Okay, well...I'm late. Veeeery late XD. I hope you're still interested in this story. And I want to thank you for all your kind reviews, for the story and author alerts and for the favourites! They make me very very happy. And please kindly review on this chapter, too. You're free to bestow your love upon me, your constructive and destructive criticism, bashing and so forth. Hm, but there's a good chance that I might cry ;_;
In this chapter: Questions, questions, questions and Alfred's mind goes homo.
Chapter 3
Thousand facets like a stained glass
"I'm still saying he's suspicious," said Alfred whilst ignoring the grand appearance of the Cologne Cathedral.
"Stop it - you know I don't want to hear anything like that anymore. You don't even know Ludwig, so who are you to judge? Besides, you are being an ungrateful and ignorant brat. Here I am kindly offering you a guide through Germany's worthy sightseeing spots and what do you do? You keep blabbering about some nonsense before the majestic cathedral of Cologne," the Briton, who accompanied him, was furious and didn't bother to keep his voice low. It was a natural reaction, given that he really had taken them to Cologne by car, even though it had required more than two hours to reach their destination. Alfred himself seemed to be excited about seeing the supposedly most breathtaking tribute to God, so breathtaking that even Arthur was talking about it as if being religious. And the mood of the ride was pleasant until Alfred had started bothering the other with his suspicion.
"The pastor has to be the murderer and I tell you – it has something to do with Luther's letters," he had said and Arthur's response to it was a smack on the back of his head for the sheer stupidity and nonsense of his companion. "But it's true," he continued, "Noticed his expression at the mention of the scriptures? And you know, as a cop, you start to develop some kind of instinct that detects guilty people."
Still Arthur was not at all convinced, he rather found Alfred's theories far-fetched and ridiculous, or with his words: bollocks. And with arguments of these patterns they reached the city Cologne, which is famous for its cathedral, a stroke of genius made and planned by humans in order to approach God up high, closer and closer. Still not high enough. And here they were now, just like two blond ants in front of the west cladding. "Now can you please stop your shit-talking and let me show you this amazing piece of art," Arthur said and attempted to drag the other into the cathedral, Alfred rolled his eyes, yet he did not struggle.
The nave led to the eastern side of the grand cathedral and it was accompanied by massive pillars, majestically high, which were carrying the structure. Even Alfred was reduced to a wide-eyed tourist at the sight of such grandeur; he swallowed hard. The Cologne Cathedral in its overall appearance was the epitome of Europe to Alfred. Age, long engraved culture, ambition to achieve perfection in almost freaky ways. "Oh shit," he said intelligently. And Arthur looked proud, as if he himself was the head architect and the one who built the cathedral on his own.
"Yes, the biggest shit ever," the Briton proclaimed with a crooked smile. Alfred wasn't too keen on seeing Arthur's ecstatic expression when standing inside the Sistine Chapel in Vatican City, or well, yet maybe he would like to see that. It's oddly nice to look at, Alfred thought and was afterwards surprised by it.
Arthur wanted to slap himself for acting so excited every time he visited the cathedral, one should be getting used by the time, right? But amazement struck him over and over again. And then his friends would laugh at him for being such a fanboy and it wouldn't be long until Alfred would guffaw and tease him because of that. But no such thing happened. The American boy was staring at him with a smile, yes, but it was not a mocking kind of smile, rather an amazed and positively amused kind of smile. Arthur found himself feeling very embarrassed and awkwardly self-conscious. "Git, what're you gawking at like some kind of an idiot at some dumb goldfish."
Alfred had to blink at that…insult. "Sorry, didn't notice that I was staring," he said with a sheepish smile and swung his arms back and forth and it looked nearly childish. A shrug and Arthur successfully hid his embarrassment.
The main nave was interconnected with nine chapels, each for sacral cathedral treasures or dedicated to certain saints. Ornaments and frescoes of gold and royal colours adorned the cold walls and smaller altars of the chapels, Alfred called them "Middle Age graffiti". Once they stopped in front of a fresco, it was painted in a naturalistic style, rich in detail, and still it reminded Alfred of more ancient, medieval style; the outline strokes were bold and clearly separated from the colours. He grinned at this own analysis, he got it in him apparently. He glanced aside to find Arthur, whom he had stared at the whole time for some reason, also observing the fresco with a knowing glint in his striking emerald eyes.
"This was painted by an artist who belonged to the Nazarene movement in Germany - they were against the modern style that was taught in the art academies back in the early 19th century. Their ideals were the purity and holiness that is Catholicism and their city of inspiration was Rome," suddenly his expression turned soft and he smiled lovingly, "Oh yes, Germany had always been in undying love with Italy, it was always Italy. Beautiful Italia of his dreams."
