Chapter 52
Diamond Dust
The road had ended.
The destination had been reached.
Home, sweet home.
The leaves had already started dropping from the trees. The temperature was cooling down rather sharply and drastically. The air was dry and cold. No fireflies anymore; they'd all gone. Toris just parked the car a good ways out of town at noon, and started leading Gilbert into the forest.
Didn't mention to Gilbert that there were bears and wolves and the odd tiger and whatnot, because it didn't even matter. No predator in that forest could have ever scared them more than the predator that was waiting there in that stone house.
As he always did, Gilbert walked behind Toris blindly, asked no questions, and trusted him without waver. They walked for hours, and it wasn't too horrible, really, because shortly after they had entered the trees Gilbert had trotted up to Toris' side and reached out to snatch his hand. Gilbert was scared, and so was Toris, so Toris just clenched Gilbert's hand like a little kid and dragged him along.
Oh, missed this place, so much. That awful squirm of homesickness in his stomach, these familiar forests, the scent of the pine and distant river. The smell of home, that could never truly be replicated anywhere else on the earth.
The last time he would ever see it.
The plan was essentially the same as the rough draft Toris had put together in his head. The only difference was that, when (if) Gilbert finally turned and left Ludwig behind, he was to run into the town and meet Toris at the prison, where there were cars that Toris knew he could easily steal. After all, he still had keys to every single door in this town. Still owned it, even if Ivan pretended that he didn't. Was just worried that Gilbert would get lost, despite how many times Toris had drilled the path into Gilbert's head and how many times he had repeated the directions aloud back to Toris. Worried that Gilbert, in fright, would forget or take a wrong turn.
Didn't expect to survive, so he wasn't really going to have his hopes dashed.
They came then to the top of the hill at the edge of the forest, and the town was visible below them at a distance. The house, alone there at the end.
The end of the line.
Gilbert had let go of his hand to come forward and look the town over from above, and Toris could see that his eyes had fallen immediately upon the vast diamond mine in the distance, gaping out like a whirlpool in the sea.
The sun was hanging just over the horizon.
Home.
Toris looked over at Gilbert, as Gilbert stared in awe at the mine, and he felt himself smile a little. And, just in case...
"Last chance," Toris said, lowly. "Be sure. This is the last chance to go back. Once we go down, it's too late. Be sure."
Hoping, under it all, that Gilbert would turn back, but knowing that he would never.
Gilbert was still for a moment, as he looked out into the dusk of the distant town, and he was pretty sure that Gilbert's hands trembled when he took that first step forward. Must have been so terrified, so pumped full of adrenaline, and yet Gilbert stepped forward then all the same, because he had known all along that it would come to this.
All Gilbert said then was, "I'm ready."
Right.
"Then," Toris said, as he came forward and clapped Gilbert on the back, "Let's go."
Gilbert's hands suddenly stopped trembling, he fell utterly still, and he exhaled.
Gilbert stared at the town, golden in the setting sun, that warm glow of the last days of fall, and Toris stared at Gilbert, because somehow he knew that it was going to be the last time he ever saw him. Tried to take in every bit of him. Tried to remember him. All those little details he had noticed over the months Toris committed to memory.
Would always and forever remember that moment.
Gilbert standing there in the orange light of sunset, hair silvery-gold and eyes lit up a beautiful shade of maroon, face so calm and peaceful, as if everything in Gilbert's frantic mind had suddenly found some happy place. Had seen Gilbert at his worst, and Toris knew that in that moment he was seeing Gilbert at his best.
Maybe that was the very first time that Toris could look at Gilbert and understand why Ludwig had crossed the wall for him. Seeing, so briefly, what Ludwig had seen. Had never understood, not one single time, until he saw Gilbert in that moment.
Would never forget it.
Gilbert inhaled, deeply, and turned to look at Toris, and if he had committed Gilbert to his memory, then he was very certain then that Gilbert was doing the same with Toris.
Felt like eternity before Gilbert suddenly gave a slanted, charming smile, and said, in a voice that must have been what Gilbert had sounded like so long ago, "You're a real asshole, you know? You're such a jerk. You're the worst guy I ever met. And I'm so glad you came with me."
Seeing Gilbert as he had once been, confident and brazen and fearless. Strong and ruggedly handsome. Charming and rather appealing. Could say then, even, that he found Gilbert beautiful.
Made it harder, though, to let him go.
Gilbert's hand flew up, rested on Toris' cheek, a long stare between them, and Toris didn't care if Gilbert really saw him there or if he saw Ludwig. Didn't matter at all, because he felt happy then.
Toris clapped his hand on the side of Gilbert's neck, gripped, and Toris just replied, gruffly, "If I'm the worst guy you ever met, you must never have owned a mirror. Probably for the best, 'cause you're an ugly son of a bitch."
Gilbert gave a short laugh, a real damn laugh, for the first time, and Toris was hypnotized by him then, entirely. Could see what Gilbert would have been if everything had worked out alright in his head and in his life. Guess being on the brink had that effect, and Gilbert pressed forward suddenly, pushed their foreheads together, and his voice was rich and warm and so pretty when he whispered, "Please don't die. I kinda like ya."
Behind the sting of his eyes and the clutch of his throat, all Toris could say, thickly, was, "Likewise."
Gilbert stepped back then, looking the brave one for once, and smiled at Toris one final time, as the sun set. It hurt like hell to see Gilbert at his most handsome and sincere and sane just to let him go like that. To open up his hand.
The last time seeing Gilbert in daylight.
Toris took it with him, that memory, and started walking.
A call behind him.
"See you on the other side."
And Toris knew, as they split up and made in opposite directions, that Gilbert did not mean on the other side of that wall.
All Toris could do was walk on, and try his best, as he had his entire life.
Wanted so badly, more than he had ever wanted anything, to look over his shoulder and back at Gilbert, but he didn't. Couldn't, because if he did he would lose his nerve, his courage, would founder, and would turn back.
He didn't look.
The sun was gone.
Stars coming out. The moon was full, but was frequently hidden by the white clouds rolling through, breaking through fronts from time to time and lighting the world up silver. Toris slunk down through the trees and towards the mine, and Gilbert went down to where Toris had told him to wait, in the forest behind the house.
