She had to say, it wasn't all that unexpected.

But she'd still been surprised to open up her door one day and find Matthew standing there with a big bouquet and a nervous smile

She'd been around for forty years at this point, though she still looked like she'd just turned twenty. But that was how nations always were. Arthur was basically her grandfather, and he'd stopped aging at twenty-three, for christ's sakes!

But she'd had to say, lately her relationship with Matthew had begun to be more than it had when she was younger. Then he'd been her friend, helping her, looking out for her.

He still was those things, but he was also starting to become more than that.

She just started being in the same place with him more often. Matthew respected the fact that she was still young and unsure, and never pressured her into anything. If he thought he might of, he began apologizing profusely, whether he had or not (he usually hadn't).

"Liberty, what are you thinking about?" He asked one day, right after a long, loud sigh.

"I miss Papa. But I tried to talk to him over twenty years ago, and he acted like a spoiled brat and refused to forgive me. He told me that was one of father's downfalls, but there he sits doing it to himself."

Matthew paused. "Uh, pardon me if it's insulting, but by refusing to try again, aren't you doing the same thing?"

Liberty turned, her eyes flashing with anger, and she started to speak, and then paused. "I guess you're right."

Matthew sometimes wondered how, with Al and Ivan for her parents, Liberty had ended up so soft spoken. Maybe it was because of Arthur, or Toris, or Ludwig, or even him.

She sat in silence for a while, and then she headed into the kitchen, humming something in Russian, and began to cook.

Matthew left her alone, and finally she came out of the kitchen, carrying a casserole dish filled with something that smelled delicious.

Then he watched her sort through the coat closet, until she pulled out a heavy long trench coat, and then pulled a sweater over her t-shirt as well.

When she started putting on her snow boots, Matthew grabbed his coat.

"I'm coming with you."

She looked at him for a moment, and then nodded. "Alright."

Ivan sat looking at the bottle, half empty.

Over twenty years since he had seen Alfred's spirit on a regular basis.

Twenty years since he pushed his daughter away.

He takes another swig.

Then suddenly the ghost is in front of him, angrily shouting, though he's oblivious to what exactly he's being called. Probably something along the lines of You damn motherfucking drunk Russian! Go to fucking hell. You PROMISED you'd never do this again!

He stands, knowing that Al would only be here if she was here. That's where Al has been the past twenty two years, at her side.

Ivan looks out the window. She's just coming up the steps, and someone is standing next to her. looking nervous.

He sighs as the doorbell rings, and sets down the bottle.

"Liberty, are you sure about this?"

"No."

"That's reassuring."

"You didn't have to come."

"Honestly, I kinda have too. I'm here to make sure neither of you dives off the deep end."

They both fall silent as they hear the sound of someone coming to the door.

Ivan opens it and glares.

"Canada."

Matthew nods politely.

"New Republic."

Liberty steps up to the door, and smiles. "Hey papa. I brought some food, Any chance you've got a few clean dishes in need of being used?"

He stares at her. Cold violet eyes tempered with the steel of winter meet warm ones with the power of the blazing sun.

Finally, the battle of wills is won.

"Da. You can come in."

The place is a mess.

Even when she stopped by twenty-two years ago to pick up the last of her belongings, the place was practically spotless. Even barren.

Now, almost every corner was filled with empty vodka bottles. The floor hadn't been swept in god only knows how long, and spiderwebs lined every corner.

She remembered her fathers arguing when she was little, and Al had still been alive, though just barely.

"You have to promise me you won't go back to drinking when I'm gone. Ana needs you. You have to promise me you won't do that to yourself ever again, Vanya, or I will come back and haunt you."

The heating vent allowed her to hear the rest of the exchange between her parents.

"Do you think I'd ever do it again, Fredka? You gave me light and hope, and helped me realize that I didn't need the vodka."

"Light and hope can only go so far before they fall as well. You have to promise me, Vanya. For Ana."

