A/N : Legend has it if you say my name in the mirror three times, somebody might not get shot.
Chapter 21
The Long Black Veil
The others left them alone a lot lately.
Berwald was grateful.
Timo and Lukas, rather, because somehow Berwald hadn't even seen Magnus' face yet, since then. Magnus was either too ashamed or too uncomfortable to see Berwald, and the feeling was very mutual. Magnus had dropped off of the face of the Earth, and Berwald wished soon that he could do the same, because the atmosphere those days was unbearable.
The entire situation was humiliating, it really was, absolutely shameful and embarrassing, and the glances between all of them were incredibly awkward. Lukas, particularly, seemed very annoyed to be in a room with any single one of them.
They were lectured by Lukas quite frequently, if not indirectly. Little jabs here and there, little chides and snide remarks. In the mornings, sometimes, over breakfast, Lukas would lift his coffee up and say, in a condescending drawl, 'Are we going to work today or is school in?'
Like they were children.
Berwald couldn't blame him, because he admittedly felt more than a little childish, and surely Ludwig felt the worst of them all. Ludwig spent most of his time as hidden away as Magnus, apparently too ashamed to show his face and huddled up under his blankets of security.
Well. They were grown men, all of 'em, but maybe that only made them more susceptible to acting like children. They were only men in love, and men in love had an historical predisposition to cause havoc. Lukas, fan of mythology that he was, should have known that better than the rest.
Emotions were too powerful to ignore for them, even in the middle of a war. Love seemed so much stronger than all else, more potent, and it was hard to keep a clear head.
It was embarrassing to stand there as a thirty-year old man and say that he had gotten himself twisted into some kind of horrible love square in the middle of a world war and while behind enemy lines, but Berwald had to say it all the same. Could only imagine how Ludwig felt, having to stand there as a soldier and say that he had run away and gotten himself shot because the man he was in love with had been lookin' at someone else.
They had always been pretty pathetic.
Eventually, Lukas might have finally started to accept that, or maybe Lukas just felt bad that Ludwig was hiding away in mortification, because he eventually shut his mouth and stopped bitching at them all.
A long, tense period that they had to pass in as they struggled to regain their footing and figure out where to go.
With Ludwig out of commission for who knew how long, Timo's one true partner was gone, and he wasn't too happy about it. Berwald hoped that maybe it would get Timo to stay still for a while, to have a breather, but he had always known that that was wishful thinking. Timo loved Ludwig, did he ever, but Timo loved Finland above all else, always had, and that was no secret to any of them.
Berwald didn't go out anymore, not with Ludwig injured.
Timo taking official control of the group had its pros and cons. It had been a formality, yeah, but it was still a bit tense for them, to now be under the command of a man who was no longer neutral. Berwald had gone back and forth, and calling him 'leader' had been just enough to keep the line firmly drawn. Putting passionate and aggressive Timo in charge could get a little rough, when there was absolutely no doubt where Timo's loyalties lied and Lukas and Magnus could no longer rely on Berwald to hold him in check. But they had agreed, all of them, so they only lied in their own beds.
Ah, hell—as if Berwald had ever been able to keep Timo in check, anyway. Timo did whatever the hell he wanted, and always had. If Lukas and Magnus ever had too much of a problem with that, then they would just leave, and that was all there was to it. They were straddling the border between Soviet Finland and free Finland; it wouldn't have been a very great effort for Magnus and Lukas to just go to the other side and stay there. They went there every time they set out on their little missions. Berwald honestly had it in his head that one day they would just go out and not come back.
Ludwig, in the meanwhile, lied in bed and recuperated, Berwald always hidden under the blankets with him. Stupid, yeah, hidden away under their little blanket fort and staring at each other, but kinda nice, in a childish way. All the grief and pain they had survived; they deserved this little break from reality.
Berwald had never once really been a child, and had never felt like one until he had met Ludwig.
So they hunkered down for the long haul, whispering to each other, and sometimes Timo would come in, go to the foot of the bed, lift the blanket up and peer at them from beneath their feet, smile wide and more of a leer.
He usually left quickly enough when Berwald tried to kick his face.
Other times Lukas came in, just to be nosy, as he had switched bedrooms with Berwald to make it easier for everyone.
So far, Magnus was radio silence.
When Ludwig was stronger, less wan, he started staying out in the kitchen more, in the living room, trying to catch fresher air, and everyone seemed pretty happy to have him amongst the living again.
One morning, Timo said to him, offhandedly, "We're gonna have to feed you really well to get you healed up. I need you back out with me as soon as possible. Sure do miss that shot of yours."
Berwald shifted a bit, and remembered that he still needed to procure Ludwig a new rifle.
Ludwig lowered his eyes, scoffed, and grumbled, "I'd go with you again, I would, but— Your guys are never gonna trust me again. They won't work with me anymore."
Timo barked a laugh, reached out and clapped Ludwig hard on the back, and gasped a bit when Ludwig stifled a cry.
"Sorry! Ah! I forget. What I was gonna say was, hell yeah they'll work with you. They think you're a fuckin' crazy son of a bitch. They think you're the stupidest brave man there is. They love it. They loved you from the moment you were shootin' at 'em. The stupider you are the more they love you. So don't worry about them. I think it makes us more confident. We get to look over at you and realize we're not so bad off. We know it could always be worse."
Ludwig glared at Timo, and grumbled, "Thanks, asshole."
"No problem, ya bastard."
Timo pressed down, kissed the top of Ludwig hair, ruffled it, and was off for the day, leaving Ludwig to mutter under his breath. Berwald could see, though, how relieved he actually was, realizing maybe he hadn't been cast out after all.
Maybe, but Ludwig wasn't going anywhere anytime soon, and Berwald was more than happy to pick him up like a damsel and cart him back off to bed when he felt that Ludwig had been out and about for too long. Ludwig just rolled his eyes, but let him do as he pleased. The second the door shut behind them, though, Ludwig changed tune very quickly and wrapped arms around Berwald's neck, snuggling up against his chest and quite content to be held there like a doll. Berwald was happy to oblige, and usually walked around in circles for a while.
Stupid things were the best, sometimes.
Those days were fascinating, in a way, more so because of the horrible blur of the weeks before. After that sensation of drowning, of nothingness, everything almost seemed too bright for his eyes. Like finding Ludwig for the first time, all over again. Meeting that man, for the third time. Well, the third time was the charm, or so they said.
Starting over yet again, but this time in the way he wanted it to be.
One day, huddled up under their blankets, Berwald stared at Ludwig very intently, and said, stiffly, "When it's all over, when it's done, yer comin' home with me."
The first time he'd ever found his words.
Didn't bother asking, 'Will you come home with me?'
Felt better to try and word it as a command, because he was terrified that asking Ludwig would give him the option to say 'no', and making an order of it left Berwald with a little more control. Unless, anyway, Ludwig didn't feel like obeying that command and punched him in the face for being presumptuous.
