Chapter 11

Saturated Shield

Rule-breaking came naturally to Alfred, in hindsight, so maybe he should have been a little more cautious around Ludwig.

Alfred let his guard down around Ludwig, and steadily began to pay the price. Exactly like Toris had anticipated. Toris had set this up, had wanted this exact scenario, had said so himself, and Alfred had known that but had still walked right into the trap anyway.

Alfred started becoming emotionally invested in the job, and that was never a good thing.

The urge to protect Ludwig was stronger every day, but so was that little thrill whenever Ludwig acknowledged him. Someone that needed him; that was entirely irreplaceable.

Another weekend had passed, and Monday came back.

It hadn't been very long, no, but Alfred had settled in already, developed his routine, and maybe he was settling here so quickly because this was the first time this miserable damn job had ever made him feel like a good person.

That morning, before he could figure out his plans for the next few hours, Alfred received a call as Ludwig sat down and began his day.

It was Gilbert.

He glanced over at Ludwig, far too absorbed in his own world to care about Alfred's phone calls, and so Alfred heaved an annoyed sigh and answered.

Hated Gilbert.

"What's up?"

Not a very polite greeting, but Gilbert didn't expect one from a man like Alfred, nor did Gilbert offer them in turn.

All Gilbert said was, "Come to my office. Now."

He hung up, and Alfred's pulse quickened as adrenaline flowed.

Somehow...

Had wanted it relentlessly earlier, to be fired, yeah, but damn if the thought of Gilbert firing him right now wasn't scary. He needed the money, damn sure he did, but...

He glanced over again at Ludwig, stared and stared at him, didn't know why, before he finally tucked his phone away and said, softly, "I'll be right back."

Ludwig didn't even look up, gathering up his papers, and he merely said, "Very well."

Alfred didn't want to be fired now, because he wanted to keep Ludwig safe all of a sudden. Wanted to stay near him, wanted to keep an eye on him. Toris had wanted Alfred to get attached, and he had, the bastard, so surely Gilbert wouldn't axe him.

Couldn't get let go now, when Ludwig was so vulnerable.

He slunk out of Ludwig's office and into the hall, tracing his way to the elevator and up more floors and then down more halls, at last coming to that door where those guards always stood.

They raised their heads in acknowledgement, and the friendlier one asked, warmly, "How's Ludovico? Everything alright?"

The shorter one scrutinized Alfred relentlessly, and Alfred swore that he was leering.

The Friday altercation had been put behind them, apparently.

Too nervous then to speak, Alfred just nodded, and pushed through the door.

Gilbert wasn't in that first room, so Alfred traced Ludwig's invisible footsteps to that door on the left, behind which the glass office lied. He didn't knock, pushed right on it, and Gilbert was leaning against his desk, dressed as pristinely as always and stoic. He observed Alfred briefly, and Alfred was distracted from snowy Gilbert by a glint of light.

He turned his head, following the rainbow shards.

Ah...

Could see now what that black cloth had covered last time; a pane of glass. A viewpoint, down to the city street below. He hadn't realized exactly that Gilbert's office overhung the edge of the building, and the glass floor glinted in the sun.

Gilbert had covered it that day, because Ludwig had been coming. One small mercy, in a sea of abuse.

Gilbert saw his gaze, and walked slowly and purposefully over to the glass pane, standing atop it and looking down. His shined shoes reflected light as much as the glass, and Alfred wondered if Gilbert saw the people beneath him as just oblivious little ants.

Master of the universe.

Gilbert was silent for a while, as Alfred crept ever closer, and then he glanced up and asked, in a deep voice that came more out of his chest, "Afraid of heights?"

Instead of answering vocally, Alfred just came brazenly forward, stepped right atop the glass in front of Gilbert, stance wide and tensed up. He splayed out again to his full size, held his chin high, tucked his hands in his pockets, and tried to show to Gilbert in his body language alone that he wasn't going to submit to Gilbert so easily.

Alfred wasn't Ludwig, and wasn't going to let Gilbert dominate him.

Whew, though! A thrill, for sure, looking down and seeing the city below like that. Hair-raising, and he could only imagine the unholy meltdown Ludwig would have had atop this thing.

Gilbert stared at him for a long time, analyzing him, and then snorted and stepped away from the glass and back towards the center of the office.

Alfred followed, and finally spoke up, to say, "Good thing you covered it. Ludwig can't be very fond of that."

"No," Gilbert drawled, seemingly bored, as he fell once more to a halt. "He is not. When he was younger, I made him stand on it. I thought doing so would cure his fear of heights. It did not. It gave him panic attacks instead. Now, I threaten it more as a form of punishment. Keeps him in line. Disciplined."

