A/T: For those who don't know (and it's only occurred to me that some of you might not), "Bobby" is the nickname for "Robert", and "Ronnie" is the nickname for "Ronald". This means that Robert and Ronald are two of your favorite techs! Sadly, Archie refused to fit into this story, but it's still fun to think that most of our adorkable geeks are together no matter what the time period. :)
Disclaimer: Still not mine.
A Hundred Years or So
Part 2
He's never really been ashamed of himself before, but as Nicolas stares out the kitchen window, he realizes there's a first time for everything. It's been three days since that night, and he's avoided David at every opportunity. David, though, hasn't exactly gone seeking him out, so doesn't that mean they can at least share the blame?
Despite all of his doubts, he knows there's one thing for certain: he's in love with David.
He's in love, has ruined it, and now he's paying dearly for his mistake. He misses spending time with the other man; the lake and the games and the way David makes him feel. It's all so frightening, so new, and he's sick that he's lost a love before ever having the chance to know it. He and David's magnetism towards each other is as strong as ever (at least, he thinks so), so he wonders if this separation is as painful for David as it is for him. In a way, he hopes it is.
Dinner's almost finished on the stove and Sofia's rustling through the old cabinet, counting out dishes and cups so that she can set the table. She smiles as he takes the heavy pile; she's grown rather fond of having someone help her, plus Nicolas is all too happy to do it. The fact that they're the only two true French-born helps their bond, and she's so friendly anyway. They enjoy each other's company.
If it's any consolation, I think you're both being stupid, she says as she begins slicing a loaf of bread. He blinks once, then twice, wondering if he's really so transparent.
What's that supposed to mean?
Nothing, really, only that David isn't very used to love. You're new to him, and he's scared.
David's never been scared of anything.
That's what he wants people to believe, but he's terrified, Nicolas. Of the war, of losing us, of the fact we're nestled right next to Germany. And don't even get me started on you. I've seen the way he looks at you. I've been living here for three years, and he's never acted like that. You're his whole reason for leaving his lab.
He wants to believe this more than anything, but David's taught him to be analytical. Scientific. Curious.
Sofia, I don't-
For being a scientist, he's isn't very smart with people. We aren't formulas, Nicolas. Being in love isn't some sort of equation. It's truth. Truth has to be dealt with, don't you think?
Sofia's words soften when David and Rick's voice carries from the dining room. It's only about five minutes until suppertime, and everyone's gathering around the table, looking forward to some good food. He gives Sofia a helpless look, wishing he knew what to do. She merely smiles comfortingly before nodding towards the door, silently telling him to start setting out the plates, because no one can be expected to eat off the table. He stares at the plates in his hand, willing himself to just go in already. Just because David's in there doesn't mean he can't buck up and be a man, right?
Nicolas fights for breath.
He walks in, hoping to appear confident while feeling like a coward. His heart's beating faster, and his palms feel sweaty, plus he senses Jacqueline pin him beneath a frighteningly determined look. That's never a good thing.
The sound of Albert hobbling in breaks his small panic attack. He narrows his eyes and stands a bit straighter, because while he's terrified, he refuses to show it. He won't be the weak one here. He won't be a child running from some monster. He forces his breathing to regulate and begins pouring fresh milk in the glasses; Sofia, sensing his spiraling thoughts, enters with natural grace, and gives them all a laugh as they shoot the pot roast appreciative looks.
Dinner's ready, she announces. Ronald and David may not know French, but they certainly know what she's saying. Everyone quickly takes their seat, Nicolas following suit. It's almost like it was before, when David and he were only friends and they'd share smiles across the table. Nicolas once lived for those moments where he could sneak a glance in David's direction, but now it's strained and awkward. Nicolas wants nothing more than to leave.
Ronald cuts the roast and they begin passing around the food. Nicolas pretends to be interested by the design on the plates, but no one can ignore the painful silence that sits between them. It was never like this before, and Nicolas hopes that no one blames him for this alien hush. Rick asks Robert to pass the salt, Sofia gets up for a refill of milk, but nothing is ever really said. Likewise, Jacqueline doesn't look pleased. Their friendships have been compromised.
This is rather tiring, she finally announces. No one argues, not even David. Everyone knows she would be the first to address it. It's been three days and I'm sick of your stupidity. You both ought to be ashamed of yourselves.
She's speaking in French, but everyone else seems to get the general idea. Forks are put down. Suddenly, appetites disappear.
And you! she exclaims, rounding on David, her language easily shifting from French to Russian within a moment. Don't even get me started! You'd think you're a hermit by the way you've been acting. I want this fixed at once!
