Chapter 2

Erzsébet didn't spook easily.

She never had. Even in her youth, she had been unshakeable to the most frightening moments in life; she had never worried that there was a monster in her closet, she had never been scared of the school bully, she had never cried when her parents were divorcing, she had not been frightened the first time that Roderich had kissed her hand, and she had not been scared at the prospect of leaving her native Hungary to live in Austria.

But even she shuddered every single time the GDR guards at the East German border stared her down, observing every minute detail about her appearance, scanning her visa with calculated ruthlessness, their dogs barking so close that she could feel their hot breath on her legs. This was the first time she had crossed without Roderich firmly at her side; a mistake, perhaps? Maybe she was just foolhardy to believe that this could have a happy ending.

But Ludwig. Poor Ludwig. He was slipping down a great cliff.

That kid was the closest thing she had ever had to a son. Her and Roderich had only ever wanted him to live with them.

Couldn't let him down, just couldn't.

She would have done anything to make Ludwig happy.

Ludwig should have been happy, deserved to be happy.

Without Gilbert, Ludwig just kept on fading.

"And you, sir?"

"Me? Oh, I'm just..."

Beside her, Alfred was shifting his weight anxiously from one foot to the other, smiling non-threateningly when needed and looking slightly ill the rest of the time that he spoke. She could only hope that he didn't trip up as they asked him the most intense of questions, meant to rattle him. Alfred was certainly an example of supreme confidence, but how did he hold up under pressure?

"Well! I'd rather tour around with you Russki's than those redcoats any day! Where's the pirozhki? I hear it's good."

Quite well, apparently. Good.

Or, at the very least, he came off as too utterly idiotic to be anything but an American tourist. Yeah, no offense Alfred, but even he knew that his reputation around town wasn't the best. Her worries quickly passed when the guard's furrowed brow slowly came up, and he seemed to decide that the scuffling man with the untidy blond hair and geeky glasses was completely harmless.

Dumb as hell, but harmless.

Whew.

"Alright," he barked, and ushered them through. "Keep a hold of your passports."

A more thorough guard would have, perhaps, thought it odd that a seemingly normal American tourist was traveling side-by-side to East Germany with the Hungarian wife of the Austrian ambassador. A strange mash-up of anti-communist nationalities, to say the least. Must have had a long day, and just wanted to get these people through as quickly as possible.

Well, she'd take it any day. They rushed through the barricade as soon as the gate was raised, and the giant breath that Alfred had been holding in subconsciously was exhaled in relief.

"Oh, man," he muttered lowly, voice trembling, "I think I pissed myself a little."

"Consider yourself lucky that that was the worst you got," she hissed back, as they tried to amalgamate inconspicuously into the crowd.

And that was the truth. Damn dogs sometimes nicked legs.

Didn't have time to soothe Alfred's frazzled nerves.

Had to hurry.

Above them, the sky was dark with rain clouds that threatened to burst at any moment, and when they finally made their way into the lesser crowded side streets, Erzsébet froze up for a moment, uncertain suddenly of what to do.

She'd never been here alone. Roderich had always navigated these streets. In a sense.

Where to go.

So many directions.

Gilbert could have been down any one of them.

Alfred stayed completely still and silent behind, allowing her to think, and then, with what might have been a shifty look, she reached back and grabbed his wrist, dragging him into the bowels of East Berlin, the hem of her long skirt muddying in the foul streets.

They disappeared into the cramped, twisting alleyways at a jog, Erzsébet leading Alfred blindly by the hand.

She didn't know where she was going, but had to keep moving, because she was fairly certain that she might have cried if she had stayed still.

Lost.

Alfred hunched over, tripping over his own feet as he tried to match her furious pace.

She didn't know why she was running.

Felt so helpless.

"Where are we going?" Alfred finally hissed, as she started turning this way and that in confusion, as memories betrayed her, and the alleyways here all looked exactly the same.

She ignored his question and only went faster, and he stumbled behind her.

"Erzsébet! Slow down! Where are we going?"

His cry brought her back to reality, and she slowed her pace, as the anxiety flooded in.

Oh.

Didn't know where to go.

Why couldn't Gilbert ever be reasonable? Why did he always have to be this way?

"I..."

Lost.

She finally came to a halt, turning this way and that, here and there, and finally she hung her head, chest heaving for breath.

