Chapter 7

Four Strong Winds

What a week.

He'd never been a big fan of drama, and so he was glad that everything had settled down into a pace that he was more comfortable with, and without the bursts of alarm and anxiety that had laden the first few days.

It was all for the best that Ludwig, despite his initial determination to escape them no matter what ruthless actions needed to be taken, had finally seemed to settle down a bit. At least by all outward appearances. It was probably just the calm before the storm. In all honesty, even if Ludwig did make a run for it, Berwald wasn't really planning on extending his hand to stop it. Lukas was safe, so there was no longer any need for exchange. Ludwig wouldn't go to Norway, so there was no worry about their role in the sabotage being brought to the military.

If he woke up one morning and Ludwig was gone, he sure wasn't gonna cry about it. Let Ludwig go, if he really wanted to. They had been fine before him, and they'd be fine after him.

For now, Ludwig seemed content to stay put, and was taking things in pretty good stride. He was certainly more comfortable around them, that was for sure, and Berwald had seen him having a casual drink with Magnus on at least two separate occasions. Timo seemed to have taken a liking to him.

Son of a bitch needed to learn to sleep in, though.

"I'm comin'," was the only thing he managed to grunt, barely conscious and barely aware of his own actions, as Ludwig's fist came down on his door in a relentless wakeup call not long after the sun had risen.

Tumbling out of bed in an undignified manner that he was glad nobody was around to see, he grabbed up his new glasses from the end-table, and trudged wearily to the door.

When he pulled it open, Ludwig stood on the other side, bright and alert and wide-awake.

Ludwig was a handsome guy and all, a cute kid, but Berwald wasn't dazzled by that pretty face and attractive nose enough to ignore this annoying damn habit.

Casting a cool, pale gaze over Berwald's disheveled and sleep-struck appearance, Ludwig finally arched a brow, straightened his back, and drawled in a very hardnosed way, "Rise and shine." And then he turned on his heel and carried on down the hall like a fuckin' drill sergeant, and started to bang on Magnus' door.

A muffled moan of, "Go away!" only made Ludwig bang all the harder.

Berwald, gliding towards the staircase like a phantom, rubbed the sleep from his eyes and wondered, as he took careful steps down, if Ludwig's soldierly skills were really worth it.

He was kind of a pain in the ass.

Who the hell did this kid think he was? Ludwig didn't belong here.

As Berwald seated himself at the table, Timo already in place and covering yawns with his hands, the smell of coffee and the warmth that the stove had created in the room was rather comforting, and the irritation of being shaken out of bed far too early quickly faded.

Timo, hair messy and pale and heavy-eyed, sent him a smile.

"Mornin'."

He nodded his head, throat too scratchy to really speak, and contented himself with staring at the sleepy Finn until he'd had his fill.

Timo was beautiful, that was for sure.

As expected, Timo started shifting again under his gaze, and leapt far too eagerly upon the opportunity to look away when Ludwig came marching down the stairs, a griping Magnus in tow—literally. Ludwig's hand was entangled in the folds of Magnus' shirt, and he was dragging him quite mercilessly away from the comfort of bed.

An interesting scene.

Ludwig obviously found himself the most comfortable around Magnus, even more than with Timo. Ugh. It irritated Berwald that Magnus seemed to have an ability to charm just about anyone.

Timo's smile brightened and widened when Magnus was sitting at the table, and any attention that he had been giving Berwald was easily distracted. Magnus only smiled, blearily, eyeing Timo with a look that was far too warm and that lingered far too long.

The irritated intensified.

Berwald stared at Timo as if he were the only thing in the world, and Timo seemed to only have eyes for Magnus.

Not fair.

Ludwig, keeping his elbowoff the table politely, didn't say a word, and a side-effect of Berwald's irritation made him realize that he really didn't like Ludwig wearing Magnus' clothes, because it was kind of like looking at two Magnuses, and good god almighty, he'd rather go outside and burrow under the snow and die than to be faced with that possibility.

He'd have to either trim down his own clothes or procure new ones. Way too unnerving, to have Ludwig pass by and to only smell Magnus.

When Timo and Magnus continued to stare at each other, and it became apparent that they were content to stay that way, Berwald found it necessary to interrupt them.

"Say, Ludwig," he began, voice rough from sleep, "Why don't ya go with Magnus today and give him a hand around town?"

A moment of silence, and then Timo (undermining him yet again) said, "Actually, I was planning on going out today, so... We can all go!"

Berwald furrowed his brow, but held his tongue. Damn.

Finally, Ludwig spoke up, after a few minutes of awkward silence and forks scraping plates, and said, "I think I'll just stay here and work on the car some more." Perhaps sensing that there was some tension between Magnus and Berwald and maybe thinking that he was helping, he added, "Berwald can give me a hand."

Berwald opened his mouth, and nothing came out. Timo was beaming now, and took advantage of his clenched throat.

"That sounds good to me!"

"Me too," Magnus interjected.

Berwald closed his mouth, cast Ludwig a quick look, and then turned his eyes back to his food with resignation.

No point in being mad at Ludwig. Ludwig didn't understand. Just another scratch he could make on the huge wall of his own ineloquence.

Nobody to blame but himself.

It was with a furrowed brow and a sense of dejection that he watched Timo and Magnus shovel their food down their throats as quickly as they could without choking, and then leap to their feet and all but race each other to see who could grab their coat first.

The slam of the door.

Without really realizing it, his fork lowered until it was just pressing into the plate, his head hanging a bit and appetite suddenly gone.

He barely noticed Ludwig sitting across from him, watching him with an observant eye as he stirred his coffee. His mind was occupied elsewhere. Just imagining them together, walking together down towards the town and smiling away, happy to chatter to each other and bump each others' shoulders in friendly camaraderie...

