment or so, which was actually rather terrifying for both of the adoptive parents, the grey haired man let out a barking laugh. "No need to look so grim! Like lambs to the slaughter, that is your expressions!" he laughed, shaking his head.

Francis let out a high-pitched, nervous sounding laugh; while Arthur merely blinked rapidly, and fussed with his tie.

Tapping the side of his broad nose lightly, Nikolai said, "I don't believe I need to worry about Vanechka anymore; he seems quite content with you both."

Letting out a breath of relief, Francis smiled. "We're very happy to hear that you approve of us, sir. It's not every day that adoptive parents get the seal of approval from the biological family, so this is very reassuring to us. Thank you," he murmured in a grateful and appreciative tone.

"Yes, it's quite an honor," Arthur added on, nodding his head in agreement.

Speaking up again, Francis shifted the conversation back to the previous topic, "But, surely you will keep in touch, yes? Oh, Ivan would love it - and, as Arthur said before, we would as well!"

"Of course, it would be my joy to do so," Nikolai answered warmly, his eyes crinkling at the edges as a broad smile swept across his aged face.

Ah, this was a bit delayed in the uploading process. I got distracted by other things, but I finally got it up! I fully realize that this situation - aside from Ivan wandering off - is pretty darn ridiculous.

Nikolai Zima: This is General Winter. I think this is the first time I've written him as being out-and-out nice.

Translations for this chapter:

Mon Dieu, merci: "Thank God" in French

Dedushka: "Grandfather" in Russian (Could also be used to address an older man of grandfatherly age)