A/N : Well, it only took nine years. So. Some things : naturally, after so many years, this has undergone several revisions, and several endings. This is NOT the original ending. After Zachem Ya, I just couldn't bring myself to keep going with the original ending, so it underwent another rewrite. Perhaps one day, but unlikely, I may polish up the OG ending and post it as a bonus chapter, so if you ever get another update from this, that is what it would be, but again, unlikely.

That said : THANK YOU. Really, guys. You don't know. Without those of you who always commented and encouraged me, be it here or on other platforms, I probably wouldn't have slugged on through to finish. You don't know how much it helped over the years, having a bad day and then getting an email with a review for this, even though I hadn't updated in years. If you've hung in here with me all these years, thank you. I'd love to hear from you all, one last time, if just to say hi or so you can fuss at me for something or another. Let me know, as always, what you think, good or bad. After so long, I kinda feel like I know you weirdoes. Thanks guys! See ya in some other story or on tumblr.

Chapter 24

Acceleration Waltz

(Epilog)

It was actually remarkable how long the days could drag when you were looking at a door that you knew no one was going to come walking through.

The worst feeling.

That loneliness. Staring and staring and knowing there was no point. Looking over to empty space. Throwing an arm out in bed to hit cold sheets. Having coffee alone at the table in the morning, staring at the empty chair beyond.

Alfred had always been so impatient, and lying here inert on the couch, staring at the door endlessly, near catatonia, was maddening. Lost up in his head. Replaying his entire life over and over again in his mind. Funny, how many things you wished you could change, when everything was said and done. How differently one day could have gone, had one little detail been different. Pinpointing every possible outcome, had a hand been lifted or a footstep shifted.

Days were dragging, lurching along.

As bad as those horrible hours in that police station after.

Had never been such a quivering, incomprehensible wreck. Hadn't even known it was actually possible, for a man to become such an absolute mess.

Blurry and disjointed, as reality had collapsed around him and his shot mind had shut down, leaving him in a state of panic and irrationality and terror. Could never have hoped to explain those feelings. Swear he had just blacked out for a good majority of it, because the memories were so disjointed and mixed up. Didn't remember being led into the police station at all. One minute he was in the car, and the next he was sitting at a desk in a warm office, brightly lit and painful to his sore eyes. Couldn't focus, couldn't function.

Just clenched his hands atop the desk and pressed his forehead into them and cried.

Garbled words.

Had felt himself speaking, knew he was, but didn't know what was coming out of his mouth.

Helpless, completely and utterly helpless, the world spinning around him as he sat there in the dark of his mind, unable to see anything and know what was happening and where Ludwig was and if he was even...

Hours and hours, barely comprehending questions and struggling harder to answer them, bawling as he was, so caught up in that panic of being useless and lost.

Remembered asking, during a lull, "Where is he?"

Just wanted to know where Ludwig was, because Alfred was lost and seeing Ludwig was the only thing these days that reminded him of who and where he was. Needed Ludwig so much, more than he needed anyone, more than he had ever needed anything in his life. Needed Ludwig then to hold his fuckin' hand, and didn't know where he was.

Ludwig couldn't be missing, because Alfred was lost and would never have found his way without him.

Remembered the silence.

Remembered asking again, more urgently, "Where is he?"

Remembered an officer suddenly coming up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder, and saying, lowly, "It's gonna be alright, son. No one's gonna think less of your father. We all know what a hero he was."

Remembered the way his crying had stopped in a blink, caught in a stupor. The hitch of his breath, as the words sank in. The rise of contempt. Hatred. The surge and burn of wrath, breaking through the confusion and despair.

He remembered bolting upright, thrusting the officer's hand off of his shoulder, remembered barging by them and out of the office, slamming the door so hard that it banged into the wall. Remembered them calling to him. Remembered someone grabbing his arm, and remembered wrenching away. Remembered pushing open the door and stepping out into the warm air.

And then he just walked in circles, because he was confused and didn't know where he was.

Knew the city like the back of his hand, and was helplessly lost. Couldn't focus, couldn't think, couldn't figure out where the hell he was, what street he was on. Buildings all around him; knew them all by sight and name and yet they were entirely foreign. Didn't recognize them.

He just stalked back and forth in front of the police station, back and forth, over and over and over again, breathing through his mouth and unable to catch his breath, vision blurry and fists clenched. Back and forth. Lost. Didn't know where to go, what to do. What did he do? He stopped short, ran a hand up into his hair, looking around in a vain attempt to gather his bearings, and all he accomplished was bursting into tears again.

Stood there, dumb and alone and crying, until someone grabbed his shoulders and shook him.

Whispering in his ear.

Matthew.

Knew it was Matthew at some level, but just couldn't focus long enough to truly comprehend him. Kept on trying to walk, as Matthew struggled to hold him still.

When he finally managed to say something, all that came out again was, "Where is he?"

Matthew's hands were on his face then, trying to force his gaze, grabbing him so furiously that the rims of his glasses dug painfully into his face. Couldn't focus long enough to hold Matthew's gaze, trying to look around aimlessly yet.

Was terrified, so scared, and couldn't do anything about it.

