A/N at the end. GerIta. AU.

Warnings: this story will contain male/male pairing(s), mature language, adult themes.

Disclaimer: (Are these actually necessary-something tells me no) Don't own, not-for-profit.

During the early evening rush, the train station was crowded with people heading in every conceivable direction. A steady stream of commuters and businessmen flowed on and off departing trains, comprising an efficient rush that swept up less experienced travelers and cast them aside like debris in a river. Elizabeta cut through the crowds with a businesslike air, her shoulders thrown back and her chin tilted up as she navigated into a large atrium lined with rows of wooden benches. The atrium was packed with bodies and the air was hot and damp and hazy with cigarette smoke. She was soon sweating beneath her light jacket and ankle-length skirt. Along with the heat, irritation began to buzz under her skin like bees as her eyes continuously scanned the faces that passed her, searching for the boy she was supposed to be meeting here. With only a vague description of his appearance to work with, she soon began to feel like she was digging for the needle in the proverbial haystack.

Just as Elizabeta was about to march over to a security constable and berate him until he helped her locate her target, a large commotion broke out nearby. She and several others stopped what they were doing and turned to watch the scene unfold. A rather obese, but well-dressed man was shouting, his thick mustache quivering as he gesticulated angrily with his hands. The victim of his temper appeared to be a meek lad, humbly dressed in unadorned, rough cotton clothing. Beside the man, a thin woman in a fine velvet dress was being helped off the ground by a passerby, her white gloves soiled from where her hands had touched the ground.

"Apologize at once!" The portly man was shouting, "What kind of brute knocks a lady down and doesn't apologize? Well, haven't you anything to say? Speak, boy!"

The boy's mouth opened and closed, but no sound emerged. His thin hands fluttered around his throat and he pointed at his mouth repeatedly. This behavior only served to confuse and irritate the man, whose face was beginning to turn an alarming shade of purple. "What's the matter with you, boy? You barrel down my wife and offer no explanation or apology? Are you an idiot? Or are you a thief, eh? Tell me, were you trying to steal from my wife? Answer me, you filthy street urchin!"

The boy was shaking his head frantically now, tears spilling down his cheeks. He pointed at his mouth again, shook his head, looking desperately at the man for some hint of understanding. The gears within Elizabeta's mind clicked into place and she immediately realized who this boy was. Without hesitating, she began to elbow her way past the gawking spectators.

"Hold it right there!" She shouted, throwing herself in front of the boy just as the man was about to strike him with his meaty fist.

The man's raised hand jerked as he stopped in mid-swing. He glared at her. "Who the hell are you?"

"How dare you try to strike a boy less than half your size! Have you no shame as a man?" Elizabeta put her hands on her hips, unsheathing her claws and entering full mother-bear mode. "Look at him, the poor thing is already in tears!"

She turned her body so that the man could see the boy cowering behind her. He lifted his tear-stained face hesitantly, then flinched back as soon as he saw the fat man glaring daggers at him. The man wasn't moved. "He's a filthy brat who tried to rob my wife! This isn't any of your business and I suggest you step aside like a good little girl."

"Don't you dare patronize me, you blustering swine! If you had half as many brain cells as you do fat cells, you would have noticed that the boy is mute! He can't speak!"

This seemed to throw the man off-balance and his thick brows furrowed in confusion. "I don't—what?"

"You're such an ignorant cretin that you didn't even realize the boy was trying to tell you he couldn't speak. Why do you think he kept pointing at his throat and mouth?"

The man was beginning to look very uncomfortable now. His small eyes darted nervously around at the faces of the crowd.

"Don't play the fool, sir." Elizabeta pressed, "You've verbally abused and attempted to batter a defenseless boy. You're despicable!"

"H-hold on there, lady, I never—" The man blundered, but he was at least intelligent enough to realize that he had lost the fight. The crowd around them was whispering and twittering, and not in his favor.

Elizabeta drew herself up to her full height of five-foot-three, giving the man a steely look as she delivered her finishing blow. "My husband is the chief of police in this district, so you'd best run along before I have you arrested for assault! Well, what are you waiting for? Get out of my sight before I report you to the authorities!"

The man looked like he wanted to say something more in his defense, but something in Elizabeta's face must have convinced him otherwise. Grumbling harshly under his breath, the porcine man took his wife in hand and led her quickly out of the circle of spectators. Elizabeta glared at their backs as they disappeared into the crowd. Once they were out of sight, the small mob that had gathered around the scene quickly lost interest and began to disperse. Elizabeta let out a breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

"Are you alright?" She turned her attention to the boy next to her. He nodded, looking a bit awestruck, and she smiled soothingly at him. He was just as Roderich had described, with auburn hair, warm olive-toned skin, and large eyes that were the color of bright, burnished copper. He was only a few inches taller than her and had a simple, country-boy look about him that made him stick out like a sore thumb among the cosmopolitan crowd.