A rush of heat to Alfred's face and neck, as anger surged.

Punishment for what?

Ha—being three minutes late, perhaps.

"You would," Alfred spat, and Gilbert's eyes snapped up to pin him down in a second. Could have utterly frozen over the ocean, that awful stare of Gilbert's, and Alfred felt the frost but refused to budge.

Couldn't, because if Gilbert sensed weakness there within him, Alfred would lose this job. Would lose Ludwig, and couldn't stand the thought of putting Ludwig into someone else's hands, someone who just wouldn't care about him, someone who wouldn't take it seriously, someone who may not have given it their all.

Gilbert stared Alfred down, and said, out of nowhere, "When I was a child, I was bitten by a dog. For a while after that, I was afraid of dogs. So my father found the most aggressive dog he could, on the street, tied it to a tree, and he made me stand in front of it every day. He said I was not supposed to be afraid of anything."

Alfred's damn overactive imagination started whirring away then, as usual, and he could just picture a very pale child, terrified and crying. Could see Gilbert's hard father, holding his son still by the back of his collar and dangling him before a snarling dog. Could see Gilbert jumping and crying out every time that dog lunged and snapped at him, right at his face, so close that Gilbert could no doubt feel his saliva and hot breath.

Days and weeks, until Gilbert finally became desensitized. Cold and hard, just like his phantom father, and after a while Gilbert just stood there before that dog on his own, and stared it down without fear.

Just like Gilbert was staring at Alfred now.

"I'm not afraid of anything," Gilbert said, so softly, never releasing Alfred from his frightening sights. "Nor should he be. I raised him to fear nothing, but I could not break him of that fear. He should not be afraid of anything. But he is. So I punish him for it."

Alfred grimaced, sneered, let Gilbert know with his face how unimpressed he was, but Gilbert naturally gave away nothing.

What a man, alright! Must have given Gilbert a rush, holding his little brother over a glass pane until he broke down and couldn't breathe. Yeah, what a great fuckin' guy, not as bad as he seemed at all. Gilbert sure did love Ludwig, sure did, Toris was totally right. Did Gilbert feel on top of the Earth when Ludwig was dangling over that void?

Assholes, all of these men, corrupt and power-hungry and immoral.

Alfred risked a little more, edged out a little more, and asked, softly, "Are you afraid of losing him?"

Him. Ludwig, who Gilbert had threatened to disown several times, and yet he never seemed to be able to follow through with the words. Ludwig, who, Toris claimed, Gilbert loved.

A long, steady stare.

No emotion upon Gilbert's face, and when he spoke, he simply repeated, "I am not afraid of anything."

Right.

Gilbert just looked Alfred up and down, and suddenly said, quite icily, "Report."

As if they were doing business, because, well, he supposed they actually were.

Without Ludwig there and knowing that Gilbert's patience was not to be tested, Alfred relented, and did as he was ordered. Because he didn't want to lose this job.

He cared about Ludwig.

"One incident, last Monday evening. After work. He found us on the street. He left quick enough when I pulled my gun. Haven't seen him since. No harm came."

Gilbert's brow crinkled, his lip curled, a look of absolute hate there on his face, and Alfred could see why Ludwig just didn't want to tell Gilbert anything. No one wanted to be looked at like that.

Gilbert peered at Alfred unwaveringly, and drolled, perhaps seriously, "You didn't shoot him?"

Alfred pursed his lips and stayed wisely silent, because that seemed like a trick question and Gilbert kinda scared him.

Not afraid of anything, huh?

"Has he made any phone calls? Stopped at any payphones?"

Alfred crinkled his brow, in confusion, and shook his head.

"Good. Keep it that way. Do not let him use your phone for anything. I monitor his phone records, so he has a little habit of using payphones to call that miserable bastard and warn him of my efforts to have him arrested. He has been banned from these premises, naturally, but Ludwig always seems to find a way to get him one step ahead of me."

Alfred shifted his weight, and wasn't sure who he was most annoyed with then.

Ludwig, the little idiot, would do something so stupid. Protecting Ivan, as always, in whatever manner.

At Alfred's silence, Gilbert scoffed, and walked over to his desk, sitting down and turning his eyes to papers below.

A very cold, emotionless statement.

"I expect to know of these events immediately. You are to call me after every sighting, no matter where or when. And don't ever lie to me again. I'm in charge here, not Ludwig. You answer to me. What he says or wants doesn't matter. You do what I tell you. He doesn't know anything."