Didn't know where he got that nerve from. Ludwig layin' there in red snow had jolted him. Didn't seem like it was even worth it anymore, to keep choking. After all that.
Ludwig stared back at him, pale and weary and still looking a bit frail, but that damn smile was as strong as ever when he lifted his brow and said, smoothly, "Is that so? Going with you, am I? Almost sounds like you're not giving me a choice."
Nope.
Berwald was quick to hunker down on his stance.
"Yer comin' with me," he repeated, a bit more forcefully, and Ludwig squirmed forward a bit, wincing a little at the pain in his chest but smiling yet away. That smile was more like a leer, though, and Ludwig's brow was so high that it had almost disappeared under his bangs.
"What if I say no?"
That almost obnoxious smile on Ludwig's face had long since made it clear to Berwald that Ludwig had no intention of not going home with him, but he was happy to play along, just because he was grateful he still had the chance to.
Ludwig was alive.
So he replied, very seriously, "I'll tie ya up and throw ya in the car and take ya anyway. Again."
Ludwig just gawked at him, breathlessly, and said, again, "Is that so?"
Berwald nodded, and Ludwig had somehow managed to wriggle himself right into Berwald's arms without Berwald really being aware of it. He clung to him, carefully, and felt satisfied.
A palm on his face, a nose against his, and Ludwig murmured, in that rumble, "I'll go home with you. Wherever it is."
Elation.
They didn't speak after that, just staring at each other and silently enjoying this comforting moment in time.
Wanted this war to end, so that he could finally have something he had always wanted. Hadn't had a real home in as long as he could remember, and had never had someone that wanted to share it with him.
Weeks passed.
Magnus lurked very heavily those days, desperate as he was to be with his best friend but too scared of Berwald to find the courage to creep in. Berwald saw him hanging back in shadows, creeping in corners, appearing around doors, and it was only because he looked so pitiful and Berwald actually felt bad for him, go figure, that he relented and gave Ludwig a little room to breathe.
Just a little.
He vanished from Ludwig's side for an hour or two a day, to walk around outside, letting Magnus have his fun. Never wasted it, clearly, because whenever Berwald came back in Magnus was always stuck on Ludwig's side in whatever corner of the house they had chosen to haunt.
A week or two of that, and things seemed to settle a little, and Magnus started showing his face consistently, happily, as he always had before.
So slowly, things returned to normal amongst them.
Ludwig's wound was healing rather nicely, his strength was returning, and Timo's confidence was ever rising. No brawls so far under his command, no blow outs, no catastrophes.
Yet.
With Ludwig looking better every day, Berwald finally started going out again, because he was beginning to feel pretty useless, just sitting there in the house all day and burning holes through Ludwig with his relentless staring.
Timo seemed happy enough to have Berwald back, because it was with Timo that Berwald mostly went out with those days. Seemed fair, in a way, to take Ludwig's place. Lukas and Magnus were always together, so Berwald felt it was his job in Ludwig's absence to keep an eye on Timo. Timo no doubt was glad to have another good sniper with him.
Berwald did remember, at last, to get Ludwig a rifle. A Soviet one. Ludwig could have easily usurped Magnus' Soviet rifle, since he never used the damn thing, but he supposed it was better to have an extra. A pretty new rifle, a very good model, and Berwald took a good long while to wash it free of blood before he gave it to Ludwig. The polite thing to do, he gathered.
Finding a new scope, though...
A little more expensive than just murdering a Red and takin' his gear.
Kinda wished he hadn't taken his rage out on his favorite gun, but, hell, was a little late for all that, so he bit the bullet, shelled out the money, and bought a new scope from Timo's guys.
Worth the price when he presented his peace offering to Ludwig, a bit dramatically, because Ludwig's smile was bright and pretty and Ludwig immediately dragged him into the bedroom to burrow under the blankets with him and cuddle.
Couldn't do much else, really, these days.
That night, though, Ludwig got a little ambitious perhaps, because Berwald was woken up by Ludwig running hands under his shirt. He tried to put a stop to that (really, he did!) by chiding Ludwig gently about his wound, not strong enough, was still in pain, etc., but Ludwig was relentless, and Berwald, despite his best, honest efforts (really!) eventually folded and gave Ludwig what he wanted.
Carefully and with a great deal of paranoia, stopping every two minutes to ask, breathlessly, "You okay?"
Ludwig just sighed, and just griped back, "It'll take a little more than this to kill me. No offense."
"None taken," Berwald dumbly grumbled back, and couldn't exactly try to prove Ludwig wrong at the moment.
Unfortunately.
...eh, he would just owe Ludwig a good bit of hell when he was finally back up to speed.
For the most part, though, over those next few days, the wound had more or less scarred over. The bandages weren't tinted with blood anymore. A huge scar, steadily forming.
Ludwig had a hell of a story to tell, that was for sure.
The weather was becoming a bit more mild, not as bitterly cold, and one day Berwald found himself on the bed, sprawled out sideways across Ludwig's lap, feet hanging over the edge and face resting atop the bed as Ludwig's ran fingers down his back. Was in no mood to do anything, nothing at all, one of those lethargic days where he didn't even feel like leaving bed. Having Ludwig coddle him a little was a good incentive to stay put, and he was quite agitated when there was a rap on the door and it creaked open.
Before Berwald could reposition himself, he had already been caught.
Timo leaned in the doorframe, an awful, crooked leer on his face, brow high and arms crossed, and when he met Berwald's eyes, he just said, slyly, "Well, I was going to see if you wanted to come out today, but I can see that you're otherwise occupied." A smug look. "Say, better be careful. He's already half-dead. Don't wanna get him too excited and finish him off for good. That would be a, ah, hard cause of death to explain to the coroner."
Good thing Timo spoke in Swedish that time, because Ludwig mighta punched him if he hadn't.
Berwald, face red, wished he could have melted into the bed and disappeared from Timo's smarmy sight. Coulda died.
Ludwig saw his look, and had sent Timo a glance of exasperation, but Timo diffused him easily with a quick, "How ya feelin' Ludwig? Magnus' blood isn't turning you into a jerk, is it?"
Ludwig smiled, now disinterested in Berwald's miserable squirming, and retorted, "Nah. Actually, I realize now that I'm grateful I didn't get yours."
Timo bantered with Ludwig, but the entire while his eyes rested on Berwald, and it was quite obvious that he was absolutely enthralled in his efforts to make Berwald die there on the spot. Seeing if he could make someone actually die of embarrassment. Berwald couldn't stand Timo's smile anymore, and promptly buried his face in the mattress, still sprawled out over Ludwig's lap, and tried damn hard to fade away.
Didn't work.
Ludwig just rested his elbows on Berwald's back and used him as a rest as he and Timo kept at it.
If he concentrated hard enough, he could die. He was sure of it. Could certainly do it. Death or Timo? Death or Timo...