David sends her a dark look from his chair. Why don't you be quiet for once, Jacqueline?
I most certainly will not! We're friends, David, every one of us, and I hate to see it wasted because you're both too stupid to talk!
We aren't-
No excuses. I can't stand this tension anymore. No one can, honestly.
She speaks the truth. Of course, she's a reporter, and has made it her job to tell the facts. Nicolas shifts uncomfortably and David doesn't respond at all. Finally, Sofia kicks Nicolas in the shin, and he tries not to wince. She's got quite a leg on her.
Perhaps… he finally says, taking every ounce of strength he has to rip his eyes off the plate. Perhaps we've been a bit foolish.
Sofia scoffs, but doesn't interrupt with actual words. It looks like Jacqueline is inclined to do the same, except she's too busy translating for David.
I suppose I'll just say it, then, and hope for the best. I know you all know what happened, so there isn't any need to pretend you don't. It's been awkward since that night Jacqueline fell ill. It's partly my fault.
And partly mine, David confesses. Robert and Rick can only guess what's being said.
Nicolas smiles and ignores the pterodactyls that are flying in his stomach. I wasn't sure how to handle what happened. It's all so new to me. But I'm sorry for all the trouble we've caused, all the things we've done to make you uncomfortable. And I don't really know what to say with all of you here, but I know that- that I-
Sofia shoots him an expectant look, and he knows he can't back out now. He sucks in a deep breath and then looks David square in the eye.
"Je t'aime."
No one, save Nicolas and Sofia and Jacqueline, can actually speak French, but they all know what he said. It's made doubtless when he smiles and rises to kiss the Russian across from him.
Everyone understands, because love is a universal language.
A cheer goes up.
…
The moon is white and the sky is black when a collection of loud, violent voices wakens David and Nicolas from their sleep. Nicolas is vaguely aware of the warm arm that's draped around his waist as he wonders who can be visiting at such a ridiculous hour. The arm is removed when David shoots out of bed, hurriedly pulling on his robe before turning to Nicolas and tugging his hand, all but yanking him off the mattress as well. The Russian gives him his own robe and Nicolas slips it on, worry beginning to seep into his bleary consciousness.
David takes his hand and quickly leads him to the kitchen; Nicolas immediately knows something is wrong, but asks no questions. He can't until he sees Jacqueline, but then again, he's sure David would understand his confusion if Nicolas expresses it enough. This has never happened before. What's the hurry? Who are the strangers yelling on the porch?
Someone's banging on the front door while footsteps are scattering around the house. Nicolas thinks he hears Rick's hushed whisper, the faint voice of Robert and Ronald, the mute orders of Jacqueline. Is that Sofia speaking? Is that Albert collecting cans of food? Nicolas is lost in confusion as David hurriedly leads him into the warm kitchen, which still smells of pot roast. Everyone's awake and in their night clothes, just like he and David, only they seem to understand what's going on while Nicolas doesn't.
Good, you're all here, David says, obviously relieved to see the entire household crammed into the now-tiny space. Bobby, Rick, move the cabinet. Jacq, take the food. Sofia, you have the candles?
Rick and Robert immediately move towards the china cabinet that proudly sits against the West wall of the kitchen. Nicolas has seen it so many times before, and yet he's shocked as he watches the two men shift it with ease. It reveals a tunnel that leads into darkness, but he's sure it goes somewhere, does something. Ronald and Jacqueline go in first, followed by Sofia and Robert. Rick then enters; they quickly disappear into the tunnel's shadows. Albert pauses for only a moment, pinning Nicolas and David beneath sad blue eyes, and then hobbles in after them.
Nicolas suddenly knows what this tunnel is for, why David built it, why they're using it in the middle of the night.
He knows who's at the door.
Their time is limited –a minute at the most- so Nicolas desperately squeezes David's hand and attempts some English. It's their only way to speak, although both are still awkward at it.
"You come with us, yes?" he asks, and knows how frantic he sounds. He doesn't care.
"Nicolas-''
"You must, David. Nazi's outside."
David knows this, but surprisingly, doesn't follow the others. He frames Nicolas' face with his hands and looks him straight in the eye.
And then he says, in very careful French, Please be strong and wait for me. Please be here when I come back.