Alfred stared at her in wide-eyed alarm.

"Huh? Where are we going?"

She whirled around, and hissed, "I don't know! Alright? I don't know where he would be. I don't know. This city is so big, and I don't know where he's at. I think I'm lost."

She felt near tears, that horrible vulnerability that she had always hated, because poor Ludwig would be so distraught, and Alfred straightened up, placing his hand on his hip as he popped up on his toes and looked around, apparently trying to gather his thoughts.

For all it would help.

Alfred was as lost as she was, but seemed to be thinking all the same.

Her own thoughts were becoming increasingly dismal. Above all, the single thought of letting Ludwig down seemed to be the worst. Ludwig had gone through so much for being so young. Ludwig just wanted Gilbert, and if she couldn't deliver, then she would fail in her role as a surrogate mother. Gilbert may not have been a stand-up guy, he might not have been a saint, and he actually wasn't really a very good person in general, come to think, Gilbert was actually a pretty shitty human being, but he was everything to Ludwig. Whatever could be said about Gilbert, Ludwig loved him.

And Gilbert loved Ludwig.

That was enough, for her, to risk all of this. Just to see them together again. Happy, in whatever way they could have been. She needed to find Gilbert, for Ludwig's sake.

No matter what.

They just needed to take things into a better perspective. Get a better look around.

Find a way.

Alfred, surprisingly, opened his mouth first.

"Well," he began, tentatively, as he looked over either shoulder, "let's think. Gilbert said...that he was going to blow up a Shtanzi building right?"

"Stasi," Erzsébet corrected, automatically.

Alfred waved her off.

"Right, right. Okay. Yeah, and then he was going to cross the fence, right? So. We're never gonna find him out here! In all of this! I mean, I know it's a little risky, but what else can we do? ...we just have to stake out the closest Stansi-whatever building to where he wanted Ludwig to go, and then see if we can nab him when he gets there! If he's going to blow it up, then he's got to get close enough to where we would be able to get him, right? If we can't hunt him down, then we lay in wait in ambush! It's brilliant!"

Alfred's gushing complete, he gawked down at her, his look suddenly hopeful and possibly proud.

Brilliant? She wouldn't go quite that far. And it was more than a little risky. To leave everything up to chance. To wait until the very last second, and risk absolute devastation.

The last thing she ever wanted to do, but...

What else could they do?

There was absolutely no possibility that they could find Gilbert in this labyrinth of a city on such a tight deadline, and if they continued searching in this manner, they were more than likely to draw unwanted GDR attention. Then they, too, would have a date with a Stasi office, but it would not be under favorable circumstances.

And Gilbert would be lost.

Ludwig would drift with him.

"Well..."

There was no time to waste. The night was quickly approaching on the ominous second day that Gilbert had so vaguely mentioned; the entire day before had been wasted on sorting out Alfred's papers in Roderich's office.

There was no choice. Even though she hated it.

"Alright."

She reclaimed Alfred's hand, and dragged him into the shadows.

Oh, Gilbert.

If he could have only waited.


Smiling.

Footsteps sounded out from the shadows.

The clouded skies gave not even the smallest window of opportunity for the moon or the stars to shine through. The city was on the verge of sleep, as the clocks were getting ever nearer the midnight hour.

Fog.

It was cold, and Gilbert's bulky coat was not an item of particular suspicion, and even though the streets were completely devoid of passersby, he kept the blank, ghostly smile plastered on his face. His eyes, almost hidden under overgrown bangs, were equally emotionless.

Just walk straight and smile. That was it. In this moment, in this city, and in this predicament, there was no room for emotion.

It would have been a hindrance. How could he expect to pull off such a delicate operation if he was frightened, and his hand trembled? How could he expect to succeed if he were nervous, and he stumbled in the heat of flight? And how could he ever expect to make it across the border if he were hesitant, and he faltered in a moment of weakness?

He had to stay blank now, and try to be patient.

He wanted to feel. He wanted to panic and turn back. He wanted to rush forward in excitement. He wanted to strike out in anger.

But he couldn't.

For now, he pushed aside every human impulse, as well the voice of reason in the back of his mind, in favor of a cold, mechanical thoughtlessness. He could feel the weight of the grenade in his hand, and the cool steel of the pistol against his waist; but he could not feel the excitement that should have accompanied them.