"Well!" Timo finally said, again in Swedish, "Guess I'm gonna head out. I'll let you get back to...comforting him. Like I said, just be careful. I don't think Magnus is going to be willing to part with anymore blood, especially if he hears that it's just because you needed to make up for lost time."
...death.
Berwald, still and silent, just kept his face buried in the bed and could feel his neck turning as red as his face must have been. Ludwig's fingers, resting lightly on his upper back. Damn, damn, damn, didn't wanna go, didn't wanna squirm away from Ludwig's warmth, but Timo was gonna bust his ass some more if he didn't. Damn.
At the last second, Berwald finally lifted his head up from the mattress, found his voice, and called, shakily, "I'm going, I'm going, just—just give me a goddamn second, won't'cha, Christ, Timo, did ya haveta say it like that, god—"
His speech dissolved into unintelligible mutters, and Timo tossed back, cheerily, "Just a second, eh? Man, you gotta learn how to appreciate your man, ya know? If you just speed through it then he's not gonna have any fun and then—"
"Timo!"
A quirked brow. "Well. I'll be waiting outside! Just, you know, finish up. Hold your breath and it'll go faster, and don't forget to at least tell him 'thank you' afterwards. You guys take that for granted, you know."
And then, with that, Timo flashed him a bright smile and was gone.
Berwald quite literally jumped out of the bed, glasses crooked and face so red that Ludwig probably thought he was going to faint, and he only managed to turn to Ludwig, say, "I'll be back in a little bit!" and then he lifted up his foot and bolted to the door as fast as he could so that he wouldn't keel over dead right there.
Goddammit, Timo.
Berwald was fairly certain that when he went outside at last, Timo's sneer was actually and honestly sucking the very essence out of his being. Was draining the life right out of him, he was sure of it, because he felt quite lifeless and comatose as he tumbled along behind Timo, his face still throbbing red.
What a little jerk.
How he hadn't gotten himself shot that day, he didn't know. Thought about shootin' Timo, though, the creep.
Ludwig was waiting in the bed to carry on coddling him when he returned, however, and there was a slight possibility that he was pouting a little when he plopped back down on top of Ludwig right where he had left off.
Had been very comfortable before, and hadn't enjoyed being interrupted.
Ludwig just snorted, smoothing Berwald's hair, and sighed, teasingly, "My poor old guy."
Meh.
There was nothing like being in an actual relationship, nothing felt like that, nothing Berwald had ever known.
Berwald and Ludwig were at their peak, so to speak, having said what they needed to say and finally seeing eye to eye at last, but they weren't the only ones that had settled, apparently.
Lately, Timo and Magnus had been acting a bit differently.
It had always been apparent that Magnus had been hopelessly enamored with Timo from the very start, and Timo had seemed to enjoy the attention and had certainly been attracted to Magnus, but Timo had always been a little aloof.
Not so much anymore. Timo seemed more sincere now, more affectionate.
Berwald couldn't say why, if it had been the realization that Magnus loved Timo so much that he was terrified of someone else taking him, if it had been the realization that Magnus' greatest fear was Berwald meaning more to Timo than he did, or if it had been the realization that Magnus, for it all, was just such an honest guy that he was willing to ruin something that everyone else had supported because he had been sure it was the right thing to do. If Timo had been enraptured by the fact that Magnus had so passionately attempted to look out for the well-being of someone else.
Hell, maybe it was all of it.
Magnus had always loved Timo, but now Berwald was pretty sure that he could look at them and say, at last, that Timo loved Magnus. Not as much, no, not as ardently and furiously, but loved him all the same. Wasn't evenhanded, but it didn't always need to be. Magnus would have burnt up the earth for Timo, and Timo would have cast Magnus aside without a second thought for Finland's sake, yet for now they stood side by side.
That ultimate decision for Timo had yet to come, and the way he smiled at Magnus when he thought no one was looking was actually quite pretty.
It was just sad, to see them on opposite sides, to see Timo swept up in Magnus' arms one day and then scream Magnus into the dirt the next. Hated it for them. It was easier for Berwald, having no real passion for it like they did.
Berwald spied on them frequently, and entirely unintentionally. Just seemed to have a knack for turning a corner and coming across them in some manner. Berwald was torn, because he still wanted so desperately to hate Magnus, as he was used to, but it was getting harder and harder to harness that anger.
When Timo reached out and put his hand on Magnus' cheek, Berwald saw, for the first time, the way that fidgeting Magnus actually sat still, and seemed to calm. Under Timo's hand, Magnus was subdued. Absolute tranquility there upon his face.
And, really, it was a strange sight for Berwald, because he was forced to admit that, beyond that loud mouth and false confidence, Magnus was really the best of the bunch. Magnus was the closest amongst them to being a truly good human being. Magnus was, god help him, the only one of them that truly could have ever been called 'sweet'.
Lukas was calm, but crazy, Timo was friendly, but aggressive, Berwald was quiet, but bitter, and Ludwig was kind, but hot-headed.
Magnus was just a sweet idiot that had somehow found himself in a place he had no business being. A good guy that had been put into a situation where the only thing he could think to do was to be loud and arrogant so that he wouldn't start crying. False bravado to mask insecurity and sadness.
Left an awful taste in his mouth, too, to admit that, but there wasn't any other way around it.
Magnus was the best of them.
Kept on finding less and less reasons to hate the son of a bitch, and somehow that only made Berwald want to hate him more. Just couldn't. That fire had burnt out, it seemed, and he and Magnus passed each other quickly and quietly and avoided eye contact. It was kinda sad, in some stupid way. Hell, Berwald almost felt like he had become bereft of something, by losing his passionate hatred for his self-declared arch-nemesis.
Rather dull, not fantasizing about punching him anymore.
With no strong sentiments left to spare for Magnus, Berwald could only focus on Ludwig and watch him come back from the edge, as he had several times.
Ludwig was damn strong, because he was so young. Could bounce back from just about anything apparently, because the brat had yet to be taken down and showed no signs of stopping. Probably coulda used him as a human shield for their own benefit and Ludwig would have just healed up rather nicely afterwards.
Come to think, Ludwig was healing too quickly, and Berwald was agitated when month after month passed and he realized that Ludwig was very soon going to be running at full steam and ready to go back out. Hadn't really wanted that. Liked it so much better, knowing where Ludwig was at all times and that he was safe.
Seven months.
It took a little over seven months before Ludwig was fully back up to speed.
Ludwig pulled himself out of bed one morning, raised a hand up to his chest, and stood up straight. A deep inhale. And there must not have been any pain, no dizziness or breathlessness, because Ludwig looked at Berwald soon after and said, with a smile, "So! When do I get to go out and save the world again?"
Berwald, not sure whether to be relieved or not, heard himself say, "Later rather than sooner. As out of practice as ya are, yer probably a worse shot than Magnus."