Remembered Matthew's low whisper, deep and soothing against the night.

"It's gonna be alright, look at me, you gotta calm down—"

Couldn't.

Matthew tried hard again to meet his eyes, and this time he succeeded, but only very briefly, because Alfred suddenly burst into tears yet again, uttering, in a high-pitched whine, "Why won't anyone tell me what's goin' on?"

Matthew's hands held firm and steady, not releasing his face once, and he had replied, "Because you gotta calm down first, man! We've been talkin' to you for hours, but you don't pay attention!"

Had they? Didn't remember any of that.

He spaced again for a while there, and came to only long enough to see Francis and Matthew conversing quietly in front of him. He was sitting somewhere, in some house. Didn't know whose. Francis shoved a pill in his mouth shortly after, Alfred swallowed it, and he didn't remember anything after that for a good few hours.

The days had all blurred together.

And here he was now at home, lying on the couch and staring at the door.

So quiet. Silence was Alfred's worst enemy.

Staring at the door drove him to the brink of absolute insanity, all of that waiting, all of that thinking, so, even though he had been forbidden to, Alfred just got up one Sunday afternoon, and pushed right through that door. Francis had gone home to sleep; wasn't there to stop him. He left.

Walked out to the street. Hailed a taxi. Took it across the city.

Watching the cemetery rolling up through the window.

Passing it.

And when he stepped out in front of the hospital, he already felt a hell of a lot better, because even though no one was coming to walk through the door back home, he could just go walk through this door instead.

Ludwig couldn't come to him, so he went to Ludwig.

Yeah, those days had all blurred together, alright, passing in and out as Francis drugged him up that first night and took him afterwards to the hospital. The fuzzy, bleary memory of that waiting room. Waiting and waiting, Alfred calm for the first time, mellow and sedated on whatever the hell they'd given him. Matthew and Francis pacing relentlessly in the room, back and forth, back and forth. Gilbert slumped in a chair, even more drugged up than Alfred was, so knocked out he couldn't even hold his head upright even though he was awake. Antonio sitting there beside of him, foot tapping furiously and hands clenched in his hair. Felicia huddled up in another chair, twisted at the side and arms folded, face buried in them and sobbing so hard that her entire body shook with the effort, and sometimes she sobbed so hard that she coughed and made herself retch.

Waiting and waiting, Alfred looking around in that tranquil blur, colors dull and quite woozy, caught in that feeling that came right after waking up from being anesthetized. Carefree and elated, and yet so terrified deep down. An awful fear, lurking just under the surface.

Didn't know if those times were even real or not, or just something he had dreamt up in the darkness.

The doctor finally coming inside, long, long hours later.

Gilbert had long since succumbed completely to the sedative and was no longer conscious. Alfred was hanging in there, probably looking high as a kite and just as dumb, unable to even focus his eyes on the doctor for more than a few seconds.

Felicia leaning forward, brow crinkled and face devastated and hovering on the verge of bursting into fresh tears.

Francis had crept over to Alfred's side, hands ready. Just in case.

And then to hear those words.

"He's hanging in there. If he can keep it up a few more days—he might make it. Keep your hopes up. Him making it through this surgery is a damn good sign."

Felicia immediately burst into tears yet again, this time stumbling over to Matthew and hugging him, burying her face in his chest. Matthew and Francis shared a look, smiles shaky and nervous but there all the same. Antonio's great sigh, as he threw back his head and covered his face with his palms.

Alfred just looked around, so confused, and then closed his eyes and leaned back on the chair, falling immediately asleep as his subconscious suddenly told him it was safe to.

Couldn't do anything else but sleep and wait.

Damn, though!

Was that wait the longest of his life. Hadn't left the hospital at all after that, and neither had Gilbert, the two of them on either side of Ludwig's bed those next days, as soon as the nurses let them in. They sat down, and stayed there. Didn't leave once, not once, and relied upon the others for sustenance.

Ludwig woke up for the first time on the sixth day, and Gilbert had been bawling so hard that Alfred was certain he couldn't even see Ludwig at all, clenching his hand and sobbing away, whispering to Ludwig.

Alfred just hovered over, feeling mute and dull, caught up yet in that guilt, that sense of failure. Had let Ludwig down, had been unable to protect him when it really mattered, and felt more ashamed by that than he could say. Wondered what Gilbert thought of him, and was so glad then that they couldn't communicate.

Ludwig woke up, yeah, but wasn't ever really conscious, lucid, and was out again shortly after.

On the seventh day, Francis and Matthew had had enough of them, and had ordered Gilbert and Alfred to go home, and stay there. To rest. Why bother? What was the point? Was already half-dead. Why go home and just do nothing there when he was doing nothing here?

Francis had aggressively wrangled Alfred, who was just too damn tired and weak to really fight him off. Matthew had tried his hand at Gilbert, but failed at that, because Gilbert was a tank and when he didn't want to move, he wouldn't. Matthew and Felicia and Antonio all together was what it took, in the end, to drag Gilbert out of that hospital room, and quite literally.

But home they had been sent, and Alfred had testily obeyed.

...until now.

Had been long enough.

