Kapitel Neun.
August 1953.
Of all the places Gilbert had traveled to in the last nine months, Spain was by far his favorite. Germany had become this phantom form of home, but only because he hadn't found a place that touched his heart in the same ways. Spain though, could have been that place. He had been there for a total of three days now; his back was stiff from sleeping on a hostel cot and finding a person who at least spoke English was difficult to come by. Despite these slight setbacks, Gilbert couldn't get enough of the Spanish air, rich with florals, food, and musky perfumes from the many beautiful women he'd seen prowling about. Nor the late summer warmth that ran throughout the day and lingered into those clear starry-skied nights, alive with the hum of insects and songs about love sung by carefree Spanish men. He stood out more than most, with his ghostly complexion and shock of disheveled platinum hair, but people didn't look at him the way the people of other countries had. For the first time since the war had ended Gilbert could breathe easy.
The only hiccup in his otherwise ideal existence was money. He had been working small backdoor jobs for steady income as he took the trains from city to city. He hadn't realized how expensive a drinking habit was when you were surviving on all that you had left to call your own. He managed, but suffered in the forms of dirty, run-down hostels and cheap vodka and gin. Allowing himself the first three days of his stay in the country to learn the layout of the city and relish in the change of scenery, he set out on the fourth day with intent to come back with a job long enough to last him at least a month.
He spent the entire morning into late afternoon walking around with his map and asking for work in butchered Spanish, with no luck. Feeling somewhat dejected, he wandered into the town center's cantina, he wasn't going to let this ruin his mood and alcohol always had a way of helping with these sorts of issues. The bartender approached him as he leaned against the bar, fondly looking over at the other patrons as he waited. "¿Qué puedo conseguirte?" Gilbert turned to the older man and slipped a Spanish note to him.
"Una cerveza por favor," He received a nod and the humorous smile people often directed at him upon hearing him attempt to speak their language. Gilbert always liked that look, it had been some time since he'd made another person happy. When the bartender returned with his drink, Gilbert thanked him and then took to a small table left of the bar. He spread out his map and took a pencil from his pocket, planning a new route for tomorrow's job hunt. Pouring over his weathered map, fully immersed, he gave a start when the sudden clink of another bottle of beer hit the table.
"You look lost, friend." The friendly voice thick with the local accent came from a man Gilbert judged to be near his own age. He was casually dressed and looked as if he'd been working in a field of some sort judging by the smudges of soil on his clothes. The man beamed down at him and pushed the beer in closer. "Noticed you were almost done with your first one and it's still too early to slow down just yet."
Gilbert gawked, turning over several thoughts at once until he settled on the most important one. "You speak English!" He laughed and clapped his hands to the table, standing up to match the height of the other man. He extended his hand, "name's Gilbert."
"Antonio," he shook Gilbert's hand cheerfully. "Nice to meet you Gilbert. I know this area as well as anyone so if you're looking for a place chances are I could take you there myself. Do you mind?" He motioned to the chair across from where Gilbert had been sitting.
"Course not, sit!" Gilbert dropped back into his own chair and he grabbed his second beer. "And thanks for the drink, this must be the friendliest place on the planet, I can't believe it." He murmured happily as he brought the bottle up to his mouth.
Antonio ran a hand through his already tousled brown hair and chuckled. "People really do love the foreigners here, it's good for our economy you know?"
"Good for me too apparently, heh."
Antonio raised his own bottle to Gilbert, "well, then cheers to easy living!" They clinked their drinks together and Gilbert felt any wear to his body from the uneventful day slide off him. In his travels he had only met a few genuinely friendly people that he could say confidently had become something of a friend to him. Though brief, these glimpses of normal, if not wonderful, human interactions had carried him farther and farther away from the bleak and miserable life he'd been living. He savored moments like these, dreamed about them even. "So, what is it you are looking for?" Antonio asked, curiously eyeing the scribbled on and crumpled up map.