Elizabeta extended her hand and the boy took it, though he looked surprised. "I'm Elizabeta Beilschmidt, nice to meet you. I think Mr. Edelstein should have told you about me…?"

The boy blinked at her without comprehension. Elizabeta raised an eyebrow, either she'd made a mistake or the boy was a bit slower on the uptake than she'd expected. "Ah, you are Feliciano Vargas, aren't you?"

He stared at her, expression slack for another long moment, before his face broke out into a brilliant smile. He squeezed her palm warmly in his own form of greeting. Practically bouncing with excitement, he reminded her of an energetic puppy. His innocent enthusiasm made it hard for her to a straight face as she admonished him for getting himself into trouble. "You need to be more careful, Feliciano. The city isn't like being sheltered in Rod—er, Mr. Edelstein's—house. There are tons of people who would want to pick on someone as cute as you. Never talk with strangers if you can avoid it and never let one of those smooth-talking conmen get you to give up your money on some worthless tincture. That goes for beggars, too! Most of the ones you see on the street are just pretending to be destitute when in reality they make a pretty penny off suckers from the countryside…" Elizabeta's rant trailed off as she noticed Feliciano's eyes glazing over. The boy had a pretty short attention span, didn't he? Honestly, was he really going to be alright for the job or was this whole endeavor going to blow up in her face? Well, at least she wouldn't have to worry about him running into pickpockets once he was safely tucked away on the Beilschmidt estate. Not that her dour brother-in-law was significantly preferable, she thought wryly.

"Let's get a move on, then. Is that your only baggage?" She indicated a small tattered suitcase on the ground by Feliciano's feet. He nodded and bent to pick it up, holding it in front of him with both hands. Elizabeta noted the state of his clothing as well. His jacket and shirt were clean but patched. The brown pants looked a bit newer, but were held up by fraying suspenders. Elizabeta wanted to roll her eyes. How typical of Roderich. Her Austrian friend was an old-fashioned gentleman, but for someone with so much money, he was far too stingy. He could have at least gifted his servant with a single new set of clothes for the road.

"Well, if that's all, why don't you follow me out to the car. It's parked just outside."

Elizabeta began walking toward the station's entrance, where she had asked her driver to wait with the car. Her young charge stumbled along behind her, suitcase banging against his thigh. When they exited the station, Elizabeta raised an arm to catch her driver's attention. The man had been leaning against the car's hood and smoking. Seeing her and Feliciano, he stamped out the cigarette and moved to open the passenger door.

"That's Christophe, my driver," she explained to Feliciano in a low voice, "He's an old friend of my husband's. He's acts grumpy, but he's really a nice fellow, so don't be scared when you meet him. Just smile, like you're doing right now."

Feliciano's smile became a bit more self-conscious and he ducked his head, looking at Elizabeta through his long eyelashes. Unconsciously, she put her hand to her chest, just over her heart. The boy was simply adorable.

Elizabeta and Feliciano nestled in side-by-side in the back of the car as Christophe maneuvered them back out into the crowded city streets, muttering something foul under his breath. She took the first few minutes to observe the young man who was about to become her brother-in-law's new housekeeper. According to what Roderich had told her over the phone, he was about eighteen, born in Italy but having spent his adolescence in Austria. He had no known family and had survived off the charity of the church for most of his life. For the last four years, since the war had ended, he'd been a servant in the Edelstein household. Roderich had described him as a bit "dreamy," but had added that he completed his duties with a good attitude and had also managed to become quite the cook by hanging around the kitchens with their head chef. Elizabeta had wanted to know more, but Roderich had been short of details, and she suspected that this was more from a lack of interest on Roderich's part than any secrecy from Feliciano. The Austrian had bigger problems on his mind these days. Various portions of his family's wealth had been seized by the Nazi government after Austria's capitulation early in the war. Now, years after the Nazis' downfall, Roderich was still tangled up in financial and legal troubles, fighting protracted court battles in order to reclaim full ownership of the Edelstein title and properties.

As for Feliciano, he was not exactly what Elizabeta had been looking for when she had contacted her childhood friend for assistance in finding hired help. At first, she'd wanted a more experienced servant, someone who could both manage hard physical labor as well as handle her brother-in-law's difficult personality. Already the bad-tempered sot had terrified several maids into quitting and Elizabeta figured he might need someone older, with a thick skin and a firm hand. But Roderich had disagreed.

"Trust me, my dear," Roderich's nasal voice had crackled over the phone line, "I have someone in mind who I believe will be quite excellent for the job."

Elizabeta, nearly at her wits' end, had given in. But now, looking at Feliciano as he sat beside her in the car, the seed of doubt she'd been carrying began to grow. The late afternoon sunlight filtered through the car window and fell across the boy's face, highlighting his delicate nose, the balanced curves of his mouth and chin. He was decidedly pretty, and Elizabeta wondered for a moment if she were making a grave mistake. She felt as though she were sending a mouse into a lion's den.