It had been fourteen days since that awful sound of a gun, and Matthew had called him every day, keeping him up to speed, as he and Francis and Felicia all took turns watching over Ludwig.

Couldn't wait anymore, just couldn't, and Francis had left his guard duty.

Matthew wasn't gonna be happy to see him here.

He pushed open the door as quietly as possible, and smiled the second he stepped inside. Ludwig was yet asleep, and curled there next to him in that tiny bed was Felicia, asleep as well, her head rested up on Ludwig's shoulder and his arm beneath her, his head turned in her direction. One wrong move and she would topple out, but she couldn't have cared less. Her shoes were down on the floor, and clearly she had no intention of moving anytime soon.

Unable to be parted, it seemed, even in dire straights. Ludwig had yet to truly come to, and yet seemed to sense Felicia there all the same, turned as he was towards her.

In the corner, Matthew sat in a chair, coffee in hand and looking utterly exhausted.

He glanced up, saw Alfred, and the lecture began.

Matthew immediately sighed, and chastised, in a whisper, "What are you doing here? You're supposed to be resting. You're so stubborn. Go back home. I've been calling you. Get outta here."

"I rested. I'm good now. How long did you really think I would stay away?"

Matthew watched him carefully as he came forward in the room, eyeing him up and down and observing his appearance. When apparently he was satisfied, Matthew merely sighed and said, "Well. Guess you actually obeyed for a little longer than I thought you would. For once."

Alfred sat on the other end of the room in the other chair, watching Ludwig and Felicia and smiling yet away.

Hated seeing all those IVs, yeah, but it was far too beautiful a sight to be anything other than happy.

Ludwig was alive—all Alfred cared about. Not out of the woods by any means, but every single day that passed without incident was one day closer to him pulling through. So much Ludwig had survived, as strong as he was, and Alfred was confident that this was just another hurdle Ludwig would cross.

Matthew met his eyes from across the bed, and muttered, "I thought it would be Gilbert that cracked first. You let him outdo you."

Alfred waved a hand in the air, accepting the loss of that battle quite happily.

Gilbert had Antonio to block the door and force him to rest; Alfred had been completely alone for the most part, with Francis frequently abandoning him. Not a fair fight at all.

Alfred studied sleeping Felicia, gathered his courage, and asked, so quietly, "Lovino?"

Matthew smiled, and Alfred felt a twinge of relief.

"Don't worry. He's already cleared. So many witnesses, you know, and I'm pretty sure he's got more than a few connections in the system."

Matthew looked very uneasy towards the end of that statement, no doubt envisioning his life being with the sister of a man that had clearly never been afraid to call himself a Mafioso, exaggerated or no, but she must have been worth it to him because here he was.

Alfred just looked back over at Ludwig, and fell silent.

Regretted that he couldn't be the one climbing into the bed. Probably for the best. Might have broken the damn thing, and certainly wouldn't fit on it as easily as Felicia did.

Matthew was staring at him, relentlessly, and Alfred knew that he wanted to ask how things were going in the more practical side of this entire awful ordeal. Curious, but knowing that asking was likely quite insensitive.

In that end, anyway, Alfred wasn't exactly being proactive. In fact, Francis had been doing everything, and Alfred had only been there dumbly at his side, slapping his illegible signature down every time he was prompted to.

The old man was dead. Hadn't made it to the hospital. The house was Alfred's now. Everything his father had had, now his, and he wasn't fully aware of that yet in some way. It was still hard for him to really comprehend this hectic stretch in time, and Francis just shoved him along and walked him where he needed to go.

The only time Alfred woke up enough to slide out of Francis' grasp and assert himself, to know what he wanted, was when Francis had tried to take him to the funeral.

Wouldn't go. Couldn't. Didn't have that in him, because he was still so caught up in that panic that was always lying in wait under the surface. Felt so many conflicting emotions, and wasn't sure what being at a funeral would do to him. Didn't know how he would handle it, and was happier not knowing.

The main thought in his mind : if he went to the funeral, felt overwhelmed and cried, if he had actually mourned the old man, had remembered the way he had once been before the war, if he had thought too much and actually mourned him, only to have Ludwig take a turn for the worse—

Couldn't fathom shedding a tear for his father and then suddenly waking up to a phone call from Matthew, hearing a wailing Felicia in the background. Wouldn't have pulled through that, and so he didn't go.

Francis went, because Francis had a high sense of duty and honor, and Alfred stayed behind, sitting at the kitchen table and staring at nothing, newspaper beneath him. The paper, of course, declared 'war hero to be laid to rest today', neatly glossing over everything else. As it had, his entire life.

Alfred couldn't say he was really functional these days, and that was probably why Matthew eventually looked away and didn't say a word. Probably didn't really need to, because he and Francis spoke every day. No doubt Francis had already told Matthew about Alfred's mechanical signing of papers he didn't even glance at, let alone read.

They sat there in silence, Matthew watching Felicia fondly, as Alfred watched Ludwig.

Eventually, Matthew did ask, softly, "Going back to work soon?"

"Tomorrow," Alfred responded. Hated it, was going to be an absolute wreck, was going to be unable to focus and concentrate. His reprieve had been only until the funeral, and now it was time to tread back into the world. The city, after all, didn't stand still just because Alfred did, and he had to work, even as Ludwig lie there ever asleep.

