Hey. I'm back. I deeply apologize for being gone for half a year because the guy who was supposed to be fixing my computer sucked. I wouldn't blame any reader for forgetting completely about this fanfic. I still want to finish this story at some point, however, I am not sure when that will be. I've written bits and pieces, but I also have other, more historically relevant fanfictions I would like to write. Plus, the pace of the story has picked up, and it's difficult to keep all the events in the right order when it's been so long. In fact, I would suggest rereading the past few chapters, because without them, this chapter seems a little out of place. Yes, Kiku is dead, and Ludwig was almost straight-up slaughtered. I changed my username, too.
The point of the matter is, I don't know how long updates are going to take. Hopefully they won't be months apart like the last two have been. I hope you guys understand, and don't be sad, because it is going to be finished. It might take a long while, but it will be finished, mark my words. As an apology, this is a good chapter for GerIta shippers, despite the story's recent events. Enjoy today's chapter, and I'm glad to be back.
xXxXx
"You what?"
Katyusha inwardly cringed as Natalya's eyes flooded with blue fire. She spun around, platinum strands of hair flying in all directions, causing her older sister's stomach to lunge. Her gloved hands balled into lethal fists, and her moon white skin was steadily fading into a deep shade of red.
"I p-promise I didn't mean to! He came out of nowhere, and he was moving so fast...I-I didn't have time to do anything else!"
Natalya slammed her hands down on the counter in front of her, making Katyusha jump. "So you shoot him? What the fuck is wrong with you?"
Katyusha brought her hands to her cheeks, covering her face in disbelief. "I had no choice…" Her eastern European accent thickened as she grew more upset, and tears pooled in her eyes.
The younger of the two sisters snarled with frustration. "Now we'll have the whole of Soldaten after us! What were you thinking? Shooting their leader and killing their second-in-command! Could you have fucked up worse?"
"I'm going to die," Katyusha whimpered, the tears finally spilling over her cheeks. "I...Ludwig will probably be out of the hospital in no time, and then I'll be in the ground."
"That's not the point that I'm trying to make!" Natalya ran a hand through her hair. "Ludwig and Alfred hate each other with all their hearts. Big brother is Alfred's sweetheart, is he not? We are Ivan's sisters. We are probably targets, yes, but that doesn't matter! The whole of the Hawks is at risk now! Don't you understand?"
Natalya fell silent, breathing heavily. Katyusha looked up and met her sister's eyes, ocean blue locking onto ice. "I...no." She looked to the side as she spoke, not wanting to witness her sister's reaction. "I don't understand."
Rather than launching into an explosion of insults and shouts, Natalya's voice dropped to a dangerous low tone. "Listen to me, Kat. Listen closely." She reached forward and grabbed Katyusha's wrist, feeling her tense up and wince as she clutched her with all the force that she possessed. "So Kiku Honda, second-in-command of Soldaten is dead. Ludwig never really killed anyone, did he? Elizabeta was the cause of Tony's death. I saw it because I was there. Alfred, however, has it engraved in his mind that it was Ludwig's fault. Now that their second-in-command is dead, they're going to pull exactly what Alfred did. Kiku served Ludwig for a long time, longer than Tony served Alfred. He'll be so overcome by anger that he'll harm whoever he comes across."
"So you're saying that you don't approve of what Alfred's been doing? That's kind of hypocritical."
"It doesn't matter! What does matter is how furious Ludwig is going to be towards us. All of us! The whole gang, not just you! We have to...do something. I don't know what, not yet, but I'll come up with something. For now, just...shit, I don't know. I don't know anything anymore." Natalya sighed deeply, suddenly looking very old. The dark circles under her eyes were a frightening contrast to her pale skin, and the black bow she wore in her frazzled hair seemed to wilt. "I'm going to sleep. Please, sister, don't stress over it. He won't come after you alone." Then she vanished into her room, her gait making no noise as she strolled away, and her slim fingers balled into fists.
Her heart in her throat, Katyusha stumbled over to the sofa and collapsed. She could not staunch the flow of tears leaking out of her eyes and was soon continuing her sobbing fest. We're going to die. He's going to find us, he's going to kill us.
Before she could think any more about it, Katyusha was fast asleep, the exhaustion from her emotional turmoil knocking her unconscious.
xXxXx
"I couldn't thank you more, miss," Feliciano said as he stepped out of the police car.
"It's no problem," the officer responded. "I really hope your friend is well, or, should I say, as well as he can be."
"Thank you." It was all he could say.