Ludwig laughed.
Berwald tried to keep Ludwig distracted, tried to keep him in bed, through whatever means, and tried very hard to keep him from being in Timo's sights for too long, because the very second Timo realized Ludwig was revved up and ready to go, he would leap on him.
Trying to delay the inevitable.
Entirely in vain, because Ludwig, restless no doubt, eventually squirmed out of Berwald's clutches and back into the real word. He said to Timo one night, eagerly, "Ready for me to save your ass again?"
With no hesitation, Timo drawled, "Can't wait. I died three times without you there, you know."
Magnus snorted, and Berwald glowered at the wall, sighing. Could only accept it as it was, because Ludwig did what he wanted, just like Timo.
Maybe Timo and Berwald were of one mind sometimes, however, because Timo looked at Ludwig, and added, "Test out your new rifle first. Get used to it. Work on your aim. You gotta be a bad shot by now."
Ludwig sent Berwald a testy glare, as if accusing Berwald of putting that idea into Timo's head, and Berwald tried hard not to smirk. Swear to god, he hadn't said a damn thing. It was just an obvious tease.
Ludwig took it personally, though, like everything, and was outside with his new Soviet rifle the very next day, getting a feel for it and seeing how it sat with him. Timo, of course, loved having Ludwig wield a Soviet rifle to kill Soviets, for the same reason Timo always used Soviet guns; it was just an extra slap in the face.
That night, Ludwig was in good spirits, clearly happy to be back to life as normal, so eager to reclaim his pride and dignity, and when Timo pulled up his shirt to check his wound, just to make sure, Timo said, "Whew! That sure is a good one."
Ludwig lifted his chin and said, rather proudly, "Yeah! At least now I've got a scar to show off. Can't let you guys have all the fun."
Offhandedly, Lukas crooned, "Call me when you've been stabbed."
Magnus grumbled, "I'm good like this, thanks."
"Hear, hear," Berwald grumbled.
Afterwards, Lukas crooned, so silkily, "Can I have my room back now that you're not dying?"
"Gladly," Berwald immediately consented, before Ludwig could even speak, more than happy to be away from that chest full of Lukas' cables and wires. Good riddance!
Timo forced Ludwig into rifle practice frequently, for his own sake if nothing else, and it was a month before the start of '43 when Ludwig went back out for the first time.
Berwald was so nervous, but Ludwig was positively bristling with excitement. Could see how desperately he wanted to prove himself, and that just made Berwald all the more nervous, because Ludwig was already reckless enough as it was, too bold and fearless. Didn't need him showing off now on top of it.
When Ludwig put on that coat, for the first time since, Timo came up to him, grabbed his hand in one of those old claps, and cried, fervently, "I'm damn glad to have you back!"
Ludwig seemed as eager, just as riled, and rumbled, "Good to be back. I'm here to keep you from dying for the fourth time."
Timo shoved Ludwig's fist back into his chest, and even though Berwald didn't want Ludwig to go, he still felt himself smiling a little. Good to see Ludwig happy. Good to see Ludwig and Timo stuck together again as they always had been before. Liked the way they smiled at each other, loved seeing people getting along. Couldn't have all of them getting along at once, so Berwald took what he could get.
Despite his desire to earn his place again, to rebuild ego, after long lectures by Berwald and Timo (and Lukas and Magnus, secretly no doubt), Ludwig seemed to be doing a fairly admirable job of keeping his temper in check and thinking before he acted. Timo's eyes always on Ludwig probably helped to keep him in line.
For now, Berwald was content with Ludwig's behavior.
Timo, on the other hand...
As Berwald had always known, Timo being in control led to very tense clashing, and very frequently, now that Ludwig was back in the mix. Having Ludwig back seemed to spur Timo on, seemed to rile him up more, boosted his confidence back up to where it had been, and it didn't sit too well with Lukas. Magnus just took whatever Timo dished out at him silently, as always, but Lukas of course always had something to say.
And honestly?
Berwald was actually pretty happy that Timo had to deal with this bullshit now, that Timo was the one 'in charge' and had to try to keep angry men on opposite sides together. Berwald had done his part, had had his fun so to speak, and it was gratifying in a way to see someone else grab the reigns and see firsthand how hard it was.
Sure looked different from the other side, didn't it, the jerk.
Timo tried, sometimes, but it was very clear that Lukas had been thrust in the corner in Timo's mind, and he didn't give Lukas much slack those days. Always shooting down any suggestion Lukas had, never hearing him out, never asking his opinion because, to be quite frank, Timo just didn't want it.
It was easy to see how angry Lukas was, as Magnus sort of flitted back and forth between Lukas and Timo like a very confused and very scared dog, and Berwald wondered how long it would be before Timo and Lukas had it out.
When it came to making war, Timo was unrivaled amongst them, unsurpassed, but when it came to making compromises and working as a team, Timo fell very short.
There were no more plans and discussions; Lukas and Magnus just came and went when they pleased, told no one where they were going, how long they were going to be gone, and what they were doing.
Timo hated it, but didn't say a word because Timo also seemed to hate Lukas.
Magnus was Lukas' saving grace lately. Berwald was so certain Timo would have kicked Lukas out of their circle had it not been for Magnus.
Poor Magnus always seemed to be walking with his tail between his legs, bowing to Timo's wrath and still adhering to Lukas' plans because it was what Magnus thought was right. Leaving unannounced with Lukas and coming back through the door days later, head low and already bracing for Timo's tongue-lashing.
Berwald hated saying that he really pitied Magnus lately.
Often those days, Lukas and Magnus would sit together at night, hanging over a map and murmuring to each other very quietly, and Timo would stare at them from the kitchen table, eyes watching them like a hawk and stance tense. A tinderbox, just waiting for a match. Lukas and Magnus plotted their assault on German strongholds, attempting to avoid both Timo's knowledge and rage. Lukas and Magnus sought to sabotage and disrupt the German army on the free side of Finland, and Timo seemed very torn between thwarting them and trying to pretend he didn't know anything at all.
How hard that must have been for Timo, to choose between letting them sabotage German supply lines and injure Finland in the long run, or to send his men out to stop them and risk them being shot in the process—well, risk Magnus being shot, that was.
Berwald knew that it was only Timo's love of Magnus that kept him from just taking them both out back and shooting them, but there were many days that Berwald could stand there and feel that their time together was coming to an end. Couldn't effectively keep going like this, standing on opposite sides. They loved each other, but sometimes that just wasn't enough. Berwald stayed because he loved Ludwig, and Magnus stayed because he loved Timo. Lukas stayed because he didn't have anywhere else to go, and maybe Lukas also stayed for Magnus, if only for pity. Hell, at that point, maybe Lukas stayed just to piss Timo off. Come to think, that sounded more than plausible, way Lukas was.
They did their best, as anyone ever could, and tried so hard to keep the war outside of the house. Crept in regardless, but they were doing alright. Not good, but alright.