Just wanted Ludwig to wake up. Wouldn't feel safe until Ludwig finally regained consciousness. Caught in this misty grey plane of uncertainty. Oh, god, would this have been his existence had Ludwig not pulled through that first surgery? Is this what he would have been doomed to, for the rest of eternity? Lost in this fog?

Maybe, but it didn't matter; a few days after Alfred had gone back to work, Ludwig finally woke up and was lucid.

Later in the evening. A normal day then of sitting there, and then all of a sudden out of nowhere Ludwig had started shifting around. Alfred had cried again, pitifully, hanging over Ludwig so low that their foreheads almost bumped, clenching Ludwig's hand so tightly that it must have hurt.

Long minutes of Ludwig stirring and trying to come around, and at his other side, hanging down just as far was Felicia. But hell, she was cryin' too, so Alfred felt just a little less pathetic about it all.

Finally, after shifting and deep breathing, there was a sharp inhale, and Ludwig's eyes cracked open.

Alfred and Felicia leaned down at the same time and slammed heads, quite painfully, but neither of them would pull back, choosing instead to compromise and hover there above Ludwig, hair against hair and staring down likely very intently.

Matthew dutifully picked up the phone, no doubt calling Gilbert. Wouldn't need much to communicate this, he supposed, as Gilbert would immediately come running at the sound of Ludwig's name.

A crinkle of pain in Ludwig's brow, and it was another long while before his eyes opened into enough of a slit for his irises to be visible. Another minute after that before they opened just a bit more, and Ludwig could see. How well he could actually see was surely a topic up for debate, but regardless his gaze rested on Alfred, then Felicia, and he looked back and forth between them for a while before groaning and shutting his eyes altogether.

A long silence, then a very husky, very guttural whisper.

"That's creepy."

Alfred laughed, it came out as a sob, and Felicia hung her head and gave a shaky exhale.

That relief was overwhelming, flooding the room.

When Matthew hung up the phone and Alfred was kissing Ludwig's hand, a nurse came in. They all watched as she prodded and poked Ludwig, and Alfred was just so astounded to see Ludwig awake, speaking, conscious, alert, answering questions.

Had been so certain Ludwig was gone.

Gilbert came skidding into the room shortly after, panting and gasping for air, clearly having run as fast as he could from down below, Antonio hot on his heels. Gilbert's face when he saw Ludwig awake—Alfred didn't know any words that could have ever described that. That wide-eyed look of elation, brow so low and mouth open, as if Gilbert had seen something so wondrous that it was actually terrifying to him. That beautiful moment when their eyes met, and Ludwig smiled back.

It seemed that, at long last, Ludwig was out of the woods. Was awake, was lucid, was holding so steady, and the nurses smiled. The doctor seemed pleased.

Good news.

Matthew immediately said, the second Ludwig's survival had seemed guaranteed, "I'm goin' home. See ya soon."

Had been here almost endlessly, Matthew, and had to have been well beyond exhausted. Alfred clapped Matthew's shoulder, and said, "Go sleep, man. You look terrible. Get some rest. Thanks. Really."

Matthew lifted his chin in inclination, and was gone in a flash.

Deserved that rest, more than anyone, and now that Ludwig was awake Matthew was promptly replaced by other visitors, and sometimes entirely at random and completely unexpectedly.

Alfred went down for a coffee one Saturday morning, and when he came back into the room Alice was there, hanging over Ludwig and handing him a cup. Alfred bristled, Alice looked up, and Alfred was quick to ask, "What's that?"

Swear to god, if she had brewed some new damn potion—

They stared at him, oddly, and it was Ludwig who looked at the cup, back up, and said, "Coffee?"

"Oh. Yeah."

Thought Alice looked rather smug but Alfred shook it off, coming forward and grumbling, "I was getting you some."

"Now I have two," Ludwig merely replied, and with that he turned his eyes back to Alice and they chatted to each other quietly.

Alfred sat down, looked around a bit as he held his coffee between his knees, and realized how bizarre life could really be. All of these people, coming and going, people that never in any other circumstance would really have sought the other out. In what other possible scenario would Alice have ever visited Ludwig for a chit-chat? How was it that hospitals drew strangers together out of nowhere? Life was very odd.

Another day, as Alfred leaned down and murmured endlessly to Ludwig, he happened to glance up and see a newcomer there in the doorframe.

Lovino.

Felicia wasn't there, nor was Alice, and Ludwig followed Alfred's gaze. A short, awkward silence, as Alfred stood up straight, and when Lovino finally stepped inside, he said to Alfred, "You mind giving me a few minutes alone?"

Instantly, Alfred nodded, and walked to the door.

He stood there, expectantly, only to have Lovino roll his eyes and gripe, testily, "With him, asshole!"

Cranky as ever.

"Oh."

Feeling dumb, Alfred glanced over at Ludwig, back at Lovino, shrugged a shoulder, and walked out, closing the door behind him. He waited there in the hall, as Lovino and Ludwig spoke.

Felt like he was in there for a long time.