It was not something he was doing for pleasure, he had convinced himself. It was only an escape. A way out. Of course, that wasn't completely true; despite every attempt to feel nothing, he could still sense the burning desire in his chest to cause harm.

To someone.

Anyone.

Killing even one goddamn Stasi before he left would be the greatest fare-thee-well present anyone could ever have asked for.

But he would not go out of his way once he started running. He did not have such luxuries. Getting one indirectly was all he could hope for once he started running.

Ludwig was waiting.

He checked the streets. Still empty. People were sleeping; heavy hearts made that easy.

Hated this place.

Hated this side.

Hated that wall.

Oh, Ludwig.

...it had been so long since he'd seen Ludwig. Did he still look the same? Had he gotten bigger? Ludwig was only twenty-three; they said you didn't stop growing until you were twenty-five. Maybe he was taller. Maybe he'd grown his hair out. Maybe he'd started dressing differently. Maybe he'd started experimenting with facial hair, like young men did.

Ludwig, his little brother with the older spirit.

Ludwig wouldn't condone what he was doing. He'd be disappointed. Always was. Ludwig had always been disappointed, because all Gilbert did was disappoint.

Hadn't meant to. It hadn't been intentional. Hadn't ever wanted to hurt that kid.

Loved Ludwig.

Sometimes, though, he had just loved himself a little more.

The shadows shifted.

He was still a fair distance from his destination. With every step he took, his grip on the precious grenade tightened. It was all he had.

He would be there soon.

Step. Look. Step. Look.

He smiled.

And he would keep smiling, all the way to freedom, and they could all go and fuck themselves as he held Ludwig tightly in his arms, whispering in his ear and promising him that now that they were together again, it would be for forever this time.

Forever.

He meant it this time.

Together.

He and Ludwig had been meant for each other.

Together was the only way. Together, or nothing at all.

Couldn't be without Ludwig.

They were supposed to be together.

He knew it. He could feel it. Him and Ludwig. Shoulda been together all the time. And why not? Ludwig was his brother. His only family. His only connection to this world. His only reason to get out of bed. The only person who would ever even notice if he were to disappear from the face of the earth. Maybe he hadn't done a great job as a big brother, maybe he'd only been a let-down, but Ludwig had loved him all the same.

Having someone love him even though he wasn't a good person, having unconditional love when he didn't deserve it—

Couldn't ever let that go, not ever.

Ludwig was the only person in the world that had ever loved him.

He would do anything to get back to him.

If he could not...

Then there would be nothing else to do than to lay down and die. He'd die to get back to Ludwig. He'd kill. Do anything. He'd anything, anything at all.

A shadow.

A strange presence washed over him, and he looked up instinctively when he shuddered.

There it was.

It was not an obviously noticeable building, save for the way it seemed to rise out of the gloom perhaps a bit more than the others did, bathed in the eerie, otherworldly light of the streetlamps. A normal Berliner would pass by it quickly, knowing what silent and stealthy danger lay within, but a tourist would never have given it a second thought.

Gilbert knew it well.

He had, after all, watched this building compulsively for the past two months, scoping out its every feature. The front doors were a heavy steel; not impenetrable, but certainly an obstacle. An explosive blast would dispatch them.

His plan was not completely absurd, but was far from fool-proof.

Okay.

Maybe it was bordering on absurd.

Idiotic.

Stupid.

But, desperate times, etc.

He took a final scope of the street.

Slinking up towards the doorstep under cover of darkness, he would throw the concussion grenade, and run like a demon, as (theoretically) the flames of the explosion would block the Stasi inside from immediately chasing after him. From there, he would continue his mad dash straight to the barbed wire fence, where (theoretically) the guards would leave their posts to run to the aid of their comrades. When they were gone, and, hopefully, the snipers in the towers were distracted, he would twist and crawl his way through the tangled wire, scale the wall, and emerge victorious on the other side.

Assuming everything played out now as it had so often in his head.

Ludwig would have shaken his head, and moaned, 'Oh, Gilbert, that's not gonna work.'

He should have known all along that such a fantasy was just that.

Couldn't help it, really.

Just wanted to hurt someone and get back to Ludwig.

His footsteps dissolved into complete silence as he approached, hands tensing in anticipation as stealth took over. He looked around in a moment of uncertainty, to make sure he was truly alone.