A rustle off to the side, and he glanced up half-heartedly, to see that Ludwig had gathered up the empty plates and set them in a stack on the counter. When everything fell silent and Ludwig was occupied with washing the dishes, he lowered his eyes again and fell back into his head.

Stupid.

He should have been planning their next move and looking into what was happening across the borders. Not worrying about what was happening between Magnus and Timo.

It was hard to reconcile that someone he liked as much as Timo was always so keen to be with someone he hated as much as Magnus. It was hard to swallow that Timo could meet Magnus' gaze, but not his own.

What did he see there?

Maybe because Magnus could say so easily whatever came into his mind, and Timo found that charming and attractive. Maybe because Magnus was bold and fearless and took initiative whenever he saw fit. Magnus babbled whatever thoughts popped into his head, quick and witty, and hell, what did he do? Berwald just stood there, staring, silent and still, and whenever Timo did try to speak to him, all he usually managed was a dumb, 'huh' or 'hm'.

A hand in front of his face startled him, and when he looked up, Ludwig was hovering above him, reaching for his plate.

"Are you done?"

After an immobile second, he nodded his head. Ludwig didn't move, and opened his mouth, as though about to speak.

"Hey," he said, voice low and rumbling and almost abashed, and Berwald could see him lifting his shoulders a bit in what could have been anxiety, and then, finally, he managed to add a quick, stiff, "Thanks."

Berwald shifted, and then finally uttered, "For what?"

Ludwig shifted too, looking almost as awkward as he himself felt, and then he said, "For letting me stay."

After another belated moment of silence and feeling a little embarrassed without really knowing why, he said, "Sure."

He hadn't really let Ludwig stay so much as forced him. He was kinda glad that Ludwig interpreted it that way. It was comforting, at least, to know that Ludwig still thought he was the one and only in charge, even though in all actuality it was a role that was frequently snatched away from him by Timo and mocked by Magnus.

The irritation faded a bit as a little boost of confidence came in, and he added, in a stronger voice, "Don't mention it."

Just when Berwald had turned his gaze back to space and assumed that the awkward exchange was over, Ludwig suddenly whirled around, hands held out at his sides in strange, palpable apprehension.

"Hey."

Berwald looked over again.

Finally, a low, "Hey...sorry about that kick. You know."

Oh. Right.

He nodded his head, and Ludwig, satisfied, lowered his shoulders and exhaled a bit in relief.

For a moment, he was a little surprised when the corners of Ludwig's lips twitched into a ghost of a smile, and he added, "Hope I didn't really hurt anyone."

He wanted to say, 'we've had worse scrapes', because they had (even if Ludwig's steel-toed boots had hurt like holy hell), but there was no point on dwelling on it anyway.

He only gave a deep, "Mm."

Ludwig finally reached down to take up his mug of coffee from the table, and, as he finished it off, he said, "I'm glad for that, too."

Ludwig ambled off, feet silent on the wooden planks, leaving Berwald to stare after him and sit dumbly still. He wished, as he frequently did, that his throat would stop clutching up on him whenever he needed it.

Ludwig seemed to get the gist pretty well. At least someone seemed to understand what he was trying to say.

Usually, Lukas was the only one that did, but Lukas, so strange, seemed to mistranslate his feelings to the others and expand things a little more than Berwald had meant.

'Do you want to come with us to the city?'

'Eh...'

Lukas could understand Berwald's grunt easily, but then when he took it to the others a simple grunt had turned into, 'He said he doesn't wanna go today. He's not feeling well and he has stuff to do.'

Eh? Not quite what he had said.

Maybe Ludwig wasn't so bad. He didn't go out looking for trouble and didn't try to start fights (anymore) and, best of all, he didn't try to usurp authority, and seemed to respect his. Ludwig wasn't bad at all. If he decided that he wanted to stay, Berwald could get used to him.

Feeling a little better, he tried to take his mind off of wondering what Timo was up to, and when he heard the clanking of metal from outside, he rolled up his sleeves and tried to help Ludwig finish banging dents out of the car as best he could, preferring to keep himself occupied. Ludwig looked up at him every so often, but was quick to look away when caught, and never spoke. Berwald couldn't help but wonder if maybe he'd been coming off a little too...

Unfriendly.

Ludwig seemed to have loosened up around Timo and even more so around Magnus, but he was not quite certain that Ludwig saw him as equally approachable. Maybe he wasn't. He would have liked to try and make conversation, if only to appear normal and amicable, but could think of no good topics nor words, and just stayed quiet.

Ludwig was quiet, too. However, Ludwig's silence seemed to be more of thoughtfulness and carefulness and observation, not thick ineloquence like his own. If Ludwig had had a mind to talk, he would have, and no doubt smoothly and without much problems.

Like normal people.

As if to prove this, Ludwig, reaching out to pat a hand against the car, said, as they finished up, "Well, there. Almost as good as new." With a very serious gaze, Ludwig turned toward him, and carefully extended a hand, adding, "So no hard feelings, right?"

Why not?

It had been a series of unfortunate events, one that he had started, and Ludwig had only been caught up in the tide. Nothing none of them wouldn't have done had the situation been reversed. A few dents in a car wasn't a bad outcome for all that happened, not when so many things could have gone wrong.

So many things.

Ludwig could have hit Timo so hard that he might not have woken up. Magnus might have placed his knee on Ludwig's throat instead of his chest. Ludwig might have turned around and kicked Berwald in the head instead of the ribs. And Berwald's finger could have slipped on the trigger as it had been pressed into Ludwig's forehead.