When Alfred's patience was waning, Lovino finally came out, and he stopped and stared at Alfred, shifting his weight. Looked so out of place and anxious, and when Lovino reached up to smooth back his hair, he said, in a voice intentionally so low that maybe Alfred just wouldn't hear, "Sorry about— I did what I had to, but I'm sorry."

Alfred heard, despite Lovino's efforts, and lifted his chin.

Didn't know what to say, so he just stuck his hand out to Lovino then. Lovino took it, shook it, and then drew back and punched Alfred's shoulder as he passed him.

Alfred called to him, in a tease, "Say— You ever marry Alice, I wanna be your best man. I wanna be there for that insanity. I'll accept that as your apology."

Lovino nearly tripped over his own feet, and Alfred was so certain that his face was red when he glared back over his shoulder. Stalked quickly off without a word, but it had been said, and he knew that Lovino would have no choice really but to comply. That pompous sense of violent honor wouldn't let him refuse.

Alfred went back inside, and Ludwig was smiling. He didn't ask, because he assumed Ludwig would just tell him, but Ludwig never did.

Whatever Lovino and Ludwig had said to each other in that room was a mystery to Alfred, and he never found out.

Francis came by later on that day, bringing a bag full of bread that Alfred could tell had come from that German shop. Damn. Felt like the world was upside down, thinking of Francis walking into a German shop of his own volition. To Francis, though, Alfred's smile must have been well worth any awkwardness, and maybe even Francis had smiled rather fondly himself at how happy Ludwig was to see something familiar after so long being unable to go to that shop.

So many people, at so many different hours. But Gilbert was there every single day, naturally, as Alfred was, and sometimes they just stared at each other above a sleeping Ludwig, unable to communicate and yet in perfect understanding of what the other was thinking.

It was strange, and kinda sad, but it occurred to Alfred that inside of that hospital seemed to be where the world was most harmonious. Where everyone got along, because there was no other choice. Inside the walls of the hospital, nationality and borders didn't matter anymore. No one cared about who had fought against whom in the last great war; there were just people.

The hospital was the worst place to be, and at the same time Alfred almost wished he could have just passed the rest of their lives within those sheltered walls.

But of course, they couldn't, and Ludwig perked up more and more every day.

Two months after he was admitted, Ludwig was discharged.

The greatest day of Alfred's life, and probably of Gilbert's too, because the jerk kept fighting with Alfred for the position right in front of the door so that he could be the one to grab Ludwig's arm and walk him to the cab. A long moment of struggling, but eventually Gilbert was victorious, if only because Alfred allowed him to be. Ah, hell. He had the rest of his life with Ludwig, and Gilbert had been snatched away from him far too soon. Let the bastard walk his little brother out of the hospital if he so desperately wanted to do so.

Alfred was quick to step in on the other side, though, and Ludwig just looked back and forth between them with a hint of exasperation.

Clearly, though, Ludwig was every bit as elated as they were, and he just couldn't stop smiling.

The cab ride was silent, as they all looked around and took in where they were and how they had gotten there and how astounding it was that they could all be sitting there together at the same time. From the front seat, Alfred looked frequently over his shoulder back at Ludwig, as Ludwig stared out of the window and peacefully watched the city pass with a soft smile.

Being alive...

Who knew Alfred would ever sit there and actually think about something like that?

Ludwig eyed every building that passed, as if seeing it for the first time. How did that feel, he wondered, to be on the very brink of the abyss and then to come back? How wonderful the world must have appeared to Ludwig in that moment. How astounding.

Gilbert stared at Ludwig the entire while, as Ludwig stared at the city.

No one spoke, and suddenly they were home.

Alfred looked around as soon as they stepped out of the cab, and was disappointed and yet not surprised. No one there. Had hoped, in some stupid way, that maybe the Germans would have come out to greet Ludwig, to check on him, to welcome him back and wish him well as neighbors should, but no one ever did.

Alfred remembered that outside of the hospital, life had gone on as normal, and nothing had changed. They still weren't welcome here, they weren't part of this community, and it was then, at last, that Alfred knew it was finally time to leave it behind.

Hopefully sooner rather than later.

Gilbert and Alfred walked Ludwig inside, and Alfred looked over his shoulder at the last second, sending the neighborhood a very reproachful sweep of his eyes. That resentment gnawed at him. Bitterness.

It would be good riddance.

Ludwig didn't look back; he had accepted it, no doubt, as Ludwig quietly and bravely accepted everything, but Alfred wasn't so easily placated.

Gilbert sat Ludwig down on the couch, settled in next to him, and they snuggled there together for long hours, Gilbert's rough voice murmuring away to Ludwig endlessly as Ludwig drifted into sleep there against him.

Alfred patiently waited his turn.

Antonio came by, shortly after, and when Ludwig awoke hours later and was alert, Antonio whisked Gilbert away, no doubt understanding how Alfred felt and knowing he wanted privacy.

When they were finally alone back home, the first thing Ludwig said, as he curled up there on the couch and stared up at Alfred, was, "I like this. I expect you to treat me like this from now on."

Alfred snorted and knelt down, hand resting in Ludwig's hair, and he was quick to gripe, "I thought I was already treating you like a princess all this time. Sorry. I'll try harder."