Gilbert gave a loud sigh and sunk back into his seat, "A job actually. I won't be able to stay here without money, and I wouldn't be able to leave either." In other words, homeless.
"Yeah, you won't have much luck finding something around here," he tapped a finger against his lip in thought. "But I may have something for you if you're interested." Gilbert perked up in disbelief. "My uncle runs a large farm outside the city, he's always looking for labor workers if you wouldn't mind working in the sun all day." He shot an amused look at Gilbert's pale complexion. "He also offers board to workers if you'd like to save some money. It's really not a bad gig."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Gilbert exclaimed as he leaned over the table, "That's perfect! When can I start?"
Antonio looked slightly taken aback by Gilbert's intensity but quickly recovered with a warm, welcoming smile. "Can you meet me back here tomorrow morning? Let's say around eight?"
"It's a date," the blonde couldn't contain the giddiness welling up inside.
The two of them sat together, drinking and talking, it was a beautiful change of pace for Gilbert. When the crowd started to thin and Gilbert remembered he had a two-mile trek back to his hostel he stood and said goodbye.
The night was a deep, dark blue, illuminated by the blanket of stars one could only hope to see when isolated between mountains, far outside of cities. He walked beneath them, feeling a surreal mixture of loneliness and hope stir within him. It was a major improvement compared to only feeling lonely like he usually did. He thought about Elizaveta and wondered if she had made it back to Hungary and was learning what it was like to feel happy again. He wondered if he could learn too, rather than this transient happiness that came and went as it pleased. God knows, he couldn't do this forever.
The next morning, he woke as soon as the sun broke the horizon. By the time he approached the cantina, around twenty to eight, Antonio was already there. He was leaning against a light pole, looking rather romantic in his loose linen shirt and straw hat as he cooed to a smitten girl several years his junior. His eyes flickered over to Gilbert and his face brightened, greeting the other with a large and exuberant wave from across the way. He turned back towards the girl and took her hand in his. "Tal vez algún día que nos veremos otra vez," he purred and kissed her hand. She looked on the verge of collapse as Antonio trotted over to meet Gilbert.
"Well, look at you," Gilbert laughed as they met each other in the street. Antonio shrugged lazily.
"There's nothing quite like love so early in the morning. I'm glad to see you!" He clapped a hand to Gilbert's shoulder and they began walking through the court towards another dirt road. Spain had lots of these, each as wide and scenic as the last.
"I can't thank you enough, you're saving me a lot of trouble" Gilbert gazed happily around as they moved. The roads were lined with quaint little houses topped with crooked roofs, lush greens, and citizens going about their day, blithe and easy. "Do you work on the farm too?"
"Yes, from time to time. I return home for a season out of the year to help my uncle manage everything, he's getting older and tires easily. It's not too bad. The people I meet are wonderful and honest, we share meals and music and stories, I think you'll like it." Antonio cocked his head to look at Gilbert. "How long have you been traveling for?"
"For nine months but it feels like less," he mused. "If you count all the places I've been to since the war started, I guess I've been on the move for thirteen straight years now." A sudden wave of self-pity overcame him, thirty-one years old, a whole life wasted.
"Hm," Antonio hummed in understanding. "Have you not gone back to your country then? Germany, I assume from your accent."
"Huh? Oh, no, I haven't." He tried to think of a reason to explain why he hadn't gone back home, the war had been over for eight years now. That was a long time to avoid something as important as home. He didn't have an explanation though, he never thought about it long enough to draw one out. Gilbert pulled out a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and placed one between his lips before offering the pack to Antonio.
"Oh, thank you."
"Don't mention it." He waved it off. Lighting his cigarette, he leaned his head back and let out a stream of smoke into the nearly still air, watching as it twisted out of view. "What about you? Where are you at the other seasons of the year?" Antonio looked off dreamily, a distant smile gracing his lips. It seemed he enjoyed thinking about it.