He kisses Nicolas, the kiss of a fraught, brave, terrified man… and then shoves him back. Nicolas cries out in surprise before realizing David has pushed him into the tunnel. He hits the ground, watching as David begins moving the cabinet back into its original place, only David's still outside while everyone else is hidden away. Nicolas is fuelled by the terror gripping him –he's more scared now than he ever was at the train station in France- so he scrambles up to try and get back out. He's made it two whole feet when Rick and Robert quickly pull him away. Rick shushes him, making sure no one from within the house can hear while Robert gathers him into a hug. Nicolas wants to fight them. He wants to go back and be with David no matter what happens, but he can't be that selfish. If he fights anymore, the other six will be found as well. He feels scalding tears disappear into the cloth of Robert's usual plaid shirt as he cries, clutching onto the other man with as much strength as he can find, wondering how their night turned into this nightmare.
All he can truly understand is that David is Russian, which means the Germans will take him away.
They'll take him to a camp.
…
They stay down there for three days.
The tunnel extends for about two hundred feet until it balloons into a large room. The room has dirt walls, but there's a small wooden table and some chairs. Candles and matches are stored in one corner while three guns are stored in another, the two items carefully kept apart. Wooden beams secure the corners of the earthen room; it's surprisingly well constructed. Nicolas can tell David took great care in making sure it would never collapse on them. He feels comforted knowing that David had been in there as well, and sometimes, if he closes his eyes, Nicolas can pretend the Nazi's never came.
The first day, no one can manage to stomach any of the food Albert brought. No one speaks. Sofia lights candles, but they only reveal their dirt surroundings. Nicolas can't bear to talk, so he sits and stares in front of him, watching insects and worms wriggle around. It's clear that Jacqueline hates the bugs, but she doesn't say anything. Albert makes sure they don't catch colds, but other than that, all they can do is wait. Nicolas is almost glad. He's not sure he's worth anything in his current state anyway.
The second day, Albert and Sofia gladly open a few cans of vegetables and a bag of bread. No one wants to eat, but their stomachs are making all types of protesting noises. Nicolas manages to eat one slice of wheat bread and some canned broccoli before feeling sick. Small conversations begin and end, mostly consisting of questions and hopes. Jacqueline translates while she sits next to Nicolas. Sofia sings them to sleep and watches the candles, making sure the flames remain small, and holds Nicolas' hand when he wakes from nightmares. He sleeps uneasily, his consciousness taunting him with all kinds of horrible images. He wants to cry but doesn't; he knows David wouldn't want him to, and besides, David made a cognizant decision to stay behind. Nicolas just doesn't know why.
The third day, Rick gets antsy. He wants to go to the surface and see whether the Nazi's are still there, but Albert isn't fond of the idea. They end up flipping a coin; Rick wins, and he promises to be careful. He disappears into the darkness while Nicolas and the rest hold their breath to see what happens next. Although they can't see him, they know Rick is kneeling with his ear against the cabinet, trying to discern any noise or voices. When he hears nothing, he begins moving the piece of furniture aside and then creeps out.
He doesn't return for almost five minutes, which is an eternity in their war-torn world.
Jacqueline lets out a sigh of relief when Rick ambles back. He nods his approval, helping the ladies up and the assisting Albert to his feet.
"Their jeeps are gone and no one else is here," Rick explains as he leads them through the tunnel and back into the kitchen. The room is filled with sunlight, and Nicolas guesses the time to be about noon. It's a beautiful day, but the beauty is muted by the absence of the man he loves. "Took a lot of our stuff. There's still some canned food, and I guess they couldn't take all the cows and goats. Our garden's still growing."
"Robert, would you water and feed the livestock?" Jacqueline asks. He nods and is gone within an instant; they know they must keep the animals healthy if they want milk, eggs, and meat. She turns to Sofia.
Would you please cook us something? she requests. The blonde woman follows Robert's action by nodding, ducking into the pantry to scramble up food for a real meal. Jacqueline turns to Rick and Ronald, but they already know their duties; they head out to the garden to collect the ripe vegetables and water those that have been sun drenched.
Nicolas turns to Jacqueline to ask what his own assignment is, but she takes his arm instead. It's like déjà vu; Jacqueline is leading him down the hallway to get cleaned up, and Nicolas wonders if all he has to do is turn and see David standing in the foyer. He doesn't. Only empty space disappears behind the wall this time, and he resists the urge to cry again.
Jacqueline?
Yes?
Why did David not stay with us?
She doesn't answer at first. They simply continue to walk, her bare feet soft against the floor. He doesn't insist she respond immediately; he knows an explanation is coming, and he only has to wait for it.