Alfred blinked, why was Arthur telling him that? Before he could even ask, he found himself already pulled away to another spot that his 'tourist guide' found highly interesting. He had noticed, how his gaze always wandered to Arthur's full lips, he observed how they parted and occasionally smiled because of excitement. And his voice, Alfred's ears were alert to the Englishman's deep and yet not monotonous but rather melodious voice and he was particularly fond of that accent. He somehow wanted Arthur to keep talking even though he had long lost concentration and focus to what the other was saying, he remembered something about a golden chest that apparently kept the bones of the three Magi, though he just wanted him to talk.
"Why'd you stop talking?"
"Um, because I'm finished?" Arthur looked puzzled by the American's behaviour, then he lightened up, went to the conclusion that Alfred was deeply interested in the cathedral's history and architecture. "Okay then, follow me."
Alfred followed him to the southern transept like an obedient dog, glad that he was talking again. They stopped and were both faced by a giant stained glass that was different than the others, because compared to the other stained glasses it was with a modern concept. The motive did not tell a biblical story, it was abstract, a compilation of colourful squares. The sun, which gleamed through the glass, caused a play of colours to dance all over Arthur's face. Alfred liked that.
"This is the Richter-window," Arthur began. "Richter was the name of the artist whose design was used for the stained glass. It replaced the by the Second World War destroyed one."
"It's awesome and refreshing. Reminds me of pixels."
Arthur nodded. "Yes it is. This stained glass is often called 4096 colours, though he only used 72 colours, these can be found again on other stained glasses of this cathedral. He intended it to become a neutral point, a balancing medium in between symbolically heavy ornamentations." Arthur looked down to see the colour specked ground and stared at a shadow remaining still, it stood a bit farther away from them. He had noticed it since he had started his explanation and it hadn't moved since then. He looked up to see the source of the still shadow and spotted nobody. He was probably hallucinating, why would anybody watch them anyway? He shrugged and discarded his thoughts; the uneasy feeling never left him.
"What's wrong?" Alfred did not fail to see Arthur's change of expression.
"I…it's nothing I guess."
"Git, if you don't finish this monstrous portion of what you call a modest cup of ice cream, I'll make sure to shove it into your ears."
One really had to decide whether the sight of a full-grown man devouring one scoop after another in record time was endearingly amusing or just downright repulsive. Judging by the older Briton's twitching and offended eyebrows and the unsightly contorted mouth, he was most likely sharing the second opinion. The biggest portion of the café was no challenge for Alfred. Embarrassment was already Arthur's constant companion since he was around the young American; holding in the blush of shame became more and more difficult. Arthur knew it was a needless threat; Alfred would surely finish his ice cream without him even asking. To prove the public that he did not belong to the group of such mannerism Arthur sat in a stiff, upright position, head held high and he did not forget to fake a smug expression. To prevent himself from staring at Alfred's rape of the next scoop named stracciatella, and laughing at his smeared face, he took the daily newspaper, which he had bought from earlier.
It was no headline so he couldn't have spotted it earlier - the article about Ludwig's arrest under suspicion of murder. For a second Arthur felt like in a vacuum, all air left him. He gasped. Shaking hands placed the newspaper back on the table. Arthur covered his trembling lips with his right hand and made a choking noise that caused Alfred to look up from his almost finished cup. He was surprised by Arthur's face that had turned ghostly pale. Widened green eyes wandered from the newspaper to Alfred, a silent plead of please tell me this isn't true. Alfred abandoned his spoon. "Arthur? Everything okay?"
He anxiously gripped the newspaper and spread it open. Not surprise, but unexpectedly sympathy overwhelmed him. He eyed Arthur with pity. "Arthur, I..."
"This is a mistake," Arthur interjected forcefully, picking the other patrons' attention. "Must be a mistake."
A gentle but strong tug pulled him up; Alfred had risen from his seat and was now leading the other away from all the people. Alfred paid, or rather shoved the money carelessly at a waitress passing by. "We better go back to our hotel room. You need to...process everything. When you've calmed down we can talk – if you want."
Arthur did not answer. He didn't struggle either.
"Sorry, Alfred," Arthur said as he left the bathroom while rubbing his hair with a green towel. "I must have been a bugger back at the café, am I right?" He even allowed himself a smile, which relieved Alfred greatly. "Nah, don't sweat it old man."
Or maybe Arthur was still not okay, for nothing came as a response to him being called old. Instead he sat down with a sigh right next to Alfred at the edge of the bed, Arthur's bed. "I still refuse to believe that Alfred," the Briton's eyes caught the newspaper. This was the part, where it should become annoying for Alfred, if only he wasn't so distracted by the other's somewhat revealing appearance at the moment. With a frustrated groan he took off his glasses and stared at them accusingly, making them responsible for today's messed up visions.