"Anywhere that'll take me. I'm a farmhand so it's not difficult finding work in rural areas. Those are often times the most beautiful places though. I think next season I'll return to Italy, winters in the Italian countryside are really something." His gaze drifted downwards and Gilbert caught that he might have left something, or someone, important behind there. It wasn't a sad look, rather one of longing and contentment. "And you? Are you planning to stay here after the season ends?"
Gilbert didn't know how to answer that right away. He had left France in a hurry and so never really planned where he'd go next and when he'd do it. He wasn't so much as traveling as he was drifting from place to place with little purpose. Which was a nice way of saying he was running away. "Probably not," he finally shrugged. "I considered heading over to South America, heard it's warm there in winter." It was nothing compared to the German winters he remembered from childhood though, he had yet to find a place that did it better. It was about the glühwein warming you from the inside out and the intoxicating scents of cakes, meats, and spices that wafted through the aisles of the Christmas markets, it was watching Ludwig run to the window the first snow of the year, begging Gilbert to play in it while it was still soft.
It was, after all, still home.
March 1954.
Whereas Ludwig normally would have scrutinized and fretted over how he presented himself when leaving the house, the new Ludwig hardly spared a glance in the mirror after throwing a thin jacket on and brushing his hair back with his hand, he had places to be after all.
It had been two months since he had started dating Elfi Hauser. That had been two months full of strange experiences that he had found much later in life than most, from kissing to laughing, to letting go and maybe even moving on. He had been alarmed at first how easy it seemed to integrate himself back into the living world, the first night he'd gone out with Elfi he'd kissed her, and then it happened again and again for nearly two weeks straight. He hadn't even noticed he'd spent Gilbert's birthday out to dinner with another person, not once during that time thinking of his brother. Maybe that was a good thing, he had thought. Maybe he had finished mourning, after thirteen years of it, he'd forgotten that there were other things one could feel.
Spring had drawn the civilians out of their homes. Now that it was beginning to warm up, children had flocked to the parks and the voices drifting out of open bars and cafes hummed throughout the city. The plants too began to bloom and skies gradually became clearer and clearer, as oceanic as ever. It was a good time for Germany. Ludwig walked with his chin up, another trait he'd picked up over the past two months. There was so much more to see than the scuffing of his own boots trudging around, who would have known.
He walked up to a kaffee cart and ordered two drinks, his new routine he'd taken to on his mornings off work. Elfi liked hers with cream, he liked his black. They had plans today to go into Berlin to a museum exhibit that focused on renaissance arts. "Good morning," he greeted when she opened her door to him. Bending down to kiss her cheek, he held out the coffee and she took it gratefully.
"Morning to you too, you're early. I'm not quite ready yet." He waved his hand as he sat himself down on her couch, picking up a book from side table.
"Take your time, it's no rush." The book was full of love poems written in the 1800's, he set it back down, disinterested. He had nearly finished his drink by the time Elfi returned, looking neat. "Should I drive?" He asked and she nodded, handing the keys to her car to him.
"Thank you, dear."
They drove in near silence. He liked that about her, she never pressured him to entertain her. It had taken her some getting used to but when she came to realize Ludwig was just that type of person, they had settled into an unsaid understanding. She gently placed her hand upon Ludwig's knee and he stole a glance at her, allowing himself to momentarily be taken in by all the she was and all that she made him be. It was in these moments he came to discover that there were many different forms of weakness and not all of them were so bad.
He liked Berlin, he always had. When he had moved back after his grandfather's death he found immense comfort in the city, it reminded him of his family and the trips they'd take when he was a child. After the shock wore off from the realization that Gisilbert's death had left him entirely on his own however, his ghosts settled over Berlin just as they had Bernau and he decided the city was no longer for him. Before Elfi, he went into the city for specialty shops after he'd exhausted all other possible resources but never stayed long. Now he went almost every other weekend and it was like walking into an entirely new place when she was guiding him through it. She was very familiar with what happened within the city, she had introduced Ludwig to theater and art, fine dining and much to Ludwig's mortification, even dance.