There was a system we agreed on, she slowly replies. It's obvious to anyone who comes here that this house is taken care of. If Nazi's were to knock down the door and see it empty, they would guess that people were hiding. They would look for us. David didn't want that.
Jacqueline, he spoke French to me. How did he know what to say?
There's another silence as she considers her answer. She bites her lip in concentration as they make their way down the hall; her hair's flat and her clothes are rumpled, but no one cares, least of all Nicolas. He needs to know how David learned French.
He knew the Nazi's would eventually come. He wanted to say goodbye to you in your own language.
Nicolas is stunned. David knew this would happen, or was at least aware of the likely possibility. He blindly opens the door to David's –their- bedroom and sees the sheets are still rumpled. He walks over the bed, filled with anger (why didn't David ask for help?) and despair (how can this end happily?) and weakly reaches for David's pillow.
He cries when he realizes it still smells like him.
…
One month passes.
Everyone knows not to speak about David in front of Nicolas.
Nicolas doesn't want to be weak. He wants to be strong for them, like David was. David was their lifeline; he kept them safe, warm, fed, clothed, and discriminated against no one save sadistic Nazis. Nicolas wants to carry on that pillar of light so that they'll always feel safe, but he can't remain strong when everything reminds him of David. The smoke from the oven reminds him of smoke from a train; a flash of station and floral carpet and the very first time they ever saw each other. Tomatoes growing on vines reminds Nicolas of their first stilted conversation, when David offered half his sandwich as France passed them by. Blue sky reminds Nicolas of blue eyes while David's bottle of cologne has a new home on the bed stand. Similarly, whenever the moon is too bright, Nicolas remembers the night the Nazi's came. It's always such a sickening memory, and he hates himself for not being stronger, for not staying by David's side, for not fighting the men who took him away.
Even in the latest hours of night, Nicolas sits by the bedroom window and watches the path to the front porch.
He waits for David to come back.
…
Two months pass.
Nicolas feels as though he's living in a fog, completely disconnected from the rest of the world. He gardens like a madman and there's an overabundance of food, but no one ever complains, because Sofia easily cans the leftovers. Besides, many others don't have enough to eat. No one ever mentions how thin and sick Nicolas looks, or how it seems like he isn't getting enough rest. They know he can't stomach anything and they know he can't sleep.
And so he gardens, because that was what he had been assigned when he first came here.
Even in the latest hours of night, Nicolas sits by the bedroom window and watches the path to the front porch.
He waits for David to come back.
…
Three months pass.
Nicolas does everything he's supposed to and even tries to eat, but it always comes back out the way it went in. He prefers to spend his time outside and by the lake, comforted by shimmering blue water. Sometimes he watches the surface of it and waits for it to ripple, waits for it to shake from the blast of the bombs, wonders why he was rescued when he wishes to die anyway. The pain of separation is consuming, and yet he never allows for it to show.
He knows that David exists beyond the mansion. He's somewhere in Europe, Nicolas is sure, and he's managing to survive.
The prospect of David's death is never verbally considered.
Even in the latest hours of night, Nicolas sits by the bedroom window and watches the path to the front porch.
He waits for David to come back.
…
Four months pass.
Nicolas knows there's a bottle of cyanide salt in David's desk. All he has to do is swallow.
Even in the latest hours of night, Nicolas sits by the bedroom window and watches the path to the front porch.
He waits for David to come back, and on nights that he's sure David isn't coming home, he sits outside the kitchen and listens to Sofia sing.
…
Five months pass.
As Nicolas gardens, he sees a man straggle up the path towards the front door, and his heart lodges into his throat. For a moment –a blissful, precious moment- he thinks that perhaps this is the day where David makes good on his promise. He drops his hand trowel and almost flies to where the man is walking, flies like the airplanes that dropped the bombs in France. How did David escape the camp? How did he make it all the way back here? A symphony of questions fills his head, although none can shield his elation. No more wondering whether David was alive, no more sleeping alone, no more watching the window in light of the moon. He can't wait to hold David in his arms, hear his language, listen to him speak, watch him move.
He knows he was rescued at the train station so that he could experience this feeling. It's like seeing the world as art, as a painting, seeing every perfect stroke and color choice.
"David!" he calls. He wishes he had cut his hair or worn better clothes, but it doesn't matter now. "David, you're back! Davi-!"
The man turns.
Nicolas wants to cry.
Even in the latest hours of night, Nicolas sits by the bedroom window and watches the path to the front porch.
He waits for David to come back.
…
Six months pass.
