Author's Notes

(~)

It's a terrifying thing to bring to an end what has taken so much devotion to build. This has been the longest work I have written, and has given me confidence (however shaky) that I can set my goals higher.

I'm incredibly indebted to all of my wonderful friends who put spending time with me on hold while I slaved away over this silly thing and who helped edit, encourage, and brainstorm. They bore the brunt of many a horrible rant about the futility of writing, and I know without their patience I would have driven myself even crazier.

And to my readers, those who have been reading since the beginning, and any who may stumble upon this later and find something in it that brings them to the end: I cannot thank you enough. Your comments, reviews, and excitement were incredibly encouraging. I'm so touched that you all see something in my writing worth reading.

Thank you.

( ~)

The Fall of Adam:

Arc(a)dia

(Peror(a)tion)

(~)

The snow had begun to melt on the top of the mountain.

It engorged the rivers, flooded their banks and hurled down the steep slopes. The newspaper, bought at the closest store an hour's walk down the mountain, listed missing children and animals that had been washed away. Nets were cast from bank to bank, catching what they could.

One of the rivers curled through a small valley. Its speed slowed to a gentler brutality as it picked its way among the tall grasses and the first splashes of arrogant purples and reds and yellows dying the verdure. The river followed the dust road that led up from the village at the base and continued on to the sheep grazing lands above. It was rarely traveled. There were other paths that weren't in danger of being washed away. A trail branched off of the main road, winding a ways up the slope, coming to rest in front of a small house. Two dogs lay in front of the humble structure, their bellies turned up to the sun. A third sat at attention, its eyes fixed on the road, large ears twitching.

Without warning, it suddenly let out a howl that echoed against the valley walls. In an instant the three dogs took off down the road, churning up dust and half-formed blossoms as they went.

Ludwig stopped to check the mail at the little box at the end of the path, pushing sodden bangs out of his eyes. Nothing.

He barely had time to close the mailbox latch before his dogs beset him. He managed to fend them off; patting their heads to keep them appeased as he slowly trudged up the little path towards the house. He sat down to tug off his mud-caked shoes and leaned back against the porch, closing his eyes. Hours spent combing the river and nothing. It was exhausting work, but it got him out of the house, at least. Forced him to interact.

He winced as his back gave a rebellious twinge, and he slowly pushed himself to his feet, smiling at the dogs who all stared up at him with concern in their large, brown eyes.

"Don't worry about me," he murmured, rubbing his sentry dog behind the ears. "I've a few summers left in me yet."

The dog whined quietly and pressed against his leg, its tail slowly thumping against the ground. Ludwig closed his eyes again, letting the sun warm his skin to something above frozen. For the past few days he'd been helping comb the river, and he could feel his body slowly shutting down. The villagers had noticed it too, and kept trying to offer him things. Food, clothing. Firewood. Welsh hospitality was far better than he'd expected. They still razed him once in a while for being English, but the teasing was easy enough to dismiss.

From inside the house came a little clanging noise, and all three dogs sat up, their eyes fixed on the door. Ludwig glanced over his shoulder and then finally pushed himself to his feet.

"Must be a window open," he murmured, dusting himself off before opening the door to his house. He stepped inside, peering down the hallway into the kitchen. The window was shut. Frowning in puzzlement, he shut the door and went to check in the bedroom.

The house was small, but serviceable. No running water or electricity, but that wasn't much of an issue. The river nearby was never dry, and the village was close enough that he could run down and buy whatever he needed. He'd inherited the farm from the herder who had helped him find a job. He'd sold the flock and started up a cobbler's business, making use of the one trade his father had legitimately learned and passed on. He didn't do much business, but the villagers liked him enough that it didn't really matter. They were isolated, content to be so, and welcomed anyone who shared their insular world view.

The door behind him opened as the dogs forced their way inside, but Ludwig was too busy tracking the source of the noise to bother scolding them. The window in his bedroom was closed as well, and his frown deepened.

Curious.

With a little sigh he made his way towards the kitchen, intent on making a cup of tea or opening a can of soup to help with the chill.

Suddenly there came another clanging noise, followed by a very soft curse.

Ludwig froze, his eyes narrowing.