Like Ludwig was a dumb little kid.

Alfred was sneering by then, because Gilbert was the worst sort of man, and it took everything in him to keep his mouth shut and not tell Gilbert exactly what he thought about him.

What a jackass.

'What he says or wants doesn't matter.'

Yeah, that about summed it up, didn't it? The relationship between Gilbert and Ludwig was indeed just some battle, and Gilbert felt himself entirely in control.

Gilbert glanced up through his white lashes, face very stern, hard, and pressed, "Understood? Whatever he tells you, ignore him. He's a fool. He cannot see what's right in front of him."

Alfred knew that Gilbert expected immediate submission, and Alfred knew that he should give it to him, if only to keep his position and continue to protect Ludwig.

But, damn, that bastard made it so hard.

So Alfred risked it, and said, softly but firmly, "He's not a fool."

Actually, Ludwig was. Alfred had called him that a hundred times up in his head, but somehow hearing Gilbert say it with that look on his face was very upsetting.

As expected, Gilbert leapt up to his feet, and barked, "Don't talk back to me!"

Extremely high-strung, extremely volatile, and Alfred couldn't see at all any of that 'good man' that Ludwig and Toris hinted at. Must have been behind very closed doors, certainly, because Alfred saw nothing there worth liking.

Gilbert reached down to the desk, wrenched open a drawer, and Alfred instinctively lowered his hand to grab his gun, because Gilbert was a little crazy.

But Gilbert didn't pull out his own weapon; he pulled out a folder and literally threw it across the desk and at Alfred's chest. Alfred jumped but wasn't fast enough, and the folder fell to the floor, its contents spilling out.

Papers and photos, and oh, those photos—

Never wanted to see them.

It was police reports, hospital reports, and he knew that because those godawful photos pooling over the floor were of Ludwig in the hospital, unconscious on that respirator. Had never seen such bruises, never, had never seen anything like that since then, Christ.

Gilbert's fury suddenly seemed justified as Alfred stared down at those horrific pictures.

Felt so sick, and Gilbert must have known what he was doing, if Toris did.

Gilbert stepped out from behind his desk, and before Alfred knew it Gilbert was actually circling him like a goddamn shark, hands clasped behind his back and eyes changing color from pale blue to crimson as varying shades of light hit them.

He walked right atop those pictures that lied yet on the floor, as Alfred raised his eyes and tried to cleanse his mind of the sight.

A low, gruff mutter.

"Not a fool, is he? What do you know? I raised him, not you. I will not be like you. I am not going to lose mine. My sibling will not be like yours."

Son of a—!

Alfred made a motion, hissed air through his teeth, and honest to god he planned to punch Gilbert then, as furious as he was, and he jerked his fist back. Stopped short when he got caught under Gilbert's piercing eyes again, and maybe he choked then because the words hurt so damn much and he felt everything in him collapse. All of his confidence and ego shattered under Gilbert's accusations, because they were valid.

Couldn't punch the bastard, perhaps, because Gilbert was right. Alfred had lost, alright, everything.

The ghost chasing him.

Those photos.

He choked.

When Alfred froze up, Gilbert carried on circling him, and his voice was ever softer. Deadlier. Gilbert had the upper hand, and knew it well.

"I know all about you. You need this job. You are nothing. What is the word Americans use? Trailer trash? Is that it? White trash? Born in the trailer park with the dogs, weren't you?"

A rush of embarrassment, adrenaline, humiliation.

Alfred stood still, stared straight ahead, and refused to let Gilbert shake him, biting down his anger and hurt and guilt and trying to feel nothing.

Look unfazed, look confident, look strong.

He wasn't, but pretended anyway.

Gilbert kept circling him.

"I didn't choose you. Toris did. I don't care how good you are. Mouth off again and I'll fire you. You're replaceable. There are a hundred men just like you right down there on the street. I didn't hire you to think. I hired you to follow my stupid brother and protect him from anyone. Even himself. Keep your mouth shut and your eyes ahead. That is all. One wrong move and I'll send you back down south to that trailer where you belong. Head down."

Well, Alfred had been right about one thing; Gilbert certainly needed to be in control of everyone and everything.

Cheeks red and jaw clenched, hands in his pockets and adrenaline rushing, Alfred had no choice really but to concede. Needed this money, and Ludwig needed someone who wasn't like Ivan, who wasn't like Gilbert, who wasn't like Toris.

Ludwig seemed almost as alone and isolated in this cold world as Alfred was.

With that thought, Alfred bit down his pride and ego and gave a very stiff nod of his head.