Brushes with disaster. What was a dented Volvo with scraped paint and a door that creaked when it opened?

Nothing.

He'd take the car.

Reaching out, Berwald accepted the handshake with a nod of his head.

Ludwig smiled a little, eyeing him up and down with a scrutiny that very nearly made him shift his weight (was that how Timo felt?), and then pulled away his hand, and looked off towards the hidden town.

"Quiet place, huh?"

He shrugged a shoulder and gave a quick, "Mm", and Ludwig only sent him a glance.

"You must have grown up in a place like this."

The unspoken reason was, 'because you're quiet too'.

"My town was smaller," he finally said, and did not miss the passing of disbelief across Ludwig's face.

Ludwig, obviously well-bred and with a pedigree, must have lived near the cities back home. Probably a Bavarian, maybe from Munich, from the oddity of his speech when he did open his mouth.

Being out here must have been a big change.

"You'll get used to it."

Ludwig didn't answer, staring out into the sides of the mountains, gleaming with snow in the morning sun, and the silence was a little heavy. Maybe Ludwig was starting to get a little homesick.

"Well," Ludwig suddenly said, as he crouched down to wipe smudges of motor-oil from the tops of his boots, "I guess it's home now."

It was.

Feeling a little twinge of something that could have been guilt, Berwald watched him, and finally managed, "You're welcome as long as ya want."

Ludwig only peered up at him, narrow eyes a bit knowing, and he was glad that Ludwig stayed silent and didn't say, 'Oh! So now I can leave whenever I want, huh?'

That would have been a little embarrassing, after twisting Ludwig's arm behind his back so hard about it.

Noises in the distance made them turn their heads.

Berwald inhaled in relief. Because it was a great relief indeed to see Timo and Magnus come barging up the hill so early, smiling breathlessly and cheeks red from the cold, bags slung over their shoulders, and it was an even greater relief that neither of them was drunk. A minor miracle, actually.

As they passed, Timo sent both of them a smile, and a bright, "Miss me?" and Berwald felt a little guilty for ever doubting Timo's intentions in the first place.

Timo didn't go out just to be with Magnus. Surely not. He was reading too much into it, maybe.

Just running errands.

They disappeared inside the house to toss down their bags of household commodities, and there was hardly a few minutes of stillness before the door banged back open.

"Hey, Ludwig!" came a cheery cry, and when Ludwig looked up, still hunched above his boots, the strange look on his face was immediately obvious. And when Berwald looked back, he knew why.

Timo was standing there, holding two pairs of skis, a wide smile upon his face. Berwald had a feeling where this was going, and, forsaking Ludwig to Timo, he stepped back onto the porch and sat down to enjoy the show.

Ludwig's eyes were narrow and suspicious, and when Timo sat two of the skis on the ground and stepped quite comfortably into them, he had straightened back up, eyes darting back and forth as though already plotting an escape.

"Say, you know how to ski, right?" Timo asked, quite eagerly, and Ludwig immediately took a polite (desperate?) step back.

"No."

Just what Timo surely wanted to hear.

"Good."

With that, he tossed a pair of snow boots in front of Ludwig, and smiled.

"Time to learn."

Berwald crossed his legs and propped his boots up on the railing. This would be a good show.

Ludwig only stood there, arms crossed and looking a bit appalled, but not fleeing, perhaps for his politeness.

Watching Timo gliding down the hill and then trudging back up, showing Ludwig the workings of the skis on the last remnants of spring snow, was fairly amusing, if only to see Ludwig fighting so damn hard to keep the skis away from his feet whenever Timo tried to cajole him into trying, a look of mortification on his face.

Maybe Timo and Magnus had placed some kind of bet.

"Come on," Timo goaded, enthusiastically, "Didn't they teach you guys this in basic training?"

Ludwig was quick to retort, as he pulled his feet quickly away from Timo's prying hands, "They taught me to move across fields, not down mountains!"

Timo only laughed, and continued to reach out.

"Come on! It's not hard. Hey, you wanna move around out here? You gotta learn how to ski! You wanna come out with me in Finland? How do you think you're gonna move around the forests in winter? You plan on hoppin' through the snow when the Red Army's coming after you?"

Ludwig sent Timo a quick glare, obviously not having many intentions of facing the Red Army at all, but finally he looked over his shoulder, catching Berwald's eye and sending him a helpless look that very clearly asked, 'Really?'

Berwald shook his head to himself.

Timo was putting on a pretty good show, and Ludwig's horrified face was enough of a reason for Berwald to finally shrug a shoulder and give a quick nod, conceding a bit to Timo's will. Ludwig didn't need to know that he didn't know how to ski, and neither did Magnus. Let Timo have some fun for a while. Hell, maybe Ludwig would take to it. Having a backup for Timo when he went out there in the wilderness would put his mind at ease a little.

As the sun rose higher and the snow got too soft to continue, Timo called it quits without ever getting Ludwig up on the skis, not that day, but the laughs out of it and the breaking of some of the tension had been worth it; Ludwig had laughed, just a little, when Timo had promised to make him an Edelweiss patch, once he got the hang of it, to make him an Alpine soldier instead.

Afterwards, maybe Ludwig had looked a little disheartened, and a little lost, a kid wandering the vast woods, but whatever longings he had for home and country were masked quite well, and he had still accepted the drink that Magnus had offered in the evening with a smile.

Ludwig missed his home. That much was obvious, by the way he stared out into the mountains. No doubt Ludwig missed his uniform and the feeling of being a soldier, too.

Ludwig didn't need to know yet that his Wehrmacht uniform hadn't been thrown away. Berwald had washed it and sewed it back into pristine appearance, and kept it his own room, safe from view. It was an invaluable artifact to keep around, although it was still too risky to tell Ludwig that he'd only kept it just in case they ever needed to use it.