"Please don't," Ludwig immediately amended, smiling away, and Alfred felt peaceful then, above all else.

Felt as if everything just started all over from here.

Ludwig walking back through the door that day felt more like starting a brand new life. All of the old obstacles had gone. The past had come full circle. Everything was where it should be, how it should be. The only thing to do was carry on and start all over.

Forward.

The journey with Ludwig had been a staircase, alright, and then that long hallway, and now, at last, Alfred was fairly certain that he had finally reached that final door that had loomed so long there at the end.

A long stare, and then Alfred finally gathered up the courage to ask, carefully, "If I said that I wanted to move outside of the city, would you go with me?"

Ludwig's brow scrunched, as if he were in contemplation, and before Ludwig could even open his mouth Alfred was already going into damage control.

"Or if that's too much, we can move into my old house. It's nice. It is. It has a backyard. You'd like it. We can fix it up. It's mine, now, so... It could be ours, I mean. Whatever you want."

A hand reached out, and rested on the side of his face. As he always did, Alfred slumped into it and closed his eyes.

Ludwig's voice was hardly audible, one of those rumbling whispers.

"I'll follow you, wherever you go."

Wanted to believe that, more than anything, but was afraid to press too far, because Alfred knew that Ludwig really would have done whatever Alfred said, but wasn't so sure that he could really be happy if he were taken away from Felicia and Gilbert.

Alfred would have left the state entirely, if he were honest. Wanted to go farther south, wanted to go to Virginia maybe, but that would have been too far away. Alfred very much doubted that Felicia would have left New York City for some quiet mountain town in Virginia, although Gilbert certainly would have. Alfred didn't know where he sat in Ludwig's line of importance. Knew he was under Gilbert by a hair, but wondered about Felicia. She was the only reason Alfred didn't pick up the phone and start calling realtors.

Alfred just put his hand atop Ludwig's, and knelt there until Ludwig fell asleep.

So, for now, Alfred stayed close to home, and over the next month he used Francis to help him sell his childhood home and find a new one just outside of the city, towards White Plains.

Grass and trees. A forest.

That was most important to Alfred, during his endless search, just that there be a forest behind them. Ludwig had grown up on the doorstep of a forest, and Alfred wanted more than anything to give that back to him.

He found what he sought, with Francis' eager help, and could only make the best use of the time he had left in the city.

He bought a car, an old junker but functional, from his boss, and spent an hour every day after work teaching himself to drive, under his boss' watchful eye. A month later, he had gotten a license, although, his boss said, it 'might have been a little too soon.' Ah—hadn't crashed into anything yet, and he got better every day. Manhattan at rush hour was the best training ground on Earth for conducting a vehicle.

Ludwig would be in very safe hands by the time the city was done with Alfred.

The day after he obtained his license, Alfred sat Ludwig down, grabbed his hands, and told him of what he had done. Hadn't exactly been forthcoming with Ludwig about what he had been up to lately, to spare him any undue anxiety and stress. Maybe Alfred just hadn't told him because he was still so frightened that when it came down to the wire, Ludwig wouldn't choose him.

Alfred's grip on Ludwig's hands was desperate, and likely a bit painful, but Ludwig sat very patiently nonetheless, and didn't say a word in the long minutes Alfred incoherently rambled to him.

At some point, Alfred must have been so nervous that he was yammering too quickly and disjointedly for Ludwig to understand him, because Ludwig tilted his head a bit and then abruptly pressed forward to kiss Alfred.

When he pulled back, Ludwig merely murmured, "I didn't understand a word you said, but I'm sure I'll be happy to go along with it, anyway."

Alfred laughed, weakly, and snatched Ludwig up into an embrace, pulling quickly back when he winced a bit, and Alfred swore to him then, "If it's too much, we'll come back. Anything you want."

Ludwig studied him, quietly, and whispered, "I liked it better when you didn't worry so much about everything and just did what you wanted."

A pang.

"Yeah," he replied, after a silence. "Me too."

That was why, in the end, they needed to get out of here.

Two more months passed, and then, with a flourish of the final rounds of paperwork, it was time to go.

And it was terrifying.

Packing.

That was the strangest part, really, was the packing. Dreamy, in a way, so exciting and yet somehow saddening. That feeling of leaving behind something familiar to find something new. Hope, and fear. Could see Ludwig's hands shaking as he packed, and understood. It was frightening, however exhilarating it was. Leaving comfort to set out into the unknown. Ludwig had lived here for years, this was the only home he knew on this side of the ocean, and to leave it at last must have been terrifying in a way, even though he was smiling.

To Alfred, it was rather surreal. In some way, he felt for the first time in that moment that he was an adult, a man at last, taking his own first steps and leading his own life, relying upon no one but himself and his own strengths. His father was gone; no one to fall back on. The last bit of childhood shattered, the second he shut his suitcase. His new life, and all of it his own doing.

Pride, overtaking fear.

But then came the goodbyes.

Alfred threw the suitcases into the trunk, and looked up to see Ludwig completely slumped, his face held in Felicia's hands, and he was crying. Didn't take her too long of that to start crying, too, and Alfred watched sadly as Ludwig pressed his face into her shoulder and she clung to him tightly. They stood there like that for a long time, and no one moved to interrupt them.