As they walked down the crowded street towards the museum, she wrapped her arm around his and talked on about work as he quietly listened. "Oh no," she groaned and he glanced down at her. She was looking forward with an uneasy look her face. "I don't want to talk to this guy, he looks dangerous." Ludwig followed her gaze, resting on a homeless man who was having a heated exchange with a passing stranger.
"Well fuck you too!" The man yelled, throwing an empty bottle towards the retreating stranger. Judging by how off course the bottle flew, it hadn't been his first drink. "What about you?" He turned on a woman and with hazy eyes, smirked and held out a gloved hand. "Spare any cash?"
Elfi pulled on Ludwig's arm and she jerked her head towards the other side of the street. "He'll say something to us if we walk past him," she pleaded quietly. Feeling lame for retreating from something so harmless, he nodded for her sake. Of course, their obvious deflection didn't go unnoticed by the loud, volatile voice shouting again.
"Oh hey, what's wrong buddy? Am I scaring you?" The man cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted from across the street. "Oh, now you're going to ignore me?" He hissed to himself, grabbing his bag and slinging it sloppily over his shoulder. He took a quick glance up and down the street and then ran across, easily getting through as people jumped aside to avoid getting too close to him. He jogged until he was trailing behind Ludwig and Elfi. "Hey, I'm talking to you!" Elfi's arm tightened around Ludwig's and she glanced back nervously. "Yeah, you lady!"
Ludwig came to a stop much to Elfi's dismay. This was a scene in the making and the sooner it was over with the sooner he could escape drawing stares his way. "None of you would be here if it wasn't for me," the man slurred, looking around at everyone around him. "I stopped the war you know, all by my fucking self so you're welcome!"
"What are you doing?" Elfi hissed as Ludwig reached into his back pocket.
"All he wants is money," he replied impatiently. "He'll have no excuse to bother us if he gets what he wants." He pulled out several notes and folded them in his hand, turning around to face the man who was still ranting. The man was slightly shorter than he was, a hat shoved over his disheveled pale hair that almost looked brown with dirt, along with the rest of him. His clothes were well worn with tears and stains and he smelled strongly of alcohol and cigarettes. Despite these things, it only took Ludwig one look to recognize the man as his formerly deceased brother.
The entire world around him seemed to flash to white and he couldn't form a thought or make a sound, he was stricken with absolute shock standing there in the middle of the sidewalk. His hand was still outstretched and his mouth was softly gaping open as he shook with a mixture of disbelief and terror.
Gilbert turned towards him with a seething glare, he glanced at Ludwig's face and then down to his outstretched hand. "Oh, is that for me? Gosh, you're so kind." He deepened his frown and looked warily at Ludwig's strange behavior but leaned forward and plucked the money from his hand anyway. He counted it and rolled his eyes. "Wow, great, thanks, I can buy half a pack of cigarettes now." A passerby knocked into Gilbert from behind and he whirled around, his drunk rage suddenly focused on a new target. "The fuck is your problem? Yeah? Go ahead, go get the police see if I care!" He stormed away as fast as he'd came, leaving Ludwig empty handed and still as stone.
"God, what an asshole." Elfi put her hand on Ludwig's back and he came back to, slowly lowering his hand. "You shouldn't have given him money, not when he talks to people like that-"
"Elfi, I'll be right back" He barely heard her sudden barrage of angry questions as he took off after Gilbert. "Excuse me, sorry," he growled in frustration as he slipped in and out of the crowds. His cold blue eyes darted back and forth, straining to catch sight of what he now was beginning to wonder had been a ghost. This was too unreal; a ghost would be a more likely explanation for what had just happened. He made it to the corner of the street he was on and hung a left, hoping he was going the right way. It didn't take long for him to pinpoint exactly where the vulgar shouting was coming from. He approached the sound haphazardly. Two police officers had Gilbert cornered against a wall and the former was not happy about it.
"You can't be shouting and chasing people like that, we're going to have to take you in if you can't control yourself."