"Fine. I promise to continue abstaining from drinking once you are gone so I can be here for Ana."

"I love you, Ivan."

"And for some crazy reason, I reciprocate the feeling towards you, Alfred."

And now she didn't need him anymore, so he'd went back to his one constant companion for all of his existence.

The kitchen is somewhat decent, at least. The dishes are recently cleaned, and given the fact that they shine, she knows someone else did it.

Ivan stands nearby, half angry, half uncomfortable. Occasionally he'll twitch his hand through the air as though he's trying to clear some fog out of his vision or something.

Liberty hands Matthew some plates. "Can you set the table, Matt?"

"Yeah."

The second he's gone, she hears the Russian. "So, you and Matthew?"

"Da."

"He is a good man. Much older than you, but a good man."

"Almost anyone is older than me, papa. Even Sealand, though I have to admit, that thought frightens me a little."

He chuckles, and it's the first sincere laugh she's heard out of him in twenty years.

"So, you are staying clean, da?"

"Da. I haven't touched it since the day you found me. West kept me clean, and gave me the push I needed. He gave me many pushes."

"It is good to know you are staying out of trouble. Your father is...I mean would be proud."

She turns, and sighs, and finally graces him with a response in Russian. "Papa, I know you miss dad, but you must remember the good times. The bottles... I heard him make you promise to never touch it again, papa. Is that why you ran away at the World Conference?"

Ivan goes silent, and then nods. "I was so proud when you told me you were keeping clean, but then... I remembered how I was backing to nursing the bottle every night, and it made me... what is the word?"

"Ashamed?"

"I guess that is it. So I ran. I couldn't bear to see the glares of your father's ghost anymore."

"So all these years it's been this way is because you're too afraid to speak to father's ghost?"

Ivan suddenly tilted his head, and then Liberty turned, looking straight at the ghost.

"He says he's angry with you for not trying to stop again."

"You can see him too?!"

"Da, and hear him. He's always been my guardian angel, even though he doesn't have wings. He was the one who told you about the drugs, after all."

"You knew? All those years?"

"Yes. He said it would be easier if you didn't know I knew. He told me about all his scars, like you did. He even told me about most of yours, except for the one on your hand. He said that one was the one that you needed to tell me."

Ivan turned to the ghost, and then he spoke, though he couldn't hear the words, and the ghost walked through the table to reach out and stroke Ivan's face.

"Vanya, it's going to be okay." She said, translating the words.

Matthew came back to find Ivan sitting down on a kitchen stool, leaning on the counter, racked by heavy sobs. Liberty stood next to him, hugging him and whispered a string of soft words in Russian.

The next night, they returned, and dumped most of the alcohol in the house. Slowly they managed to cut down the amount of alcohol Ivan was drinking to the point where it was safe for him to stop drinking entirely.

And then, one night, after a week of intensive cleaning of most of the house, they had a small family dinner.

Ivan sat between his sisters, who seemed to be happily filling the empty space with conversation. On the other side of the table, Toris and Arthur sat, quietly chatting with each other.

Matthew sat next to the head of the table, and sitting there, all prim and proper, was Liberty.

Most of the people forgot Matthew was there fairly quickly, but at one point later in the evening, Matthew felt Ukraine tug at his sleeve.

He followed her outside, enjoying the silence. Arthur and Ivan had been arguing over something written in a history textbook, and poor Liberty was trying to mediate between them.

They stood in the cold silence, and then finally, Ukraine spoke. "So, you and Ana... I mean Liberty?"

"Yeah. She said to still call her Liberty, but she's letting Ivan call her Ana."

"That's good. Means she's willing to open up to Vanya,"

The silence surrounds them again.

"You know that if you hurt her in any way, shape, or form that he's going to hunt you down and murder you, right?"

"Yeah, I've already got that memo a few times."

She smiles. "Well, then I guess all I can say is welcome to the family, kid."