Gilbert waited for Toris to draw Ivan out, and Toris could only hope that he would be able to dodge and sprint just fast enough to make it back to the mine without smacking straight into a hurdle in the form of Ivan's bullet. Could already see himself up in his head, bounding and zigzagging like a damn rabbit as Ivan bolted after him as the fox, bullets flying everywhere. Ha—actually made Toris laugh aloud, that thought, because that was just the kind of man he was.
If all went accordingly to this impossible plan, Toris would get Ivan far out beyond the mine, get around him, and when Ivan had to stop and catch his breath because he was a big son of a bitch, Toris would get enough of a head start to start backtracking around the town and make it out to the prison. There, if there was ever any shred of hope left in the world, Gilbert would be waiting. Toris would hijack a car, and then they would be on their way again, just like before, driving together. Gilbert would have his last look at Ludwig, and Toris would get his final blow in on Ivan. They'd be together, safe and ready to move on.
Yeah, sure. That would happen, alright, and Toris had no doubt whatsoever that he and Gilbert would be side by side driving together tonight, only it wouldn't be a car; would be in that little boat as they crossed the river into the gates of hell.
Supposed it was all just fair, in the end. No less than they probably deserved.
Toris reached the edge of the forest, and there was the vast field, littered with sparse trees here and there and the huge, clunking machinery used to work the mine. All quiet now, lit up in the moon and glittering with frost. Toris took a deep breath for courage, reminded himself that he was going to see that wonderful look of absolute awe on Ivan's face, and he finally darted out.
Shivered.
Too much adrenaline, anticipation.
Couldn't have asked for a better night, really. It was beautiful weather. Just cold enough to see his breath in the air, cold enough for the ground to glitter, but not unbearable, and without his coat Toris was quite comfortable yet.
Was so glad he had preened his uniform so much. Gave him more confidence than he otherwise would have ever had.
He passed by the mine, and found the dirt path that led into town. He took the first step up it, and was already envisioning Ivan's face. Ah, couldn't wait to see it, just couldn't. Couldn't wait to walk up the drive towards the house and have Ivan come charging out of the front door like a bull, never guessing that Gilbert would be on the completely opposite side.
Toris walked.
A glint in the moonlight.
Suddenly, randomly, everything went horribly wrong, and every bit of plan that Toris had clumsily put together was shredded apart.
He reached the first corner on the path, glanced up at that glint of silver, and there was Ludwig coming down towards the mine.
They fell still at the same time, stiller than each of them had likely ever been, not breathing at all, either of them, because there were no longer any puffs in the cold air.
Jesus fuckin' Christ, couldn't be—
They had just started, there was no way everything had gone so wrong so quickly, he had to be seeing things, because there was no way that Ivan would have let Ludwig out of that house knowing that Toris was on the loose, no way. Couldn't fathom it, really couldn't, couldn't comprehend.
Ludwig wasn't even dressed to be outside, not really. Was just in slacks and one of Ivan's thin grey button-ups. Didn't have a coat, no hat or gloves. His gun was there, though, as always; could see the bottom of the holster, poking out from under his un-tucked shirt. Why was he out here like this? What could he have possibly been doing? A few strands of his hair had come down in the front, as if he had been running around.
Ludwig tilted his head, suddenly, as he often had when observing Toris, and Toris didn't even feel himself pull his gun, but it was suddenly pointing at Ludwig's chest all the same. Ludwig, entirely unprepared, just stood there, staring, and didn't move. Didn't try to pull his own gun, Ivan's gun once, on Toris in turn. Didn't move at all.
Just stared at Toris.
Couldn't breathe—
And then Ludwig's tilted head dropped down, face hidden from Toris, his shoulders shook just a little bit, and Toris could hear that Ludwig was laughing. Only, it wasn't a laugh Toris had ever heard before. Giggling, really, but not the same as Ludwig had given when he had shot those men in town. No, this was different, so different, and all Toris could think of then was that it sounded just like Natalia's giggling when she had been tormenting someone she hated.
The first thing Ludwig said when he caught his breath, as he stood there in the light of the white clouds and lifted his eyes up, was, "I'm supposed to shoot you, Toris. If I saw you again."
A clench of his chest. Yeah, that figured. Ivan obviously would have told Ludwig to shoot Toris on sight without even saying a single word to him.
Oh, god, the sight of Ludwig then.
Could barely fathom it.
Hair lit up white, eyes silver and skin as pale as the hidden moon, he just fuckin' stood there, arms straight at his sides and stance steady and jaw set confidently. His broad shoulders were low and easy, neck arched downward so that he was looking up at Toris through his lashes even as he stood taller, and Toris was fairly certain that his blank face might have been threatening to twitch into a smile.
Didn't even flinch, with a gun right at him.
Ludwig terrified him, Christ almighty, was like looking right through into the other side of a black mirror. Once upon a time, Toris had opened the doors to the back of a vehicle and had been certain then that he had seen the most unspeakably terrifying thing anyone ever could, coming face to face for the first time with Ivan. Oh, had he been wrong, dead wrong, because what he felt right then, looking at Ludwig—
No words. Had no words at all, could never have described it.
Ludwig suddenly cracked his neck a little, reached up to smooth back his hair, and then he gave a light snort and took a step towards Toris. And even though Toris was the one with the gun, somehow it was Toris who felt the most in danger as Ludwig very slowly advanced on him.
Every single hair on his body was absolutely on end.
So genuinely horrified that he was numb, terror so strong that it had knocked his senses out. Had never felt that way, never, and he knew in that moment that Ludwig scared him a hundred times more than Ivan ever possibly could have.
Ludwig took another silent step.
Shit. Nothing was going according to plan. What the hell was Ludwig doing out here? Why wasn't he inside? Ivan had actually let him out, knowing that Toris was coming? Maybe restless Ludwig had just slipped out of his own accord. Maybe Ludwig didn't listen to Ivan anymore. Maybe Ludwig was in charge now, and it was Ivan following orders.
Ludwig's silver eyes pinned him down like knives.
What to do, what to do, because Ludwig took another step, Gilbert was waiting, and Toris couldn't breathe.