In case they needed Ludwig to parade around as a soldier again.

Ludwig would not have responded to that in a manner other than fleeing, likely after harsh words and maybe a punch or two. Ludwig didn't want to go back, but he didn't want to do anything against his own either. Time was needed, and minds could always be changed. They would wait until Lukas was back and until Ludwig was very well-settled before they made any more moves. Trying to force Ludwig's hand too fast might backfire.

For now, it was tread lightly.

Despite heavy-heartedness and a little melancholy, time passed without incident.

These days were calm.

It barely felt like it had been two weeks since Ludwig had been a bloody nuisance slung over his shoulder. It wasn't really so weird now, seeing him wandering around outside on his own and looking a little more comfortable every day. Comfortable, but maybe not happy. They never asked him, really, because they still didn't know him. He was just Ludwig. He didn't ever give much else.

Questions were neatly deflected or completely ignored, and no matter how delicately Timo pressed or how persistently Magnus asked, he refused to talk about his home and about what had led him to defect in the first place. Ludwig was proving to be as mysterious as he was serious, but Berwald wasn't particularly nosy, and some things were better left unsaid.

He didn't much mind Ludwig's motives, as long as Ludwig didn't cause any trouble.

Or end up betraying them, which, although it seemed a little unlikely, was not really so impossible. In the end, Ludwig was still a German soldier. He could still change his mind, as he already obviously once had.

As they said, once a traitor...

The fifteenth day with their new member was rather eventful.

It came on a normal afternoon, as Berwald and Timo sat out on the porch, playing a friendly game of cards in a moment of calm privacy that Berwald was extremely grateful for. It seemed to be harder and harder to catch Timo alone, and harder and harder to get him to stay and interact.

Luckily, Ludwig was already proving useful in that he was unwittingly able to distract Magnus at times by merely accepting a drink when Magnus offered.

As he sat there, cards in hand and churning through his mind, a sudden, great noise startled him.

"I'll be goddamned!" came a sharp cry, and Berwald straightened up in surprise when Timo leapt up from the table so fast that he nearly knocked it over, rushing forward and skidding to halt at the end of the porch, a bright look upon his face.

Turning his head, Berwald followed his gaze, and saw. Down below, a glimmer of black was visible at the twist in the road. A car approached.

Tossing his cards down onto the table, Berwald hauled himself to his feet, and watched as Timo bounced up and down on his heels eagerly.

Lukas was back.

...about time. 'A while' in Stockholm had turned into some kind of vacation.

Minutes of waiting, and when the car was so close that he could hear the engine, Berwald fell back against the side of the house, and shook his head. Goddamn Lukas, driving everyone up the wall with his recklessness. Way too thoughtless.

A movement at his side.

Behind the door, a tentative Ludwig was peering out, to see what the fuss was about. He cast Berwald a look of curiosity, but Berwald only turned his head away, observing the approaching automobile, unsure of what to say. How could he really tell Ludwig that he hadn't actually met everyone?

That would surely be a little unnerving. Meeting new people.

A minute later and the car was in the drive, and as soon as the engine cut, Timo was bounding down the stairs, smile bright in the sun.

Ludwig bounded too, but in the opposite direction; as soon as he had seen the German-made car, the black paint and the waxed sheen, he had paled like a ghost and fallen backward through the doorframe, tucking himself back into a corner and out of sight, and Berwald knew that it was because he had mistaken the driver of the car for the people it had formerly belonged to; the Wehrmacht.

He was glad though, in a way, that Ludwig had panicked in such a manner. It made it obvious that there was very little possibility that Ludwig would up and leave; he'd be too afraid of encountering his own, perhaps. He wouldn't mind Ludwig staying around. For a while. Especially if he kept distracting Magnus from Timo.

...okay, maybe that was a little selfish.

A whisper from behind.

"Hey, you okay?"

He looked over his shoulder, and saw that Magnus had come out, and, seeing Ludwig pressed back so far into the corner behind the door that he was practically melded into the wood, he had become a little concerned.

"What's wrong?"

He couldn't hear Ludwig's answer (if any), but he did not miss the flit of Magnus' gaze upon him, nor the quick flash of accusation.

Like he'd done something to alarm Ludwig so. Hardly.

What did Magnus care anyway? Fuckin' Magnus had been the one that had wanted to take Ludwig out in the woods and shoot him like a dog not so long ago. Maybe he'd forgotten that part already.

He turned his eyes away, and lifted his chin. He heard the creaking of the wood, and even though he did not bother to look, he knew that Magnus had come out onto the porch, no doubt with crossed arms and a look of anger as he waited to lay into Berwald with fervor.

Before he opened his mouth, Magnus looked down, and saw the car. Instantly, the electricity was gone, and suddenly Magnus was at his side, foot tapping excitedly as he waited with impatience, this time to lay into Lukas as soon as he stepped up.

Down below, the car door was pushed open.

Seconds of hesitation, and then Lukas stepped out, pale hair shining bright in the sun and hands dusting off his sleeves rather primly, and everyone heaved a simultaneous sigh.

It was great to see him in one piece and obviously unfazed by his brush with death. Still standing with that same old air of self-absorbed dreaminess.

"Hey," Timo called to him, as he waited at the bottom of the steps, twitching eagerly, "Took you long enough! Say! What did you bring me?"

Lukas looked up at him, as he reached absently into the backseat and pulled out a bag, and then he said, "Was I supposed to bring something? Oh. Sorry."

Timo only shook his head and rolled his eyes before muttering, "Oh, you jerk! I always bring stuff back for you from Helsinki!"