The officer, whose name he had discovered was Officer Welch, had at first offered to conduct an investigation. Feliciano denied for multiple reasons, but mainly because, well...Ludwig was a gang leader. Feliciano trusted that Ludwig was experienced enough to not let any words slip, but the Italian was almost always in danger of running his mouth too much.
"Where is he?"
Feliciano jolted as a familiar voice struck his ears. The words were spoken roughly and aggressively, but Feliciano automatically recognized the voice as Ludwig's. He knew that his leader was talking about him, since he was the last person he saw. When Ludwig had passed out, the police hadn't yet arrived, so the German most likely had no clue where he was.
"Sir, you're at the hospital, and we are going to bring you in to treat this wound. Mister Vargas is fine." The voices were definitely coming from the ambulance.
"I didn't ask how he was," Ludwig snarled, "or where I am. I asked where he was!"
He couldn't stand the trembling agony that plagued his leader's voice. "I'm right here, Ludwig," Feliciano said, poking his head into the ambulance. The leader's icy eyes instantly seemed to flash and his shoulders slouched in relief.
"Feliciano," he breathed, "you're okay." His voice was hoarse and strained, as if the very action of speaking involved a great effort.
The Italian placed a hand on the shoulder that wasn't injured and rested his head on the top of the leader's. "Of course. You told me to run. You saved my life."
Ludwig's eyes sparkled with the faintest glimmer of hope. "And Kiku?"
Feliciano's smile faltered, and the crack in his heart deepened. Before he could speak, however, one of the paramedics interrupted. "We really have to get moving, sir. In case you haven't noticed, there's a bullet in your shoulder." Feliciano nodded and moved away from Ludwig. The wounded man complied, but the look on his face betrayed the fact that he wasn't very happy about it.
The surgery did not end up taking very long. The wound, although it bled a lot, was not very deep, and the bullet was able to be removed without knocking Ludwig unconscious. The surgeon administered a local anesthetic for his shoulder, but other than that, no drastic measures were taken to remove the bullet and wrap the wound with a thick layer of bandages. The injury was covered by Ludwig's health insurance, and the two of them were out of the hospital in no more than three hours.
Surprisingly, Ludwig wanted to walk back to Feliciano's house. He yearned for nothing more than to stretch his legs after being prodded at for the past few hours, despite the fact that the streets were the reason he was there in the first place. Feliciano, on the other hand, was exhausted, and had no intention of trekking the three miles home. So, Ludwig flagged down a taxi and bundled the two of them inside of the car. The Italian nestled into Ludwig's jacket and buried his face into the fabric of his sleeve, relishing in the warmth that the taller man provided him with. Ludwig wrapped an arm around Feliciano's waist and leaned his cheek against the other's russet hair, allowing his eyes to droop closed as he gave the address to the taxi driver. Ludwig wouldn't allow himself to fall asleep, but he could tell by his companion's stillness and soft breathing that he had fallen unconscious to the gentle swaying of the vehicle.
As they approached the apartment, Ludwig bent down and nuzzled Feliciano's forehead with his nose. "Hey," he whispered, his breath ruffling his hair. "Wake up, Feli. We're here." The Italian's eyes fluttered open, and he grinned up at the man in front of him before yawning loudly.
Ludwig handed the taxi driver their fare and let Feliciano hold onto his hand as they stepped out of the car. The Italian had a much tighter grip than Ludwig ever could have imagined, but he curled his fingers around Feliciano's own as a gesture of reassurance. As the taxi cab sped away, Ludwig led the two of them to the back of the café, knowing that Feliciano wouldn't want to have the trouble of unlocking and locking the front of the restaurant. Before he stuck the key into the lock, he turned to his companion, who was almost asleep on his feet.
"Feli." He brought their joined hands to his chest in an attempt to get his attention. "Can you look at me for a second?" The smaller man obeyed, raising his gaze to meet Ludwig's stare. "Where is Kiku? Has he gone home?" As if he remembered something, his expression grew darker. "Is he...in the hospital?"
Feliciano was immediately wide awake. He opened his mouth, willing for something to come out, something that would break the news as gently as possible. He searched his thoughts for a solution, but the only thing that escaped his mouth was a harsh sob. Before he could stop himself, the tears began to flow, and he knew that there was no easy way to say this. It was real now. People died when they became gang members, and he had witnessed one firsthand. A life, gone, just like that.
"Feliciano, what is it?" Ludwig's voice rose to a more urgent tone. "Has something happened to him?"
