Alfred wiggled the handle on the door but it wouldn't budge. It was apparently still locked, but Alfred had a set of keys that should work. The door itself was faded and peeling in patches, but apparently the lock was still in perfect condition. He took out the key that Arthur had told him was a skeleton key. It had apparently been one of the last copies made by the previous owner. He slipped it into the lock and the door made a sickening click. He grabbed the handle and the outer coating of gold came off in flakes on his hands. Cold air rushed out of the room as the door swung open and it smelled strongly of mildew and another scent that Alfred could not quite place. It reminded him strangely of a trip he had taken with his father to Yellowstone. He waited for the door to swing all the way open before taking a step forward to look into the room.
Light filled the room coming from a set of windows on the opposite side. It looked as though they had once been covered by a set of red velvet curtains, one of which was hanging limply from the curtain rod, mostly eaten by moths. The other one seemed to be missing entirely. There was a large mirror in this room over a set of drawers, which was covered in a thick layer of dust that appeared in this light to be almost yellow. Alfred felt a mischievous instinct rise in his chest. He was supposed to be cleaning this room out in order to restore it, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun first. He walked over to the mirror and, with one gloved finger drew a smiley face in the dust. He looked at it for a second with juvenile joy. If not for the ventilator, his smile would have been obvious.
Suddenly he felt a force push him backwards. It strangely felt like a pair of hands had been on his shoulder. A quick breathe of air swirled around him, making all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It seemed to carry a voice on it that said, "Don't touch my things!" As quickly as it had appeared, the wind disappeared and Alfred was left standing there, staring as the mirror, which had suddenly and inexplicably been wiped clean.
In it, Alfred saw a pair of ruby red eyes reflected back at him. He looked behind him to see what it was reflecting, but saw nothing but a small bedroom. The sight of the bedroom at least explained where the other curtain had gone. It was draped across the end of a sagging bed. But, the red curtain still didn't explain the red eyes he had seen in the mirror. Alfred turned back around to face the mirror and saw that one of the drawers had jumped open. He walked forward to look in the drawer. There was a single wooden cross laying there, broken down the middle.
Alfred's breath caught in his throat. This wasn't right, he could just feel it. There shouldn't be strange things hidden here; these had been the quarters of a doctor. It all felt very wrong and he couldn't place why. He turned back to the door, which was slowly swinging closed even though there was no wind. The backside of the door was peeling just as the outside was, but there was also a set of very deep scratches that looked too high to be made by any animal.
It clicked closed and Alfred felt immediately like he was trapped. It was a strange feeling, as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. He ran forward and attempted to open the door, but the handle was immobile. Alfred's heart began to race as he realized he was actually trapped in a room where there was very little oxygen. He could hear the forced breaths being sucked through the ventilator. He began to see spots dancing in front of his eyes.
Arthur's voice came from the other side of the door, "Alfred, get your arse down here and give me a hand with this." The handle of the door gave way and the door swung open. Alfred scrambled out of the room and onto the landing. Arthur was standing in the middle of the bloodstain below, yelling up at him. Alfred steadied himself before descending the stairs, while trying to convince himself that it had all been his imagination.
Gilbert opened the door to the room. The man who looked so very much like Ivan was sitting at a table drumming his fingers on the surface. The man, whose name was also Ivan according to the file, looked remarkably comfortable considering he was virtually a prisoner. When the door creaked open, Ivan turned and looked with a smile, "It's very poor manners to put a man to sleep and to not be there when he wakes up."
Gilbert didn't respond, instead he walked over to the other chair and sat down. He put the file down on the table and said, "Ten people murdered in one night, that's impressive. Why did you do it?" Ivan had carefully watched the other sit down before he said, "I could tell you the truth, but if you judge me sane, I go back to the courts and they can put me to death. One execution is enough for any man."
Gilbert's blood froze again for the third time that night. His hand faltered on the pen he had just taken out to make notes. Ivan leaned forward slightly with a smirk, "But, I don't think you will believe my little story anyway. So, the reason I did it was so that I could get locked up here, with you. So I could be sitting here staring into those red eyes of yours." Gilbert felt a sense of revulsion rise in his throat. No one would have known he would be coming here, let alone with close enough timing to be here on the night he arrived. It must be a lie. That was the only explanation.