Couldn't get through Ludwig. Trying to get around Ludwig was as impossible as trying to get around Ivan himself. Just stood there, so dumbly, as Ludwig very slowly advanced on him from up the path.
Silence, as his gun shook in his hand and Ludwig stood firm and unafraid, and it was Ludwig who spoke first again.
"Where did you go, Toris? Tell me. I've been so curious."
That voice was an unrecognizable as anything else there before him, perfectly smooth and silky and unruffled, so much higher than Ludwig's normal voice, so pleasant, even as that gun aimed straight at his heart. As if Ludwig were having a congenial conversation with an old lady.
Well, then. Time to not die, and that was Toris' favorite time of day.
Ivan might have known how to program Ludwig, but Toris knew how to push a few buttons here and there. Or had been able to before, anyway. He had been gone for a long while and maybe Ivan had patched those gaps. May as well give it a go. Literally had nothing to lose by trying.
Shaking off that horror enough to get his throat to open, though, was much harder than he had anticipated, as he bristled yet and everything in him, every single survival instinct, every cell, was telling him to turn and run away from the terrifying creation. Couldn't run—Gilbert was waiting, and even if he hadn't been, Toris couldn't flee because Ludwig would shoot him the second he turned his back if he tried to.
So Toris tried to keep his voice calm and steady as he replied, "I just went out for a while. You know how it is. You show up a little late sometimes. What are you doing out here, Ludwig? It's freezing. Where's your coat, huh? Aren't you cold, Ludwig?"
Silence.
He waited, hand shaking so badly now that he couldn't have hit the side of a fuckin' house, and he wasn't sure whether he was relieved or not when Ludwig finally did smile.
"I thought you'd gone for good. I thought you'd left me again."
Again?
Nope, no relief, just another wave of terror, as that pale smile was as fixed as those eyes. Ludwig's lashes lit up white when the moon came out from behind a cloud, and he took one more step.
"I didn't leave you, Ludwig. I wouldn't do that. I came back. We're brothers, remember?"
Ludwig didn't blink, didn't twitch, and seemed very thoroughly unfazed.
Toris was full of shit, and Ludwig knew it. Stupid. He wasn't any better than Feliks, when everything was said and done. Was no better, not at all. Would have sold Ludwig out very easily had it saved him. He'd'a left Ludwig, if he could have. Wouldn't'a looked back. He was only here now because of Gilbert, and Ludwig was not his brother.
But not Gilbert's, either.
Ludwig wasn't anyone's anything then, because he was something that no one could ever put a claim on. Wasn't even Ivan's then, not really, because Toris was so certain suddenly that Ludwig had come from the other side of some dark closet. Opening the door one day and there he just was, borne from the shadows, because he was very real and yet not there at all.
Scariest damn thing Toris had ever seen, and if he had thought that Gilbert's breadth of comprehension wasn't wide enough to see Ludwig's change, then Toris was guilty of that suddenly as well, because what he was seeing with his own eyes was somehow still so well beyond him.
No answer, nothing, and Ludwig just stared at him.
Ludwig took a another step forward, and then another, and then, god, god, he was close enough to push Toris' gun into his chest. Pushed himself right into the gun, pressed it there right into his heart, and didn't even seem to feel it. Ivan had once pushed himself into Feliks' rifle, and yet somehow that hadn't seemed half as terrifying as it was when Ludwig just smiled there at him.
A shift, a movement, and Ludwig reached out. Toris flinched. A hand fell on his shoulder, fingers squeezed muscle, and Ludwig didn't even seem to be truly aware of the pistol sticking into him.
"I missed you, Toris. I told him I'd shoot you, and if he were here, I would. But it's just us. I can pretend you were never here. I can spend some time in the dark for you."
Didn't deserve that, honestly, assuming of course that Ludwig actually meant it.
Oh, god help him, the awful thought he had then—to shoot Ludwig.
Wanted to shoot him, he did, because this wasn't Ludwig, this was just something murky and radioactive that would destroy the world. Ivan had opened the floodgates to the abyss, and Ludwig's black water would drown the Earth. If Ivan could set fire to the planet, then Ludwig was the gas leak that would cause an explosion. Ivan had been dangerous enough on his own. It had been even more dangerous when Ivan had been commanding Ludwig, but now...
If Ludwig was suddenly the one commanding Ivan, then there was only destruction.
All Toris could think to do was ask, again, "Aren't you cold, Ludwig?"
Ludwig pushed forward suddenly against the gun, and Toris felt himself take an automatic step backwards. Ludwig took another. So did he. Paces backward, as Ludwig kept pressing him farther and farther back, and he was just so damn mesmerized and terrified that all he could do was follow Ludwig's lead and keep their eyes locked. Couldn't look away, couldn't, because it was the same as staring at the tiger; if you blinked and your gaze twitched, for just a second, it would lunge.
Couldn't break that gaze, because Ludwig would pounce.
His hand trembled. The gun was pointless, all show; he couldn't shoot Ludwig. Not because it would kill Gilbert, not because he was scared, not because he had any glimmer of hope that Ludwig could come back. No. None of that. Couldn't shoot Ludwig, in the end, because even though Ludwig would cause only chaos and hurt, it wasn't his fault. Wasn't Ludwig's fault, it was Ivan's, for making him that way, and Toris couldn't shoot him, had he been mobile enough to do so. Not Ludwig's fault that he was that way. God help him, even though he knew he should have, needed to, was the right thing to do really, Toris couldn't have ever done it. Couldn't shoot Ludwig, would never have been able to.
When he looked at this dark Ludwig, all he really saw was himself if Ivan had loved him. Everything he would have been, so he couldn't shoot Ludwig.
Pebbles rustling as Ludwig pushed him back. Steps in the dirt.
The trees in the distance swayed in the wind. The scent of pine and dying grass. The glitter of mica in the moon.
Hooting of owls.
Something hard pressed into his back then, he jumped and sucked in a breath, and he realized that Ludwig had walked him back to the guardrail around the diamond mine. Cold steel.
Oh, shit, oh shit, what did he do? What could he do, what was he supposed to do, time was wasting and fleeing and Gilbert was waiting there in the trees, Gilbert was so impatient, was so antsy, and if Toris didn't show soon then he was going to just go right to the house and get himself killed—
Ludwig suddenly lowered his right hand, his left still very much clenching Toris' shoulder, and now the gun was within two sets of fingers. So stupid. He was so stupid. Ludwig pried the gun gently from him with little protest. Seemed that Ludwig could fascinate him now as much as Ivan ever had.