"Who are you to try to tell me what I can and can't do?" Gilbert spat, arms crossed firmly across his chest.
"Look, you're clearly inebriated, we'll give you one chance to take your money and catch a bus out of here or we'll arrest you for wasting our time, you lousy drunk."
Gilbert scoffed, "I fucking dare you-" Ludwig strode up to the group, effectively catching the attention of all three men. He composed himself and tried to look as neat as he could manage despite the blood rushing around his head. "Oh, this guy again," Gilbert muttered.
"Officers," Ludwig spoke with authority. "I deeply apologize for his behavior, he's with me, I can take him back home immediately." The officers seemed momentarily at a loss for words, looking between Gilbert and Ludwig doubtfully. Gilbert looked surprised but quickly pulled his face into a grimace.
"You know what? Just arrest me. I'd rather go there then off with this weirdo."
"You know this man?" The first officer asked Ludwig, ignoring Gilbert's string of complaints and insults. Ludwig gave a tight nod.
"He's a friend of mine, he's er…he's sick, in the head." Yes, thought Ludwig, that was believable enough. The officers turned to each other and exchanged mutters before one turned back towards Ludwig and shoved his notebook back into his pocket.
"Get him out of here, and keep a closer eye on him, he's been causing trouble all morning." The officer clearly didn't care if Ludwig was lying or not, they had better things to be doing. Gilbert sneered as the officers stalked away and he turned himself to resume walking down the sidewalk with a dismissive wave of his hand.
"Hey!" Ludwig called out, bringing Gilbert to an unsteady halt. "Wait! Please. Are you hungry? I can help you, I have a place you can sleep at."
Gilbert slowly turned around, his dirty face looking both amused and unsure. "Who the hell are you?" He pulled his pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out, he lit it and tossed the used match into the street, not taking his eyes off Ludwig for a moment.
"I only want to help. You said you were a veteran of the war, correct? It's the least I could do for your service," he gave a stern nod, the intensity of his gaze unwavering. Gilbert wilted slightly beneath it.
"You're going to let me into your house?" He pointed his cigarette at Ludwig, raising an eyebrow. Ludwig wondered how much of the situation Gilbert was even taking in, his gaze was glossy and heavy-lidded. "What if I steal from you? Or murder you and your lady friend?"
"It's a risk I'm willing to take." Ludwig said honestly, almost desperately.
"Fucking weirdo," Gilbert shook his head with a snort. "But whatever, beggars can't make their own decisions, or however that stupid saying goes," he muttered, taking another drag. Gilbert hadn't slept inside for over a month and a half now, he wasn't above taking help from anyone at this point. "Lead the way, big boy." He stumbled after Ludwig, unaware of the careful focus Ludwig had on him, making sure he wouldn't fall along the way.
A/N: It seems we've nearly come full circle, finally! Thanks again for all the patience, I've been working on other easier things to help get back into writing and I think it's paying off. I can't promise a regular schedule with this story, only because this story has become such an immersive project to me and I want to give it the attention it deserves. But I'll finish this thing eventually, dammit. ALSO, I should mention that when I say Berlin I'm referring to West Berlin which post-war was occupied by allied forces and was doing significantly better than East Berlin was (which was occupied with soviet forces). I read that for most westerners, West Berlin was referred to simply as "Berlin" and so I'm going with that. I'll get more into the effects of the Cold War in later chapters, I kind of spaced on this chapter, so excited to reunite the brothers that I ignored the details of the quality of life post-war for Germany. I apologize for any historical inaccuracy you might find. It's been such a long time, I have a serious amount of research to put into later chapters. But for now, just pretend that Elfi and Ludwig caught Berlin on a good day.
Translations:
Tal vez algún día que nos veremos otra vez-Maybe someday we'll see each other again.
Qué puedo conseguirte-What can I get you?
Una cerveza por favor-One beer please.
I didn't bother looking up different dialects when writing these parts so they aren't 100% accurate but idk does it even matter?
