Chapter Text
August 31, 2017
Somewhere Between Here and There
I got a little further this time. A breath of air escapes his lungs, and he struggles to take in another. I got at least a step further. A little more ground has been covered since last time. He lies on his back, staring up into the glowing treetops overhead. Sweat runs off his brow, soaking into his filthy hair as he gasps desperately for air. He smiles with mild contentment before tears slip from his dark, weary eyes. Agony grips him as blood seeps into his button-up and the dry earth beneath him.
A round of gunfire clears his train of thought. He slowly rolls onto his side, his legs skidding down the forested hill he lays strewn across. Blood-soaked hands claw at the dusty forest floor as he struggles to push himself up. Is he close? Is he here? He slowly tries to climb up the hill but his dusty dress shoes skid out, leaving him sprawled out on his chest in the ancient forest. He groans in agony as gunshot wounds become exceedingly apparent to him.
With a clenched jaw and tear-stained face, he fights himself onto all fours once more. His dark hair, heavy with blood, sweat, and dirt, swings forward into his periphery as he squeezes his eyes shut. The only sound that reaches his ears is the ringing that only he can hear and the birds in the canopy overhead.
There was once a day when I was so weak a single gunshot could kill me. He opens his eyes, watching a drop of sweat hit the soil he sits in. He slowly looks up as he hears the gradual approach of footsteps. He can tell the man is light, but the boots are heavy, and the sound grows closer. He slowly sits back on his knees, his shoulders falling as he ignores the throbbing pain pulsing through his legs.
He blinks up at the man who slowly approaches him, donned in a dark green uniform, with a large AK in hand. The wounded teen shifts a leg back, trying to find himself leverage against the hillside as he slowly raises his hands above his head. He can still hardly breathe as the hole in his chest pours onto everything he touches.
“My name…” the bleeding teen begins, his voice tight and hoarse. “My name is—”
Gunshots rip through the silence of the forest as they rip through the body of the poor soul who looks no older than sixteen years old.
The child lands flat on his back before tumbling down the forested hillside, hitting every bush and shrub on the way down until he is lost in the undergrowth. With a defeated groan he rolls onto his back, ignoring the brambles that snag at his dress shirt. He stares hazily at the bright blue sky framed by the rich green leaves as the newly formed hole in his chest glistens in the summer sun.
He hardly considers the meeting he is supposed to be preparing for. He hardly considers the responsibilities and duties of his government as the host country of said meeting. At this point, he could not care less about his own well-being.
My name is Im Yong Soo. The hole in his chest may be new, but the hole in his heart is not. And I just want to see my brother.
August 31, 2017
Busan, South Korea
“Hey Dad?” a tender voice echoes through the small hotel bathroom. “Do I look pretty?” The voice is tight and shaky, almost as if it were on the brink of tears.
Christian Kirkland shifts a step back from the vanity mirror of the tight bathroom, staring down at the small child who clings to the doorframe of the bathroom with thin, pale hands. He smiles warmly at the girl crouching down to see her eye to eye. She wears a dark red dress that ends just about her knees. The built-in petticoat of the child’s dress fluffs out, giving the girl a shape fairly reminiscent of a fairytale princess. “You look absolutely gorgeous.” He eyes the bagginess of the neckline. “Do you need help zipping it up in the back?”
“Do you promise I look okay?” she asks, pulling up on the straps to hold the front flush against her chest.
“Wendy,” Christian coos softly.
The girl smiles before turning slowly. The airy skirt spreads as she spins, continuing to spin around her with determined momentum, even as she stops. Sparkling, dark red folds beat against each other before sliding back to how they had once been.
With broad hands, Christian silently fights with the small zipper, managing to zip the back of the dress after only a few moments of struggle. He fumbles with the thin straps of her dress, adjusting them to be ever so slightly shorter. “Is this dress new?”
“Father bought it for me before we left,” she whispers.
The Australian smiles warmly as he pushes himself upright again. He returns to his task of preparing for the day, glancing down at her through the mirror. She’s dressed like she’s all ready for summer. In her defense, it’s far warmer up here than it is back home. She thrives in the summer sun. He leans forward, flipping his shirt collar up, picking up a shining silk tie off the counter. He had gotten it as an anniversary gift in the 70s and goodness does it look like it. He glances down at the girl who silently watches him. “I just hope you don’t get bored.”