Toris had always been so steady with the gun. When he held his gun, his hand never shook, never, everything within him was rock-steady, always had been. This was the first time that his hand had ever betrayed him, had trembled. Not once. Never, and yet that time, his courage had failed. For the first time, Toris was successfully disarmed. Hadn't thought it possible at all, but Ludwig had made it look so easy.
Couldn't fight off Ludwig's stare. No one and nothing could, because suddenly staring into Ludwig's eyes was the same as staring into the black hole. By the time you got close enough to see it, it was too late; the event horizon couldn't be escaped.
Space.
And it occurred to Toris, then, that Ludwig would probably shoot him with his own gun and then kick him down into the mine below.
Now that Toris was disarmed, Ludwig's posture changed. He straightened up, lifted his head back up to stare down at Toris, his shoulders rolled up and back, and his smile seemed much more sincere and very, very amused. He reached out, patted Toris' cheek with a snort, playfully, and shot him a wink. Another quick giggle, and then out of nowhere Ludwig was turning his head this way and that, as if looking for something, and all Toris could do was stare at his gun.
What a damn feeling it was, and not a good one, having his own gun in someone else's hands, as Ludwig suddenly raised it up to scratch at his temple with the muzzle, scoping the scenery out yet with those endless eyes, looking around relentlessly.
A scary sight, Ludwig peering around, line in his forehead as he raised his brows up and kept that gun up near his own temple, smile still on his face and looking so pleased.
What was he looking for?
Glinting in the dim light, as diamond dust and rocks lit up.
Toris sucked in another breath, tried to play it off as a laugh, and said, "Ludwig! Are you gonna shoot me, Ludwig?"
Ludwig. He hadn't been around to tell Ludwig who he was. Hadn't been there to say that name, and maybe Ludwig had a different one now. Maybe he had no name at all, because he didn't really seem human. Felt to Toris then that Ludwig was more like something someone had accidentally conjured up during a ritual gone wrong, and maybe that was why he had never parents, Christ—
A movement. Again, Toris flinched.
Ludwig didn't turn the gun around on him, though, and instead suddenly tucked it into his belt, underneath his shirt behind his back. He didn't once release Toris from that piercing stare, and for whatever stupid reason it occurred to Toris that Ludwig could now very easily stare down Ivan. Invincible. Ivan would be the one now trapped under Ludwig's eyes.
Toris' heart hammered loudly enough to hurt his chest.
A motion, a jolt of panic, fear, as Toris could only stand breathless and so motionless when Ludwig suddenly reached out his hands, grabbed Toris' face, leaned forward, and kissed him upon the forehead.
Felt so cold then, utter ice, chilled down to everything, and the shudder he felt forced every single muscle to move along with it, it was so powerful. Wasn't even sure then what he felt. An awful mix of terror and fascination and elation and hate and fear, everything possible. Only Ivan had ever been able to make him feel that, but so too now could Ludwig. He just stood there and stared at Ludwig in that trance, hardly breathing and so captivated.
Ludwig pulled back, then, as quickly as he had leaned forward, and finally took a step back to distance them. The spell was broken, and Toris snapped out of it with an inhale and a rush of adrenaline so powerful it made him dizzy.
Ludwig's look had suddenly hardened, right back into that expression of annoyance and distaste that he had been showing Toris before he had left, as if he had grown bored.
"Get out of here, Toris. Don't come back. Or I will shoot you. Go."
A look of finality.
Toris didn't doubt for a second that Ludwig meant it.
Ludwig's patience and interest in Toris had ended for good. Ludwig had only said what was needed to get the gun out of Toris' hand. The task was complete. The little kiss had just been a permanent goodbye. That was the last time Ludwig would ever speak to him, and if they crossed paths again that night, Ludwig would shoot him.
Just couldn't figure out, at first, why Ludwig hadn't shot him there to begin with. Ludwig would shoot him if they ran into each other again, so why not just shoot him now and get it over with? Why wait? Ludwig felt nothing for Toris, so why not just kill him?
Something simple, actually : just because Ivan wasn't there. More of an instance of 'when Ivan's away, Ludwig will play' sorta thing. That was what Ludwig had been looking for. Ivan. Making sure that somewhere, somehow, someway, Ivan wasn't watching. Ivan hadn't been, so Ludwig did what he wanted, and for whatever reason Ludwig just hadn't felt like shooting Toris at that particular moment. It was boring to Ludwig, maybe.
Toris had been spared only because Ivan hadn't been there and because Ludwig had decided he had more interesting things to do. Had Ivan been there, of course Ludwig would have shot him, but Ivan hadn't been, so Ludwig had been playing around a little, like the way a cat paddled around before pouncing. Ludwig spared Toris in that instance because it had been fun for him, and maybe, in some way, Ludwig was tormenting him by prolonging the inevitable. Maybe Ludwig was just letting him fly a little then to see how far he could get.
Torturing him without even touching him.
Oh.
Where was Gilbert now? The plan had been delayed, the time had been set wrong, and Gilbert, so impatient, had probably tried to go the house anyway. Ludwig would hardly be more sympathetic to Gilbert, not now. Ludwig had let Toris go, perhaps, because Toris had never wronged him. Gilbert had, in Ludwig's mind because that was what Ivan spent so long planting there, and for that Ludwig wouldn't let Gilbert off so easily.
Ludwig wandered off, feet making hardly any noise as he went.
Toris watched him go, and knew that there was a new plan—get the fuck out of there, and yesterday.
Couldn't go to the house, not with Ludwig going up that path and not knowing where exactly Ivan was. Could only turn back and get the hell back into the forest, and hope that dumb fuckin' Gilbert was still waiting in the trees, that he hadn't gone down. Couldn't go after him, if he had.
He turned on his heel, and meant to bolt right back past that mine and into the forest. Made it a many good few meters, too, into the cluttered field, before he ran into another obstacle.
He had gotten rid of Ludwig. He found something else in his stead.
Ivan.