"I thought that was just because you wanted to. I didn't realize we were obligated."

Magnus sighed, and even though he was rolling his eyes, Berwald could see just from the slump of his shoulders how relieved he was that Lukas was safe.

And then they caught sight of the bag that Lukas was hauling out from the back.

"The backpack," came the deep whisper of absolute disbelief, as Magnus shook his head. "I don't believe it. He's got the fuckin' backpack. He got it. He got the goddamn thing. He's—he's so stupid!"

Berwald had a mind to say, 'well, that must be why he likes you so much,' but refrained.

A creak of the door behind made him turn his head.

Hearing their voices and peering out to see that was not any real danger after all, Ludwig had finally stepped out, silently, and settled back in the corner of the porch, observing the events as an outsider and probably feeling somewhat uncomfortable. No doubt meeting a new member and facing potential hostility was a little alarming, especially after he'd assumed that he'd settled in. Who knew what Lukas was going to say, weirdo that he was.

Tossing his cherished, torn backpack down upon the steps, Lukas quickly returned to the car, and popped open the trunk. He'd brought something back after all.

"What are those?" Magnus asked, petulantly, as Lukas began to haul heavy brown bags from the trunk.

Without sparing a glance, Lukas called up, "Sandbags."

"For what?"

"The driveway."

"It's only gonna snow for a few more weeks."

"We'll save them."

Magnus furrowed his brow, and called, "Well!—where'd you get 'em?"

Lukas dragged one of the bags up towards the steps, and answered, "The hospital in Stockholm. They had a ton of them all around the building. They weren't using them for anything. So. I took a few."

Magnus and Berwald shared an incredulous look, and Magnus cried, as Lukas retreated for another bag, "You know they've got those there in case they get bombed, right?"

"Like I said, they aren't using them," Lukas supplied.

Magnus was smiling breathlessly.

"So—so wait! You stopped in front of the hospital, saw their sandbags, and thought, 'hey, I could use some of these for the driveway at home'?"

Lukas, in the process of hauling another bag, stopped for a second, and after a moment of far-off dreaminess, he murmured, easily, "Mm-hm!"

"What if they get bombed, huh? You're gonna feel real bad that you took 'em!"

Looking up, Lukas caught Magnus' eye, and said, coolly, "No. If they need to, they can always take some from the school. They had a lot, too."

Reaching up and cradling his forehead in his hand, Magnus muttered, "Hang on a second. I need to try and remember why we ever gave you a gun."

"I gave you a gun, if I recall correctly."

Turning to look down at Timo, Magnus asked, loudly, "Why did you ever give him a gun?"

Timo only shrugged a shoulder.

Dumping of the bags in front of the steps complete, Lukas finally took his first step upward, and onto the porch.

Finally home.

There was only a second of hesitation before Magnus was upon him, pulling into a quick, squeezing embrace that lifted Lukas clear off the ground and then was gone as quickly and randomly as it had come, and Timo and Magnus gathered together to chatter amongst themselves about the sandbags lying in the muddy snow.

Lukas came up to Berwald, treading quietly, and fell to a stop.

"Miss me?" Lukas asked, coolly, and Berwald could only shake his head.

Yeah. Yeah, he had.

Instead of saying it aloud, he only asked, "So. How'd ya get outta this one?"

Lukas crossed his feet daintily, resting his chin in his palm, and even though he was looking at Berwald, his voice seemed a million miles away as he breathed, "Game of cards."

Magnus chortled somewhere from behind.

A soft sigh of exasperation from Timo, and then Lukas' hazy, wandering eyes finally settled on Ludwig, tucked in the corner, and he tilted his head, a look of detached interest upon his face.

"Oh. What's this?" he finally asked.

'What's this', not 'who's this'. Typical. Lukas had to have known it was the same soldier, and yet the question was still a valid one. Ludwig should have been long gone by now.

Berwald didn't know how to say it, and it was hapless Timo, in the end, who was forced to step forward and say to Lukas, "Ah... New member?"

Ludwig shuffled his feet under their stares of scrutiny, uncomprehending their words and looking a little anxious.

They waited.

And then Lukas stepped forward, feet silent and sure and unwavering, and it was with a very soft, very cool voice that he extended a hand and said, in neat, pretty German that Berwald never even knew he could speak, "Oh, welcome aboard."

A second of hesitation, and then Ludwig's shoulders fell in relief, and he accepted the hand politely.

"Lukas. Pleasure."

Lukas, always full of surprises. Berwald watched their greeting silently.

"I'm Ludwig."

Lukas continued to shake Ludwig's hand absently, long after the greeting was complete. Ludwig, calm and patient, humored him and did not pull away, and almost seemed interested.

Only Lukas knew where his mind wandered off to at times.

Seconds of silence, and then Ludwig, brow high and eyes gentle, said, awkwardly, "It's...nice to meet you."

The words drew Lukas from his trance and back into the real world.

"Indeed."

The handshake ended, and Ludwig's arms fell loose in complacency.

Lukas finally smiled then, and placed a calm hand upon Ludwig's shoulder, and before Berwald could even figure out what they were going to do now, Lukas asked Ludwig, in his hypnotic voice, "Say, Ludwig. Did you know that you can make a bomb out of a deck of cards, a pipe, and some water?"

Ludwig just stared for a moment, and then he smiled too.

"Well," he finally said, his deep, rough voice a striking compliment to Lukas' silvery one, "I do now."

Berwald and Timo shared a look.

Game of cards. Right.

Woe to the poor idiot soldier that had left Lukas in possession of something as innocent as a deck of cards.