Who would bother to rob him? Bad enough he had to deal with a thief, but an incompetent one would draw out the process unnecessarily.

With a heavy sigh he stepped into the kitchen, ready to lunge at the intruder and oust them. Strange that the dogs hadn't done so already. He glared down at them, and they just stared up at him, tongues out, tails wagging.

"You're useless," he muttered, and then turned the corner to look into the second half of the kitchen, where the stove and sink were.

A tall, rather built man was rifling through his cabinets, and even from a distance Ludwig could see that his suit was well tailored and the watch on his wrist probably could have bought the entire village.

Ludwig raised an eyebrow, waiting to be noticed, but the thief didn't so much as turn around.

He cleared his throat.

"Excuse me."

"Wha-!"

With a loud yelp of surprise the man jerked around, clutching Ludwig's teapot to his chest. Ludwig opened his mouth to ask the man what in hell's name he thought he was doing, but the words died on his lips.

He stared at the man in front of the stove, his whole body slowly growing far colder than any river could make it. Red eyes peered back at him, some of their roundness lost. Long fingers fiddled with the teapot before carefully setting it down on the counter and moving to anxiously twirl a lock of silver blonde hair.

Gilbert smiled weakly.

"I cannot tell you how glad I am that this is your house. The owners of the last one I broke into were very rude."

Ludwig felt his mouth go dry and he had to sit down. The dogs whined and moved with him, the largest attempting to scramble up in his lap before he mumbled automatically, "Down, girl."

Gilbert shied away from the dogs a bit, his angular face sporting a nervous smile.

"They weren't too fond of me at first," he said lightly, as though discussing the weather. "I had to retreat back down to the village and come back with a bribe. They're horrible guard dogs, if you don't mind my saying. Any thief with a steak and patience could break in." He glanced around, his pointed nose wrinkling slightly. "Although I haven't the slightest idea why anyone would want to…"

Ludwig swallowed heavily and stared at the other man. It was all he could do.

"I—how did you—"

The face that stared out at him from behind unkempt bangs was all angles and stark cheekbones, the sort of handsomeness that was reserved for Grimm's heroes because for it to actually exist would be unfair. His whole body had been stretched, the top of his head reaching past Ludwig's chin, and the well-tailored suit did little to hide the definition in his arms and chest. Whatever youth had clung to him in his teens had been rent away. He carried himself with the arrogant assurance of his class, perfectly polished, elegant. Distant.

Ludwig barely recognized him.

He gave up trying to speak, realizing how he must have looked in comparison. Completely sodden. Caked in mud. Wrinkles on his face and around his eyes, his hands calloused and rough again, his clothes well maintained but horribly plebian.

Ten years took a toll on someone his age.

"Now there's an interesting story," Gilbert said lightly, resting back against the counter, inspecting his fingernails. To anyone else, he would have appeared perfectly calm. Dismissive, even, but Ludwig caught the slight trembling of his lips, the way the red eyes darted to the side to look at him every few seconds, the catching of his throat, the way his long limbs creaked when he moved. "When every letter I attempted to send was quickly thwarted, I have to admit I started to give up hope. No…"

He furrowed his brow and turned back to the stove, clearing his throat.

"That isn't – there was no starting. I did. Completely. I knew you hadn't left the country, I had made sure you would be denied a passport if you applied for one because I was a horrible, scheming little youth but beyond that I had no leads whatsoever."

He traced the handle of the teapot with the tip of his finger, and Ludwig could see him trembling even more.

"Ten years is a long time. Very long when it's longer than half your life."

Gilbert suddenly laughed and turned around again, the polite smile back on his face.

"So yes, I'm afraid I became rather boring for a period there. Extremely studios, my father was delighted. But one day a few months ago there was a newspaper article about automobile improvements, and they cited a story about some lord or another whose car had broken down and some old man out of the goodness of his heart had stopped and miraculously fixed it. The lord was so grateful he handed over a small fortune. The story rang familiar, and although I tried to let it go, for whatever reason the tenacity of my brain conspired against my will, and I found it haunting me."

Gilbert pulled a small envelope out of his pocket and walked forward to hand it to Ludwig.