Just ran through sleeping machinery, abandoned for the night, turned his head to the side and there Ivan was, fuckin' hell, just coming up out of nowhere from behind a crane.
Why were they out here? What had they been doing? What the hell had they been fuckin' doing? Wandering around out here like ghosts? What could they have possibly been doing? Were they admiring the forest at nighttime? Target practice, to sharpen Ludwig's eyes in dim light? Stargazing? Was Ivan courting Ludwig out here, amongst trees and stars and diamond dust? Using that instilled Russian romanticism to woo Ludwig somehow further into the shadows?
They had been separate; hide and seek? Was Ludwig eluding Ivan in some sort of game? Were they running around town trying to pin each other down?
Or maybe, more likely, Ludwig really had escaped the house in a fit of boredom and Ivan was trying to hunt him down and bring him back inside, but Ludwig just kept playfully hopping away from him like a disobedient cat.
Toris skidded to a halt mid-sprint, knocked senseless once more, and Ivan had been walking, falling as still suddenly as Toris as they stared at each other. Couldn't be more than three meters between them, so close, and Ivan had fallen so completely still that Toris almost thought he had just run into a very ill-placed Soviet statue.
Good god, could anything else have possibly gone wrong for him that night?
A sharp inhale, but it came from Ivan, not Toris.
Ivan. The sight of him stunned Toris into immobility, thrust him into the atmosphere, as that awful wave of emotion hit him over the head.
Ivan.
Love.
Damn near stupefying, that burst of adoration and fear and hate and everything else.
Oh, that man—! How Toris loved him.
So damn beautiful while at the same time horrifying, the most spectacular and also the most terrifying thing Toris had known, his entire world right there before him, the reason he had ever gotten out of bed, the reason he had had for living at all.
Ivan.
There he was. Could scarcely believe it. Oh, damn, was Toris' heart suddenly hammering away. That glorious son of a bitch. Toris stared at Ivan then harder than he had ever stared at anything, feeling so elated and so wrathful at the same time.
Ivan's hair was a mess, uncombed and sticking out every which way, being blown as it was by the gentle breeze. Heavy stubble on his face. Just like Ludwig, he wasn't dressed for the outdoors in any sense, wearing wrinkled black sweatpants and an even more wrinkled button-up shirt that was barely even buttoned up at all. No coat, no hat, no gloves, no belt, nothing. Probably didn't even have socks on under his boots. As if he had been in bed and had rolled out to run outside in a hurry.
And Toris was beyond certain then, just at the look of Ivan, that Ivan really had been out here trying to corral Ludwig. Had been darting around and going in circles trying to get Ludwig to sit still long enough to grab him. Must have been in bed, ready for sleep, and Ludwig had just decided to get up and writhe out of Ivan's clutches and straight out the door, and Ivan had had no choice but to trot helplessly after elusive and clever Ludwig.
Ivan had been outside to coax and pin his obstinate cat, and had found his lost dog instead.
Ivan looked positively dumbfounded.
The first thing that Toris really noticed, beyond the beautiful, overwhelming sight of him, was that Ivan didn't have his gun. Had been unprepared, for once, running outside after Ludwig as he likely had, maybe only because Ludwig was always armed and so Ivan just hadn't thought about it.
Ivan was unarmed.
Well. Actually, needed to rephrase. Not armed, at least in the sense that he was carrying a gun. Ivan didn't need a gun to kill someone, anymore than Toris or Ludwig did.
Toris could already see it up in his head : after a short stand-off, Ivan would probably lunge forward, so fast that Toris could barely see him, and this time maybe Toris would actually have the gall to try and fight for his life. Couldn't stand up to Ivan for long, though, not long, and he knew it. Toris had always relied on smarts, but he was strong, too. Had to be, to be in the Red Army, to be in Ivan's world. But even though he could have taken down any normal man, Toris couldn't ever have taken down Ivan, because Ivan had been trained to kill, really trained. Ivan had been taught to feel no pain, to never stop. Ivan had been beaten into a pulp by his superiors until he had learned systema, until he had been able to hold them off, until pain didn't faze him anymore. Toris had never been trained like that. Eventually, Ivan would overpower him, one way or another, and really the only thing left to question was whether Ivan would pin him down in the dirt, knees on arms, and strangle him to death, or choose to beat him to death with those iron fists and steel-toed boots instead.
Toris couldn't really say which would have been worse.
Ivan didn't need a gun.
A long, breathless look, as he and Ivan stared at each other. Ivan seemed absolutely flabbergasted, and Toris might have felt a little proud for it.
So, then. Ha.
Ivan sure had been thinking of him, alright, that was obvious. Ivan had been undone, had been fretting, panicking, had spent every day waiting for Toris. Ivan was astounded that Toris had had the nerve to return.
He said as much soon after, his soft, breathy voice barely rising above the gentle wind.
"You came back. You really came back."
Toris hoped, beyond anything, that Ivan was realizing he had made a mistake again. That Toris really could be brave, after all. That Ivan could have had something there, maybe, if he had given an effort. That if Ivan had put effort into Toris, Toris could have been great. Hoped he was realizing that right now.
Ivan kept staring.
The longest that he and Ivan had ever stared at each other, because it was the first time that Toris had been brave enough to hold his gaze.
Felt so brazen now, so bold, so breathlessly fearless. Ivan still terrified him, absolutely, so he couldn't have really described what gave him the nerve to look at Ivan like that. Maybe Gilbert had emboldened him as much as the other way around. Maybe because the bond had been broken.
Toris just fell loose all of a sudden, chin dropping as much as Ludwig's hand, shoulders easy and hands lax, and he stared at Ivan with a sudden scoff. Felt suddenly so damn relaxed.
Ivan had been everything. Ivan had been boss. Ivan had been god. Ivan had been the reason Toris had burned the world. Ivan had been the captain. Ivan had been the one pushing the buttons, the moon that caused the tides, the one pulling the strings, the one that had made Toris dance, the one that had made him function, the one that had made him him.
Everything.
Nothing now.
Or maybe Toris was so brave then, so bold, so unbothered, because he had just gotten done looking into Ludwig's bottomless eyes, and nothing Ivan could ever do now would scare him. Suddenly, Ivan was no longer the most sinister man alive, and Toris didn't fear him. If Ivan was a god, then Ludwig was just the black of space above him, and nothing Ivan could do then from that moment would shake Toris.