Gilbert said, keeping his voice low, "Tell me why you feel the need to lie. You couldn't have known I would be here. I'm just something your psyche latched onto." Ivan laughed and leaned back. The laughter made Gilbert's heart start to thunder, it sounded too much like a laugh he remembered hearing after the words, "That little experience wasn't exactly consistent with Nazi ideology, was it?"
At least this man didn't have the same gorgeous accent as his Ivan. The serial killer leaned forward again and said, "Oh very logical, doctor, very logical indeed. I'm insane, isn't that what the Spaniard told you? I'm not lying, you're just not ready to see the truth yet." There was very little real passion in the voice, but there was amusement. And something else was hidden just below the surface of the voice, but Gilbert couldn't place what it is. Ivan continued, "You also shouldn't hush your voice like that to hide your accent. It's a lovely accent, and I would hate to miss it."
Gilbert responded by intentionally muting his accent further and saying, "So you have an accent fetish?" Again, the serial killer laughed, "It is possible. But, you certainly have one, da?" At the end of his sentence, he shifted his voice so that he suddenly had a heavy Russian accent. In outrage, Gilbert stood up before he could control himself. A single sentence slipped in rage between his lips, "Don't pretend you know me!" Because he spoke so quickly and loudly, his voice came out very heavily accented. Which only made the other man smile. He looked at Gilbert as though something was happening according to his plan. He spoke again, "That's more like it, let it out. I know you better than you think, better than you know yourself."
Gilbert realized how unprofessional it was to be this out of control and hurriedly sat back down. Ivan was smiling again manically. The albino tried to straighten his tie, which gave him a sense of calm. He said, in an attempt to regain normality, "You're delusional and with therapy you will see that. You don't know anything about me; you're just making lucky guesses." The other looked as though he had been slapped. For the first time since Gilbert had entered the room, the smile slipped from the man's face.
Gilbert finished a short set of notes and swept them up into the file, which he removed from the table. He stood up and turned to leave the room, quite convinced that there was nothing left to discuss in this session. He was almost at the door when Ivan spoke again, "Would it be a lucky guess to say that you had a one night stand with a Soviet officer in Warsaw the night after the city fell? Would I be too far off the mark to say that it was one of the best nights you've ever had?"
Gilbert had a hard time even comprehending the words. An experience he had never told another living soul about was being relayed back to him and it was perfectly accurate. He slowly turned around to look at the serial killer again. His lips felt like they had become both dry and cold. He didn't even feel them move as he said, "You can't know that." Ivan smirked, which made Gilbert's already chilled blood move sluggishly through his veins, "But I do know it. You better leave before I expose you any more. Your superior is just outside of that door and he wants to talk to you about me."
Gilbert, completely unnerved, turned and left the room without another word. Exactly as Ivan had said, Antonio was standing just outside of the door pacing nervously. When the German emerged, he immediately said, "How'd it go? Is he opening up to you?" Gilbert took a deep breath and said in response, "Well, he's certainly not sane. I think he functions by fixation. He becomes obsessive over people before killing them. That is at least my initial analysis of him. As for his modus operandi beyond that, I can't be sure." Antonio nodded, but still looked unsure.
He started to walk slowly down the hallway and Gilbert fell in step. The Spaniard spoke carefully, "You seem to have insight into him, which could be invaluable in dealing with him. You will have a few more sessions with him before we talk to the courts, and if we keep him here you will deal directly with him." Gilbert stopped walking at once. He couldn't stand the thought of being under the scrutiny of those violet eyes, which seemed to know far too mush about him. Not only did that man look far too much like the Soviet officer that Gilbert had known, he seemed to know about the entirety of the situation. None of it made sense, but it filled him with a strange sense of fear. He couldn't stand one more session, let alone a couple more sessions.
Antonio turned when the other stopped and said, "Is there an issue with that, Dr. Beilschmidt?" Gilbert looked directly at the others eyes and said, "Well, from what I can tell I have become, in a short period of time, his new fixation. To allow me to continue to see him would only intensify his burgeoning affection for me." Antonio rubbed his forehead in an agitated manner and sighed. He looked as though he was trying to come up with a compromise. However, when this seemed to fail he sighed heavily again, "I'm sorry, Gilbert, but I can't get anyone else to talk to him. It has to be you, no matter the consequences. I don't want to intentionally put you in danger, but I need answers about him. Just keep his advances at bay as best as you can for as long as you can. For now, come to dinner with me and the twins, I promise you'll enjoy yourself and forget about your big, psychotic, problem for a little while."