It's rather nice to have someone new living with them, especially since their new addition is French. His name is Ryan, and he has apologized to Nicolas many, many times. Nicolas understands why he feels bad, but insists that there's nothing to be sorry for. It was a simple case of mistaken identity –in the sun's glare, Nicolas had thought Ryan was someone else- and Ryan can't be blamed for that.
"I'm sorry. Who's David?"
Nicolas is surprised that the stranger speaks his own language, but the surprise mixes with relief when he realizes they can communicate clearly.
"Is there no one else with you? Not another man? Russian?"
"No, I'm afraid there isn't. My name is Ryan Wolfe and I'm trying to get to Paris. I heard there have been bombings."
Ryan has dark hair and lovely skin, but he isn't David at all. He's a bit shorter, his hair is longer, and his eyes are brown, not blue.
"Paris? People are trying to get away, not enter."
"But my family's there, and I don't have anywhere else to go. I was only wondering if you could spare some water?"
"Sir, I was in France when the Nazi's came. You don't want to be there. Trust me, please, and stay."
So he does, and like everyone else who has ended up living in the mansion, he adjusts. He's given a job and a room, and no one asks any questions about his past. Histories are personal until you choose to tell them. Ryan's fortunate to not have been in France at the time, and he's even more fortunate that Nicolas convinced him to abandon the journey.
Even in the latest hours of night, Nicolas sits by the bedroom window and watches the path to the front porch.
Please be strong and wait for me. Please be here when I come back.
He waits for David to return.
…
The moon is white and the sky is black when a collection of loud, happy voices wakens Nicolas from his sleep. For a moment, it's that horrible night all over again, and he briefly wonders if he should head for the kitchen and the tunnel that's hidden there. First he hears Jacqueline's voice, then Rick's, then Robert and Ronald's, and they all carry from the front foyer. Nicolas thinks he should get the gun that's stored in the bedside drawer, but when he hears Sofia laugh, he knows there's no threat. He rolls out of bed and pulls on his robe, speculating on what could cause such joy. There's one possibility that he doesn't allow himself to dwell on, because he can't stand the disappointment. He can't allow himself to think that David might be back.
He hurries down the stairs, still bleary-eyed and confused, and rushes into where everyone else can be heard celebrating.
A hush falls when Nicolas comes in; all eyes swivel to where he stands, shocked, and then back to where David is positioned in front of the doorway. Nicolas barely registers that there's another man by David's side –shorter, light brown hair, chocolate eyes, pale- because all he sees is David. He, like Nicolas, has lost weight. He's dirty and ragged and there are dark smudges beneath his eyes, but those eyes are still as blue as the noon sky.
Nicolas breathes deep.
…
For three days, David won't leave his room. Only Jacqueline, upon her insistence and Nicolas' constant worry, goes inside. She brings him food, but later reports that he doesn't say much and is unresponsive to her conversation and questions. Likewise, their new Norwegian addition doesn't say much either. They're running short on rooms, and Gregory's bunking with Ryan, but the two seem to get along well enough. They, like Nicolas and David, understand each other despite the language barrier. Gregory's solely Norwegian and Ryan's solely French, which is problematic at worst.
For three days, Nicolas gardens while his mind is on everything except his task. He wonders what David's doing cooped up inside, and tries to imagine what the camp was like. He can't. He knows his imagination isn't capable to dream up the unthinkable, and yet David lived that life for sixth months. Half a year of abuse and hopelessness. Sometimes, Nicolas can't walk at the mere thought of it, and so he sits in the sun with a hand trowel by his side, and prays for the answers.
On the fourth night, Nicolas waits for David to start bathing. He's scared for him. He knows he should believe in David more than this, but it doesn't stop him from sneaking into their –David's- room. It used to be theirs, but that was before David was taken away. Now that he's returned, Nicolas has gone from hopeful to frightened. After all, there's a small bottle of cyanide salt, and Nicolas can't count the number of times he considered suicide while David was gone. But he was strong then, and he'll be strong now. He'll look out for David. He only cares about his safety, and wants to remove all temptation.
As Nicolas quietly sneaks inside, his eyes are drawn to the window. It reminds him of long nights he stayed up waiting, and he feels relief that he doesn't have to wait anymore. The scent of the room hits him next; the cologne is especially powerful. A sudden parade of images marches through Nicolas' head, and he remembers what it was like to kiss David's fragrant neck while they made love. It feels like he hasn't been here in forever. The train station, the lake, the baseball games; it's as though years have passed since then, when it's only been six months.
Time changes during wars.