The Italian began hyperventilating, panic rising in his chest with nowhere to escape. He swallowed deeply and attempted to slow his breathing while Ludwig placed a hand on his shoulder. "Ludwig...you were only hit in the shoulder." The German nodded in understanding. "Kiku wasn't so lucky, he...was hit right in the center of his chest. I think he died instantly, I don't know. Please don't hate me, there was nothing I could have done, I tried to wake him up but he was so cold, please, Ludwig, please—"
Ludwig silenced him with a finger to his lips. His eyes were full of nothing but pure grief, and he didn't seem to be angry. "I'm not angry at you, Feli," he whispered. "When I found him, after I heard the gunshot, he was still. I think you're right, I don't think he suffered before he died." Ludwig sighed fervently. "He will be a great loss to us. He was a decent man. No one ever questioned his decisions." Feliciano was in shock. That was a rather unemotional reaction to a death. Ludwig paused for a few moments, then added, "It's my fault, not yours."
"Ludwig, no…"
"Elizabeta is right. I should step down. Wait, no, I shouldn't. There wouldn't be anyone to take my place because my second-in-command is dead." He shook his head rapidly, as if he were trying to shake the horrors of the night's events from his mind. "It's all my fault."
Out of instinct more than anything else, Feliciano reached forward and grabbed ahold of Ludwig's arm, resting a hand on his cold cheek. "It's not. How many times do I have to tell you? You're doing the best you can to lead all of us. No one could have predicted what happened tonight. It was just bad luck."
"Maybe I should be stricter. Maybe I should install real punishments for those who break the gang's code. Maybe I should stop referring to Berwald and I as friends. Maybe I should—"
"Stop talking like that!" snapped Feliciano. "You're the most wonderful leader as you are. I would change nothing about you."
"I've ruined your life," Ludwig groaned. "We've just returned from the hospital after you had to see me shot and Kiku dead. Your brother was a part of Soldaten, and because of that, he has amnesia. How have I not ruined your life?"
Ludwig was unable to continue his tirade, because something soft had covered his mouth. Rather than responding with words, the German realized that Feliciano had gotten on his tippy-toes and had pressed his lips to the other man's, keeping his hands wrapped firmly around the leader's wrists. Ludwig was in complete shock; it was all so sudden, so unexplained, that his inexperienced mind had no clue how to handle the situation.
Feliciano, on the other hand, was completely and utterly horrified as to what he just had the gall to do. All motion of his lips had halted, and he regretted what he had done. It was reassuring that Ludwig hadn't pushed him away at all, but Feliciano knew it was only a matter of time. In order to save himself from the heartbreak that would come with Ludwig's rejection, Feliciano released the other's wrists and pulled away, staring shamefully down at the ground.
Ludwig was silent for a long moment, then asked, "What did you do that for?"
The Italian immediately burst into tears and attempted to justify his actions before Ludwig could do or say anything else. "I'm sorry," he blubbered, his words flowing out as one long sentence, "I didn't mean it, you were just so sad and I wanted to fix it, and it was the only thing I could think to do I'm so sorry please don't hate me I completely understand if you—"
Ludwig cut him off by placing a two warm hands on his cheeks. He wiped the tears away with his thumbs and smiled fondly as Feliciano sniffled softly. "That's not what I meant." Then, he leaned down and kissed the smaller man, his intent much clearer than it was the first time. One of his hands left the Italian's face to wrap around his slim waist, pulling Feliciano against himself as the other settled his arms against Ludwig's chest. It was a gentle, closed-mouth kiss, but it sent shivers down Feliciano's spine regardless. Sure, the back of a café probably wasn't the most romantic spot for a first kiss, but Feliciano could not have cared less at the moment.
When they broke apart, Ludwig brushed some of Feliciano's hair out of his forehead, and leaned forward to nuzzle his chilly nose with his own. Feliciano reached to snake his arms around Ludwig's neck, sighing contentedly.
"Let's go inside," Feliciano whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to the tip of the other man's nose. "We can sort out everything in the morning."
For the first time, Feliciano managed to climb into Ludwig's bed without getting scolded or having to ask. In fact, the German seemed to be glad to have someone beside him for the night. As Ludwig removed the shirt that he had worn for the patrol, which seemed like it had occurred centuries ago, Feliciano was finally allowed to see the bandages that were draped over Ludwig's chest. They wrapped tightly around the wound, which was located painfully between his collarbone and his shoulder.
"You sleep on this side tonight," suggested Feliciano, knowing that if he slept in the position he normally did, the wound would be bothering him all night. Ludwig nodded and settled down without complaint. The Italian removed his own shirt as well, and pulled the heavy blankets around himself before resting his head close to Ludwig's. The body heat of the two men soon warmed the space between them, and it made Feliciano's eyelids droop.
Regardless of what had happened during the evening, the current moment was oddly familiar, and the Italian was grateful to have that, at least.