"Your father remains, as always, one step ahead," he said, the humor in his voice gone. "He tracked you down via a bank transfer, and has been keeping tabs on you since. He was decidedly unhappy to see me, and it took a bit of persuasion before he was willing to part with any information. And even then all he said was that he knew you were in North Wales, and to pass this on to you, if I should find you."

Ludwig slowly took the envelope and opened it. Inside was a small stack of bank notes and a little memo. It was written in Kirkland's hand, and the edges were worn and the ink slightly faded with age.

I would advise taking better care of your funds.

Rest assured I have seen to it that their proper return to you in no way jeopardizes the agreement struck.

If ever this finds you, feel free to write the manor.

I will see to it that your message is delivered.

Ludwig ran his thumb over the note, closing his eyes.

"And you managed to track me down just from that?" he asked, wincing as a bit of an accent colored his speech. Gilbert didn't seem to have noticed, and pulled up a chair across from Ludwig, perching himself on the very edge.

"It took a good deal more money and a good deal more time than I would have liked," Gilbert admitted, folding his hands atop the table. "What craft you learned from your father you learned well."

He smiled and glanced out the window, his eyes distant.

"But I seem to have remembered some things," he said softly. "You would talk about the mountains, about isolation. Wanting pets and favoring the forest to the beach. Little things, details I wasn't sure I even remembered properly or if time had simply concocted them of her own doing. My father didn't want me to go, of course, but Eliza and Roderich insisted I should. The former because she's a hopeless romantic, and the latter because he wanted me out of the house during their honeymoon period, I'm sure."

His expression turned sour and his fingers tightened.

Ludwig frowned and sat up a bit.

"Then – Eliza…"

"Married Roderich, yes," Gilbert said absently. "There was a period when everything devolved into a horrible cliché of a love triangle but that was soon put to rest when she caught me in flagrante. Needless to say any affection she had for me was quickly stifled, and Roderich's devotion took care of the rest."

Ludwig felt his heart seize, and he stared sadly across the table at the younger man.

"So you… you have someone?" he asked quietly, dreading to hear the answer.

Gilbert gave him an odd look and then let out a little breath.

"Farm—Ludwig, do you honestly think I would have spent months of my time and a small fortune traipsing around this sad little country searching for you just to sit down with a pot of tea and inform you that I'm quite happy with Frederick the darling son of the Earl of Bumswitch."

His eyes softened and he stared down at the table.

"Happy people don't do that sort of thing, Ludwig," he said quietly. "They don't devote their lives, however temporary, to trying to regain a memory. Or to attempting to create a better one to overwrite it. I wish I could tell you that there'd been no one else, but I won't make myself any more of a liar than I already am."

He lifted his head, a bitter expression on his face.

"I nearly ruined the sacrifice we both made trying to relive a few moments from when I was seventeen and in love. And it was empty and horrible. It cost me my fiancée, nearly cost me my title."

His lips twitched upwards in an empty smile.

"And my father… he said he'd almost wished I'd slept with another boy instead. At least then there wouldn't be the scare of a pregnancy, Eliza might have taken it better and been able to chalk it up to my sickness."

Ludwig rested his hands atop the table as well, gently quieting the dogs when they started to whine.

"I see," he said softly, his thumb pressing against a little knot in the surface of the wood.

The little house fell silent, and still Ludwig couldn't lift his head. It was what he'd wanted, in a twisted way. For Gilbert to normalize himself. He'd thought that would end with him marrying Eliza, but it was still close enough.

He finally glanced up when Gilbert laughed quietly.

"You can't even look at me," the younger man said lightly. "I can't blame you. I know – I look different, I'm not young and sweet anymore. I'm a terrible man who cheats on his fiancée and never learns his lesson, who gave up after only a few months of pathetic letter writing. My brattish temper isn't cute on a man of my age."

"That isn't why," Ludwig said softly. "And you know that."

"Then why won't you look at me?!"

Gilbert suddenly stood, a stricken look on his face. He ran his fingers through his hair in agitation, the gesture so familiar and dear Ludwig felt a little tug at his heart. The young lord began pacing, rambling to himself in increasingly agitated words.