“I won’t,” she chirps, stepping into the bathroom. She folds her arms on the counter, bracing her weight against it.
“It’s your pretty standard meeting. Granted, it’s an important one, but an uneventful one nonetheless.”
“Peter said that I couldn’t do it. He said I wouldn’t be able to sit through a meeting. He said that he got to attend an EU meeting with his parents! That’s the European Union! That’s a big deal!”
My God, you are so petty. Both of you. He looks up, trying his tie. Although, I’m willing to bet money on the fact that Berwald brought his kid to something no more important than a commission meeting or something. Bringing your kid to a big event is basically suicide. He glances down at his own daughter. Though, I do imagine Wendy will behave herself. Toby and I raised her anyway—not the deadbeats of Europe. He scowls, reflecting on his own parentage.
“I think he was lying anyway,” Wendy continues with an exhale. “I think he was playing on his dad’s phone or something. I won’t be like that! I will pay attention!”
Christian laughs, his gaze still fixed on the mirror. His amusement melts as his phone’s ringtone echoes through the small bathroom. He glances down at it, reading the caller’s name, freezing. Wendy does so too, her breath caught in her throat. The Aussie reaches for his phone, answering the call, putting it on speaker. “Hello?” he calls with his usual air but a notably professional tone. He eyes his phone apprehensively as he straightens his tie.
“Good morning, Mister Kirkland. I don’t ask for much of your time,” the voice announces through the phone in slow English.
“It’s not an issue.” Christian folds his collar down once more, staring at the phone. “What’s up?”
“Have you had any contact with Yong Soo in the past day?”
Christian narrows his eyes. “Yong Soo?” he echoes the name back. “No. I haven’t.” He tilts his head, tossing loose strands of hair over the top of his head. “What’s up?”
There is no response.
“Wang?”
The Chinese man on the other end of the line takes an audible deep breath.
“Wang?” Christian prods again.
“Mister China?” Wendy leans forward on the counter, staring at the phone. “Is everything okay?” she asks softly.
“Wendy,” the Aussie hisses with alarm. For the love of God don’t go harassing China of all nations.
“I’m looking for my brother,” Wang Yao’s tone softens.
Christian freezes, completely caught off guard by the man’s change of demeanor. From the things I’ve heard from Arthur growing up, I was under the impression that Wang didn’t have a soft bone in his body. He clears his throat. “Is he being a defiant pain in your ass or is something authentically wrong?” the Aussie asks warily, trying his best to read the situation correctly.
“I’m not sure yet,” Yao states plainly.
“You must be desperate to figure it out if you’re calling me of all people.” He freezes. Maybe calling the People’s Republic of China ‘desperate’ in any context is a bad idea. He scoops up his phone, stepping out of the bathroom, feeling his daughter’s gaze of concern burn into his back.
“I guess you could say that,” Yao replies with an exhale and a great deal of grace.
The Aussie too sighs a silent breath of relief.
“Fernández isn’t picking up his damn phone and Honda… Well, let’s just say I doubt he has much capacity to worry about anyone but himself right now.”
Christian frowns. Only a few days ago in a show of power, North Korea launched a missile over Japan, landing it in the Pacific Ocean on the other side of the island. If that were me—to watch a missile fly over my country—I would’ve just about shit myself. And then to show up to work just a day or two later? Cut the man some slack.
“I’m sorry for wasting your time, Mister Kirkland. That is all,” Yao sighs.
“Don’t worry about it,” the Aussie insists, his tone lightening.
Wendy whirls around as the door to the hotel room swings open. “Father,” she greets under her breath.
Toby Singh smiles warmly as his partner’s tone of professionalism fills the cool hotel room. “I’m back, I’m back,” he laughs, resting a hand on her shoulder as he steps into the room. He glances down at her. “Did Dad like your dress?”
She nods, skipping through the room, stopping beside the sliding glass door, staring at the city towers and warm beaches their hotel room overlooks.