Gilbert nodded and decided to not argue. It would be a nice respite to have dinner with someone civilized. It would also allow him a way to not go back to his room and fall into another terrifying nightmare. This was also time he could use to get to know his colleagues. If he knew them personally, he would also know who to guard himself against. Trust was not easily given when one was hiding such a massive secret. Gilbert already knew that he shouldn't drink tonight, because alcohol might impair his self-control.
He followed Antonio through the hallways until they reached another pair of wooden doors, which the older man pulled open. The room contained several glass fronted cabinets filled with a variety of plates and wine glasses. The middle of the room was filled with an old wooden table, which was in immaculate condition. Around it was a set of matching chairs. Antonio waved his hand around and said, "This room was a dining room when this house was privately owned, after the last owner sold it to us, we decided to keep this room for the enjoyment of the senior staff. Feel free to sit down, the twins will be here soon."
Gilbert spoke, "Well, I will wait for the others to show up." Suddenly the door at the other side of the room opened and both of the twins came through it. There was something about seeing twins together that made Gilbert's stomach turn. Twins had always been some of the first to be pulled away from their family. The doctor he had served under had had a special fascination with twins. Seeing these two brought back a set of memories that Gilbert would rather not revisit. The sudden rush of memories confirmed his decision to not drink tonight.
Antonio walked over to one of the cabinets and pulled out a bottle and was reaching for four glasses. One of the twins walked over to the cabinet and quickly took the bottle from Antonio, muttering as he did so, "You're trying to carry too much at once, idiot." Antonio smiled slightly and responded, "Thank you, Lovi." Gilbert barely heard the exchange, but he did perceive tenderness in it. He glanced over at Feli, who was smiling absent-mindedly at apparently nothing. Antonio walked over to the table and put down four crystal glasses. Lovino followed behind him and put down an amber bottle. Antonio pulled the top off the bottle with one hand and poured equal amounts of a light amber liquid into each glass. Lovino picked up two of the glasses. He carried them over to his brother and extended one to him. Antonio picked up the other two glasses and walked around so that he was standing next to Gilbert.
He handed the albino the glass, but his eyes were fixed on Lovino. Feli had wrapped one arm around his brother in a kind of half-hug. Antonio said, half to himself and half to Gilbert, "Aren't they precious?" The albino turned slightly so he could get a better look at the other's face. Antonio had an almost predatory smirk on his face. Gilbert tried not to judge it, but the twins appeared to be at least 10 years younger than Antonio. There was also something vaguely sickening about the fact that Antonio appeared to be more excited by both twins together than just one alone. The albino shook it off, since his ability to analyze people tended to get out of control. He certainly shouldn't be trying to find fault with his superior.
He took the glass from Antonio and carefully raised the glass to his face. He could smell the alcohol volatilizing and part of his brain registered that it was cognac. He swirled the liquid in the cup, but didn't take a drink of it. This was hard liquor, and it wouldn't take much to make him reckless. Antonio sat at the head of the table and Lovino sat on his right side. The other twin sat next to his brother. Gilbert took the seat directly to the left of Antonio, but did so warily, there was something in the situation that made him feel uncomfortable.
The initial conversation was light and mostly consisted of banter that Gilbert could easily ignore. They were in the middle of the main course when Lovino turned to him and asked, somewhat pointedly, "So, you're German, right? That means you must have had experience with Nazis." Gilbert quickly swallowed the bite of food he was eating and looked up at the brunette, who was looking right at him. Antonio sighed in an exasperated manner and said, "Lovi, you can't just bring things like that up." The boy completely ignored him and kept his eyes trained on Gilbert.
The German finally responded, "I was young, but yes I did." He kept his response short in order to keep himself from saying anything that would give the truth away. He also felt a rising sense of agitation, between the dream, the patient's strange insight, and now this conversation, all that seemed to come up today was his Nazi connections. Lovino leaned forward and said, completely serious, "So, what are the most damned people on Earth like?" Gilbert immediately recoiled, defensive. The boy had no way of knowing what he was really asking. Thankfully Antonio intervened and said, "Lovi! That's completely inappropriate!" He quickly turned to Gilbert, whose mouth had gone strangely dry, "You don't have to answer that."
The albino responded to Antonio, "I didn't intend to. But, I will say this: people are people; only very few are actually monsters. The rest just follow orders and that's all." With that, the table lapsed into prickly silence. However tense the silence may be, Gilbert much preferred it to the conversation. However, whenever he looked up he could still see Lovino glaring at him.