For Ludwig, Alfred submitted.

Instantly, Gilbert spat, "Get out."

Alfred left, stalking quickly away from that prick, pushing through the door and going for the elevator so furiously and briskly that the guards jumped. Ignored them when they called to him from behind, punching the elevator button angrily and trying to calm himself down before he went back to Ludwig.

Trailer trash.

Yeah, guess so. All Gilbert had left out, really, was 'redneck'. Hillbilly.

Did he still have such a bad accent? He had worked damn hard to beat it out of himself. Had worked on it every day, had tried to focus on his pronunciation, on his sentence structure, on his grammar, because the second he had opened his mouth up north and started speaking with that heavy Appalachian twang, the looks he got were different. Judgment, just because of the way he spoke. People thought him dumber, simpler. Uneducated. His accent made him an outlier the farther away from home he trekked, and so Alfred had tried to leave it behind as much as everything else.

Here he was now in New York City, with much less accent, with new glasses, with new clothes, alone and with a different haircut, trying to be a completely different man. Pretending to be something he wasn't.

Gilbert's words stung, and shattered the illusion he had built in his head.

But then Alfred pushed open the door to Ludwig's office, and when Ludwig looked up and saw him coming, he sent Alfred a small, casual smile.

That was a first, the first time Ludwig hadn't seemed disappointed to see Alfred.

Ludwig was comfortable with him, had put some trust into Alfred by speaking with him, Ludwig hadn't once mocked Alfred for anything, and Ludwig didn't seem to care about where Alfred had really come from.

The anger dulled.

A terrible mixture of relief and horror rose up, because now he wasn't going to be able to look at Ludwig and not remember those terrible photographs, that horrendous sight of the aftermath, seeing everything all over and yet for the first time. Seeing both Ludwig and someone else.

A second chance that felt more frightening than hopeful.

Alfred tried to smile back at Ludwig, and settled down, because in the end Gilbert wasn't the entire reason he was here anymore.

Every day, Ludwig grew on him a little more.

He didn't leave then as he normally would have. Couldn't, after that. Wasn't sure if it was the photos or Gilbert that held him still there in the moment.

That awful mental image of Gilbert forcibly holding Ludwig above that glass, just like Gilbert's father had held him, one hand in his collar and the other in his hair. Forcing Ludwig to look down at the city, until the acrophobia had just been too much and the panic attack had started.

In Ludwig's story, he had met Ivan when he had been crying from Gilbert's 'punishment'—knew now what it was.

He wasn't leaving.

Ludwig glanced at him, seemed surprised, but didn't say a word.

Alfred sat in the corner, and watched Ludwig work, helping himself as usual to the coffee and refrigerator as Ludwig scribbled away. One day, Alfred would gather the nerve to actually walk over to the desk and look down at Ludwig's designs, even if he didn't understand a damn thing.

Ludwig no longer seemed tense and annoyed with Alfred's presence.

But Gilbert's words still lingered there above.

Could only push through, as always, and focus on Ludwig.

There was suddenly a light rap on Ludwig's office door, out of nowhere, and Alfred leapt upright and placed his hand on his gun, because Ludwig had looked up with a crinkled brow of confusion, clearly not expecting anyone.

But when the door pushed open, it was just one of those Italian guards. The taller, friendlier one. He poked his head in, smiled at Ludwig and called a greeting, and then he found Alfred, and asked, quietly, "Got a minute?"

Ludwig looked curious as Alfred nodded, and ducked out into the hall.

The guard studied Alfred, and then asked, "Had a rough time up there, huh?"

Alfred stayed silent. Too angry and embarrassed to even talk about it.

The guard rolled his eyes, and just said, "I'm Feliciano, by the way. The other guy is my brother. Lovino. Look. We've been here a long time. We know how it is. Here."

Feliciano or whatever held something out, and Alfred took it.

A paper, with two phone numbers, names scribbled helpfully beside them.

"If something happens," Feliciano murmured, discreetly, "and you need help or something, just call us. Something, maybe, that Gilbert doesn't need to know about, if you know what I mean. Ludovico doesn't need him screaming at him every five minutes. Call us, if you need a hand."

At last, Alfred spoke, to mutter, "Alright. Sure. Thanks."

The guard lifted his chin in acknowledgement and darted off, scurrying back to his post before Gilbert noticed he was missing. Alfred slunk back in, quietly, and Ludwig stared at him but never asked.

Alfred felt that he was steadily gaining a bit of foothold.