"Oh fuck," Arthur cursed and caused Alfred to jump in surprise. Arthur stumbled his way towards the newspaper, stared at the picture of Ludwig in his usual priest regalia handcuffed and being escorted by the police. He recognized the place as Ludwig's house but that wasn't the reason for his astonishment. It was the inconsiderable piece of paper sticking out of the pastor's pocket. Arthur snapped out of his reverie when Alfred's voice resounded to his side. He looked at the other and shoved the newspaper against the American's chest, who was then staring at it. Nothing. He raised his eyebrows, confused.
"Look at the picture," Arthur demanded.
"Well it's...Ludwig."
The newspaper was snatched away from Alfred. "Look closely, idiot! Ludwig's breast pocket, there's a piece of paper...read out what's written in there."
"Rabbit," he read. Arthur nodded and pulled at Alfred's arm, attempting to drag him out of the hotel room.
"W-wait a minute Arthur, where are we going? You're still half naked for God's sake!"
Arthur cursed and started rummaging through his suitcase fishing out random pieces of clothes, not even bothering to pick a fitting combination. In the end he was dressed in a slightly too large casual shirt and light jeans, for a second he was confused as to why he even owned those but shrugged it off. "Come already!"
At the other end of the room Alfred was trying hard to hold in something. He wanted to tell Arthur those were from the wrong suitcase, meaning Alfred's suitcase and thus Alfred's clothes. But soon he realised he didn't mind – at all. Oh, why was everything so confusing?
"Tell me, why are we in the car when it's starting to get late? Will you please explain? You're seriously confusing me here!"
"Rabbit is the nickname he and Francis gave to me," Arthur explained while steering the car into the motorway. It was already dark.
"O-kay, I'll just disclaim any comments of how queer that sounds," as if I wasn't queer today. "And will just ask, once again, what are we doing?"
Arthur obviously was not in the mood of dealing with seemingly slow and daft Americans. "Without doubt Ludwig is calling for help. He was addressing me using the article's photo. Maybe, maybe he was unjustly arrested and had left me some evidence."
Now Alfred was annoyed. "Just because rabbit- - - sounds like a bunch of coincidences to me." But the driver shook his head.
"Why can't you just think?" Arthur was furiously tapping his forehead. "The picture was taken on Monday; that is a free day for church ministers and he wouldn't wear, especially not Ludwig, his vestment." He looked up to Alfred expectantly, who was staring at him with a blank expression. Arthur heaved a frustrated sigh, his supposed helper was not helping at all, and instead he was one case of a peculiar nuisance.
"Look, it's not at all a bunch of coincidences. Why? Because Ludwig was planning this. He knew the police would get him that day, maybe there were just too many indications pointing at him as the murderer. So he needed my help, gambling with the possibility of me actually reading the news. He wore his vestment – he just knows the nature of media. They would never miss a chance on taking a snapshot of a priest in handcuffs, the priest attire was practically screaming take a picture of me, I'm a scandalous man of the church."
Alfred furrowed his brow and began massaging his forehead, growling unintelligible things under his breath. "Okay. And now you're going back to his house trying to fucking help a criminal, I can't allow that Arthur."
"Like I said, he might be unjustly accused of murder," the Englishman insisted.
"I think Arthur, you suffer from bias. Because Ludwig is just bad at being a criminal, even I, who had nearly no material and knowledge of that case could see that he's suspicious. Please Arthur, listen to me. You really shouldn't get further involved in this."
Arthur punished Alfred with an anger loaded silence for the rest of the journey.
Good thing Ludwig was still keeping the habit to hide his key under the porcelain garden gnome at the front door. It was a gift from Francis, that's why the gnome was naked – artistically so.
Naturally, it was pitch-black inside, and the hall was barely visible before their eyes. After a few times of stumbling and hitting random objects with his knees, Arthur finally found the light switch. They were then blinded by the sudden brightness, forcing them to blink. Arthur apparently knew Ludwig's house pretty well, at least he was able to walk around with confidence in his steps. And soon they were standing in a room that looked like an improvised bedroom, which was more a working place rather than a place to sleep. Rarely had Alfred ever seen so many books before, and so many bibles in different languages, or reference works. All had their rightful order, neatly placed in mahogany bookcases.
"So, what now?"
"Let's search around," was the timid answer of the Englishman.
Alfred groaned annoyed. "For what?"
Arthur pushed the other aside quite angrily and stomped his way to Ludwig's study desk to examine it. The way he opened the drawers was almost violent and Alfred pitied them. He sighed in defeat. "Okay, I'll help you, old man."
The "old man" shot him a death glare and sulkily replied: "No need, fucking wanker!"
Alfred whistled impressed, he had not expected such use of foul language from Arthur of all people. "Now we're close enough to throw insults at each other?"
At that Arthur blushed, clearly embarrassed - and Alfred decided that it was cute.