It's always too fast (when the grenade lands in the foxhole) or too slow (when you're waiting for the bombs to stop falling), but it's never right.
Nicolas creeps to the desk where David often worked his theories. It's covered in notebooks and pencils, papers and pens, maps and books and numbers. He opens the top drawer and finds the small bottle, quickly pocketing it. Even during all the time that has passed, he's never looked in David's things. It felt like an invasion of privacy, and he was too worried to concentrate on the complex words anyway. There were equations he'll never understand and indecipherable diagrams that make him dizzy. Nicolas knows he'll always be a bit simple, and it's never bothered him before. Now he wishes he were brighter. Perhaps he and David could be connected by something, like formulas and chemical compounds. Perhaps they could actually talk if he were a scientist as well.
He's about to leave when the window lures him. He grew so accustomed to it, but now he doubts he'll sleep in this room anymore. The view's still the same, of course, but he no longer looks at the path leading to the front porch. Moonlight is no longer his ball and chain. He enjoys the stars and breeze instead, and thanks God over and over in his head, because David's alive.
Behind him, someone clears their throat.
Nicolas jumps and tears his eyes away from the window's scene, turning as quickly as he can, ashamed of being caught. He allowed his mind to wander, like always, and now he and David are staring at each other from across the room. He hates himself for being so stupid.
"I'm sorry," he says, jumping up from his seat, forgetting the moon and stars and the war that lay beyond them. "Would you like some privacy? I can leave if you prefer."
David quickly shakes his head and closes the bedroom door behind him, leaning against it once it's shut. They stand in silence, facing each other like armies. Nicolas doesn't know what to say. David's hair is wet and plastered onto his forehead, his skin is pink from the hot water, and his nightclothes bag on him, but there's nothing Nicolas wants more than to kiss him. Kiss him hard, make him breathless, and try to tell through actions –not words- how much he's been missed and loved and feared for.
"I'd much rather you be here, if that's all right," David says, and Nicolas watches as David's hand creeps down by his side and he locks the door. Nicolas doesn't know what this signifies, but David doesn't make a big deal out of it; he hangs his towel on the back of a chair and they continue to stare each other down. He finally smiles, sad and scared, and looks at his feet.
"How have things been? The house still looks good. You've been taking care of it."
Nicolas struggles to reply. "We all have. That's the only thing we could do to stop from thinking too much."
"You've learned English."
"Jacqueline and Rick taught me. You've been learning it, too."
"A girl named Sara."
David doesn't elaborate on who or where she is, and Nicolas has a feeling that he doesn't want to know. There are a lot of things he doesn't want to know about David's experience.
"You're tired. You should sleep," Nicolas says, propelling himself forward. "Sofia will cook you a big breakfast tomorrow and you can meet Ryan."
"Where are you going?"
Nicolas is surprised by the desperation in David's voice. "I didn't know whether you wanted to sleep alone. I didn't want you to think that I… expected anything."
David glances at Nicolas from beneath his lashes. He's always been the braver of the two, and so he walks over and takes Nicolas' hand before throwing his arms around the other man's neck.
"I've missed you so much," he whispers, and it's okay that his grip nearly makes breathing impossible. Nicolas doesn't care about that right now. "Every day I thought about you, and wondered if everyone was safe. I was scared that they might have found the tunnel. I was scared of being there and dying before getting to see your face again. You're the only thing that kept me going."
Nicolas feels his eyes sting and he quickly closes them, wanting to remain strong and supportive. He concentrates on David's warmth instead, and winds his arms around the Russian's waist.
"I haven't been able to sleep since you've been gone," he confesses. He clenches his jaw and holds David tighter, afraid that this is all a long, vivid dream and he might wake up alone again, having accidentally fallen asleep by the window. "I kept watching the road and trying to see if you were coming home. Sometimes I waited until sunrise, but other times I just knew I'd have to wait a little longer. The last thing you said to me was my only hope."
"And what did I say?"
" 'Please be strong and wait for me. Please be here when I come back.' You were coming back, so I tried to be as strong as I could."
David takes a deep breath before extracting himself from Nicolas' grip. He places his hands on Nicolas' face, palm against cheek, and tries to smile. It's going to be a long time, if ever, until David can smile without being haunted, but in the most imperfect of times, Nicolas figures they're doing pretty well for themselves.
"Let's go to sleep," he suggests. "It's been a long week, don't you think?"
"David?"
David looks up, and Nicolas can see he's a breath away from breaking. He wants nothing more than to fall asleep with this man, wants to forget the past ever happened. He wants to wake up tomorrow, only there won't be a war, and their biggest concern will be what to have for dinner. He wants to make David forget it, too, and turn him back into the man he was before. A man who was fierce and passionate and owned only by God.