"This isn't at all how I pictured this going. I was to make a pot of tea, surprise you, you'd fall into my arms and be so impressed with my tenacity and you wouldn't ask why it's been ten years or what I've done, how my family is, you'd just accept me and then teach me how to light this damn stove because I have no idea how technology from the Dark Ages operates. And you were to kiss me and forgive me everything without my needing to confess and instead it's discomfited and horrible and I'm so old I'm decrepit and you can't even l-look at me…"

He pressed his hands against his face and sank to the floor. Ludwig quickly stood, concerned, but the dogs made it to Gilbert first. They stuck their wet noses against his face and in his hair, and kept returning even when Gilbert pushed them away, refusing to raise his head.

Ludwig watched the young lord for a moment and then moved to the stove. He filled the kettle, lit a match, and set the water to boil. He walked over to Gilbert's side, gently nudging the dogs to make room. He sat on the floor in front of Gilbert, wincing as his back protested. He'd pulled something dragging that sheep out of the river. Dumb animal.

He sat in silence for a long while, staring at Gilbert who was still resting with his head buried against his arms. With a little sigh he finally reached out to lightly rest his hand against Gilbert's hair.

"Thank you for finding me," he said, his breath catching painfully at the feeling of the soft strands between his fingers.

Gilbert lifted his head very slightly, staring at Ludwig with an utterly miserable expression on his face.

"I don't like who I've become," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I've done everything I can think of to fix myself. I joined the Army – oh God, no, please don't be upset." He caught the sudden tension in Ludwig's face. "A-As a medic. They wouldn't let me join any other way, I have terrible eyesight, I would shoot everyone on our side by accident I know it. I went to medical school and then joined. I thought it would make my father happy and it did, it… it does. I know it does, I'm an officer, even though it's not wartime that still counts for something. He said he was proud of me, my mother was so happy she wept."

He laughed brokenly and pressed his hand against his face.

"T-They didn't know – I joined… I joined to feel closer to you again. You used to tell me stories – the story of India, of the war and I saw what they did to you, how you'd cry out in your sleep and some sad part of me thought if I knew that horror too we could meet there, somehow. Crying together. But you were so brave and your stories were so wonderful, they were the last thing to leave me..."

A smile blossomed on Gilbert's face, and he laughed as tears ran down his cheeks.

"And I fell for them because I was young and you were handsome and so, so good with words for someone of your station."

Gilbert laughed again, the noise breaking.

"I'm a fool. I deserve every bit of this, don't I? This unhappiness, farmhand, I deserve it. The thought of living another year as I have been is a torture I never thought I'd know. The house feels haunted. I live every day watching Eliza and Roderich fall more and more in love with one another and at first I dismissed it as jealousy. That I still somehow harbored feelings for her but it was something less tangible, less simple, and it's been driving me mad. When I saw that article I thought –"

He ducked his head, the smile remaining stubbornly on his face.

"I thought that maybe… that God provided me that knowledge. For a brilliant moment, I thought He might pity me enough to love me despite my monstrous soul."

Ludwig felt his hand move to his chest of its own accord, the sudden pain taking him completely by surprise. When they'd parted, he'd assumed Gilbert would follow through on his promise. That there would be another, that he would forget about the man he'd met when he was seventeen and naive. It had been simple but crucial, the lynchpin of Ludwig's guilt, his sorrow at destroying them. If Gilbert ended happily, he would hate it, but he would be able to live with himself.

And now how could he? The boy he'd so desperately loved had grown into a broken man, dressed in a perfectly tailored suit with eyes no more alive than they had been the day they parted.

"Gilbert…"

The man's name spilled unbidden from his lips, and Ludwig pressed a hand against his face, his eyes stinging. Gilbert chuckled and slowly leaned back against the wall, his head tilted up to stare at the ceiling.

"You said my name," he murmured, the lines on his face softening. "I never thought I would hear it said properly again…"

One of the dogs whined softly, and Gilbert reached out to absently pet it. Ludwig remained silent, unsure of what to do or say. He didn't know the man sitting on his floor, not really. There were traces but nothing enough to form an outline, something he could use to fill in the edges and assess properly.

"Your water's boiling, farmhand."

The soft voice jarred Ludwig out of his thoughts. He quickly pushed himself to his feet and went to pour the tea, letting his body move of its own volition. He brought the cups back to the floor, nudging the dogs away.

