Chapter 2

Bad to Worse

"I can't take it here anymore."

There was a short silence, and then, above the soft, crackling static of a vacant radio station came a whispered, "I know."

Rumbling from above. Dust in the light.

"I understand, I really do."

The voice came from a short, pretty woman, dressed in a long blouse and a skirt that was several sizes too big, held up at the center of her waist with a woven belt. She watched Gilbert with anxious green eyes, and reached up, running her hand through brown waves in utter exasperation.

"It's wearing everyone down. Be patient."

Gilbert didn't immediately respond, staring blankly at the wall ahead, lost in his own world.

Wasn't patient.

"There still might be a way to get out. Don't give up yet. Roderich has been mussing up to one of the GDR generals. Maybe he can push again for another visa. You'll just have to be patient." She furrowed her brow at his silence, and added, "Are you listening? Gilbert?"

Gilbert wasn't, resting his back against the table as he chewed his thumbnail furiously, uncombed hair falling into his eyes.

He missed Ludwig.

Dropping her head and groaning in frustration, Erzsébet muttered bitterly, "I hate inactive listeners, and I swear you're the worst," and then fell against the wall, crossing her arms above her chest.

Irritated. She always was with him.

The room they currently resided in was a small, dimly lit, and exceedingly dingy safe room; in other words, a hideout. It wasn't cozy, not in any sense, but it was secret from the Stasi, and that was what really mattered. It was underground, the basement of a factory that had been abandoned for many years. It was underneath the railroad tracks, and every time a train passed from above the entire room shook as though in an earthquake, knocking debris from the ceiling and making the hanging lamp swing to and fro.

The air was dusty.

The building had been under use from the Unternehmen Reisebüro for several years now, and they had yet to be discovered, in a small part to cleverness, and in a great part to fantastical luck. It was a rebel student group, joining members of both East and West universities in creating a passage for escapees into the West. They had been extremely successful in the earlier years, but it was becoming more and more difficult to cross the border, and now they mostly laid in wait, plotting impossible plots and making ever-newer maps of the most obscure roads through the city.

Gilbert was here as a member.

Sort of. He messed with them, from time to time, whenever he had been feeling restless or violent.

He could have gotten out years ago when everything had been so much more lax, through the tunnels or sewers, or with fake papers, but every time he had called Ludwig to hint vaguely at his plans, the other had quickly and urgently talked him out of it. Ludwig had been too scared, thinking that Gilbert would get caught, and so Gilbert had humored him and waited.

It was 'too dangerous,' Ludwig had said. It was, now more than ever. He should have just ignored Ludwig's concern and darted across when he had had the chance. Now he merely lingered here, dreaming of freedom. Or, at least, the opportunity to fight back. Hated the Reds. Always had. Hated this government here.

Which was why he was waiting so impatiently, expecting...

Erzsébet had come by to talk some sense into him no doubt, but she didn't really seem to have much more patience than he did, so he didn't know why the hell she was nagging him about it. That woman. The only one he had ever bothered to get to know. Normally, he would have refused the company of a woman, finding most of them too delicate and weepy for his liking, but Erzsébet was probably more intimidating to a passerby than he was. The way she was. Good god. That woman was more of a man than he was.

She was an escapee of her own, in a sense. She had tried unsuccessfully to cross the Hungarian border on numerous occasions, finally succeeding when she had met Roderich, the handsome Austrian ambassador to West Germany, who, in a fit of passion and perhaps chivalry, had married her and sent for an expedited marriage visa. A visa was just as good as any red-blooded run. The same outcome.

Now, she traveled with Roderich on his many visits to both Germanies, keeping watch over Ludwig in the West and Gilbert in the East, and sometimes whispering favors for Gilbert in Roderich's ear. Even though Roderich hated Gilbert. Erzsébet was brave, fearless and quick-witted, ready to offer safety for a friend, motherly and kind, and—

"Hey! Gilbert! Someone's here!"

She fell back into a corner in alarm, but Gilbert had no fear, knowing full well that it was just another member of the underground. Those dumb little students. He hadn't ever fit in with them too well, but they liked his aggression, and he liked their ideas.

Worked out.

The door burst open, but Gilbert kept his eyes firmly locked with those of Erzsébet, and said, "You need to do something for me." She could only nod, as a heavily-clothed man barged down the stairs, holding a box tightly to his chest. Gilbert distracted her by adding, "Go back to the other side, and find Ludwig. Tell him to wait two days, and then go over to where we used to watch each other. Tell him to wait for me. And I'll meet him there. Two days."

The box fell to the floor with a dull thud, and he and Gilbert exchanged curt handshakes, and when the man left Erzsébet turned back to Gilbert, asking apprehensively, "What are you planning, Gilbert?"

He didn't answer, kneeling to the floor and cutting the box open with a knife. She looked inside, over his shoulder, and he could hear her gasp aloud when she saw the guns and the grenades.

"Gilbert!"

He took a grenade, gingerly, and tucked it into his pocket.

"I'm going to blow up a Stasi office," he said, simply, "and when they're distracted, I'm going to see Ludwig."