Had seen oblivion.
Ivan was nothing.
Again, Ivan whispered, almost dazedly, "You came back."
Only the bravest men trekked of their own volition into Siberia. Ivan could see it now, and so Toris stood up straight, lifted his chin, rolled his shoulders back, and that might have been the first time in his life that he himself had ever actually been able to perfectly emulate Ivan, because he felt like Ivan in that instant. Felt better. Felt haughty. Felt in control. Impervious. Invincible. Untouchable. In that instant, in that split second, Toris felt like Ivan.
Felt like a god.
And it felt goddamn glorious.
Toris was sure that his brow had gotten lofty and his lips had curled into a sneer when he asked, simply, "Are you proud of me?"
Ivan just stood there.
Toris held his arms out at his sides, ever so slightly, mockingly, the very image of Ivan. Absolute adrenaline rush. Had never felt anything like this.
High.
Ah, to know what Ivan had really felt all those years. Addictive.
"Tell me you're proud of me," Toris pressed, his own voice stronger and louder than Ivan's, and this time there was no tremble in his hands, no waver, no fear. His voice was perfectly silvery and calm, as Ivan's always had been. "Tell me. Say it. Tell me you're proud of me. Tell me I did a good job. Tell me you couldn't have done it without me. Say it. Tell me how proud you are. Tell me how brave you think I am. Huh? What's the matter? Can't you talk? Say something. Tell me how much you miss me. Don't you miss me, huh? Haven't you missed me? Haven't you been thinking about me? You can't do anything without me. Say it. Admit it. Without me, you're just a man. You couldn't have done any of this without me. Say it."
Ivan didn't utter a word, didn't move a muscle. Still staring at Toris with that astonished look upon his face. Thought maybe, though, that Ivan's hands had twitched at his sides.
One more taunt, one more demand, one more sentence fell from Toris' lips, as he took a bold step forward, hands ever there at his sides.
"Tell me you love me."
Ivan should have loved Toris, because Toris had loved him for ten years.
Toris took another stride, wide and aggressive, and Ivan, as entranced then as Toris had been under Ludwig, took a step back.
Ivan stepped back.
Extraordinary.
They were family. They were linked. They were connected. Toris may have been nothing without Ivan, but without Toris, Ivan would have been irreparably damaged. Would never have been where he was now. Ivan had built Toris, but Toris had been the foundation beneath Ivan's feet. Toris had been what had made Ivan's life smooth and limitless. Toris was what had really made Ivan truly powerful beyond compare.
Could see it, now that it was gone.
Ivan would never forget Toris.
Seeing Ivan so caught then under his eyes, his, Toris of all people, Toris felt that he wouldn't even care if he died then, because his entire life had suddenly been justified and made good use of, when he took one more step forward and Ivan took one more back.
Pushing Ivan back without once touching him, as Ivan had done to others for countless years. Ivan's pupils were dilated as could possibly be, jaw clenched, and Toris could see him suddenly swallow.
The wolf had been forced back by the dog.
Ivan may have lived here, but all along, it had been Toris that had truly run this town.
For one delirious, surreal moment, Toris almost thought that he could have just sneered and lowered his arms then and walked slowly away, and Ivan would be too utterly mystified to even lift a hand to him. As Ivan had evaded death so many times by being far too hypnotizing to shoot, so too Toris thought he could just walk away and leave Ivan paralyzed in his wake.
Was so certain he could have done it.
Didn't get his chance to try it—a footstep to the side. Toris looked over, so haughtily, still sneering and so confident, still in that high, and Ivan looked too, eyes so wide and breathing through his mouth and pulse hammering in his neck.
Ludwig had come back.
That black mirror shattered.
With Ludwig's appearance, the flipped tables returned to their rightful places; Ivan woke up with a vengeance, and Toris' hands started to shake. The reversal was broken. Toris was petrified again, but not of Ivan. Ludwig was back, after all. That spinning pulsar.
Ludwig blocked the path. Ivan blocked the forest.
Where to run—
And then, suddenly, that pale, wide-eyed Ivan had lowered his arm down and behind him, reached down into his waistband at the small of his back, and pulled out a gun.
Oh. Shit. Ivan had had a gun after all. Had just never hidden it like that before, not once. Had never carried a gun like that, and must have grabbed it at the last second on his way after Ludwig.
Now, Toris was afraid, alright. That illusion of being in control evaporated, and Toris' mind barely had time to go into flight mode when Ivan took a stalking step forward and pulled the trigger.
The sound was too loud in the still air.
A miss.
Ivan had missed. Missed, because for once in his life, Ivan's hands had been shaking. And he wasn't happy about it. A snarl, an actual snarl as if from that wolf itself, a jerk, another aim, but Toris had already bolted, sprinting as fast as he could, darting here and there in the midst of that field of mine equipment, like that rabbit he had envisioned, as Ivan kept on firing at him.
Kept missing. Toris wouldn't sit still long enough.
Could hear Ivan's heavy footsteps behind him in pursuit.
A furious shriek from behind.
"Toris! Hold still! Fuckin' sit still!"
Hardly! Yeah, sure, he was gonna sit still, alright, once he was back in the fuckin' car and on his way to the West. Then he'd sit still.
Hadn't run so hard, so fast, ever, nearly snapped his damn ankle at the sharp turns he was making, skidding about as he was.
As it had been once before, heavy Ivan was goddamn fast, spurred on by adrenaline and hate.
More gunshots, one hitting the machinery nearby and ricocheting off far too close to him.
Ivan's voice was higher, thinner, more furious, breaking and cracking more and more every time he screamed.
"Toris! Don't you run from me! You come back!"
No, thanks!
How many shots had that been? How many?
Couldn't think.
Didn't need to, suddenly, because Ivan shrieked a curse and Toris could hear clicking.
The gun was empty.
Ivan pulled the trigger long after the chamber had been spent, and when Toris looked over his shoulder briefly, he looked positively livid for it. Had never once, not once, seen Ivan so angry, not even that night that Eduard had run out, not even when Ivan had been ready to shoot Toris there in the office. Almost hadn't known anyone could be so angry. If Ivan had dropped dead of an aneurysm right then and there, Toris would have felt no shock, he was so goddamn furious.
