So, ah... Please don't stone me... Or chase me with pitchforks and torches... I know it's been a LONG time inbetween updates, but if I sat here and typed out everything that has been going on, no one would bother to read it or believe it, so here's the next chapter. Hope it's still enjoyed.

~Kanae~

Chapter Nine: Secret Code

After five minutes have passed, I stand, close my notebook and walk to the door, opening it to find Herr Ludwig Beilschmidt already standing there.

"Please, come inside," I say, stepping out of the way.

He nods but turns to his brother.

"Bruder. Remember what I said. Remain here until my appointment is finished. Understood?"

The man addressed leans back against the wall, arms crossed, and rolls his eyes.

"Ja, ja, Westen. I understand."

"Gut."

Not another word between them and the tall blond walks past me and into my office.

Glancing at Gilbert, I notice he appears somewhere between annoyed and embarrassed, glaring at the floor. From what I have read in their files, Gilbert is the older of the two, yet from what I have observed, Ludwig throws around the most weight, holds the most power. I am an only child, but even I can understand why Gilbert would react in such a manner.

"Gilbert?"

His eyes—those eyes—immediately snap to my face.

"Ja, Fraulein?"

"I'll return in a moment." Before he can respond, I disappear into my office, retrieve my desk chair, and roll it out to him. "There. Now you can sit as well."

"Danke," he replies with a nod, looking just a little less upset.

I return the nod and smile before stepping back and closing the door.

"Now, Herr Beilschmidt," I begin, looking at the man standing to my right, "where would you prefer to sit? The sitting area or in one of the chairs in front of my desk?"

"The chairs at the desk."

Just as I had suspected. Herr Ludwig Beilschmidt seems very disciplined and is driven by practicality and functionality over comfort.

The two of us walk to the desk; he sits in one of the huge leather armchairs, and—rather than cause myself extra trouble, I simply turn the second chair in front of my desk to face his chair. Once seated, I look to him and smile.

"Hello, Herr Beilschmidt. How are you today?"

"I am well… Und you?" he stiffly responds.

"Quite well," I reply even as I begin to suspect this meeting may be just as awkward as Sr. Lovino Vargas' meeting had been. "So… How has your day progressed thus far."

"It has gone… well…"

A beat.

"What has happened?"

A beat.

"Nothing very much…"

A beat.

"Herr Beilschmidt. You are uncomfortable, yes?"

Turning a slightly pink-tinged shade, he answers, "W-well, I, uh…"

A sigh.

"Would you feel a little more at ease if I were to tell you about myself first?"

He merely stares at me rather intently, an expression that seems to indicate an affirmative.

"Well, um… My name is Abigail Elizabeth Ellsworth… I am thirty-one… I love art, music… theatre… history," I say before I notice an odd twitch at the last interest I listed. Curious but not letting him know I had seen it, I nearly continue. "I was born in Boston, Massachusetts, but I lived in New York City for nearly ten years…"

"Why did you become a therapist?"

The question startles me, perhaps because he had spoken, perhaps simply because he actually seems curious, but regardless I momentarily find myself at a loss.

Why did I…

Fear.

Pure unadulterated fear.

There was so much blood.

Blinking and forcing the thoughts away, I refocus my attention to Herr Beilschmidt who patiently awaits my answer.

I take a breath, straighten up, and meet his gaze.

"To help people."

For several moments, we stare at each other and then he nods.

"I see… Well—"

He is interrupted by a rather pained shout from outside my door that brings both Herr Beilschmidt and myself to our feet and rushing to the door.

Because he reaches the door first, he throws it open, and then such a look of rage comes over his face as I have rarely seen in my life.

Wary but curious, I peek around him to see Gilbert nearly doubled over, one arm across his stomach and a hand to his nose, droplets of blood seeping through his fingers and falling to the floor.

"Mein Gott!"

Herr Beilschmidt rushes out of the doorway and quickly places himself between Gilbert and a rather tall man—easily 6'4"—who is wearing a purple scarf and tan trenchcoat.

The tall man has an expression that looks rather child-like, but something about him sets alarms off in my mind and I immediately suspect he had something to do with Gilbert's current state.

Allowing Herr Beilschmidt to speak angrily in Russian to the man, I go to Gilbert, placing a careful hand on his shoulder.

"Gilbert?"

"I… I'm alright…" he answers as he slowly straightens, pulling his hand away from a bloodied and broken nose to look at the blood on his hand.

"Verdammt!"

At hearing the exclamation from his older brother, Ludwig turned to look at him.

"Mein Gott im himmel! Gilbert, your—"

"I know, Westen. I know. I'll take care of it."

Without another word on the matter, the man raised both his hands to his nose, placing three fingers on each side of his nose and, with no more than a slight flinch, he popped his nose back into its correct place.

…

Returning his attention to the tall Russian man, Herr Beilschmidt grabs a fistful of the man's trenchcoat at the shoulder.

"I have told you before, Ivan. Leave. Mein. Bruder. Alone. The only thing preventing me from beating the breath from you at this moment is that I cannot be the aggressor again. Not after…" he hesitates and then exhales, beginning again. "Leave Gilbert alone. Alone. You had your fun before. Touch him again and I will annihilate you regardless of any treaties or appearances. Am I perfectly understood?"

The man addressed merely smiles childishly.

"Oh, da. Da. Will make certain no more accidents are happening. Is what this was, da, Kaliningrad?"

At this, Gilbert almost violently twitches and his jaw tightens but he nods.

"Ja," he says through clenched teeth. "All one big accident. It always is."

"Well see that there are no more, Ivan. Do not test me."

Wait. Ivan? That means…

"Why would I be doing that, Ludwig? You are being so silly at times."

The blond glares only a moment longer before releasing him and turning to me.

"Fraulein Ellsworth," he begins, an apology forming, but I hold up my hand to stop him.

"It's perfectly alright if you need to postpone your appointment."

"Danke, fraulein," he smiles then sympathetically looks to Gilbert who is staring rather intently at me. "Let's go get you cleaned up, Gilbert…"

"Wait," he red-eyed man suddenly says, glancing between me and Ivan. "He's your next meeting, isn't he?"

My lack of answer is covered by Ivan chirping, "Da~ Am next appointment."

Gilbert's eyes widen, his jaw clenches tighter and he scowls.

"Then Westen und I will go nowhere."

"Gilbert, you need—"

"Nein!" he interrupts his younger brother, expression stern and dark. "If she is going to be alone in a room with… him, we are staying right here. Do not argue with me, Ludwig."

"Ja, Gilbert…"

I blink in shock and confusion.

Over what I am most shocked and confused, I am still undecided.

#1 Ivan Braginski. In general.

#2 Gilbert's sudden adoption of such an assertive tone/persona.

#3 In the last 30 seconds the sibling dynamic had been righted, Gilbert taking charge and Herr Ludwig taking orders.

#4 The situation. In general.

All of this is just so frustrating! I feel as though I'm only catching half of the conversation and the rest is in some secret code that I've not been read in on!

Yet, I've not much time to think before I realize that the three men are now staring at me.

"Well… um… I guess we can start your apartment now then, Mister Braginski…"

"Da! Very good~"

With that, we both walk into the room, he closes the door—I swear I hear a click—and he looks to me with a smile.

"Well, pryvet, Gospoja Ellsworth."