Lukas, hand still upon Ludwig's shoulder, began to walk, leading Ludwig along inside the house as he spoke gently to him in words that Berwald could not hear (no doubt lectures on the intricacies of bombs and the such), and Ludwig went along with him, seemingly grateful that his new encounter had gone well.

Timo and Magnus followed, and as they went, Berwald heard Magnus say to Lukas, cheerfully, "Lemme tell ya what a trouble this motherfucker was—!"

Berwald hung back.

Well. Everyone was getting along just fine, weren't they? The dangerous newcomer had made better friends with these men in days than he had in months. Maybe Ludwig, for all of him, was still just a little more approachable than he was.

Kinda sad.

Because Lukas had never thrown an arm around his shoulders and tried to explain a bomb to him. Magnus had never come up and offered a drink in the middle of the day to him. Timo had never tried to force him up onto skis.

Maybe it was because he was the 'leader', or maybe it was just because he'd been here first.

...that sounded right.

After all, when Timo had been new to him, Berwald had hung over him all the time. And when Lukas had been new, he and Timo had hung over him. And when Magus had been new, Timo and Lukas had hung over him.

New was better. Ludwig was still new. That made him interesting, and so it didn't really surprise Berwald that everyone hovered over him and attempted to engage him in conversation, if just to get a feel of him. To figure out where he stood. It would pass after another week or two, maybe a month, and then Ludwig would just be one of the gang. A little more interesting than the others, certainly, if only because of how he had wound up here and how much trouble it had been, but still a normal member.

Still, Berwald couldn't help but wish, just a little, that everyone would try to hang over him.

Just once.

Brow low and feeling a little agitated, he finally found his feet, and followed them inside.

That was how the group had fallen back together.

Five now, instead of four. Hopefully it wasn't one too many. They were pressing their luck, perhaps.

Well, it was kind of late to do anything about it now, and this train had already left the station.

No goin' back.

The first night that everyone was together was spent relaying Lukas with tales of brawling (in which, of course, Magnus was the hero by successfully decking Ludwig on three separate occasions) and trying to integrate Ludwig in the group all over again. Berwald chose to stay outside for most of it, so that he wouldn't hear everything that Magnus was no doubt saying about him.

It would be unwise to start a fight in front of Ludwig, and expose a weakness in their armor. The Germans had always been skilled, after all, at turning neighbors against one another. Until Ludwig's motives were known, it was better to look at him as a wild dog; calm and friendly at your side, and quick to grab your throat the second you fell.

Caution.

The second day with Lukas back felt a little better than the first, now that Magnus had surely gotten everything off of his chest that he had wanted to say, and there was no reason for any hostility.

They sat inside, cleaning the guns in the every-other-nightly ritual.

Berwald took his usual spot on the couch, leaning above the coffee table, and Lukas sat off on the floor, cross-legged and tongue sticking out as he hovered above cables (Lukas only had one gun, which he rarely cleaned, in favor of his many bombs). Timo and Magnus occupied the kitchen table, and Ludwig, shifting and looking a bit left out, leaned back, watching them all in turn with an observing eye.

He was probably hoping to be invited to interact, since Berwald had not yet made good on his offer to give him a gun.

Not just yet. He'd feel safer to wait a few more weeks. Even if it wouldn't have been hard for Ludwig to bust in the cabinet if he had even a little mind to and just grab a gun for himself.

Every so often, he found himself looking up at restless, shifting Ludwig, and wondered if maybe Ludwig was having second thoughts about all of this.

"Hey, Ludwig!" Timo suddenly called, cheerily, and Berwald turned his head to watch them interact, if only for curiosity's sake.

Ludwig stood there, leaning against the wall, arms crossed above his chest as he watched Lukas tinkering with cables that looked far more innocent than they were, and when Timo called his name, he looked over, ever-watchful eyes finding Timo immediately across the room. Magnus was whispering mischievously under his breath.

Berwald could already feel the narrowing of his eyes. What were they up to now?

Ludwig's arms fell loose as he turned, and he seemed surprised, but not disappointed, to be acknowledged and maybe even be asked to participate.

A hopeful look.

A deep, "Hm?", and Timo, no doubt at Magnus' cajoling, sent him a coy smile.

"Hey, Ludwig," he began, in that friendly voice that was easy on the ears, "it's been a long day! You want a Molotov cocktail?"

A silence, as Ludwig stood there with wide eyes and a tilted head of confusion, and then Timo and Magnus began to giggle, and Berwald was momentarily agitated that they were teasing Ludwig. Not malicious, certainly—Timo was too kind and Magnus too playful—but teasing nonetheless.

Then again, his sense of humor had never been very prevalent. Maybe he got irritated too easily.

Finally, Ludwig found his voice and took a step forward, expression curious, and he asked, "A—a what?"

Timo tittered, and then with a quick flick of his wrist, he reached over his shoulder and tossed something back. Ludwig, with those trained reflexes, caught it without effort, and when he saw that it was a vodka bottle full of kerosene, with a rag sticking out from the stopper, his look was suddenly so confused that Berwald could only shake his head and sigh.

"A Molotov cocktail! Get it? To go with the bread basket?" Timo cried, enthusiastically, as Magnus dissolved into helpless laughter, and Ludwig only stood there in complete incomprehension, and began to shuffle his feet.

Berwald almost felt embarrassed for him.

Finally, after seconds of giggling, they gathered themselves, and Timo asked, "Get it?"

Ludwig just stood there, staring down at the makeshift explosive with a furrowed brow of confusion, and finally, Timo waved a dismissive hand in the air, saying breezily, "Ah. You don't get it! Don't worry about it. It's just a joke. I'm just teasin' ya."

