But Let It Go, And You Learn

"Happiness always looks small while you hold it in your hands, but let it go, and you learn at once how big and precious it is." Maxim Gorky

"People often say that this or that person has not yet found himself. But the self is not something one finds, it is something one creates." Thomas S. Szasz


Author's note: I started crying rereading part of this. I don't know if I conveyed fully the emotions I wanted to, but I damn well tried. Plus I keep thinking I've moved into territory no one else will like on some of the later chapter, but if you've stuck with it this far then I hope you'll enjoy it to the end.


"A man may die, nations may rise and fall, but an idea lives on. Ideas have endurance without death." John F. Kennedy

1961

Her body moves up down as Vanya breathes, Erzsi laying on his chest. The sun is bright though the weather is cool, both countries sporting sweaters to keep the chill out of their bones. But Vanya had wrapped his scarf around her neck, and his arms warm her back. Her fingers run up and down his arm, feeling the dips and muscle beneath the thick fabric. She knows he's asleep.

Erzsi chances a glance at the peaceful face. All the tension is gone from those lines, his smile small but still there. He told her he dreams of laying in a field of sunflowers with her, but what does he dream of while actually laying in that field with her? His mind is like a museum for a million innocent thoughts that neither time nor blood have covered over, ideas that have withstood so many tests.

In the back of her mind she knows some of the other nations are judging her. Even Gil judges her. They don't get why she lets Vanya treat her like this, don't get why she smiles at him and kisses him. Maybe they think she's using him, that she's as twisted as he is. Maybe they think she's as crazy as Nataliya, for falling for someone like Ivan, the epitome of all of Russia, all of the Soviet Union.

Soft fingers trace the path from one eyebrow to the corner of his lip, and Erzsi knows she doesn't care what they think. They don't know why she does what she does because they have never seen this man she sees here before her. She rarely asks Vanya for things, doesn't try to use their relationship as leverage for her country. Because at the end of the day only she knows how much of a prisoner he is in this house too, how little his officials care for him. And she knows it's because he loves her, Erzsi knows it's because the ministers want him to break that Hungarian heart he could never hurt. So she doesn't ask much of Vanya, beyond new dresses and a space to practice her ballet and his love.

He already gives her too much, and she gives him nothing in return.


The breakfast mail comes, as usual, and Erzsi gets nothing, as usual. So she sips her coffee, waiting for Gil to pass over whatever his government has sent him. When she puts the cup down, she sees his face change, watches his whole body tense.

Gil stands suddenly, and she stands too. But he leaves the table in a haste and she knows not to follow him. Her eyes watch him leave, and she realizes that Vanya stood too. He looks as confused as she feels at what just happened.


The first chance she gets to ask what has happened is the next day, when she brings Vanya lunch. Gil has been locked in his room since he got whatever letter upset him; she leaves food outside his door, always coming back to find it all eaten.

Several moments pass while Vanya bites at his food; they both know she's going to ask him about Gil, so there's no rush. Erzsi draws the curtains, bathing the room in light. His office is really quite lovely.

"It's about his brother," Vanya whispers, and she almost misses the words. "The letter." He's leaning back in his chair, watching her. Slowly she makes her way to him, sitting on his lap. Large arms encircle her.

"Is Lutz ok?"

The Russian sighs deeply. "Da."

"Then what's happened?" He's not looking at her, Vanya's eyes on the papers he had been reading when she entered. "Vanya?"

They're like glass, cool to the touch, when the purple eyes finally meet her green ones. He's dying inside, she can see it happening. It frightens her to watch him go through this; even during the great wars, her three German men had never been so affected like this. Erzsi is about to hug him when he answers.

"We're building a wall," he says with forced pride, and she knows his heart isn't behind his words. "Around West Berlin."

She doesn't realize she's slipping to the ground until she's kneeling between his legs, her heart threatening to burst from her threat. They haven't had contact with the other two German men in years, and this wall cements that they never will again. Unless….