Toby locks eyes with his partner who lowers his phone, ending his call. “Who was that?” the Kiwi asks.
“Mister China,” Wendy intercepts the question, turning around. “Mister Korea is missing.”
Toby’s brow furrows with concern.
“Have you heard from him?” Christian asks, pocketing his phone.
“What business would I have with Im?” Toby asks weakly.
Christian shrugs.
“From what I know,” the Kiwi begins, looking off, his bright green eyes sparkling with distant thought, “people should be asking Fernández.”
“My love, there are somewhere in the neighborhood of fifteen nations with the surname ‘Fernández’ here. You are going to have to be more specific.”
“Sure, Mister Kirkland,” Toby prods, stepping forward. He reaches for the man’s tie, straightening it. Not that it really needed straightening. “I’m talking about Mister Philippines.”
“Goddamn Antonio and his ungodly number of kids.”
“People curse out Arthur the same way when all the Kirklands show up for UN meetings.”
Christian laughs, picking up his suit coat off the disheveled bed before turning with a furrowed brow. “Wait, what’s the relationship between the Philippines and South Korea?”
“They regard each other as vital economic partners and share a history of—”
“Not what I meant.”
“They’re close friends,” Toby chuckles.
Christian nods, draping his coat over his arm. He glances over at his daughter who still takes in the Busan skyline. “Are you ready to go?”
The young girl nods, whirling around. She darts for her luggage, digging out a pair of dress shoes, eagerly fighting them on over her white tights. She leaps to her feet, her light brown hair bouncing about her shoulders in tight curls.
Christian glances at Toby. “Do you have all of our stuff?”
“Yup!” The Kiwi turns around, showing off a sleek, black backpack. It blends in nicely against his black suit coat. His attention is caught by the young girl—who looks no older than ten or so—darting for the door, pulling it open.
Christian swipes his wallet and keys off the nightstand, tucking them into his pockets, watching Toby follow the girl. He marches across the room, hitting light switches as he does, glancing over his shoulder to ensure they haven’t missed anything. He turns, catching the door after the Kiwi, locking eyes with the man’s soft gaze.
“Has she been behaving herself?” Toby asks knowingly.
“Oh yeah,” Christian laughs softly, watching the door shut. He pulls on the handle to make sure it has locked properly. “She’s just been a little antsy,” he explains with a whisper, “but I don’t see her throwing away the opportunity to prove that she can behave herself if we bring her to foreign events.” He continues, keeping his gaze low. “I also want her to see all the other young nations here. I want her to see their potential.”
Toby glances warily at him. “She can never be what they are,” he whispers.
“Oh, I know,” the Aussie replies even softer. “And I think she understands that… but she is different from Peter, Sebastien, and all the other little micronations running around. She knows she is never going to get official recognition. She’s smart enough to know that. She just wants a little bit of respect. And I think that the attendees of this meeting—a mismatched group of East Asian and Latin American nations—are going to see that and give in just a little.”
“And isn’t she really eager to stick it to Berwald’s kid?” Toby adds light-heartedly.
“Oh yeah. That too.”
The girl stops at the end of the hall, whirling around. “I’m not scared!” she calls defiantly as her parents catch up with her. “I am a strong, independent nation! I am here to learn how to be professional!” She stands up straighter, squaring her shoulders.
“Uh-huh,” Toby laughs, peering around the corner as he too closes in on the end of the hall.
Christian also slows to a stop, his gaze latching onto the figures of Wang Yao and Adolfo Fernández Carranza. Ah. Wang found him. The two Asian men quietly converse, their dim gazes held low as they march down the hall with evident urgency.
Yao looks up, locking eyes with the Australian. His demeanor immediately shifts, but not by all that much. “Good morning,” Christian greets with cheery caution.
The conversation between the two abruptly ends. The Filipino at Yao’s side turns to the small family, his gaze murky with worry and exhaustion.
This can mean nothing good, Christian notes.
Adolfo’s gaze settles on Wendy, and in the blink of an eye, his heavy demeanor lifts. “Why, Miss Australia!” he remarks, tucking his hands into the pockets of his slacks. “You look absolutely stunning.” He takes careful steps forward, staring down at the girl with sparkling eyes.