Toris' sprint dropped into a trot, because there were no bullets left and Ivan couldn't keep up that pace.
He fell still for just a moment, sucking in air and trying to catch his second wind, and he looked over his shoulder again. Ivan was lagging far behind him, sweating and panting, and Toris watched him carefully as he caught his breath to make sure he was ready to run again. Gasping and bent over to rest his hands on his knees, sweating, Toris just smiled at Ivan, so breathlessly, and laughed to himself.
Ah. That had been almost as satisfying as staring that bastard down, that run.
Exhilarating.
And Toris would have thought that salvation was near, if it hadn't been for fuckin' Ludwig trotting up behind them, apparently keen to watch the action. Ivan wasted no time in grabbing Ludwig by the arm, wrenching him forward, snatching his gun, and aiming it at Toris.
Goddammit—another surge of adrenaline, another awful second of his hair standing on end, staring once more down the barrel of a gun.
A click, another aim, and Ivan was ready to take Toris out for good.
Once more, Toris bolted when Ivan pulled the trigger. Just in time, as the bullet whizzed by.
The chase was on again.
More shrieking from behind, just as breathless and cracking and shrill as before, as Ivan tried to run and scream and shoot all at the same time.
"Sit still, Toris! Fuckin' bastard—I'll be proud of you if you sit still!"
Another shot, far too close by.
"HOLD STILL!"
A scramble, a sense of desperation.
The mine was suddenly right in front of him.
Couldn't run around it. He was running out of options, but Ivan was running out of bullets. A bullet whizzed by his leg then, grazing him just barely, and Toris didn't see much choice; he leapt forward, bounded over the railing, and slid down. Not a second too soon, either, as what he hoped was the final bullet hit the railing.
He hit the first road, and then quickly rolled over and slid down onto the next one. He slammed into the dirt, the wind knocked out of him, and stared up in a daze.
No more bullets, surely, had he counted right?
Ivan reached the railing and grabbed it up in his left hand, leaning far over and meeting Toris' eyes in a second. He aimed the gun at Toris, and damn, Toris couldn't even breathe yet and was utterly helpless there, sprawled on the road.
Had he counted right—?
Stared into the barrel of that gun and right into the void.
Ivan pulled the trigger.
Nothing. Just a little click.
No more bullets.
Toris inhaled as air came back, he gave a gasp that was almost a laugh, staring up at Ivan with wide eyes and feeling so fucking tired. Couldn't even move. Just laid there, as red-faced Ivan stared down at him in fury. Felt good to lay down, even then.
His damn uniform was ruined, covered in dust and dirt as it was. Shame.
A snarl of frustration, as Ivan kept on squeezing the trigger long after there had only been clicking. Panting for air so heavily that Toris could hear his chest rattling, even all the way below, forehead gleaming with sweat, hair plastered to his forehead, and Toris had never seen Ivan look so unraveled. Had come absolutely undone.
No more bullets, the bastard, and Toris would have laughed then if he hadn't suddenly remembered that hidden under Ludwig's shirt was Toris' loaded gun. Remembered, because Ludwig was suddenly there at Ivan's side, resting folded arms on the top of the railing, chin perched above them, and Ludwig just stared down at Toris with a wide smile, like he was watching the best show on earth.
Shit.
Toris could only look up and wait for Ludwig to hand the gun over to Ivan. He wouldn't have been able to dodge anymore. Woulda just waited to be shot. Had nothing left, not a thing, had given all of his energy to that effort.
But Ludwig didn't move.
Ludwig just stood there, smiling away, but he didn't reach under his shirt and hand Ivan that pistol. What was he saving it for? Could he sense a need for it in the near future? Or did he just not want Ivan to know that he and Toris had already come across each other, and that Ludwig had done as he pleased while disobeying a direct order to shoot him on sight?
Who could say, now, the way Ludwig was.
Ivan snarled and huffed and panted and suddenly wrenched open the gun in his hand as if to confirm that it was really empty, and when he saw that it indeed was, Ivan raised up his arm, and pitched the gun as hard as he could at Toris' head with a strangled cry of rage.
Like everything else, it missed.
All Toris could do then was smile, crookedly, and drag his hand up to his forehead in one final, mocking salute to that son of a bitch.
Ludwig gave a loud bark of laughter.
Ivan could have just imploded, from the look of him.
Ivan's hands gripped the railing as he leaned so far over he could have toppled right in, and he shrieked, furiously, "Yeah, you lay there, Toris! You fuckin' lay there! I'll get you one way or another! Just fuckin' wait! Just you wait! I'm gonna fuckin'— I'm gonna— You don't— Fuck, you—"
Couldn't even talk anymore, suddenly, couldn't form coherent speech he was so mad, and Ivan suddenly hauled himself up. A step up onto the railing, as if Ivan really intended to slide down the ore and dust just so he could throttle the life out of Toris.
Well, guess he was gonna be strangled to death after all. Supposed he wouldn't complain too much, really, because it would be a hell of a lot better than being shot in the stomach.
The sound of Ivan's other boot on the railing.
And then a hand, pale and eerily graceful, suddenly reached out and fell on Ivan's shoulder.
Ludwig.
Ivan fell still, turned his head to Ludwig, and Ludwig was speaking. Could see his lips moving, but couldn't hear his whisper. Didn't care what Ludwig was saying, anyway, because Toris was so fascinated, even then, by Ivan. Had fallen still in a second under Ludwig's touch, as if it had frozen him, and Toris could see that, even in that impossibly red cloud of rage, Ivan was pinned under Ludwig's gaze.
Knew it. Had known it somehow, the second he had looked into Ludwig's eyes.
Ivan just stood there, still breathing through his mouth and eyes so wide, nostrils flaring, hands clinging to the railing and feet up on the first rung, and he seemed absolutely hypnotized by Ludwig. Ivan didn't slide down to murder Toris, despite his oaths, and suddenly had stepped down back onto the ground.
Toris dared a glance at Ludwig.
A slanted smile there, narrowed eyes, and a lowered chin. A look of outright satisfaction, and of triumph.