He gave Gilbert an apologetic smile.

"I'm afraid I don't have sugar."

Gilbert made a slight face, his pointed, pink tongue sticking out from between his lips just a bit.

"Honey?"

Ludwig shook his head.

"I'm too terrified to drink any dairy product you might have stashed away here."

"Which is none. Clearly your luck continues," Ludwig said softly.

Gilbert let out a bark of surprised laughter, his whole face lighting up for an instant. And in that moment Ludwig recognized him, truly. He picked up his cup and took a sip of tea to calm his nerves, but he couldn't keep from smiling.

After a moment Gilbert followed suit, gagging a bit on the plain tea before a determined look came over him and he swallowed his mouthful. He set the cup aside and regarded Ludwig silently before he asked, "Are you at all happy to see me? I would have called, but you have no phone, and I would have written but as far as I can tell this little shack is not in the possession of anything as civilized as an address."

"The mailbox is down the path there," Ludwig said, pointing over his shoulder and fixing Gilbert with an exasperated look that for some reason made the younger man flush slightly.

"I see you still know how to make me feel five years old even ten years later," he mumbled, fiddling with his cup.

"It wasn't my intention, I can assure you, my l—"

Ludwig stopped, biting his lip.

Gilbert raised an eyebrow and hummed softly.

"And the training sticks. Kirkland must be commended."

"Or shot," Ludwig muttered, taking another gulp of tea. Gilbert laughed again, and for a moment his foot brushed against Ludwig's.

"How did you find this place, anyway?" he asked, glancing around the small room. "It's so… impecunious."

"The polite word is 'homey,' Gilbert, and I inherited it from a sheep farmer," Ludwig said dryly. He quickly held up a hand before Gilbert could speak. "No jokes. Not everyone in Wales raises sheep."

"How rude. That isn't what I was going to say at all," Gilbert sniffed, moving a bit closer. He worried at his lip for a moment and then cleared his throat and looked away.

"You… you've aged remarkably well," he said absently. "I half expected to find you bent over at the waist, hardly able to stand."

Ludwig rolled his eyes, but there was a very small smile on his face.

"I'm thirty seven, Gilbert. Not eighty. I know you think being… what, twenty eight now means you're suddenly an expert on gerontology, but I have to politely disagree."

"Don't remind me!" Gilbert wailed, bursting out laughing when the dogs joined him. He calmed down quickly and then sniffed. "I'm nearly thirty. It's horrible."

"You're the age I was when I met you," Ludwig pointed out. "Did you think I was old then?"

"Yes," Gilbert said stubbornly. "You're allowed to be older, though. That's what you are. The older one. It's only natural."

"I mean this in the least offensive way possible, Gilbert, but I'm incredibly glad you didn't stay seventeen your whole life," Ludwig said seriously. "Some of the more superstitious villagers would probably throw you in the river or put you on trial for being a witch and –"

"God I've missed you," Gilbert suddenly blurted out, his expression turning stricken in an instant. He moved forward, pulling himself towards Ludwig by resting his hands on the older man's knees. "Ludwig I've missed you so much, this wasn't how it was supposed to be I was supposed to sweep you off your feet with my mature charm and elegance and instead we're back to taking pot shots at one another. But I don't care, and if you're not disgusted with me or angry or secretly poisoned the tea in a sort of Machiavellian scheme then please, please could you kiss me I've wanted it for so long I've missed you more than I thought possible outside of fiction, farmhand. I missed you, I missed you so much—"

Ludwig felt his eyes start to sting again, and it took all of two seconds of warring with himself to decide.

He rested his hand on the back of Gilbert's head and pulled him in close, kissing him. For a horrifying moment it felt like kissing a stranger, his lips too thin and unfamiliar, his jaw having lost the softness it had once had, his voice slightly too deep, his skin too rough.

And then Gilbert kissed him back, and a quiet moan of pure relief eased past the younger man's lips. He shifted, pressing their bodies together, and Ludwig thought for a moment to protest, thinking of his muddy clothes and Gilbert's suit, but then the younger man's fingers were in his wet hair, on his neck, his shoulders, and he forgot to be concerned.