He paused momentarily, foot in the air, thinking that he had perhaps seen a shifting off in the shadows. Frozen, he stared into the darkness of the alley. His eyes tried to penetrate the gloom.

Breathlessness.

He swore he had seen something, but as he squinted now, there was nothing.

Nothing.

Unease.

He quickly brushed it off. There was no time to waste on paranoia. It was time to act. He was not trying to be obvious.

Resting his foot on the very first step, he clutched the grenade in his fist, and took a deep breath. Once he pulled the pin, he had around five seconds to turn tail. Not long, but enough to clear some distance.

Five seconds to freedom.

Five seconds to Ludwig.

Together, or nothing.

Time.

Swiftly, he reached up and plucked the pin from the top of the little bomb almost daintily, and flicked his wrist. Anyone passing would have merely thought that he was brushing off a piece of lint. The grenade made only a small, innocent 'clink' as it fell on the top step, near the door, and he snapped immediately around, foot in midair as he started to bolt.

The air was static.

Blood pounded in his ears as his heart thudded.

He tried to run.

Energy.

But there was someone behind him.

Shock.

He froze in his tracks in horror the second he turned and came face to face with a pair of extremely familiar green eyes. Because he knew those eyes well, and he felt completely still in absolute horror.

Good god!

"Gilbert!"

Five.

Startled, he could only stare in a dumb stupor, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, and his mind barely registered that he was looking at Erzsébet. What the hell was she doing here? A shift on the sidelines caught his eye, and he looked to her side. Alfred, too? That big dope. She'd sent him a picture once, of Alfred and Ludwig passed out in their living room above books and bottles of beer. He'd never met Alfred before, but wouldn't forget the sight of him, if only because Gilbert had been angry that Ludwig was living with someone else. Had been jealous of Alfred, so had burned his face into mind so that he'd know enough to punch him if they ever met.

Now might not have been a good time for that.

Those two.

What awful timing. Idiots.

Gilbert shook his head to clear it, and whispered, in disbelief, a dumb, "W-what?"

Four.

Erzsébet took a step towards him, her brow creasing in what could either have been anger, disappointment, or, more likely, both. "Gilbert! You idiot," she hissed, and stomped her foot.

How had she found him here? And why?

Didn't she understand?

Three.

"Come on! We have to get out of here before someone sees you! If they caught you—"

Why was she always so mad at him? He fazed her angry, fervent whispers into white noise.

She yelled too much.

Always had, almost as much as Roderich.

Couldn't ever get away from either one of them.

Always yelling.

Two.

"—in prison for the rest of your life!"

At least when Ludwig yelled at him it was for a good reason. Ludwig hadn't yelled, really, not really. Ludwig had usually just muttered at him when he was angry, and maybe once or twice, when he had been furious, Ludwig might have actually shrieked, but not yelled. With Ludwig's voice, it was usually all or nothing. Either gentle or terrifying.

Missed that voice, either way.

Time seemed to pass so slowly.

Time.

Was she still talking?

His head hurt. Nag, nag, nag. That's all she did. Time wasted.

Time?

Oh. Shit.

With a terrible sinking in his gut, he remembered.

Panic.

Fuckin' grenade on the step, sitting in silent danger.

His eyes widened in horror, and with a wild shriek, he reached out and shoved Erzsébet backwards with all of his might, so hard that she almost fell backwards, caught only by Alfred.

They gawked at him in a moment of incomprehension.

And when he screeched, "Run!" in the most awful voice he could ever remember using, Alfred (reacting quickly for one that looked so damn dumb) grabbed Erzsébet by the hand and tried to yank her along as he broke into a sprint, as though the very gates of hell were opening up beneath him.

Alfred had heard his voice, that terror, and was reacting accordingly.

"Gilbert!"

Gilbert broke out of his stupor, and tried to follow.

One.

He made it only a yard before the explosion rocked the street, and as the intense flames bathed the steel doors of the Stasi office, all three of them vanished in the smoke.


Silence.

A thick, mind-numbing silence.

Like outer space.

How long had they lain there, vulnerable and wounded?

Time felt lost.

His head hurt like hell.

Wet, rough pavement beneath his palms.

Felt like years.

The taste of blood.