It wasn't so bad here, really. The war outside was brutal, but here in occupied Finland it was relatively calm yet. Timo looked at the map, always, and Berwald couldn't help but wonder if he was thinking about moving again, or if maybe Timo wanted to go off and join the SS, as he had longed to when the Germans had invaded the Soviet Union. If Timo wanted to march them out to volunteer in the Eastern Front. That would truly have been the end of it.
Maybe it had been on Timo's mind, because one night Ludwig curled up against him and whispered, as they drifted, "If we ever split up, where will you go?"
"Nowhere," Berwald had answered, with no uncertainty. "If we split up, I'm done. I won't fight anymore. I'll just take you home."
Didn't ask if Ludwig would go with him, because he figured he didn't really need to. Ludwig was deathly loyal to Timo, but Berwald knew well enough that if the chance to stop fighting and live normally came about, Ludwig would snatch it.
Ludwig had just smiled, and buried his face.
But months passed, and they stayed still.
1943 started coming to an end, before Berwald had really even known it began.
The war wouldn't stop.
No matter how long they held their breaths, the war just wouldn't end. Kept on hoping it would get better, but it only got worse. Sitting there over the radio every day, all of them, listening to the news, each of them hoping to hear different things. They may have wanted different outcomes, but all of them could at least agree that they just wanted the war to end.
It whatever manner.
Ludwig woke up every morning, and hoped that he would flip on the radio and hear that the war had ended, and that he and Berwald could just go home.
Things were so tense, so fraught, falling apart at the seams.
Timo and Lukas were going to hurt each other before long, Ludwig could feel it. Couldn't do anything about it either, because both of them were absolute bulls and couldn't be reasoned with. Trying to get in between them when they argued was absolutely pointless.
Still, they tried so hard to keep it together, to remember that they were brothers, and for now they were clinging in there.
Barely.
It was the beginning of December of '43 when they hit the next bump in the road.
Had started as any other night. How could Ludwig have known?
Had just been sitting on the couch with Berwald, chatting away lowly, as Lukas and Magnus whispered together in shadows as they often did these days. Timo had been in the kitchen for a long while, alone. Ludwig had assumed he was getting himself in the bag.
Not quite.
Berwald went upstairs shortly after, and when Ludwig stood up and meant to follow several minutes later, a hand snatched out from the kitchen and yanked him in. Timo was dragging him over into the corner, and Ludwig could see right away that he was up to something. The way he was jittery and bristling, the dilation of his pupils with adrenaline. Ludwig was on guard immediately, as Timo reached up, grabbed the back of his head, yanked him forward, and when Timo pressed his lips into Ludwig's ear, he whispered, "Don't fall asleep."
A surge of dread.
What was Timo up to?
Timo was still clenching him there, voice so low that even Ludwig could hardly hear it despite Timo's lips touching him.
"We're going out, me and you. I'll let you know when. Don't fall asleep; I need you clearheaded."
Timo let Ludwig go, turned his eyes to Lukas and Magnus murmuring away, and Ludwig was rather alarmed when Timo abruptly left. Oh, man. Nothing good ever came from when Timo got that look on his face.
He stood there, and decided to just stay downstairs. Didn't want to go lie down with Berwald, because now he was jittery and Berwald would notice, and Ludwig would probably end up cracking if he were interrogated. Wanted to avoid an unnecessary confrontation.
Because he was nervous, Ludwig crept a little closer to Magnus and Lukas, hoping maybe they would pay him some attention, reassure him in some way, but the closer he got the quieter they became, and he realized whatever they were talking about was something he wasn't supposed to hear.
He retreated, and plopped down on the chair in the corner, elbows on his knees and glowering at the floor awkwardly.
Magnus looked as nervous as Ludwig did, and their eyes frequently met.
Damn—felt so bad for Magnus. Had been wrangled by these men yet again, and no longer had good reason to ask Magnus to just up and leave with him. Sometimes, Ludwig thought about taking Berwald up on that offer to go home, end of the war or no, and trying to just take Magnus with him. Lukas would leave, and Timo could fight his war alone in the manner he wanted. Could go join the SS as he so desired, with no one holding him back.
But Ludwig loved Timo too much to ever go through with it.
Emotions were the worst. Sure did hate them.
Timo suddenly came up behind him, rested his elbow on Ludwig's shoulder, and once more pressed his lips into Ludwig's ear to hiss, "Go to bed. If ya don't go lay down they're never gonna leave. I got this all timed down to a damn footsteps."
A jolt, a twinge of anxiety, but Ludwig immediately stood up a moment later, when Timo had vanished upstairs, and crept up into the bedroom.
Anyone had a right to be terrified when Timo was plotting.
When Ludwig snuck into the bedroom and crawled into bed, Berwald was asleep, and Ludwig stared at him silently, waiting for Timo to come calling.
Couldn't have slept then if he had wanted to, with all of that adrenaline, and he just ran his eyes over sleeping Berwald pensively. Trying to think instead about where Berwald intended to take him afterwards. Really hoped it was to that first little house in the mountains. Dreamt all the time about that place, and missed it.
They had been happy there, all of them, friends, and no one had fought. Timo and Lukas had been friends, chatting and laughing with each other and smiling. Magnus and Timo had been warm and loving. Magnus had been Timo's equal back then, and Timo had happily trailed behind him as Magnus plucked flowers for him. Berwald hadn't had that crease of worry in his forehead.
Sometimes, Ludwig stood there and looked at them all, and realized how different they were now, all of them, from the first day he had met them.
The insanity of the war had brought out the worst in them.
And then there was one single, very soft tap on the door. Barely noticeable, and anyone would have thought it was just normal creaking of the house. Wished it was, but Ludwig knew better and carefully rolled out of bed and crept to the door, slinking out without waking Berwald up.
As soon as he shut the door behind him, Timo whispered, "Is he awake?"
Ludwig shook his head.
Timo was satisfied, and Ludwig followed him downstairs in the dark. Everything was quiet, only lit up by the moonlight, and Ludwig could already see by the door the rifles and familiar white coats. No Lukas or Magnus in sight. Funny—hadn't heard Magnus come upstairs.
Timo handed him his coat, and as they dressed, Ludwig glanced up the stairs, hoping in a way that Berwald would somehow come down and save him from Timo. Never did.
"Where are we going?" Ludwig finally asked, shifting his weight as Timo pulled the chalk out and smeared it under Ludwig's eyes and then his own.
"You'll see. I'll tell you on the way. We have to go. I think I got this timed all right. We should be just in time."
With that, Timo slung his rifle over his shoulder as Ludwig took his own, and they made for the door, Ludwig trailing blindly behind Timo as he always had and always would.
Was a bit surprised when they got into a waiting car in town, and more surprised when Timo just slung the rifles in the backseat. They just started out like that, in those coats and with that chalk on their faces, guns in the back, and Ludwig was having very, very bad memories.