It was a very long time before they pulled apart, Gilbert licking his lips to break the thin strand of saliva that connected them. There was a dazed look on his face, and Ludwig couldn't help but lean forward to kiss his cheek again and press his face against the younger man's shoulder. Slim fingers rested in his hair, absently playing with his hair.

"You're horribly out of practice, farmhand," Gilbert said quietly, his voice warm and soft against Ludwig's ear. "Which is a bit of a double-edged sword for me."

"The sheep were terrible practice partners. Too much teeth," Ludwig muttered, tightening his arms around Gilbert's frame. "God… you feel so different."

Gilbert's hand in his hair stilled.

"…Is that a problem?" he asked, his voice full of feigned indifference.

"No, my lord. It is not."

Ludwig felt Gilbert relax, and after a moment he pushed himself up, one eyebrow raised.

"I didn't fall in love with you because of your youth. I feel the need to remind you," he said quietly.

"I know that," Gilbert muttered, twisting his hands in his shirt. "Allow me my paranoia. It wasn't exactly easy to build the courage to face you again. I wasn't sure you'd be glad to see me. It was a fifty-fifty bet."

"What were the two scenarios?" Ludwig asked quietly, brushing Gilbert's hair out of his eyes.

Gilbert mumbled to himself for a second and then let out a little sigh.

"The first was that you'd be so ecstatic to see me you'd fall to your knees weeping uncontrollably. Then I would get to be the bigger man and comfort you. It was very romantic, I promise."

Ludwig snorted and brushed his thumb over Gilbert's jaw, taking in the new angles and curves of his face.

"And the second?"

Gilbert fell quiet for a moment, his eyes fixed on the floor.

"That I would cause you to hate me," he finally said. "You would accuse me of squandering what we'd given up. That I was foolish to track you down just to jeopardize my future again. I know – at least I believe that would still be of concern to you."

"And it is," Ludwig admitted, resting his hands in his lap. He tugged Gilbert a bit closer, his legs on either side of the younger man's slim hips. "A part of me is very angry that you're risking so much just to see me for… a few hours? A day? How long can you possibly stay here?"

"A day is pushing it," Gilbert said dryly. "I've yet to see one hint of indoor plumbing."

"And you won't find any, but you know that's not what I meant," Ludwig said quietly. "Unless you've abandoned your title and your home, which I hope you haven't, you can't stay here. And I can't go back with you. I know you had to have realized that."

"I did. I do, I mean, I know…" Gilbert said, his voice falling. "And I haven't renounced anything. I'm still set to inherit, but—"

He fell quiet for a very long time and then let out a tired sigh.

"Eliza's already talking about having children," he mumbled, fiddling with his sleeve. "And my father has resigned himself to thinking of me as a permanent bachelor. I'll still inherit the manor, but he said that he expects no children from me. Which was both a relief and a burden."

He smiled, the expression empty.

"My mother was upset. She loves Eliza like she's her own daughter, and Roderich too, but this isn't what she wanted for me. My parents have grudgingly accepted my disinterest in carrying on our branch of the family. The name will continue on with Roderich, and this is hardly unprecedented – far from it – but I still feel as though I failed them. Even after they've forgiven me so much."

Ludwig listened silently, his hand resting on Gilbert's forearm as he tried to offer what comfort he could. The concept was completely alien to him, but grief was universal.

"That they forgave you shows how much they do truly care about you," he said softly, reaching out to grab Gilbert's chin and tilt his head back. Gilbert shook his head and rubbed at his jaw, giving Ludwig a slightly odd look.

"…No one's done that to me since I was a kid," he mumbled by way of explanation.

Ludwig quickly withdrew his hands, his stomach sinking.

"My apologies. Old habits," he said quietly.

Gilbert waved his hand, but he shifted uncomfortably.

"I still feel strange. Being in front of you like this," he admitted. "And as I said, I wasn't sure how you'd react, so I didn't really think this through. I felt and still do that this was something I simply had to do. And I hope… I hope you can forgive me my selfishness."

"It's done," Ludwig said plainly, laughing when Gilbert hit his shoulder.

"Farmhand – I agonized over this! You can't be so flippant," he complained, a little smile on his face.