Magnus shook his head, a wide smile upon his face, and when he turned back to the table and set back to work, Timo at his side, Ludwig's brow was ever lower. Another round of staring intently at the bottle, and then Ludwig finally conceded defeat and shuffled silently over to Berwald, leaning in and asking, as quietly as possible, "What's a Molotov cocktail?"

He could feel Ludwig's breath shifting strands of his hair.

For a moment, Berwald was distracted by how close Ludwig had felt it necessary to come in just to ask a question, but he finally wrote it off as not wanting to be heard (and ridiculed) more by the devilish pair, and shook his head.

"The war between the Soviets and Finns—they ran out of ammo, so the Finns started usin' vodka bottles and setting them on fire. That's what they call 'em. You know. For Molotov? The bombs and all that?"

A silence, and then Ludwig said, simply, "Oh," and it was quite clear to Berwald from his low brow and churning eyes that he still in no way comprehended the joke. And Berwald, with no interest for plays on words, did not bother to explain it to him.

Who really cared, anyway?

They shouldn't have been teasing him in the first place.

Ludwig straightened up, and for a second just stood there, looking around the busy room quietly, and then he reached down with gentle hands and set the bottle of flammable liquid very carefully upon the floor. Another second of lingering, and then he retreated to his spot against the wall, tucking his hands into his pockets.

Berwald couldn't help but look up at him every so often from above the barrel of the gun that he was cleaning, and even though Ludwig tried his best to keep his face impassive, it was quite clear to anyone who would have bothered to look that he felt exceedingly out of place, and left out.

Useless.

Looking about this way and that, as though searching for a way to help out, and when he found no opportunity, Ludwig finally lowered his eyes to his feet and furrowed his brow. It couldn't have been easy, to be standing alone and without guidance in a room full of complete strangers who by all rights should have been enemies, and who had all but taken him captive and then refused to really let him do much.

He felt embarrassed for Ludwig, who stood there alone, staring holes into his shoes and no doubt feeling dejected. And a dejected Ludwig could possibly prove to be a dangerous Ludwig.

Who knew if Ludwig would just change sides again? It was better to keep him engaged.

That feeling of empathy for someone else was what caused him to finally look up, despite himself, and mutter, "Hey."

Ludwig's gaze snapped up, catching his own instantly. Ready to be set to work.

It was something he never, ever did, but his body seemed to be moving of its own accord, and he felt himself twitching his head to invite Ludwig over.

"C'mere."

Better safe than sorry.

Ludwig pushed off the wall immediately, looking eager and willing to do whatever Berwald would put upon him, and when he was near the table, Berwald inclined his head to the seat beside of him.

He could feel Timo's eyes upon him as Ludwig sat, quickly.

"Here," he said, somewhat gruffly and maybe a bit reluctantly, and after a second of hesitation, he braced his shoulders and set the Gevär that he prized down before Ludwig, gently.

Ludwig tensed in excitement.

Ah, hell. He hated people touching his guns.

"Clean this," he finally managed, voice so low that it nearly cracked, and Ludwig sent him a look that appeared to be a mixture of incredulousness and maybe gratitude, and immediately he hunkered down and set to work, removing the scope with obviously experienced hands.

Even though he had other rifles to clean, Berwald couldn't really seem to focus, and made it a point to look up at Ludwig anxiously every few seconds.

Just in case.

Timo joked sometimes, 'Nobody touch Berwald's guns! He'll pitch a fit!,' and maybe it was true. But when it came down to something that could save your life, he didn't really see why it was so strange that he should be so damn fussy about it.

It wasn't something to be so flippant about.

Ludwig set to work, and after a moment of observation, it became clear to Berwald that Ludwig was indeed practiced in this. Fingers moving smoothly and carefully, eagle eyes observing every minute detail.

Ludwig knew his way around a rifle. For the first time, he felt himself relax (just a little), and entrusted Ludwig to the task. Besides, if he couldn't sleep later he could always go back over it himself. Not like he had anything else to do, except chop fuckin' firewood.

As Ludwig took apart the rifle, Berwald happened to glance up, and was a bit overwhelmed to see that Timo was beaming over at him from within the kitchen, almost proudly.

Christ.

Timo hadn't smiled at him like that since when they had first met. He felt his chest puffing out, just a bit, and quickly set back to work with a rush of adrenaline.

Who knew that all he had to do to get Timo to smile at him was just to be nice to their hapless newcomer? He'd have done it sooner.

...yeah, maybe Ludwig wasn't bad at all.

A blessing in disguise.

The minutes ticked by, with friendly chatter from within the kitchen and an occasional curse from Lukas as a cable slipped or didn't curve like he wanted, and Ludwig's shoulders had lowered as anxiety slowly faded.

He looked a little happier, almost, to be touching something familiar. Home away from home. Berwald did notice, however, that Ludwig seemed to be glancing up at him in very frequent intervals.

He played it off, and pretended he didn't see. Just grateful for being invited, no doubt. Kinda made him nervous, though, knowing he was being watched.

"So!" Timo finally piped up, breaking the long silence and drawing away Ludwig's eyes for a second, "What are we all thinkin' for dinner tonight?"

A thoughtful silence.

On the couch, Ludwig opened his mouth as if to offer an opinion, and then froze still, and suddenly looked apprehensive, as though he had decided that he was not really enough a part of the group yet to suggest what could be eaten at dinner, perhaps since he had already usurped breakfast, or perhaps because he was not used to Lukas.

Staying silent, Ludwig only looked around at them, and then cast a somewhat apprehensive glance at Berwald, as if he might have done something wrong.

Ludwig sure didn't have a problem banging on his door at unholy hours and forcing him out of bed, so why stop short now?