Alfred scrunched his eyes when he came to, head splitting open in agony and his body feeling more like lead. With a pained groan, he tied to gather his strength as he head himself moaning involuntarily, and his feet were kicking out a little of their own accord. Couldn't think. Couldn't really move. Stunned moments, and then somehow, he opened his eyes. He couldn't see. Blurs. Shapes. Dull colors. He reached up slowly with a shaking hand, and felt around on his face.

His goddamn glasses were gone.

Groping out, fingers hitting cold, wet pavement, he searched this way and that, and finally felt the unnerving crunch of frail glass and steel beneath his hand. Pulling the mangled glasses forward, he pushed himself off the wet street, perched his cracked glasses upon his nose, and watched for a stunned moment as blood dripped steadily onto the street beneath him, creating a small, crimson pool.

He fell back onto his knees and reached up, holding his forehead gingerly as his head burst into agony.

His nose was bleeding. There was a faint screeching in his ears.

Whooshing.

He felt like he'd been hit by a train.

Holding his head, he looked around through bleary eyes.

Where was everyone? What had happened?

Last the he clearly remembered was feeling terrified, for whatever reason.

The border.

Ludwig.

He looked behind, and when he saw Erzsébet's motionless form a mere yard away, the adrenaline woke him up like a bolt of lightning and he crawled over in a panic, reaching out and grabbing her shoulders, shaking her as gently as he could. Everything hurt.

Hurt to move.

The panic cleared his mind, though.

He remembered now, if vaguely.

Ludwig's huge fuckin' idiot of a brother.

"Hey," he hissed, for fear of shouting, as he hovered above Erzsébet and felt his heart racing in horror. "Hey! Wake up! Oh, c'mon! Wake up, wake up, please wake up!"

She did, slowly, (oh, thank god, thank god!) and when she began to moan in pain, he looked around in distress.

Where was Gilbert?

Stupid son of a bitch.

The bitter part of him hoped that Gilbert had gotten blown up, alright, just for putting other people in harm's way for his own stupid actions, but that thought was quickly cast aside.

Ludwig. If anything happened to Gilbert, it would have been Ludwig that suffered.

Ludwig was his best friend, his best friend.

Woulda done anything for Ludwig, because Ludwig would have done anything for him.

The only real friend he'd ever had. No one could put up with him.

Damn.

Couldn't seem to think straight.

A fire was burning a short distance away, bright in the gloomy streets, and he forced himself onto his feet, grabbing Erzsébet under her arms and hauling her as quickly as he could back into the shadows of an alley.

This place was dangerous. Couldn't stay out in the open, not with that fire burning.

When he propped her up against a wall, he slapped her cheek smartly, and she came back to herself with pained groaned.

"Wake up, we gotta get outta here!"

After a moment of stillness, she finally became alert and aware of her surroundings, and before he could stop her she had cried loudly Gilbert's name. In the same moment, the marching footsteps came barging down the street.

For their ruckus, her cry went unheard.

He reached out and pulled her back to his chest as she meant to walk out into the street, covering her mouth harshly with his scraped, bloody hand and scuttling back into the darkness.

She didn't struggle.

Shouting.

They sat there in the dirty gloom, her back to his chest, staring with wide-eyed horror into the street.

Running men passed. No one noticed them, tucked back in the darkness. But still, he didn't let go of her. Just in case.

The footsteps were farther away, and they finally dared themselves to peer out into the chaos.

A terrible, shrill alarm sounded above them, ringing out into the still darkness as a red light suddenly came to life and began to twirl wildly around them, bathing them with light every two seconds. They crouched in the shadows of the alley, Alfred's hand still firmly cupping Erzsébet's mouth, and watched as the smoke slowly began to thin.

The doors of the office were gone.

Officers stood on either side of the building, observing the dying flames with interest as they muttered to each other. Two large men in un-decorated uniforms were retreating quickly inside with something in their arms, as though hauling an injured comrade to safety.

Even the hand suppressing her voice could not stifle Erzsébet's sudden sob of anguish, and Alfred saw why:

Gilbert was gone.

Someone looked into the shadows, and knowing their time was far gone, Alfred pulled her back into the alley and they stole away into the night.

They couldn't stay. They had come too late.

Gilbert was gone.

Oh, god. This would break Ludwig's heart.

Too late.

All Ludwig had ever wanted was Gilbert.