And, of course, there was the other matter to worry about; the fact that the young servant did not, or perhaps could not, speak. The cause of his disability was unclear, but multiple doctors had examined Feliciano and declared that the boy was perfectly healthy and physically capable of talking, should he choose to do so. Whatever was stopping Feliciano from speaking was a product of the psyche. A few doctors had suggested electric-shock therapy, and one had gone so far as to declare that brain surgery was the cure. After that, Roderich had stopped consulting doctors.

Feliciano must have felt Elizabeta's eyes on him. He turned to face her, eyebrows lifting slightly in a questioning expression. Having been caught staring, Elizabeta fumbled for a distraction, and remembered suddenly that she'd brought a gift. "I have something for you," she told him as she rummaged about in her handbag and produced two items, which she pressed into Feliciano's calloused hands. He looked at them with surprise, turning them over in his hands, and then with pleasure and wonder. She had given him a pocket-sized notebook of stationary-quality paper and a blue-inked fountain pen. He glanced up at Elizabeta as if to ask, for me, truly?

"It's just a small gift," she said, feeling strangely embarrassed by the boy's positive reaction, "I was told that you read and write German quite fluently. You'll likely need it anyway, to do your job properly."

He opened the small bound notebook to the first page, his fingers caressed lovingly over the crisp blank paper. He uncapped the pen and tested it against the page, looking delighted as indigo ink blossomed from the tip of the pen.

Thank you, Miss Elizaveta.

His writing was a bit ragged, and he'd spelled her name incorrectly, but it was easy enough to make out the letters.

"Feliciano, what did Mr. Edelstein tell you about my family? About the new position you'll be taking up?"

He wrote slowlyand she had to squint her eyes to make out the scribbly writing in the dimming light coming from outside.

You are Mr. Edelstein's friend. I am going to work in your brother's house. He used to be a solider? Now he lives alone.

"That's right, Feliciano," she replied, "I asked Mr. Edelstein if there was anyone in his household he would recommend for a job at my brother's house. He said you were a good worker and that if you wanted to, you could come to work there. You'll be paid a lot more than when you worked for Mr. Edelstein, but you'll also have a lot more responsibilities."

Feliciano bit his lip, as if debating whether to ask a question.

"Is anything wrong?" Elizabeta prompted.

The pen began scratching the paper again.

He said I would be the only one working there?

Ah, was that what was bothering him? Elizabeta could understand his misgivings. In fact, she was sure that if he understood the full truth about her brother-in-law and his so-called "household" that Feliciano would never have agreed to come to work for the Beilschmidts. In fact, besides the modest pay-raise she was offering, she wasn't sure why Feliciano had agreed to come at all. It meant leaving behind a familiar house, familiar faces, friends…

Elizabeta turned halfway in her seat so that she could face him properly. She put a hand on his forearm and fixed him with a serious gaze. "My brother is… He's a very lonely man, do you understand?"

Feliciano's copper eyes held her green ones. He was listening.

"You… you'll have to be very patient with him, Feliciano."

She meant to leave it at that, but as the silence that lay between them seemed to draw the words out of her against her will. "I won't lie to you. There were other servants there before, but they all left or were let go sooner or later. I think they just get tired of it—the dirty old house, maybe, or being alone there with my brother all day long. They were all good people but no one had the patience—and how could they? I hardly know what to do myself...but I hope you'll try, Feliciano. You'll always have a place in Mr. Edelstein's house, but for now, will you just promise that you'll try—" Elizabeta swallowed the sudden lump that had risen in her throat. What had gotten into her, speaking so freely to Feliciano like that? Just because the whole situation was such a terrible mess, didn't mean she could coerce such hefty promise from a mere household employee.

Embarrassed by her lack of self-control, she pressed her lips together and stared at her lap. But Feliciano simply took her small hand between his calloused ones. He made a breathy little noise, bringing her hand to his cheek, his warm eyes spelling a message of acceptance and understanding.

"Oh, sweetheart…" She grabbed him around the shoulders and pulled him close, tucking him under her chin. He rested his head on her shoulder and she felt a tightness that she hadn't even noticed beginning to unravel in her chest.

"Thank you," she whispered into the top of his head, her lips disturbing his soft hair.

They spent the rest of the long drive out of the city in silence.

~tbc~

Notes: you might notice I switched up "brother" and "brother-in-law" when Elizabeta was talking or thinking and yeah, it was on purpose.

So...writing fanfiction, eh? This is a first for me, so please drop me a line with thoughts, encouragements, critiques, suggestions, etc.-whatever's on your mind! If you do like what you've read so far and want to see more, please let me know...god knows I can always use the encouragement. Plus I will just be more motivated to actually write if I know someone out there wants to read.

Thanks :)