Gilbert and Antonio were quiet, muted, but Gilbert held himself together quite well, and Alfred knew that that was only because Gilbert was very likely already planning ways to stalk them and suddenly become their next door neighbor. Gilbert wouldn't let Ludwig too far out of his grasp, wouldn't let him stray outside of arm's reach.

Gilbert hugged Ludwig for nearly as long as Felicia did, kissing his cheek over and over again until it was red, and then, on the very brink, Gilbert stretched out his hand to Alfred. Alfred took it, nearly wincing at Gilbert's death-grip, and whatever the hell Gilbert muttered to him then Alfred could only assume was a buncha threats.

Alfred lifted his chin, and griped back, "Yeah, yeah, glad to be part of the family, you bastard."

Gilbert clapped his shoulder, and that was good enough.

Time to go.

At last, leaving this place behind, this community that had cast them out

As Alfred pulled out, Gilbert walked down the sidewalk along the car, for as long as he could, jogging a bit towards the end.

It was hard, to let go of the people they loved, even if only a little. They weren't even that far away at all, less than an hour's drive, and yet somehow it felt as if they had crossed the very solar system itself.

The way Ludwig's eyes followed Gilbert until he was no longer in sight.

Driving with Ludwig was just another surreal experience, something he had dreamt of but never really envisioned. Bizarre. Ludwig watched the city fly by, watched it grow smaller and smaller, watched the concrete steadily giving way to grass, and the smile on his face was wondrous.

Trees.

It wasn't that long of a drive at all, but it felt like eternity, as they saw everything together for the first time and excitedly pointed out everything and nothing in sight to each other like kids.

Alfred had been here several times, but seeing it at last with Ludwig beside of him made it feel brand new.

When they were about to round the corner onto the street that held what was now their home, Alfred turned to Ludwig and said, sternly, "Close your eyes! I want it to be a surprise."

Ludwig scoffed, but raised a palm to put it over his eyes with a beleaguered sigh all the same, because Ludwig knew well by now that Alfred was eccentric.

A few more minutes, and then there it was, sitting there so innocently and yet so resoundingly profound. Their home. Theirs. Something they were starting and creating together.

Alfred pulled in to the drive, cut the ignition, and Ludwig was squirming.

Ludwig asked, impatiently, "Can I look?"

"Not yet!"

He went to Ludwig's door, took his hand, and dragged him to the end of the drive, where the view was the best. Ludwig was struggling so hard to keep a blank face, but was failing miserably and his smile was constant.

Alfred pushed and prodded Ludwig into the position he wanted, stood behind him, placed his hands on Ludwig's shoulders, and took a deep breath.

It was by no means fancy. Was nothing extraordinary.

But it was theirs.

Two levels, but very small, very compact. A tiny little house, with one bedroom. Quite old, and the paint had started peeling off. A little porch out front, and a larger porch in the back. At the back and on the right, there was a forest, circling around. Tall trees, a decent backyard. The houses were far apart, and there were only four others in sight. Quiet and calm here. Isolated. The city was so close, and yet couldn't have seemed farther away.

When Alfred had felt Ludwig had been appropriately tormented, he leaned in, pressed his lips against Ludwig's ear, and finally said, "Alright! Take a look."

Ludwig inhaled, steadied himself, and opened his eyes.

A short, strangled laugh.

Alfred realized that he wasn't nervous at all, somehow, wasn't afraid of Ludwig's reaction. Knew Ludwig too well, had too much faith in Ludwig's good-nature. Knew that Ludwig wasn't going to judge Alfred's choice, wasn't going to berate him for choosing an old house with peeling paint.

And of course, he was right.

Ludwig placed his hands on his hips, took a look around, smiling away, and said, "All that secrecy! You had me worried we were camping. It's perfect! Is this really ours?"

Ours.

Loved the sound of that, and Alfred pushed Ludwig forward towards the door, happily saying, "Yup! All ours. Needs a little fixing up, but nothing we can't handle."

To say the least; felt as if together they could have taken on anything the world threw at them.

As they crossed inside, Ludwig did lower his voice and utter, in a tease, "Good to know your painting skills will be useful."

Alfred snorted, and it was a strange but satisfying day, giving Ludwig a little tour and then hauling the suitcases out and trying to get settled into a new place. So many things left behind, and Alfred would be making many a good trip into the city to gather up the rest of their belongings, but for tonight the basics were plenty.

Ludwig immediately ran out the back door and into the yard, and Alfred watched him from the window as he stared off into the forest. He stood there for a long time, as if entranced. That was Alfred's favorite part of the day, as Ludwig once more had a forest to walk along. A bit of peace. Comfort.

They put sheets on the bed, dusted off the couch, Ludwig cleaned the windows as Alfred swept, and come nightfall they were exhausted and yet smiling.

Sleeping was very easy that night, tired as they were.

The very next morning, there was a knock on the door, and Alfred hadn't even combed his hair and had barely finished pulling on his shirt when he tumbled down the stairs to open it, messy Ludwig on his heels.