...maybe he should try to appear a little friendlier. Should he smile, or something? He meant to open his mouth and say something, anything really, to make himself a little more approachable, but he missed the opportunity.

Lukas, tilting back his head and tapping his chin thoughtfully with his index finger, suddenly murmured, "I think I'll have some of that bread basket."

Magnus tittered.

Ludwig turned his eyes down to strange Lukas, and the chance to speak was gone.

Oh well. Berwald was used to losing such opportunities, and turned back to his gun without much disappointment.

Looking up, Lukas suddenly caught Ludwig's gaze, and asked, curiously, "Say, Ludwig, have you ever planted mines?"

Ludwig, looking a little curious himself at the odd question, only replied, "No, can't say I have."

"That's a shame," Lukas quipped, lowly, and, as Berwald listened and shook his head, Lukas started another impromptu lecture about the delicacies of placing mines and, more importantly, making them.

Ludwig just sat there, with uncanny patience, and nodded his head politely. Timo and Magnus giggled together in the kitchen.

And suddenly Berwald couldn't help but feel a bit overwhelmed by them.

The four of them, each of them as bold as the next, if only in different ways.

Four directions. Four winds.

Magnus, volatile and strong and sure, reigning from the North. Timo, gentle and friendly and playful, holding out the West. Lukas, cool and strange and intense, keeping charge of the South.

Now there was Ludwig, quiet and calm and fearless, hailing in from the East.

It had been alright when he had been the fourth, but now he was the fifth. The odd man out.

Where did that leave him?

In an optimistic mood, he would have perhaps said it left him in the center; the needle in the compass, to guide and direct.

Most of the time, he just felt pushed far out of the circle.

Magnus and Timo seemed to be spending more and more time together, giggling and joking and always together, the lion and the bear in perfect harmony. The audacious, outgoing, loud, vivacious duo. Around Magnus, Timo didn't duck his head and shuffle his feet. Quite the contrary! His chin was high and eyes bright, shoulders braced in confidence and always smiling surely, and Magnus' chest was always stuck out. The trouble-makers, bold and opinionative.

Now that Magnus' time was being devoured by Timo, Lukas seemed to have taken Ludwig under his wing, at least for the purpose of amalgamation, and, indeed, at every turn and bend the entire day, Lukas had been quick to point everything out to Ludwig and make sure that he comprehended what was going on around him. The owl and the eagle, both of them always observing and always honing in and always thinking. Calculating and sometimes thinking about things too much. They tested the waters before they leapt in, and they almost certainly had a back-up plan for every situation.

Magnus and Timo. Lukas and Ludwig.

He felt a bit left out.

Still. Odd man out or no, at least he wasn't alone like he always had been before. He rather liked the company they brought him, even if he didn't show it and couldn't ever tell them, and even if sometimes they confused him a little.

If he called himself leader, then he should be used to standing off to the side. For now, it all seemed promising.

"You a good shot, Ludde?" came Magnus' inquiry over the quiet chatter, "Or are you just one of those guys that look really good holdin' a rifle?"

Ludwig peered up above the scope, and only said, quite primly, "I'll show you how good a shot I am if you call me that again."

Magnus laughed, and surprisingly, the sound of it didn't bother Berwald much this time.

Not while he was in a pretty good mood.

"Tomorrow, we can all go out in the woods and test you out a bit," Timo offered, casually, much in the same manner he would have used if speaking about testing a new tool, and Ludwig only snorted as he scrutinized the scope of the rifle with careful eyes.

Lukas lifted up his head, and was quick to butt in, in native Norwegian, "No way, I'm having a go at him first! I wanna see if he knows how to put together a butterfly. I can't get the wings to fold over right."

Timo asked, a bit suspiciously, "And...where has this one been at?"

"Under my bed."

Timo paled a little, and Berwald knew why; in Lukas' absence and with Ludwig in his, Timo had been sleeping in Lukas' bed. That would have been a shock to discover.

Magnus looked up and spat, "I wish you'd stop making' fuckin' bombs inside the house, especially if ya don't know how!"

For once, Berwald and Magnus were in perfect agreement.

"I've got the bomb right, just not the case. That's what I need an engineer for."

"T-that's not the point! What're ya makin' a butterfly for anyway? You got a plane to drop it out of that we don't know about?"

Before Lukas could respond, Timo grumbled, "Wouldn't surprise me."

Well, Lukas was full of surprises.

"Just trying something new," was the casual response, and Ludwig, having no comprehension of the latter part of the conversation, only glanced up in unease.

Berwald couldn't help but wonder if that unease would have intensified if he knew he'd be around a bomb in the near future. Not a good idea. Not after the train.

Speaking up in a rare moment, Berwald muttered, lowly, "Tell him what he's doin' before you pull it out. Don't surprise him with it. And don't force him if he doesn't want to."

Thankfully, Lukas heeded his word, unlike Magnus, and nodded his head quickly, understanding. Pulling bombs out in front of a displaced, uncomfortable Wehrmacht seemed more than a little risky, especially if there was an indication that that bomb would be used to hurt other Wehrmacht.

After a short silence, Magnus said, "Don't bother with the bombs. He's a sniper, anyway."

Lukas only gave a quick, "Hm!"

They fell silent again, and the night went on.

Ludwig was next to him the whole while.

It felt a little strange, having someone sit beside of him and interact with him, maybe a little too uncomfortable after he'd been a loner for so long, but the beam of pride on Timo's face was well worth it. If it made Timo happy, he would extend a helping hand to Ludwig when it was needed. As well as he knew how.

He must have doing a pretty good job.

It seemed that every time he looked up, Ludwig was watching him.

Timo's pretty smile blinded Berwald to Ludwig's.