Toris figured it all out then, figured out everything, and he probably should have realized it long ago.
All of Ludwig's actions, every time Ludwig had saved his ass, every time Ludwig had taken Ivan's wrath away. Every time Ludwig had slunk around Toris and had interacted with him when Ivan wasn't there. Had been a game alright, but not one that Ludwig was playing for amusement. Ludwig had been testing the ground not beneath his own feet, but of that beneath Ivan's. Seeing how far he could push Ivan and bring him back. Seeing how quickly he could wrangle Ivan. Seeing what set Ivan off and what brought him down.
Toris had just been a good start for Ludwig. A practice run.
From the very day Ludwig had first stepped out of that room, Toris had lost him, and just hadn't known it at all. Had tried so hard to keep him after that, when he really hadn't been there anymore.
No going back.
Ivan had lost control of Ludwig in every way that wasn't physical. Had gotten in so far over his head, had pushed and pushed and pushed, and now that he had Ludwig, now that he had broken down that wall, he suddenly couldn't ever hope to turn the tide. If Ludwig did what Ivan said then, it was only ever really because Ludwig wanted to. Ludwig had surpassed Ivan. That awful look on his face then. As if Ludwig commanded the universe in its entirety.
In this one single instance, however, Ludwig's triumph may have been partially misplaced.
Ivan had slid off the railing, alright, but not because of Ludwig's hand, and not because of whatever Ludwig had whispered.
Something else.
A light had flipped on in Ivan's mind, and it must have been so clear that it completely overrode that rage. Toris could see it then; that wide-eyed look. The way Ivan's brow had crinkled and yet his eyes were as wide as they could be, the way that Ivan's lips parted but no words came out, the way his knuckles were white as they clenched the railing, the way his entire body had seemed to tense up.
That look of understanding. Comprehension.
A sudden scope around the mine, over both shoulders.
And Toris knew that Ivan had remembered at last that somewhere out here, Gilbert was lurking. That Gilbert obviously wasn't far behind Toris. Ivan knew it. Just in that breathless, almost horrified look. Somewhere in those eyes, Toris almost thought he saw a little betrayal. The first time he'd ever seen anything like that on Ivan's face. Was that hurt? Hoped so. Hoped Ivan was feeling hurt, was feeling betrayed, was scared.
Welcome to Toris' world, ya miserable son of a bitch.
Hoped Ivan was hurting.
A long stare, a sudden shake of Ivan's shoulders, and not in anger, and then Ivan released the railing.
And just like that, with one whirl, Ivan was gone. Ludwig, snatched up in Ivan's iron grip, was dragged along behind him. Toris was left alone.
Oh, Gilbert. He was dead.
Knew it, knew there was no chance, no hope, because it had been so long now, and impulsive Gilbert could never have waited, wasn't still waiting. Gilbert had gone down to the house, Toris knew it, and there was nothing more he could do.
An awful, vulnerable moment of gathering his strength and catching his breath, and then Toris sat up at the waist, rolled over, somehow pulled himself up to his feet, and looked around at the fuckin' mess he had gotten himself into. The road around the mine was unfathomably long. Would take him hours to run up it like that and get out, and by then Ivan would have already murdered Gilbert and would have come back for Toris.
The only chance he had at all was to try to climb up.
He looked up, saw the steep incline, the loose dirt, the great distance, and felt no hope. None. He couldn't get out of here before Ivan came back, and he knew it. Realized it, accepted it.
That being said, he was gonna fuckin' try, anyway, because he wasn't gonna go down like that, wasn't gonna just plop down cross-legged and watch the stars until Ivan came back with more bullets. He'd come too damn far, had done too much, had given so much, had felt that wondrous sense of immortality, and so he'd be damned if he was gonna go out like that.
Hell no. Not like that, not tonight.
With a rush of adrenaline that he desperately needed, as those survival instincts kicked in again, Toris dug his hands into the dirt, steadied his boot, and tried to scale the incline.
Made it a couple of meters, maybe, before the loose dirt betrayed him and he started sliding back down. Tried to dig his boots in, tried to grab anything, anything at all, but there was nothing but dust and suddenly he was right back where he started.
He tried again, and made it farther.
And then he slid back down.
Frustration, rising, and so was hysteria. Gilbert had said he was ready to die, and maybe Toris had pretended that he was too but that was a lie, really, because Toris hadn't ever wanted to die and wasn't ready, not at all.
Didn't wanna die.
The slag kept giving out beneath his fingers, and no matter how hard Toris tried to scratch his way up, he just couldn't seem to get a foothold.
Gilbert was dead, and Toris didn't want to join him, because he was a coward, under it all. By the time he got out, if he got out, it would be far too late. Couldn't catch up to them. Couldn't get to Gilbert in time, and wasn't even going to try. Just wanted out. Gilbert was dead, and if Toris couldn't climb up out of this mine then he was dead, too.
Kept sliding back down.
Oh. How it gone this way?
...Gilbert had stood there in the sunset, just staring down at the town, so calmly. Had looked so peaceful, something Toris had never once felt.
Somewhere down the line, Toris pushed his face into the wall of dirt and cried for the first time in forever, sobbing and gasping into the dust and feeling so pathetic. So frustrated. It wasn't fear for Gilbert that made him cry then. It wasn't terror.
He didn't know why he cried then, except for that maybe everything was done.
Over.
The line of finality had been crossed. He was here, where he was sure he never would be again, Gilbert was here, Ivan was here, and Ludwig was here. Everything had come around. Full circle. The game ended here. So overwhelmed.
It was done, all of it, and unless he wanted himself to be done too then he had to get out of here.
Finished. It was over.
They had lost, as Toris had always known they would, and yet even though he had been so prepared for that, it still hurt. So much more than he thought it would. Hadn't known it hurt that much, that it would feel like this, that it could ever feel like this.
Stood there for a long damn minute, crying into that dirt wall, hands cupped around his face and inhaling dust.
It was finally finished.
Gilbert should have just gone back home, and Toris wished that he could have been enough for Gilbert to ever want to.
Come with me, he had said.
Maybe, if Toris had ever just sat down and gathered the courage to actually ask, just maybe Gilbert would have gone back with him.
Would never know.
Finished.
