I simply love this series! After watching a few episodes on youtube for the first time in years, and feeling nostalgic, I felt like writing a little piece, exploring the relationship between René and Lieutenant Gruber. (It's nothing romantic, in case you were wondering, simply a story about a weird sort of friendship between to people who are supposed to be enemies). Hope you like it, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on the story! :)

~oOoOo~

René had never considered himself a very artistic person. To him, the harsh reality was the only thing worth bothering with. The solid facts were what allowed him to keep the café up and running. Solid facts were what kept him alive throughout the chaotic life he was leading. He never cared for art – which was sort of ironic, seeing as a lot of his life was currently revolving around just that. He was fairly sure that once the war was over, he would feel sick every time he looked at a painting, particularly portraits.

When it came to music, his knowledge was pretty much limited to his wife's singing – or perhaps wailing would be a better description. Sure, he'd heard records of more sophisticated music, and it wasn't rare to hear tunes played in the streets of France. Well, not until war began at least. But he had never paid it much attention at all. Music couldn't pay the bills, or cooperate with the resistance, who still tried to convince themselves – and him – that he was some sort of 'hero'. Music was mostly just a way of distracting the Germans when they poked their noses into the wrong business.

No, he had never considered himself a very artistic person at all. Which was why he found himself very surprised at the emotions that were now welling up inside him. His eyes were focused on the piano in the café, or more accurately; at the man currently operating it. There weren't many people in the café, as it was nearing closing time, and most had already gone home to get a good night's sleep.

Lieutenant Gruber had been sitting at the piano for the better part of the evening, playing quiet tunes. No one complained; after all, it was a welcome change from Edith's miserable excuse for entertainment. It had taken René a long time to notice that Gruber's music was surprisingly mellow and solemn. Normally, Gruber's music would be as filled with life and optimism as he was. More often than not, it would be accompanied by his singing. René would not deny that the man had a lovely singing voice. Sadly, the fact that the songs were often suggestive songs directed at him, usually made him too uncomfortable to actually listen to the music itself.

So far, Gruber had only been playing, not once making a sign to sing along. It wasn't until he began this last song that he began singing. And when he did, it was not at all like the usual songs he sang. René found himself stopping in the activity he was currently doing, and just staring at the man. He was unable to stop the music from flowing through his ears into his very being, settling like a bundle of warmth somewhere in his stomach.

Gruber's expression was one of quiet sadness as his fingers danced slowly across the keys. If René hadn't seen him singing, he would never have imagined the lieutenant to be capable of expressing music like this.

It didn't strike René until Gruber finished the refrain in a high, crystal clear note, and began on the second verse, that he was crying. The tears silently trickled down his cheeks into his moustache, and yet he stood like he was frozen to the spot, just listening. He didn't even bother drying them off.

He wasn't the only one crying. Tears were silently making their way from Gruber's eyes as well, clinging to his eyelashes when he closed his eyes, losing himself in the emotions this song clearly so clearly expressed. René had no idea what the song was about, seeing as he was singing in German, but it was obviously something painful.

As the song finished on a few soft notes, René noticed that the café was empty. At some point, the last customer had left, and his wife or the waitresses were apparently occupied elsewhere, with God knows what. Any other day, he would be horribly uncomfortable at the thought of being alone in a room with Gruber. Right now, however, he felt more than saw that the man was in no condition to be flirting with him or trying to make conversations that René would prefer not to take part in.

Grabbing a few napkins from the counter, he quickly dried off his own tears on his sleeve, before bringing them over to the piano. Gruber appeared too lost in thought to notice his presence, and when he cleared his throat, the man jumped slightly in his seat. He relaxed when he saw that it was only René, and glanced at the napkins that was offered to him.

"Thank you," he murmured, accepting the napkins but not using them to dry the tears that kept running freely. His voice was unnervingly steady for the fact that he was crying. René couldn't help but wonder how his voice wasn't even the slightest bit broken, seeing as he himself always had trouble getting sounds out at all when he was crying. It seemed almost unnatural to be crying so calmly, and he would almost have believed the tears to be forced out as part of an act, if he hadn't seen the broken expression in the lieutenant's eyes.

"Your song was… very… um…" he wasn't sure how to explain himself, finding it hard to come up with proper descriptions of what he had just heard.

"It was depressing, am I right?" Gruber gave a small smile, eyes focusing on the piano keys. I apologize, I suppose I lost myself there for a moment."

"No, it wasn't depressing, exactly," René protested before he could stop himself. "I mean, it was sad, but… not in a bad way." He wasn't making much sense, and he was fully aware of the fact. Gruber seemed to understand, however, giving him another smile, that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"It's a song about a young boy growing up. A song about love and loss. About life." Gruber sighed softly. "In many ways, I feel the song could as well have been written about my life."

René wasn't sure how to respond to that. The whole situation was too odd and unusual for him to know how to deal with it. Most days, he would avoid Gruber as much as he possibly could without seeming directly rude. Yet now, he felt oddly pulled towards him. As if gravity was trying to tell him that he was needed right here by Gruber's side at this moment. Even if all he could do was hand the man some napkins and share some words with him.

"Has something happened?" he found himself asking after a while. Gruber gave a small chuckle at this, and when he looked up at René, there was no humour in his expression, only a dark sort of desperation.

"War happened, René," he said, and that simple sentence spoke volumes about his feelings about the war. "I used to be an artist, you know. Had a dream about one day creating a name for myself. Instead, I was snatched up by the army before I even got the chance. And now I will never be Hubert Gruber, the artist. No, I will forever be remembered as Lieutenant Gruber; heartless and brutal war-demon."