Wendy stares up at him in shock. “I…” She glances up at her father, backing into him a step. “I’m not Australia,” she whispers weakly. “I am the Republic of Wy.” She nods up toward her father. “He’s Australia.”
Adolfo drops his shoulders, tossing his hair out of his face. “Him?” He slides a hand from his pocket, pointing up at the Aussie. His face twists with playful doubt. “No, no. He’s not pretty enough. Surely it has to be you.”
The girl flushes, catching the man’s joke at last.
“Don’t fluster the poor kid,” a new voice calls from behind the Oceanic family. Christian turns around finding Vui Nguyen marching down the hall, standing tall, shoulders squared. Tied up in a high ponytail, her hair bounces behind her with her every step.
Wendy peers around her father, her eyes lighting up with awe. “Good morning, Miss Vietnam,” she greets with a faint whisper.
The Vietnamese woman slows to a stop in the intersection of the halls. She shifts her weight, glancing from man to man with curiosity and concern before her gaze settles on the Chinese man. “Did you find him?” she asks curtly.
“I think we are getting there,” Yao states, glancing at Adolfo.
Christian glances between the three Asians. Wang is one of those people who would be damned to say what he means. Something’s going on here that’s beyond what he’s letting on.
“Is Mister Korea still missing?” Wendy asks shyly.
“Uh…” Adolfo fishes his phone out of his pocket. “Last I heard from him was yesterday. He was heading to Paju.” He navigates clumsily into his messages. He narrows his gaze, scanning the last text he had received from the boy in question. “Yup.” He nods slowly, keeping his bright gaze low.
“What did he specifically say?” Yao asks sharply.
“Nothing really beyond that.” Adolfo shakes his head, his expression shifting with mild annoyance. “Just that—”
“Read it to me.”
“I mean, he just said that—”
“Read it.”
Adolfo looks up, his face distorting with increasing annoyance. “Good God, could you chill—”
“Give me this.” Yao reaches for the man’s phone.
Adolfo instinctively grips it tighter, trying to fight it out of the old man’s hand. “No, I said—”
Yao manages to rip the device from the Filipino’s hold, turning it around to read the message to himself.
Vui sighs with exhausted defeat, locking eyes with Wendy. “Men,” she whispers, shaking her head.
The young girl giggles, losing a little bit of tension.
Christian, on the other hand, remains whole-heartedly concerned for the well-being of the missing Korean boy. He keeps his gaze determinedly fixed on the bickering men. “Well?” he breathes, watching Yao carefully.
Yao looks up with annoyance and defeat. “I can’t read this,” he announces at last.
“No shit,” Adolfo hisses, tearing his phone out of the Chinese man’s hands. “It’s in Filipino, dumbass.”
“Mister Wang,” Vui inserts, widening her stance, shifting her weight on two-inch heels. “Do you know where Paju is?”
“It’s just south of the border.”
Wendy’s eyes light up as her gaze latches onto Yao. She manages to catch his attention and holds his golden gaze for a good few moments as the tense silence swallows her whole. “Is Mister Korea in danger?” she squeaks, her bright eyes wide and wet with earnest concern.
“We do not know,” Yao whispers patiently.
Where the hell is that coming from? Christian still cannot fathom how the man—who Arthur swears up and down has no capability of tenderness and love—treats his daughter with such compassion and patience.
Yao crouches down, placing his fingertips on the floor to stabilize himself. He looks up at the girl. “But that is for me to worry about. I am his older brother. Let me do all the worrying. You don’t need to.” He smiles ever so slightly. “I heard you say that you are here because you want to learn how to be a proper meeting member.”
The girl shyly nods.
“Then you should go about your day with only that in mind. Don’t worry about Yong Soo. I will take care of him. I promise.”
Adolfo shoots him a conflicted glance.
Christian easily decodes this message. Im and Wang have a long history that largely consists of Wang doing anything but taking care of his brother.
“Yong Soo is somewhere he shouldn’t be,” Adolfo whispers.