"Vanya," she pleads, her hands pulling his to her. He stiffens, and they both know it's because she's going to ask for something she shouldn't. But this isn't about their relationship, about them; this is about Gil and the brother he loves more than anyone else in the world. "Vanya, please, I am begging you-"

"Get up," he grunts.

"No, Vanya, please, listen to me-"

His hands move in a circle, releasing themselves from her grasp to take hold of her wrists. He pulls her to him suddenly, leaning down so their faces are level.

"Héderváry," and it lacks all the affection he normally has for her. "I cannot stop this." For a moment the air between them is as volatile as it ever was.

She shakes her head. "No, that's not…." Erzsi swallows hard; the tears are forming already. "We never got to say goodbye," she finally manages in a whisper, her lungs suddenly devoid of air.

Nothing in Vanya changes for several minutes, so she continues.

"Please, Vanya, just… just let Gil say goodbye to his brother. A phone call, that is it. Please." She reaches up for his cheek, stroking it gently. His eyes close, leaning into the touch, but those violets were still cold. "I'll do anything."

There's another pause before he repeats her last word. "Anything?" It scares her, but she's made up her mind. She nods.


Construction has already begun on the wall by the time Gil and Erzsi are escorted into Vanya's office by one of the Baltic states. There are two chairs before his desk, and they sit slowly in them. Before them there is a telephone.

Vanya is staring at his clasped hands on the desk, and though Erzsi wants to reach out for him she knows better. Their relationship has cooled since she asked for this. Maybe it's because it was something for Gil, maybe it's because it reminded Vanya that she is his prisoner, and this separation for her and Gil is their punishment. Maybe it's because he's finally realized that she doesn't love him, not the way he loves her. Not yet at least, she tells herself to try and ease away some of the guilt.

The phone rings.

Without looking up Vanya nods, and Erzsi grasps one of Gil's hands on the other picks up the phone, holding it between them to listen. A stiff Russian voice informs them that this call is being monitored before their is a beep, and then-

"Brother?"

Lutz sounds so small, and Erzsi starts to cry at just the simple word. Her baby, her little baby. She used to make him lunch, buy him clothes, sit with him during storms. Do they feed him good German food? Do they let him go for his runs? Read his books? Does he get to visit with others? Is her baby ok without them? Does he remember what they look like? How much they love him?

Gil can't even form a sound for several long seconds before he coughs, trying to clear his throat, and Erzsi sees the tears wetting his face too. "Hey West," he tries, but his voice cracks.

The pause tells them that Lutz is crying too.

"Are you ok Brother?" His big brother was always his first concern; some things never change.

"Yeah, of course West. Me and Erzsi are fine."

There's another pause before Lutz speaks to her. "Erzsi? Are you there?"

Her body is shaking and Gil changes hands, wrapping an arm around her. "Yes, Lutz, oh God yes I'm here! I'm here!" She hadn't meant to talk, but now she's holding the phone between them, both Gil's arms holding her.

"I love you. I love both of you." Lutz was always so stoic, never showed his emotions in front of others. Surely there are officials there too, on his end.

"We love you too," Erzsi gasps, and Gil buries his head in her shoulder. "We miss you so much baby, just hearing your voice, I'm sorry we're crying so much liebling."

"Nein," he says, and she can tell he's smiling. "I am crying too. It's ok."

She tries to picture Lutz as he talks on the phone. In her mind he's still wearing a black shirt, which in the past was always too tight across his muscled chest. She imagines him thinner, like they are, but his eyes still shine in her imagination like the most brilliant blue of skies.

"Do they treat you alright?" she asks, and Gil pulls himself together enough to place his ear besides hers, to hear the response.

"Ja, it's… it's not bad here. I've seen some new places. It's, um-" and it clicks in her mind that he's holding back, afraid of how they are being treated.

"We're fine too," she whispers, knowing full well that that man is still listening, that Vanya is right across the desk watching them make a spectacle of themselves. "It's colder here than in Germany, but we're fine too."