The bitterness and self-loathing in his last statement was painfully obvious. René couldn't quite agree, however. Gruber was many things, but it was hard to imagine the generally peaceful and gentle German as a "demon". Despite the fact that he was an enemy of René and of France, there was nothing even remotely brutal about the effeminate lieutenant. René wondered how the army could find it in their hearts to recruit such a man to fight a war of death and destruction. But war was never fair, and it was obvious that the unfairness of it all was starting to wear the poor man down.

"I don't think I've met a man less demon-like than you," René said.

Gruber looked at him with an odd expression, as if he wanted to be hopeful, yet hated himself too much to allow the hope to grow. "How can you say that about the man who had your twin brother shot?!" he asked, almost frantically. If René hadn't known better, he would almost have believed that the man wanted him to hate him.

It was true that Gruber was the one who had him shot – even if he hadn't actually died from it. Still, how could René possibly hate a man who looked back on his actions with such heartfelt pain and regret?

"You only followed orders. I don't hate you – and I'm sure my brother wouldn't either," he quickly added.

Gruber stared at him, eyes glazed over with tears and emotions. "Don't you understand, René?" he asked almost desperately. "You should hate me! I'm German – your enemy! As much as I loathe it, I have to walk down Hitler's path of madness and death! I pray every night that the path will never collide with yours, but there is little I can do to avoid my duty if this was to happen…"

René could only gaze sadly back at him, knowing fully well that what the man was speaking was true. Of course, with the life he was leading, it was more a question of "when" than "if". His interactions with the resistance were bound to get him into serious trouble one day. It had been too close on several occasions already.

"I don't want to be your enemy, René… I don't want to be anyone's enemy." Gruber's voice was small and thin. He looked and sounded more like a broken young man than a soldier. For the first time, René was reminded that Gruber, while normally quite the cheerful character, had seen the results of the war first-hand. He never spoke much of his time in battles, but he had been out there, in the midst of bullets and bombs. How he had managed to remain a gentle, compassionate man, even to his supposed enemies, was nothing short of a mystery.

"If everyone had the same mindset as you, we wouldn't be in this rotten war in the first place," René said, shaking his head with a small smile. "You shouldn't be so hard on yourself." Walking around the piano, he put a hand on Gruber's shoulder after hesitating only for a short second. He could feel the man tremble slightly.

"You know, I envy you, René."

René hadn't expected that, looking down at the man with surprise. What on earth could he possibly have that could be envied? His life seemed to be filled to the brim with chaos and failed plans. He had a wife that he didn't even love, and who probably didn't love him that much either. He was running a café that only brought just enough income to get by, but had no talent for doing anything else. The resistance kept bothering him with all sorts of dangerous plans, putting not only his life, but the life of everyone he knew, at great risk. He didn't even have the good looks or a pleasant personality to make up for all his faults. He really didn't have much at all.

"Why on earth would you envy me?" he asked, unable to stop a small snort from escaping his lips. The sound expressed clearly how unbelievable he found that idea.

"You are surrounded by love." Gruber's voice was quiet, almost inaudible, cutting Rene's thoughts short. "Wherever you go, people can't help but be drawn to you. Perhaps they too sense that you are safe. Despite your sarcasm and sharp attitude, you don't judge. You see people for who they are, but that doesn't stop you from treating them with the same acceptance as anyone else."

René was yet again speechless, staring at Gruber with wonder. He had never really thought about it that way before.

"You're loved and admired by more people than you know, René," Gruber continued softly. He lifted his head, meeting Rene's eyes with a small smile. "There's just something about you," he said, "that feels like a home."

"I… I think you've had too much to drink for tonight, lieutenant," René forced out after a long silence, feeling his cheeks heat up at the lieutenant's words. "You're starting to talk nonsense."

Gruber chuckled softly, finally using the napkin he had been handed to dry off the tears on his cheeks. "And you say I'm being too hard on myself," he said, with one eyebrow raised. René was just glad to see that he looked like he had calmed down somewhat. His trembling had stilled, and he seemed to have shed his last tears. With a small sigh, he moved to stand up from the piano bench, composing himself. He still looked pale and tired, but the optimism had returned to his eyes, René could see. "Well, I should get back now. I believe I've overstayed my welcome," he said, letting his gaze move across the empty café.

"Nonsense, no one else seems to care whether we are open or closed anymore, so why should you?" René said, shaking his head slightly at the thought of how most people would just barge in at their own whims, no matter what time it was.

Suddenly, René found himself embraced by the German, and stiffened slightly at the unexpected contact. But slowly he relaxed, and petted the man awkwardly on the back. For once, there was nothing suggestive about the lieutenant's actions. Perhaps he was grateful to have someone listen to his troubles, or perhaps he simply needed a hug. No matter what the reason, the hug only lasted for a fleeting moment, and when he broke the contact, he gave a smile that actually reached his eyes.

"Good night, René. And thank you."

"Don't worry about it." René watched as Gruber put on his hat and headed for the door, speaking up again, just as the bell rang above the door and Gruber was about to step outside. "And if you want to… play piano here again, I don't mind." He cleared his throat uncomfortably. It wasn't like he could say 'if you ever feel depressed, you can talk to me', even if that was the message he tried to convey to the other.

"Thank you, René. I truly appreciate it." The sincere look in Gruber's eyes told him that the message had been received and understood.

The bell rang again as the lieutenant shut the door behind him. René looked after him for a while, before giving a sigh and finally returned to reality again. After all, he had a café to tidy up and close for the night.

He had never considered himself a very artistic person, and knew next to nothing about music. But still, as he went about his business, he couldn't help but hum that sorrowful melody quietly to himself, knowing that it would haunt his mind and heart for a long time.

~oOoOo~

Please excuse any grammatical errors or spelling errors in this. I'm writing this in the middle of the night/early morning, and I'm feeling too lazy to double check for mistakes. ^_^''

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