He was finding his way within this dark world, little lights guiding him along here and there, and now, with two extra sets of eyes and support, he felt a little more secure.

Ludwig, for it, was ever safer.

Alfred stayed in that office all day, in the event that Gilbert for some reason came calling, and Ludwig very frequently glanced up at Alfred. They each held the gaze, seemed to want to speak, but in the end fell silent and looked away.

One thing at a time.

That night, after dinner, Alfred stood up to help Ludwig with the dishes for once, just because, and Ludwig looked over at him incredulously as Alfred plunged his hands into the water.

Felt protective of Ludwig, and liked being near him.

He was as vulnerable as Ludwig in the end, though Alfred would have keeled over dead before he admitted that, and he was desperate for someone to just like him.

Just wanted someone that wanted him.

Was that so much to ask?

And Ludwig needed someone, too, someone supportive, someone who didn't put any expectations upon him, someone who would care about him unconditionally, and because there was no one else Alfred felt he had no choice but to attempt to fill that role.

Wanted to just befriend the jerk once and for all be done with it. They needed each other, for now, and there was no point in not acknowledging it. No point in being cold and hostile to each other, no point in pushing each other away.

Ludwig looked Alfred up and down very intensely, scrutinizing him, and Alfred thrust his chest out and squared his shoulders, expanding as much as he could because he felt self-conscious under Ludwig's prying eye.

Couldn't tell what Ludwig was thinking at any given moment.

Could Ludwig see, too, that Alfred was born trailer trash?

A long silence, and then Ludwig held up a dish Alfred had scrubbed, and rumbled, "Don't quit your day job."

Alfred gaped over at Ludwig, huffed, and felt awed.

...had Ludwig just teased him? Good god. That was a first.

Were they becoming comfortable at long last?

Feeling that there was a good atmosphere for once, Alfred looked Ludwig up and down in turn, leaned in a little, and shot back, "So you're saying you want me around forever?"

Ludwig's brows shot up, his lips twitched, and Ludwig quickly amended, "Certainly not! You misunderstood."

"I'm sure."

Alfred passed Ludwig dishes, and Ludwig eyed Alfred very drolly the entire while., appearing condescending and haughty and yet it was so clear that he was trying hard not to crack a smile.

The first time Alfred had felt that they were something close to just normal people.

Roommates.

Ludwig took his pill, went to sleep, Alfred stayed on the couch, and in the morning, something new happened; Ludwig was making breakfast. Hadn't done that before, making only coffee and then sustaining himself on the food in the office.

Alfred thought that Ludwig was glancing back at him very frequently, and it did occur to Alfred that Ludwig was making breakfast because he was warming up to Alfred. Trying to find a new routine. A new path.

Finding a source of comfort, perhaps.

As much as a bodyguard should never get attached to a client, the vice versa was very true as well, because things could get real awkward real quick.

This, though?

Alfred was alright with this.

He came into the kitchen, and dared himself to come up to Ludwig and peer over his shoulder. He moved too quickly though, and startled Ludwig. Ludwig jumped, flinched, braced up, and Alfred felt shitty about that but Ludwig recovered quickly.

To keep the mood light, Alfred asked, "For me? You shouldn't have! Didn't think I'd be getting all these extra benefits."

Benefits, alright.

Alfred's eyes once more flitted over Ludwig's legs.

Ludwig merely snorted and drawled, very coolly, "Well. It seems that the best way to your heart is through your stomach."

Alfred barked a laugh at the jab, and would absolutely take breakfast over Ludwig dragging him all over the city for a murderous jog.

So Alfred replied, "I knew you wanted me to stay around forever."

That time, Ludwig just rolled his eyes, but his face was relaxed.

For just a moment there, as they had breakfast over the rising sun, Alfred thought that Ludwig looked a little happy.

Deserved that.

Alfred's shield was starting to crack, splinter, and before long it would shatter entirely, because he wasn't giving true effort to keep it together. Ludwig was drawing him in, no doubt, and everyone around only helped it along by pushing Alfred closer to Ludwig. Don't get attached, after all, was so much easier said than done.

Toris and Gilbert were using Alfred, and Alfred had no choice but to accept it and rise to the challenge, because his second chance lied right here now in his hands. Wouldn't let it slip.

Redemption.

Alfred had wandered for years and years, lost and alone, and had never found a reason to linger in one place for too long. Had never found anything worthwhile, anything he wanted, anything that called to him.

Until now.

Alfred came running and skidding at Ludwig's call without a second thought.

Ivan was gone. Ludwig was alone.

Who was to say that this wasn't exactly where Alfred was meant to be?