Alfred suggested that it would be better to switch off the light, in case some curious villager noticed and began to wonder, where the house was supposed to be empty at the moment. Luckily Arthur agreed without much fuss, and Alfred noted with relief that his anger was starting to ebb down, along with it a hint of regret in his expression. When the room was darkened it was completely dark. Not like in the cities, where streetlights and bright neon letters from outside made it difficult for a room to become completely dark. So, they couldn't even see each other at the moment and he actually heard Arthur coming closer to him. "Are you afraid of the dark?" Alfred only got a huff as an answer.
"I was just going to give you a lighter, you idiot," Arthur retorted and shoved something against him.
"You smoke?" Alfred let the lighter slip between his fingers, clicked it until a small flame lit up. He could finally see again.
"Not really," was the scarce answer. Arthur too had a lighter ready and used it to search a drawer.
Alfred, a bit miffed by the treatment he received, randomly picked a folder from one of the shelves and looked through it. It was full of documents; he flipped through the pages, but soon after decided to put the folder back as it was trivial to their search. At least he thought so - he couldn't understand a word of German after all. The next folder consisted of newspaper and magazine articles that were ripped off from the pages. Alfred wondered what these were for.
Meanwhile Arthur was thoroughly busy with feeling up Ludwig's supposed to be bed and he found himself to be successful. Under the plain white pillow was a crumpled piece of paper. It almost made Arthur laugh; it appeared to him that his friend was as uncreative as ever. Ludwig probably never noticed that hiding important information under the pillow wasn't the big trend in films anymore, but it sure made everything easier. However, he was in need of a brighter light source than a pocket lighter, and his reading glasses were left somewhere in the hotel room.
Arthur grabbed the reading light on Ludwig's working desk, tugged at the cable and disappeared with it under said desk. Okay, maybe he was a bit too paranoid and it was just a bloody village, nobody would notice or even care for some light in an empty house. Then again, villagers were said to be the fastest information aka rumour circulators. And he didn't want to be involved in any more problems.
"Arthur? What are you doing?" Alfred's head appeared out of nothing to peek under the table and caused the Englishman to jump, he nearly yelped.
"Goodness Alfred, you scared me there," he was somewhat out of breath and his heart was still racing, "B-but come here, I've found something."
Alfred nodded and crawled under the table to join the other. It turned out to be quite a difficulty to stuff two full-grown men under such a tiny space. Alfred looked at Arthur in an apologetic way, inwardly hoping that he hadn't gained weight...again. It would be pretty embarrassing. Not that he did care about other men's opinion on his appearance, not at all.
They both felt like two idiots at the moment. They most likely made an idiotic impression, too.
"What is that?"
"It's Ludwig's handwriting," Arthur said. He cleared his throat to prepare for reading, glanced to his side as he sensed the other pressing himself closer. Maybe to get a better hearing, he explained to himself. "Dear Rabbit..."
Dear Rabbit
I was gambling with the possibility that you would notice my message for you from the news. And I'm sorry to disappoint you; that I have to confirm the police's conclusion. I am the murderer. And I have no excuse for that crime, and you wouldn't understand the reason behind my actions as you are a man without faith. But I assure you, it was for the greater good. But yes, you wouldn't understand.
I own the letters.
Both men gasped audibly and looked at each other, shocked. Alfred nudged Arthur's side to urge him to keep on reading.
However, I entrust these letters to you. I would prefer you over the Catholics. To even think that these precious letters would fall in their evil hands makes me sick. So, this is where you will find the first part of the letters:
In the pompous symbol of a state's unification, of a state united and yet divided by the worship of a faraway idolum. The third Corinthian will grant you access. Though be careful opening it, I treasure it nonetheless.
Arthur groaned in frustration while Alfred was looking more confused than ever. All confusion aside, the American shot a worried look towards the other man, hoping that Arthur wasn't too shaken by the news that had broken his great trust towards Ludwig. In contrary, he looked more angry and derisive, rather than shocked. He crumpled the note with his hands as if it was something worthless and his expression was unforgiving. Alfred gulped, not liking the change of expression.
"That idiot! He had always been like that, always. Growing up never ever happened in his fucking life, always led by his emotions, always following his ideals like a blind fool and failing to differentiate right and wrong!" The Englishman was practically fuming in his rage, his cheeks all red and most likely hot from being upset. Even so Alfred didn't fail to notice the green eyes that were beginning to water.
"And he's causing me trouble now, he demands us to fucking go to Italy, that son of a bitch!"
That. That was a bit hard for Alfred to follow. "Wait, what? Italy? Arthur, what the fuck are you talking about?"
A/N: Are you curious about Ludwig's hint?
And damnit, I started writing this fic just for ze smut, but why's there no smut yet? D8