"You don't have to be strong for me," Nicolas whispers, taking David's hands and holding them in his own. He has to say this, because what he wants and reality are two very different things. They can't pretend the war isn't happening. They can't act like dinner is their only problem, but Nicolas knows that the first step to wholeness is to just… talk. "You can tell me. You can cry. You can scream if you want, but you don't have to keep it all inside."
David's blue gaze flickers for a moment before he hangs his head. There's silence, and Nicolas can hear the stars crying and planes flying and bombs dropping, but all that really matters is right here, right now, this one second that he's been holding his breath for.
David's shoulders shake, and his grip tightens.
A sob catches in his throat.
"Everyone…" be whispers, his grip tightening even more. Nicolas tries not to wince. "Everyone was starving to death."
Nicolas doesn't feel his fingers lose their blood flow. He doesn't hear his own breathing anymore, and he doesn't see anything except David.
"Not even the children had anything to eat, and all the babies were born dead. We couldn't get clean, couldn't bathe. And… and Sara, she… she was Jewish. She was rounded up, she didn't do anything wrong. One day, a guard put a pistol to her head, and she just looked at me before he pulled the trigger, and her brains splattered onto the ground."
David's voice, once quiet, took on a steely tone. "There was a little girl lying in the middle of the sidewalk once. I thought she was sleeping. But people don't sleep with their eyes open, and I realized she had gone hungry and finally died. And everyone just passed her by, like she wasn't there."
"David-''
"And then Gregory, he gave his daily rations to this boy, and we shared whatever was given to us if we were given anything at all. There were- there were guards who- those places shouldn't be there, Nicolas. They shouldn't exist!"
"David," he tries again, hoping to calm him. "You aren't-''
But David doesn't listen. Instead, he picks up his dinner plate –the one Jacqueline had brought him that night- and hurls it towards the wall, watching it splinter into tiny porcelain pieces.
Because the house is so still and quiet, the noise is amplified, it seems. Nicolas knows Jacqueline and Rick heard it, at least, and if they start milling around, it's sure to get everyone else's attention as well. He's scared; not for himself, but for David, because he has no idea how to handle the situation. He opens his mouth to reply, but words die, and he thinks he must be the worst lover in the world if he can't even comfort the one man who means more than his own life.
As predicted, there's a knock before Jacqueline and Rick come barging through. This is so wrong; Nicolas feels even stupider now, because all he was supposed to do was take the cyanide bottle. He was never supposed to get caught and David was never supposed to throw anything and no one was ever supposed to come barging in like they owned the place, and he's left standing there unsure of how to react. David's still upset, crying and yelling and cursing and throwing things, and Nicolas prays (why doesn't God seem to hear anyone?) for some sort of solution. He wishes he could make him better, make him whole.
Yet the sad truth refuses to disappear.
David, once owned only by God, has had half of his soul stolen by the Devil.
Everyone watches in uncertainty; even Jacqueline doesn't know what to do. It's Gregory who walks up and touches his arm, and David doesn't turn around or instantly become better, but he doesn't fight him away. The younger man places his arms around David's neck in an attempt to soothe a very stained soul, and even if it doesn't mean anything romantic, it does represent a bond forged by suffering. Nicolas wonders if that's the strongest bond of all. They've seen each other at their very worst, surviving oblivion together… it's possible that Nicolas might always be second from now on.
He slowly fades into the back, where Ryan stands unspoken. His dark eyes are trained on Gregory, filled with curiosity and adoration. It's funny, Nicolas thinks, how language is secondary to emotion. It's clear to him that Ryan fancies Gregory more than he probably should; of course, everyone within the mansion finds Gregory to be a bright, albeit Norwegian-speaking, ray of light. Nicolas, however, hasn't quite fallen for all his charms. He understands David, understands why he's breaking down and what the camp was like and what happened to Sara, and Nicolas doesn't know anything about it. He needs to know so he and David can communicate on a level field, but he's still stuck in the back anyway, watching Gregory comfort the man he loves. Nicolas feels useless.
It isn't a good idea to fall in love, he quietly advises, his French soft amongst the chaos. Ryan looks up, surprised, and Nicolas is sure he's going to fight it. It looks like he wants to deny his feelings for Gregory, but Ryan finally shakes his head and looks down. David and I probably weren't a good idea. It hurts so much, you don't know.