Not a place he ever wanted to be again, and Timo knew it, because he glanced at squirming Ludwig and snorted, "Bad déjà vu, huh?"
"You have no idea."
Had been here once already, and it hadn't ended very well.
After a short silence, Ludwig asked again, "Where are we going?"
"We're just going to prevent some destruction," Timo pertly said, and Ludwig barked a laugh at that.
Hilarious, really, because Timo loved causing destruction. The thought of him attempting to thwart it was quite humorous.
"See that car way out there?" Timo asked, chin high and inclining towards a very faint dot of light on the distance. "That's our missing comrades."
The anxiety intensified.
More so when Timo spat under his breath, "Comrades! Hardly. Bastards."
"Where are they going?"
"To the German fort right across the border. If my understanding is correct, and of course it is, they intend to sabotage the supplies there and set the Red POWs free."
Feeling clammy and grim, Ludwig watched the distant car ahead, and after a long silence, he said, "We shouldn't be following them, Timo. We agreed to let each other do what we thought was right."
"I know we did," Timo said, voice sharp and stern. "And so I have. I've been letting them do what they want. If they just want to sabotage the Germans, alright. I pretended I didn't hear it. I let them get away with it, even though I wished I coulda just shot— Well. This is different. They want to let loose Reds. That's where I draw the line. Setting those men loose on Finnish soil—no way. I won't stand for that. I won't."
Ludwig stared out ahead at the bright moon over the snowy forests, and after a very long silence, he murmured, "Timo. If you're going to ask me to... If it comes down to it, I'm not going to shoot them. I won't. I can't. Even just to scare them. I won't do it."
Timo's face softened, just a bit.
"No. I know. Don't worry. No one's gonna get hurt."
Timo diverted then, and they left the main roads into dirt ones, very bumpy and very hazardous.
They left Soviet-occupied Karelia, and drove into free Finland on isolated logging roads.
And damn, Ludwig kinda wished they coulda all just stayed there. Would have loved to go down the street without having flashbacks of Red tanks and roadblocks. To be in uncontested Finnish territory, where Germans were always nearby.
To fill the silence during the drive, Ludwig did ask, hopefully, "So, you ever think about leaving Karelia and coming here instead? You know. It is free here. Wouldn't you rather be here?"
Timo very quickly said, as expected, "Nah. No Reds to shoot here. I want all of Finland to be like this. We haven't given up on Karelia yet. Not yet. That's still Finland, whatever the Reds say. I won't stop until they're gone."
Nothing he hadn't expected, and Ludwig turned his eyes to the trees.
Lukas and Magnus were certainly getting ambitious. How far did they think they could really press Timo? They should have known that Timo finding out about this would set him off. Timo seemed to know everything, and Ludwig didn't know how he did it.
Another hour passed, and then Timo turned off the headlights and they began creeping along. They parked, and Ludwig couldn't see the other car, for the dark and trees, and was quite helpless there, having to follow where Timo led.
But, damn! Timo was armed to high heaven. He tossed Ludwig the rifle, and then he took his own, and Ludwig watched as Timo took a handgun and tucked it in his coat pocket, and then he took up his favorite Soviet sub-machine gun, grabbed up a pack and threw it over his other shoulder, grabbed a string of ammunition disks to throw it around his neck, and started leading the way.
Christ, Timo, what was he planning? He had said no one would get hurt.
They crept through the trees and undergrowth, and Ludwig always kept his rifle at the ready, just in case. A long half hour, and then the wooden walls of the German fort were visible, a watchtower in the distance. A few lights. It wasn't huge by any means, but seemed daunting and terrifying all the same.
A pang of homesickness.
They scurried through the shadows, and Timo fell to a halt so quickly that Ludwig nearly ran right into him. Timo drew Ludwig's attention, and pointed his hand directly down the wall to the west.
"Keep your sights on Lukas," Timo hissed, as they crept forward. "Don't lose him for a second. When he runs, so do we."
"Got it."
Ludwig scoped around, and it took a while to find Lukas, as far away as he was and as well camouflaged. Knew him at a glance because of that stupid lucky backpack, the bastard.
"I've got him," Ludwig said, and Timo clapped him gently on the back.
"Just follow him," Timo said, as they knelt and made their way along the walls in shadow and brush. After a moment, Timo grumbled, to himself, "Don't let your finger slip. What a tragedy that would be."
Unease.
"You think they talk about us like this?" Ludwig asked, wistfully, and Timo snorted.
"I have no doubt."
Timo led Ludwig very slowly along, and Ludwig glanced over enough to realize what was happening; Lukas connected a long line of explosives along the wall, and Timo was kneeling down, diffusing them and sticking them into the bag he had brought. Brave bastard, for sure, plunging his hands like that into Lukas' bombs. Ludwig wouldn't have dared. Woulda blown them both up in an instant, but Timo's hands moved very swiftly and very quickly, surely, and they crept along with no incidents.
Those minutes were very long.
Ludwig held as steady as he could, always watching Lukas as he hunkered down and tied his wires and cables, while at the very same time Timo was unhooking them and tucking them away in his pack. Oh, man, though, was Lukas going to be furious when he saw his beloved bombs weren't going off like they should have. Hated an angry Lukas. Fuckin' terrifying.
He glanced from time to time at Timo, at his surroundings, and saw the barbed wire coming up ahead of them.
A shudder.
God, couldn't stand the sight of it. They were Reds, he knew, but somehow it still felt so wrong to him, men being behind wire like that. Could only ever really envision himself, all those nightmares he had had for years, of himself back there with that pink triangle.
Didn't seem right.
No prisoners were visible at all, because it was so late. They were in the small, wooden barracks, and Ludwig was so grateful for that.
Hated seeing men on the other side of barbed wire, whoever they may have been, but the sentiment was clearly not mutual because at the last stretch of wire, before they regained cover, Timo muttered something in Finnish and spat upon the ground.
Ludwig realized then why Timo had brought the sub-machine gun; on the chance that they couldn't get to these explosives in time. If the fence had been breached and the Red POWs had made a break for it, Timo had brought that gun to lie in wait and shoot them all before they could escape. Timo wouldn't let those men go loose in his country. Woulda razed them all down right there, unarmed though they were. That was why he had brought so much ammunition.
Sometimes, Ludwig was a little scared of Timo.
After the camp came supply sheds. Timo seemed a little less harried then, because to Timo the main thing had been to prevent a Red escape.
Ludwig watched Lukas ever fixedly, as Magnus stood guard at his side, shifting anxiously and always looking around. It was damn good for them that Magnus was out of his element, because anyone else would have long since noticed the occasional glint of moonlight off of Ludwig's rifle. That poor dope. Didn't have a clue.
Timo had started humming very quietly, because he was apparently just that happy he had kept the prisoners in place.