“And I have a pretty good idea where he is,” Yao mutters, daring to glance at the Filipino. He stands upright once more, unbuttoning his suit coat, sliding it off his arms.
“Oh. You’re going now,” Christian remarks, watching him unfasten his tie and set off down the hall.
Yao turns around, stepping backward a little slower. “Actually, now that I think about it, I would like you to come with me, Kirkland.”
“What?” the Aussie echoes in shock.
“Oh, I get it.” Vui nods, her dark eyes growing stony with understanding.
“What’s happening?”
“He needs a hunk who’s not gonna ask questions,” she explains.
This clears up none of the Aussie’s confusion.
“Nguyen, I would like your help as well.” Yao’s gaze shifts to the Vietnamese woman.
“Wait, what?” she echoes, authentically surprised.
“Don’t ask why. You know what skills you have; you know where we are going.”
“Oh… Oh no.” She shakes her head, shifting a step back toward the Oceanics. “You’re not dragging me—”
“I understand what he’s getting at,” Adolfo steps forward. “I will go with you.”
“No,” Yao’s gaze snaps to the Filipino. “I don’t need you.”
Christian’s shoulders fall as a horrifying realization dawns on him. He’s talking about the DMZ, isn’t he? Im was in some city just south of the border because he was heading to the border… and… if I know anything about that strip of land, he probably didn’t get too far. He glances at Yao, Hence why Wang needs someone with a little strength—his gaze shifts to Vui—and someone who can handle a gun. He nods, fighting his tie off.
“Wait. You’re going?” Toby hisses, watching him with wide eyes.
“Dad.” Wendy gazes up at him with wide eyes of worry. She grabs at his button-up, clinging to him.
“Miss Kirkland,” Yao calls dryly.
Wendy glances over at him.
“I promise I will bring him back to you safe and sound. What I need from you is for you to be Miss Australia for a day.”
She opens her mouth.
“You are just as worried as I am about the situation, but I need your help as well. Do you think you can fill in for your father for a day? Do you think you can be Miss Australia while your father and I hunt down Yong Soo?”
She glances up at her father with a colorless expression, finding a little bit of comfort in his warm gaze.
“We are just going to a town up north to find Mister Im,” the Aussie explains. “He just might be a little hurt, and Mister Wang wants to make sure he has all the people he might need to take care of his brother. Just in case.”
Vui scowls, hanging her head for a moment, her hair shifting forward over her shoulder. She unbuttons her blazer, stepping toward the Chinese man. “Fine. I’ll come with you. But, I need you to understand I’m only coming along because you are dragging the poor Aussie into this.” She glances down at Wendy. “And because I don’t want the little one to worry.” She stares down at the girl with a distant gaze. “Do your best for your father and we will do our best for each other while we go look for Im. Can we count on you to do that?”
Wendy’s weak nod gains confidence as she swallows her tears, staring up at the woman with bright eyes of trust.
“That’s my girl,” Vui smiles ever so slightly.
“You still want me there,” Adolfo insists.
Yao glares at him before sighing defeatedly. “Fine.”
“Taku kōmata,” Toby pleads, glancing up at his partner.
Christian takes a deep breath, handing off his coat and tie. He drops his gaze with a faint smile. “Don’t worry,” he pleads. “But if you must, don’t let Wendy worry.” His bright green eyes sparkle with confidence. “It’s just a little day trip.”
Toby wrings his hands beneath his partner’s coat as it slides down his arm. “I’m trusting you.”
Christian smiles as he shifts a step forward, kissing the man lightly on the cheek. He locks eyes with the Kiwi for the briefest moment, something suddenly clicking. He glances over his shoulder at Yao, his expression shifting as he tries to sort it out properly. I think I kinda get why Wang doesn’t say what he means. It’s not because he means to be an elusive pain. If anything… he’s saying all he needs to. He doesn’t need to tell us everything he is thinking. He drops his gaze as he steps away from Toby’s side. Whatever it stems from… I get it. After a little bit of reading between the lines, it is clear. Wang is terrified for his brother… and deep, deep down he knows that whatever that kid is up to right now… is entirely his fault… But… He looks up, catching the man’s eye. He would be damned to actually say it.