I know. I would never… I'm just going to be his friend. He needs one.
And after that?
After what? Gregory and David have been through the unthinkable. They might never want to feel another person's touch for as long as they live.
Nicolas bites his lip and glances back to where Sofia is insisting David get some sleep. Ronald's making the bed, and Robert's downstairs warming up some tea. Jacqueline, usually leader and queen, stands helpless in the corner, and Nicolas can see just how scared she really is. Despite her strong personality and take-charge attitude, she's just as frightened as the rest of them, which makes them all equal. It's oddly comforting.
A moment passes, until Ryan finally stands taller. Things will get better, he says, as though decreeing it. His words are loud; strangely enough, Ryan wants everyone to hear. We're going to take care of these two, and we're going to take care of this mansion. No one's going to take this house again, I don't care if it's an entire Nazi army. This house is ours. These people are ours. We belong to each other, not to Germany.
There's a silence, only it's laced with agreement, and David looks grateful from where he stands by the familiar window. They all stand taller, and it's like a pact of refusal, a refusal to surrender this time. They'll fight and die for each other, but they won't ever let anyone be taken. Not by troops or even Hitler himself, because the Germans don't have the right. No one has that right.
No one is going to take them.
When the house is tranquil again, Nicolas can still hear the stars crying, but they'll undoubtedly cry for many years to come. The only important this is that David's not crying, that the Americans liberated his camp, that he and Gregory escaped, even if Sara couldn't. Nicolas feels so grateful now, because David had asked him to stay, to sleep with him. For the first time in six months, they're both actually able to rest. David wakes from time to time, victim to nightmares, but Nicolas shushes him back to sleep, and holds him while time passes either too slow or too fast.
…
There's a moment they'll always remember, one they'll always treasure more than others. It's Tuesday, and they're playing chess (which Nicolas loses at most the time) in the dining room. Sofia's making dinner, Robert's writing a letter; Ronald and Ryan are both reading their respective books. Gregory's tired and leans against Ryan's shoulder; their hands are intertwined, and it's easy to see just how much they love each other. Albert's attempting to sketch. He isn't much of an artist, but it's a hobby, and just because you aren't perfect doesn't mean you have to quit.
There's the sound of footsteps, the clink of small heals against the floor. Only two women live there, and Sofia never wears anything other than comfortable shoes, so it's obvious that Jacqueline and Rick are on their way. The only difference is that the footsteps are quick, as though they're running, and everyone tenses up. There are guns hidden beneath the floorboards, and everyone's ready to take them out, because they'll never let David go back to a camp. Even if they die, even if they lose, they still won't let anyone be taken again.
They'll always defend that house.
Jacqueline bursts in first with Rick following after. The silent question of What's the hurry? Did you see German soldiers? hangs in the air, but Jacqueline quickly smiles and shakes her head. Black curls bounce as she does this.
She holds up a newspaper. The black, bold letters stand out against the thin gray sheets, but her night eyes are like fire as she huffs for air.
"The Germans have surrendered unconditionally," she says, and there's a pause as everyone soaks this in.
Unconditional surrender.
And if they can make the Germans surrender, then surely the Japanese were soon to follow.
She repeats it, and then says it in every language she knows. Over and over again; it's like a song -unconditional surrender- and Jacqueline and Rick dance, Ryan and Gregory kiss in celebration, Ronald and Albert and Robert all raise their voices in joy, and Sofia quickly finishes up dinner so that she can use their sugar reserve for a cake, because now's the time for festivity.
Nicolas and David look over the chessboard. They're silent while everyone else moves and shakes. David looks at the board; as usual, he's been winning this match from the beginning. He's about to trap Nicolas' king.
"Germany," he says, pointing to Nicolas' piece, and then indicates his own queen with his index finger. "The Allies."
He moves the queen so that the king can no longer escape, and it's easy to see what he means.
"Checkmate," he concludes. The Allies, after many years, after much death, after much suffering, have won.
Nicolas meets David's eyes, still as blue as they day they first saw each other, and takes the other man's hand. He brings it up to his lips and kisses his knuckles.
"Échec et mat," he agrees, while everyone around them is jubilant.
In the kitchen, Sofia sings.
FIN.
En voiture. "All aboard."
S'il vous plaît, je vous donnerai quelque chose! "Please, I will give you anything!"
Pardon, mais je ne comprends pas. "I'm sorry, but I don't understand."
Amis. "Friends."
Ya ne ponimayu. "I don't understand." (Russian)
Je t'aime. "I love you."
Échec et mat. "Checkmate."