A few more minutes stealthily following their oblivious comrades, and then Ludwig jumped a little, pulsed with adrenaline, because Lukas had bolted upright and started making a break for it back into the forest.
"He's running!"
Timo was up in a flash, grabbing Ludwig's sleeve and hauling him immediately back into the trees.
An exhilarating moment, sprinting as fast as they could through the snow and brush, weaving through the trees and trying to get as far away as possible. Timo grabbed his arm suddenly, and yanked him down behind a huge tree. They hunkered down, and a second later the bombs they hadn't gotten to went off.
Lit up the night and shook the ground. Snow falling down from the trees all around. Birds flying off in a panic. When the shockwave was over, they lifted their heads, and Timo started laughing, clapping Ludwig on the shoulder and hissing, "Wish I could see the look on Lukas' face right now!"
"I don't," Ludwig said, shivering.
The scariest thing in the universe, he was so certain, that furious face of Lukas'.
A bell started ringing in the distance, and there was shouting. Chaos. The soldiers were running out of the barracks, as surely were the prisoners, to see what the hell was happening.
He heard more familiar voices then to the side, far off in the trees, and Timo laughed more because it was Lukas, shrieking and cursing to the forest. But then the other voices were closer, and Timo stood up and started running again. Ludwig stood too, and scoped the trees quickly for Lukas and Magnus, to see if they were safe.
They were; Magnus was grabbing wrathful Lukas' arm and trying to drag him away.
Ludwig moved the scope towards the fort, and had a moment of terror when he saw a soldier running down, clearly on Lukas and Magnus' trail and trying to hunt them down.
Ludwig ran along then, as best he could, stopping every half minute to check on his comrades and make sure they were still unimpeded.
That soldier was getting closer, though, and there was an awful moment when Magnus looked over his shoulder, and suddenly the soldier was close enough to have a clear shot. The soldier raised his rifle, and Ludwig, in a panic, took aim at him, because he wouldn't let Magnus get shot, even if he didn't want to hurt a countryman. Had every intention of shooting that German soldier in the arm or leg, just to incapacitate him, but then the soldier started screaming.
"Stop! I'll fire! Stop!"
Ludwig felt out of nowhere as if the forest had turned into the ocean, because he sure as hell couldn't breathe suddenly.
That voice.
No—couldn't be! It wasn't possible.
He turned back to Magnus, in his confusion. A split second of Magnus stumbling, stopping, and then turning around, and Ludwig swung the rifle over yet again, dumbly, breathing heavily and feeling clammy.
Couldn't be, just couldn't.
But it was; he honed in again on the soldier, really looked at him, glimpsed him there in the moonlight, and knew at just a glance.
Gilbert.
Impossible! He was seeing things, had to be, was mistaken, was just shaken up and making things up in his head, because it couldn't be Gilbert. Couldn't be.
A rifle pointed at Magnus, and Ludwig focused his gaze once more after shaking his head quickly to clear it, and felt his heart drop. It was Gilbert. It really was. Had been moved up here to patrol this camp. Had been so close to Ludwig for who knew how long. So damn close, all this time. Had been so homesick, had pined so for Gilbert, and he had been just a few hours away.
This wasn't fair.
He swing the rifle back towards Magnus, who was pointing his gun at Gilbert in a panic.
An awful hesitation.
Ludwig was faced then with the worst possible decision, the worst outcome, his very nightmare come true : Gilbert and Magnus aiming at each other, and Ludwig in between at a distance, rifle in hand and looking back and forth, back and forth, knowing he needed to shoot and not knowing who.
Couldn't handle it—
Gilbert was his brother, his real brother, family, blood, the man that had raised him, but, god, Magnus was his best friend, his other blood brother, if by circumstance, Magnus had saved his life and Gilbert was a terrible person, but Gilbert loved him, loved his little brother, even if he hated the rest of the world, god, but Magnus was a great guy, a good person in the wrong place, and Ludwig had never felt that anyone understood him more than Magnus did—
Back and forth. Which one. Back and forth.
His sights fell on Magnus.
His finger contracted, and fell short.
Back to Gilbert.
Couldn't fuckin' do it, couldn't.
That split second felt like eternity, felt like it dragged out forever, just a half a second that ruined everything in him.
Shots.
Gilbert had stood there, hadn't moved, and Magnus' quick gun had fired first, and Ludwig watched as if through a veil as Gilbert fell backwards.
The world stopped.
Gilbert was a soldier, so much quicker on the draw—why hadn't he fired? Why hadn't he shot Magnus when he had had such a good chance? Magnus had frozen up, and Gilbert had had a clean shot and hadn't taken it. Why?
Ludwig came out of his stupor, and made a mad dash to Gilbert, winding through the trees in a very maniacal fashion, sprinting faster than he ever had.
Timo was bolting right behind him, shouting his name, trying to catch him, but Ludwig was fueled then by terror and desperation and Timo stood no chance of overtaking him in that moment, not with Gilbert on the other end of the line.
He was, however, snagged by the collar when someone jumped out from behind a tree and right in front of him, dragging him so furiously to a halt that he choked.
Lukas.
"What are you fuckin' doing here?" Lukas roared, grabbing Ludwig by the collar so fiercely that he actually lifted Ludwig off the ground for a second. Had never known Lukas could scream like that, and ignored him, clawing out of his grasp to continue on his desperate run to Gilbert.
Magnus looked stupefied, and he could hear Timo and Lukas bellowing at each other then, absolutely going at it, as Lukas realized what had happened, that he had been sabotaged.
Ludwig skidded down to the ground next to Gilbert, as Timo broke free of Lukas and ran after him, calling his name. Magnus came over, too, looking so confused and lost.
Ludwig grabbed Gilbert up, and he couldn't see in the dark so he just ripped open Gilbert's shirt, trying to find the wound in the moonlight.
Gilbert opened his eyes, and looked up.
A short meeting of their gazes, as Gilbert looked quite awed, entranced, seeing a phantom as he was, and Ludwig looked back down to see the dark blood against Gilbert's white undershirt. In his left side. Had been hit far in the left side, above the hip, because Magnus couldn't shoot for shit and had somehow still fucked up a straight on shot with no obstructions.
And god! Ludwig had never been happier for that.
Timo was kneeling next to him then, grabbing his shoulder and shaking him.
"What are you doing? Huh? What's the matter with you? We have to go!"
Ludwig shook his head, too stunned to speak, and just pressed his hands down on top of the wound to stop the blood flow. Gilbert hissed a little, but made no move, still hypnotized apparently.
Timo, under pressure, shook him again, and when Ludwig looked over at him, blearily, Timo slapped him as hard as he could across the face. A momentary daze of stars, hard as Timo could hit, and then Timo shook him yet again.
"Get up! We have to go! Now."
Ludwig stayed stubbornly put, and finally managed to say, so weakly and roughly, "He's my brother."
