Title: So Wie Man Denkt, So Kommt Es Nie
Author: Slashydutchie
Rating: R – rated for later chapters
Pairing: Main pairing is Gruber/OMC, though there are hints of others.
Summary: This is what happens when you read Discworld, listen to Elisabeth, watch 'Allo 'Allo and are a slashwriter with rabid plotbunnies. A stranger appears in Nouvion looking for Madame Fanny, but as always in Nouvion things don't go as planned. Don't worry, no René-bashing. Also, the actual story is in English.
Disclaimer: Ah, if only I owned any of the things I'm referring to, but even the OMC isn't entirely mine. The bits in italics are from the musical Elisabeth.
A/N: For you Germans out there. DON'T think of Uwe. I just used the appearance from Elisabeth and combined it with some characteristics from Discworld.
Was nützt ein Plan - ist er auch
noch so schlau,
Er bleibt doch immer Theorie!
Und nur das
eine weiß man ganz genau:
So wie man plant und denkt, so
kommt es nie! - Lucheni
Imagine a French café in a small town called Nouvion during the second World War. Behind the bar is a man, he has an apron, a moustache and apparently some strange charm, his name is René Artois. Most of the customers are German soldiers and officers, one of which is sitting at the bar, a lieutenant. This is Hubert Gruber. He has cheese in his ears. For an explanation of this, focus your gaze upon the piano where the elderly forger monsieur LeClerc is playing a tune. Next to it are two women, one very old in bright green clothes clearly not befitting her age. The other is her daughter, she appears to have on her head a dead hen posing as a hat.
Both are singing. Both are extremely bad at it. These two are Edith and her mother, Madame Fanny. The latter is the reason our story begins.
Glance towards the door. It opens and a man enters. He is an imposing figure, large with blonde hair reaching his shoulders, dressed in an immaculate black and dark blue suit, his even bluer eyes scan the room even though his expression shows there is no need for this. He knows who he's looking for and exactly where she is. As if this in itself isn't strange enough… nobody seems to notice him. Nobody, that is, except for Madame Fanny. As he lays his eyes upon her, she is already walking towards to stranger. "I thought you'd never come!" The elderly woman sounds as if the stranger is an old friend.
"I ALWAYS COME, FOR EVERYONE… I'M DEPENDABLE," he answers in a voice like marble slabs falling upon graves. He reaches out a gloved hand towards her. "ARE YOU READY?" He hadn't expected an answer, but he got one anyway. "Actually, could you give me a few moments, Morty? It's okay if I call you Morty, I hope?" The man appeared to consider this for a few moments. "I HAVE BEEN CALLED MANY THINGS, THIS IS AMONG THE WORST." Since he hadn't forbidden it, Madame Fanny shrugged it off. "Just a few minutes, Morty? I had always hoped to die peacefully in bed…" The man looked rather reluctant, he was supposed to be stalking the streets in various places, it was expected. Then again, the bar seemed nice enough. "FINE, A QUARTER OF AN HOUR, THEN." The woman looked happy with this answer. "Good, why don't you go have a drink in the meantime,? The gin is good. But I'd lay off the voice a bit, if I were you, it might frighten people." He nodded and Fanny disappeared up the stairs, spitting on a few Germans as she went.
Death sighed, quite a gesture for someone who doesn't breathe, and slipped into the mortal world. Quite a few puzzled glances were aimed at the man suddenly appearing in the middle of the café and two men promptly vowed to stop drinking. Death ignored them and walked up to the bar, standing next to the lieutenant. The barkeeper's back was turned towards him, making Death want to clear his throat to catch his attention… something the man next to him was apparently attempting as well, only in a slightly different way. "YOUR MOTHER IN LA…" René yelped and jumped two feet into the air, allowing the glass he'd been wiping to smash on the floor.
So… she'd been right about the voice. He was out of practice with mortals…
"Er… your mother in law recommended the gin," Death offered the man a slightly nervous grin along with various coins, some of which appeared to be very old. The poor man behind the bar didn't even seem to notice this, but simply took them and set down a glass and a bottle on the bar in front of Death.
René didn't know exactly what it was about the man, but he seemed to be strangely familiar… and not in a good way either. Whatever it was, it made him nervous and uncomfortable. A sentiment Lieutenant Gruber didn't seem to share. "Well, well… I've never seen a suit quite like that. Then again, I don't believe I've ever seen you before." Death nodded and poured himself a glass. "That is correct, not many people here have." People generally didn't see him anyway, at least not twice.
Hubert frowned, from the way he'd addressed René the lieutenant had assumed the stranger to be French, yet he spoke German fluently, as if he'd been doing so his entire life. "I think it would be better to speak French here, that way René will understand it too." Death nodded, even though he hadn't been aware of speaking German. It was a reflex, it made it quite difficult to explain to people they had deceased if you didn't speak their language. "Fine by me," he agreed in what he hoped was French. Judging by the look on the other's face it was.
"My name is Lieutenant Gruber, though you may call me Hubert. This here is René, he runs the café." Hubert aimed a fond smile at René, René responded with a nervous little grin. "And you are?"
Death was at a bit of a loss here. Usually whoever he came for knew who he was. If not, he could always point down to their body and they'd generally understand. Introducing yourself as Death wouldn't be the wisest thing to do, so he desperately sought for a name. "Wolfgang!" Okay, that had perhaps been a bit overenthusiastic… "My name is Wolfgang." To make up for the sudden outburst Death-now-Wolfgang attempted to offer a friendly smile to both men. It was quite acceptable for someone who rarely had something to actually smile about.
"Ah, a German after all. Have you been transferred here?" While Death tried to find the right answer René managed to slip into the backroom, away from that strange man. "Yes?" Death hazarded. "Then where is your uniform? Though these too are… most interesting garments." Once again this required some quick thinking, though not very much. "Lost them on the way here." He noticed the other's glass was empty and held up the bottle to offer him some gin. Upon Gruber's nod, he refilled the man's glass along with his own that had mysteriously been emptied while they were speaking.
"What a pity," the man said after taking a sip. "What's your rank, then?" Death glanced at Hubert's arm and immediately recognized that he was a lieutenant… a lot of his customers were in the military. It was safest to aim just under him. "Second lieutenant," he responded smoothly. Then he hoped desperately that the rank actually existed in this army and offered Gruber another smile along with another glass.
The conversation slowly progressed and it was several hours and a lot of glasses later that Death stalked the streets again. Well, actually Death stumbled through Nouvion, half held up by Lt. Gruber, half holding up Lt. Gruber. They had left the café… or rather had been ushered out by René… Hubert feeling quite happy about meeting a new friend, 'Wolfgang' feeling as if he'd forgotten something.
In her bedroom, Madame Fanny cursed Death.