"Shouldn't I be thanked rather than hit for helping suppress your compunction?" Ludwig asked, his heart nearly bursting as Gilbert smiled at him. Too late he realized there were tears trailing down his cheeks, and Gilbert's expression soon fell.

"…Ludwig?"

"Ah… sorry," Ludwig muttered, scrubbing at his face. "This is the most I've spoken to anyone in a very long while. You'll have to forgive me if I've grown unaccustomed to it."

"…It's fine," Gilbert said quietly, but he seemed to be worrying at something. He cleared his throat and then asked as offhandedly as was humanly possible, "So you… live alone?"

Ludwig raised an eyebrow at the question, but took pity on Gilbert.

"Since the farmer died, yes," he said quietly. "And before then as well."

Gilbert licked his lips nervously, fiddling with his fingers.

"And… you've not met anyone…"

"I have not," Ludwig said. "I found myself lacking interest." He smiled bitterly. "And there aren't many who would like to keep the company of an ex-soldier. You were the odd exception to that."

"Well I am odd, I suppose," Gilbert murmured, but there was a very small smile on his lips. He pressed a hand against his face, seemingly overcome with something before he let out a sharp breath.

"There is another reason for my visit, I have to say."

Ludwig frowned and raised another eyebrow.

Gilbert nodded and smiled at him, a slightly weary look on his face.

"I can't do this anymore," he said, shrugging his shoulders. "I think ten years is a very good trial period. A bit too long, perhaps, but I am throwing in the towel. You seem to be surviving, at least, but I am very close to abandoning all pretenses of."

"What are you saying?" Ludwig asked, just a bit panicked. "Gilbert, are you –"

"Nothing so macabre," Gilbert said with a little grimace. "Please."

He lifted his head again, staring straight into Ludwig's eyes.

"My grandmother has invited me to go overseas with her. To America. Boston or New… something or other. Not York, the other one. I can't remember, and it doesn't matter."

He took Ludwig's hands in his own, and the pleading look in his eyes made Ludwig's heart stop.

"…Come with me?"

Ludwig stared at Gilbert, a look of utter shock on his face.

"I—w-with you?" he asked, his voice catching. "Gilbert, I—I'm not your valet anymore. I'm not anything, I'm not even a farmer or a proper cobbler. There's no way –"

"You're still a member of the Armed Forces, aren't you?" Gilbert said softly, pressing a kiss to the back of Ludwig's hand. "I'll have you transferred to work under me. I just fired my assistant – completely incompetent. That's more of a reason to take you with me for the duration of my stay overseas. And when we return, I'll move out of the manor until I inherit it. I can have apartments secured for us in London, I've plenty of money and now that Eliza and Roderich are living their happy blissful wedded life in the manor my leaving won't be seen as odd. My parents know how upset their marriage made me."

"But I—I don't know the first thing about medicine," Ludwig tried to protest, his voice growing weaker as Gilbert kissed his palm, his wrist. "I've already served my tours, I don't even know if they'll accept a transfer –"

"They will," Gilbert said simply, his voice full of a quiet confidence that made Ludwig feel weak. "I'm a lord now, Ludwig. A proper one." He smirked. "It's quite funny to watch them squirm when I glare. I can't imagine most officers are used to being ordered around by a medic."

Ludwig fell silent, unsure how to counter any further. He met Gilbert's eyes, his own rather sad.

"…And if your father finds out?" he said quietly.

Gilbert fell silent for a long moment, his fingers tightening around Ludwig's.

"If he finds out, then… he finds out," he said finally, closing his eyes and leaning against Ludwig's chest. "I'm not seventeen any longer. He's proven once he's unwilling to prosecute someone I care for. I know testing that resolve isn't the wisest course of action, but it seems a safe enough one to risk it."

He pushed himself up again, and Ludwig met his eyes, his own unsure.

"If you don't want to, then… obviously I won't abduct you or otherwise force you to come against your will," he said quietly, resting his hand against Ludwig's scratchy cheek. He didn't seem to notice the stubble, his thumb gently brushing just underneath Ludwig's eye. "But if any amount of begging or pleading or bribery or anything short of kidnapping will help persuade you, then I'm sorry, farmhand, but I'm willing to stoop to its depths."