Magnus stood above them, and inhaled. When Ludwig glanced up, Magnus looked absolutely horrified.
Timo, for his part, merely said, "Your bro— Oh." He pulled himself to his feet very quickly, and began pacing around in small circles, clearly contemplating and thinking and trying to figure out what to do.
Damn, was Gilbert the most beautiful thing Ludwig had ever seen in that moment. Had missed him so much, hadn't seen him in so long, and having him back was beyond comprehensible thought. As handsome as ever, if not looking a bit exhausted. Pale as the moon. Strong and broad and fearless.
His big brother.
Gilbert's eyes finally focused onto his own, he scoffed, woke up, and then Gilbert was sneering at him, that stupid arrogant smirk that Ludwig had loved, and he said, gruffly, "There you are, you little bastard! I knew I'd get myself killed eventually. Sure did take forever. I tried pretty hard, but they kept sending onto lame patrols. How was I supposed to die like that? Sorry I kept ya waiting so long."
Immediately, pitifully, Ludwig burst into tears.
That stupid son of a bitch! Hadn't fired intentionally. Had ran after them through the forest with a goal in mind, had been trying to get himself shot, had pursued them for just this, this, and hadn't shot Magnus because he had wanted Magnus to shoot him. Why he had shouted to Magnus to stop instead of shooting him in the back. Gilbert had put himself in a position to be killed because that was what he had wanted.
Stupid.
Ludwig pressed down as hard as he could on Gilbert's side, bawling as he was, and whined, in a high-pitch that nearly evaporated, "Why? Why are you so stupid?"
Gilbert's hand reached up, slapped down heavily on Ludwig's cheek, and he said, so deeply and lovingly, "Damn, I missed your face. Thanks for coming to see me off. I knew you would. I'm sorry you had to die first. It shouldn't'a been that way. I shoulda been able to keep ya safe. I shoulda never let you join. I love you, kiddo. Why'd you go and die, huh?"
Gilbert's hand fell back down as Ludwig sobbed helplessly above him, and Gilbert was fading in and out of consciousness then, as alertness fled.
Oh, didn't want Gilbert to die—
Magnus just stood there, looking down, and Ludwig thought he heard Magnus murmur, to himself, "I shot your brother."
Was in shock, Magnus, and didn't move.
Timo fell still, at last, and whispered, to the air, "Your brother. Shit. What do I do?"
Lukas was the one to finally come to a solution, and it wasn't one Ludwig would accept.
"We have to kill him!" Lukas shrieked, shoving at Timo's chest. "Are you fuckin' stupid? Huh? They'll find us, all of us! His fuckin' brother—this small place, it won't be hard to track down Ludwig, will it, everyone will look right at his picture and say, 'oh, yeah, that's Timo's fuckin' German', like they always do, you stupid bastard! They'll shoot all of us! The other groups, they'll think we're workin' for the Reds, they'll shoot all of us!"
"Well, you are workin' for the Reds aren't you, you dumb fuck!" Timo screeched back, voice cracking and shrill and furious. "So it's your fuckin' fault, all'a this! I oughta shoot you!"
It was true, though, what Lukas said. If Gilbert was nursed back to health here, seeing his little brother alive and well, Gilbert would have gone on the warpath looking for him, would have pulled Ludwig's photo out of his wallet and showed it to everyone in sight in these towns here, and someone would eventually recognize him because he was a known face with the rebels. Word would get out that he had been involved in an assault on a German fort, one way or another, and the other groups would come round them all up and shoot them, thinking they had turned.
A friend of the Reds, after all, was no friend of the Finns.
Lukas had a point, and Ludwig absolutely detested him for it, woulda beaten the hell out of him if he coulda stopped crying long enough to even just breathe, pressing down on Gilbert and whispering to him in vain.
Magnus stood above them, looking down as if he were witnessing the birth of the universe or something, looked damned mesmerized and horrified and stupefied and everything in between, and Timo punched Lukas in the face, Lukas struck back, and suddenly Lukas was barging forward, gun drawn and aimed at Gilbert.
No—
Ludwig woke up quickly enough at that, wrenched himself to his feet, as adrenaline and fear surged, the need to protect, and his rifle was too far, so Ludwig, in his fury and terror, snatched Timo, reached into his coat, and pulled out Timo's handgun, and for the second time he and Lukas stood before each other as enemies, guns pointed at each other's heads.
Ludwig could barely see the bastard, crying like that, standing before Gilbert and blocking him from Lukas' sights.
Lukas was blank, utterly blank, with the exception of his compulsive swallowing and the flare of his nostrils.
If Lukas wanted to kill Gilbert for sure, then he'd have to shoot Ludwig first. There was no question of that then, no uncertainty, and Ludwig pulled back the hammer and steadied his shaking hand.
That awful silence.
Timo was the leader, and should have said something, should have come forward, but he didn't, because maybe Timo wanted Ludwig to shoot Lukas, and it was Magnus in the end, poor Magnus, who finally crept forward, carefully, and inserted himself right in between those guns, facing Ludwig.
Timo stood still.
A squint of Magnus' eyes, and then he reached out, grabbed Ludwig's forearm, and lowered it, uttering, thickly, "Please— You're my best friend."
With the lowering of Ludwig's gun came the falling of Lukas', and Timo, seeing an opportunity and realizing that time was pressing and there was no other choice, knelt down and grabbed Gilbert under the armpits and began dragging him back. Lukas watched him go, and yet didn't aim at him.
Diffused, it seemed.
Magnus and Ludwig just stared at each other, dazed and devastated, and it was Ludwig that came to first, at the thought of Gilbert, and he bolted over to Timo to grab Gilbert's legs, leaving Magnus and Lukas behind.
The car couldn't come soon enough, and Ludwig crawled into the backseat with Gilbert, pressing his hands into the wound as Timo sped out as quick as he could without killing them.
They took Gilbert, as they had once taken Ludwig, because Gilbert could have brought about their end, although it would have been unintentional. Gilbert would have sought Ludwig and would have gotten him killed instead, so they had no choice. When Gilbert was awake, alert, he would know that he hadn't been hallucinating, or, if nothing else, he would have just clung to that hope and tried anyway. Would have searched and searched, and back home, the other rebels would burst into the house one night and shoot them in bed for being traitors.
Had to take him.
Gilbert, the jerk, Ludwig loved him so damn much, and he cried the entire time Timo furiously drove, never letting up pressure from that wound. None of this was right.
Gilbert was supposed to be invincible.
He leaned down, and whispered in Gilbert's ear endlessly, whatever came to mind, and sometimes Gilbert woke up for just a few minutes and stared up at him, dazed and not really there, murmuring back his own nonsense. Had missed those eyes, was so sure he would never see them again and yet here they were.
Wouldn't let him die.
Gilbert was the stupidest man Ludwig had ever met, with maybe the exception of himself.
Please, please, didn't want him to die.