"Good," he replies, and she knows he doesn't full believe her words.

"West," Gil says, "no matter what happens, you're my brother. Our liebling."

"I know."

There's a moment of silence before the Soviet official interrupts, informing them in Russian that they have less then thirty seconds.

"What did he-" Lutz starts to ask.

"We love you," Erzsi interrupts quickly, and she knows he immediately understands what the message said.

"We love you more than anything else," Gil adds.

"I wish I could see you again," Lutz moans.

"I see you every night in my dreams, Lutz, don't ever forget how we look-"

"You're strong West, and we love you more than we ever loved ourselves-"

"I would give all this up to be with you two-"

"I love you-"

"I love you-"

"I love you-"

And then they hear the tone of the call being disconnected.


Erzsi wasn't sure for how long they sat after the call ended, holding each other, crying. Eventually Gil excused himself, going upstairs to cry in private. That's when Vanya sits in the chair he left behind.

She can barely look him in the eyes, she's so ashamed of herself. "Thank you," she stutters, her body shaking again. "I am sorry for cry-"

"Don't be." He cuts her off, and suddenly his hands are grasping hers. "I don't care that you cried."

When she looks up he's eyeing her with pity. "He was always my baby," she offers weakly, trying to hope Vanya will understand in even the slightest. "He was always my son. I don't care what he's done, he's perfect in my eyes."

Vanya wipes away a tear. "I know the feeling," and it reminds Erzsi of the picture in the train car, Vanya surrounded by the tsar's four daughters, all smiling brightly.

"What was it like, losing your girls?" She hopes he understands her meaning.

It's as if he's looking right through her. "I had wished I could have just laid down and died with them. I wasn't there, when they died;I should have been."

"You never talk about them." At that he snickers sourly.

"Видна из Кремля вся советская земля," all of the Soviet country is visible from the Kremlin. Vanya reminds her of it every time they leave the house, as if Erzsi could forget. But it reminds her that they're both prisoners here, and though Vanya rarely shows it, he really does understand.

"You, um," he starts, casting about for words, "you didn't ask after Edelstein."

"I guess I didn't," Erzsi admits, thinking back on it. She starts to tell herself that if there had been more time, but the truth is, she hadn't thought of him.


That night they're the last to retire. Erzsi leans sleepily against Vanya up the stairs, down the hall, until she kisses him goodnight. She makes to leave for her own room when his hand catches hers.

"What are you-" She's so tired she can barely put up a fight, but then his eyes flash something dark, and it reminds her of him throwing her to the ground, screaming that if he could not have her, no one could.

"You said anything," he whispers dangerously, pushing open the door to his bedroom. There's no point fighting; she did say anything, and she meant it for that one chance to hear her liebling Lutz.

The room is dark, and it seems the walls and furniture are as well, making it hard to discern everything. In one corner a fire is already roaring, warming the room. Straight ahead is a large four-poster bed.

"My conditions," he starts slowly, purring in her ear. Erzsi had frozen just inside the door; now she hears Vanya close the door before coming back to whisper. "No kissing." He plants a kiss on the side of her neck. "No feeling me up." Warm hands graze across her hips and stomach, fingers locking together there. "And no sex. But I am cold." He gives himself away at the end, his tone becoming light and teasing.

"Sounds familiar," she quips, turning in his arms to look at him. She likes her room, loves it even, knows Vanya picked it just for her. Gil normally sleeps with her, and it's nice to have another body there, to have her best friend so close.

Can she do this?

"Why?" she asks, her hands holding his face.

"I am selfish," he says, pulling her to his chest tight. "I love you and though you do not love me, I cannot let you be with anyone else. You belong to me."

"I want to love you," she confesses into the darkness. His only response is to kiss her forehead before they settle in for the night.

Vanya stays on his side of the bed, like a gentleman. It is warm and so comfortable between the sheets, but Erzsi still feels wrong.