Ludwig was stunned into silence, trying to wrap his mind around the offer. To leave… He'd known nothing but the mountain and the village for ten years. His time with Gilbert was a painful, hazy memory he'd kept buried for that entire time. There was so much that could go wrong. Gilbert could lose his inheritance, his title, his job. They could both be prosecuted now for misconduct, his family could turn their backs on him. The only thing they didn't have to worry about was Eldritch, and even that was no sure bet. And Ludwig was older now, nearly forty, and he could feel his age in his bones, the years of labor taking their toll on him far quicker than they would someone of Gilbert's station.

But still Gilbert touched him. This lord, an earl, who had spent a decade a stranger to him, had begged to be kissed. To be let back into the poor man's life.

And Ludwig still loved him.

He closed his eyes and leaned forward to press his forehead against Gilbert's, his arms wrapping loosely around his waist.

Gilbert tilted his head slightly to brush his nose against Ludwig's, his voice questioning, and timid when he spoke. Hardly that of a tyrannical lord.

"So… you'll come?" he asked softly.

Ludwig tightened his grip around Gilbert's waist, pulling back very slightly to brush his lips against the younger man's.

"Yes, my lord," he said quietly, a smile breaking out over his weathered face when Gilbert gasped. "For as long as you'll have me."

For a moment Gilbert remained perfectly still, not even breathing.

And then he was kissing Ludwig, so hard that they fell back against the floor, startling the dogs who broke out into concerned howls. Gilbert did his best to bat them away, still kissing Ludwig who was laughing against Gilbert's lips, their legs entwining, frenzied heartbeats resonating with sheer relief and joy.

Gilbert was the first to break the kiss to yell at the dogs to be quiet, but remained sprawled on top of Ludwig, a little smirk on his face.

"I'm not crushing you, am I? Old man."

Ludwig rolled his eyes and lightly hit the back of Gilbert's head.

"Nearly thirty and I'm sure I could still lift you with one hand," he grumbled, trying to look stern and failing horribly.

"Yes, yes, no doubt your atrophied yet superior lower class musculature could handle a menial task like that," Gilbert said dismissively, picking himself up. "Farmhand I am appalled that you haven't offered me anything to eat."

Ludwig picked himself up and dusted off his clothes, glancing at Gilbert.

"Your suit is ruined, by the way. I hope you know," he pointed out, heading over to the pantry to see if he had anything to fix.

"I can buy another one," Gilbert said, sitting at the table, glancing around the room. His eyes fell upon the bookshelf and he immediately sprang up again and made his way over. Ludwig kept an eye on the young lord as he rifled through his things. Gilbert plucked a book off the shelf, chuckling under his breath.

"Paradise Lost. I thought I'd misplaced it. Fitting for the title," he murmured, his fingers tracing the worn spine. "This is my copy, yes?"

"Of course it is," Ludwig said, abandoning the apples and potatoes he had stashed away in favor of moving to Gilbert's side. "I've read it more times than I could count."

Gilbert made a little face, but brought the book to the table. "Why on earth would this be the book you selected to bring with you?" he asked, flipping it open and skimming the margins. "At least pick something exciting. Dumas, Melville… there's plenty of others."

"It was the only book I hadn't returned to you yet. Kirkland put it in my things," Ludwig explained, taking a seat next to Gilbert. "Is he still working at the manor, by the way?"

"Of course. I think he'll die serving dinner at the age of a hundred and fifty. He wouldn't allow anything else," Gilbert murmured, obviously becoming absorbed in the book. He stopped on the dog eared page, his fingers tracing the discolored drops that had smeared the lead and ink.

"…You missed me too, didn't you," he said slowly, a note of wonder in his voice.

"I did. Very much," Ludwig said quietly, turning the page for Gilbert. He'd made his own notes over the years, very few of them to not compete with their original master's. But one mark stood out, and Gilbert's finger paused over it. His eyes widened slightly and he lifted his head, a look of beauty, tragic and lost and hopeful on his face.

Ludwig gave a very small nod and leaned down to press his lips softly against Gilbert's, the book falling closed as their fingers abandoned it. The warped and torn pages slowly kissed, hiding the cherished words from view.

So dear I love him, that with him all deaths
I could endure, without him live no life.

Endure the fall for him.

The light that led you out of hell.

-Fin-