Shock.

Felicia stood there on the other side of the door, and Ludwig actually made a very strange noise that Alfred concluded was Ludwig's very masculine version of a squeal.

Felicia looked them over, and said, at their shocked looks, "What? I told you I'd come by. Ludovico! I don't care if you moved to the moon! I'll still come visit you every week."

Ludwig's breathtaking smile.

Alfred looked around dumbly, wondering how in god's name she had even gotten here to begin with, but it didn't matter because she leapt on Ludwig like a spider, legs tangling around Ludwig's waist, and Ludwig carted her off and Alfred was quick to forget everything else to berate the both of them for being so physical. Felicia looked guilty, but Ludwig waved him off, seemingly having already forgotten about the huge scar on his abdomen.

The next day, it was Gilbert banging on the door, Antonio there beside of him.

The day after that, Francis.

After that, Matthew and Felicia, and along with them was Alice. Way back, out in a car that Alfred assumed was Alice's father's, sat Lovino, arms crossed crankily and refusing to budge. When everyone was inside, Alfred watched Ludwig slink out, go up to the car, and stand there with hands on hips until Lovino begrudgingly rolled down the window. Ludwig leaned down, crossed his arms atop the windowsill, and stood out there for a long time. Felicia checked on them from time to time through the kitchen window, and her smile was bright.

That first week was very hectic, with constant visitors and constant working, fixing things up and decorating, putting everything where they wanted it. A bit slower than it should have been, perhaps, with Alfred struggling single-handedly to do most of the work; Ludwig would be doing no heavy lifting for a long, long time. Still, Alfred had tried to work fast, his week of vacation coming quickly to an end and work looming once more come Monday. How odd it would be, to drive into the city to go to work! To drop Ludwig off and then go to the garage. Felt oddly excited about it.

They somehow seemed to finish up Saturday evening, when the very last of the boxes had been set aside.

Exhausting, but so rewarding.

When it was all done, Alfred stood in the middle of the living room, hands on his hips and puffed out very proudly, observing their work and feeling so satisfied, so vindicated in a way. Felt invincible in that moment, his life going at last as he wanted it to, at his own behest, everything moving in the direction he told it to.

Ludwig stood there, and just stared at him, calmly. Still and pensive.

Pride melted down into tranquility. Happiness.

A long, subdued stare between them, and then Ludwig passed silently by him and went out onto the porch.

Alfred, as always, followed where Ludwig led.

The sun had long since set and night had swept over. The fall air was cool. They had grass and trees now, and the scent of them was remarkable. Had gotten so used to the smells of the city that this odd barely-there musk was fascinating. The leaves were changing colors.

Having a porch was Alfred's favorite part of this house, what with the trees beyond. He liked to come outside and sit down and have something to look at, although to some people it would have been looking at nothing. He had come out the other morning, coffee in hand and feeling calm, and had seen a deer down by the trees.

Simple things like that. Funny how good they felt.

Ludwig sat out here every night, and Alfred always joined, even when Ludwig didn't talk at all and just stared off into the distance.

So they sat together now, chairs side by side as the wind blew, and Alfred took turns between observing the forest and observing Ludwig. Couldn't figure out which one was making him feel so blissful, nor which one was nicer to look at.

"So," Ludwig suddenly whispered, out of nowhere, "What now? Where do we go from here?"

The moon hung on high. Stars that Alfred had never been able to see before visible in the sky. Trees swaying in the wind. The strange but wonderful scent of the outdoors.

Alfred was silent for a moment, hands clasped between his knees and brow low in thought, and he said, simply, "Wherever you want."

Ludwig stared ever at the forest, mesmerized as he was.

A deep, guttural noise of contentment.

"And you'll stay with me?"

Alfred reached out, and clapped his hand down atop Ludwig's.

"Always."

"Wherever I go?"

Alfred snorted, and knew he was being had. All the same, he affirmed, "Anywhere."

"Well then," Ludwig rumbled, after a moment, turning lidded eyes to Alfred and looking him up and down. "Let's go to bed."

"Sounds great."

It was well overdue to break this house in, so to speak. They had been so busy, and too tired to even look at each other.

Ludwig stood up, brushed his fingers on the top of Alfred's head, and walked inside. Bristling and very eager, Alfred stood up, and meant to follow.

The wind blew fiercely, then, and Alfred glanced back.

Why he fell still, he didn't know. Just that feeling that came over him as watched the trees bending in the wind. The soothing sight of the stars. Clouds, rolling in and turning white when they crossed the moon. Alfred hung in the doorframe, and looked over his shoulder to the swaying forest. Tranquility. Everything was said and done, finished, and he felt the finality rising up then, at the foot of this unknown forest.

He had reached journey's end.

The staircase had been conquered. The hall traversed. 'Bout time he finally faced that final door. So long seeking it, and at last it stood still there for him.

Wherever they went from here, whatever they did, however they carried on, they would do so together. Their relationship was entirely symbiotic. Couldn't be one without the other. They had become the poles, and simply opposite ends of a single thread. Always, they would be together.

After all, Ludwig was Alfred's glasses.

He took the doorknob in his hand, and pushed it open.

FIN