A horrible silence.

Erzsébet shifted her weight anxiously, and then she could contain herself no longer. Probably thinking, no doubt, that that was the stupidest damn thing to ever come out of Gilbert's mouth. Funnily enough, that's exactly what she was thinking.

"Gilbert," she cried, loudly, "That's the stupidest thing you've ever said! There's no way you'll get close enough there to do anything, and even if you do! What then? They'll catch you before you can get far enough away! They'll kill you! You'll get shot—are you stupid? This doesn't make any sense! Let me speak to Roderich again, and see if he can get the visa this time! You're so stupid!"

It didn't make sense, sure. Probably had a lot to do with Gilbert coming up with this 'plan' when he had been high as a kite. He stuck with it, regardless.

"He's tried three times already," Gilbert replied, ignoring her jabs at his intelligence (which were very fair), putting two hand-guns under his coat. "I don't just want to get out; I want to cause some chaos while I do it."

Just wanted to hurt someone.

"Gilbert!"

"Go and do what I say. Tell Ludwig. Two days. Don't look for me, I won't be home."

With that, fully-armed and confident, he strode straight past her, ignoring her pleas for rationality.

"How can you see Ludwig if you're dead?"

He was sick of rationality. Wanted to hurt someone, wanted to get across the wall, wanted to see Ludwig, wanted everything. Everything.

Wanted Ludwig.

He had promised Ludwig, when he was a child, that they would always be together. Forever. He would not break that promise. Had broken so many, and didn't want to break that one. Had always let Ludwig down, every day, and wouldn't do it this time.

As he slammed the door behind him, he glimpsed Erzsébet sinking onto the stairs, holding her head in her hands as she moaned, "You're so stupid."

It was too late for him. She couldn't help him anymore. No one really could. He was beyond all help from the real world. Just lived up in his head now, with his own rules.

He missed Ludwig.

Together wasn't together across a wall.

While the other side of the wall may have been freer, the atmosphere and attitude was certainly just as dreary. It was hard to keep high-spirits when your fellow countrymen were being oppressed just yards away, their only crime being that they just happened to live in the East.

How unfair.

Ludwig's spirits were getting lower and lower every day. And that was coming from a man that had never really had high spirits to begin with.

He couldn't see Gilbert. Talking on the phone just wasn't the same. Gilbert's voice never changed; always confident and charismatic and aggravatingly self-confident. Without seeing his eyes and his face, how could Ludwig really know that Gilbert was as safe and sound as he said he was? How could he know if his brother was depressed, or frightened?

If Gilbert was drinking himself to death as he always had.

He couldn't.

The not knowing was the worst of it.

Ludwig was falling into a great black hole. He'd always had a penchant for becoming depressed easily, but it had been easier to brush it off when Gilbert had been there beside of him, ready to ruffle his hair and throw a loving arm around his shoulder. Had been able to hold it together his entire life, propped up as he was upon others, held up so firmly by Roderich, and even when the wall had been built he had stood strong.

Somehow, it was not being able to see Gilbert that did Ludwig in. Just one hit too many, he supposed.

Everyone was worried for him, he knew. Could see it on their faces, and maybe he should have tried harder to pretend, just for them, but it was harder every day. Couldn't find the will, the nerve, the motivation. He just didn't care. He missed Gilbert. Dumb Gilbert, so reckless and volatile. Who knew what he was up to?

The not knowing was the worst.

Now, he sat slouched at his desk, one arm holding up his head as he held his pen in his mouth absently, neglected schools books beneath him.

Gilbert had probably started drinking harder than ever. Probably back on the pills, too. Lost in bars and raves. Drunk and high and causing trouble, getting into fights, breaking things. He was probably in jail, in fact, at this very second. Getting sucked into that black hole, alright, and he was dragging Ludwig in right along with him.

Staring vacantly out the window, lost out in space, Ludwig failed to hear the door to his room creak open. Lately, alertness had not been his strong point, and he jumped out of his seat in a shameful manner when a strong arm wrapped itself suddenly around his neck mercilessly.

"Hey! More study, less sleepy! That thing's not gonna write itself, ya know!"

That voice. Comforting and annoying all at once.

Ludwig rolled his eyes immediately, and sighed, falling back down into his seat.

"Thanks for the wake-up call," Ludwig grumbled, and his obnoxious roommate bent down, arm still in its choke-hold position, observing Ludwig's half-complete essay with a snide smile.

"What's that? Ha! I've written better things in my sleep!"

And maybe he actually had, Ludwig thought bitterly, because Alfred would have to be asleep to write anything at all. How this insufferable, spoiled, loud-mouthed, all-American brat had ever even gotten into the university in the first place...

"Careful!" Ludwig managed to hiss, as Alfred's arm tried very hard to strangle the life out of him, the other hand coming up to Ludwig's back, "Or else you'll have to find someone else to write this shit for you."

The arm released, and Alfred was very quick to pull up the other chair, rest his elbow on the desk, and leer at Ludwig very happily.

"Whoa! Threats, on such a fine day? What would you do with yourself if you couldn't write my essays for me?"

Ludwig tapped the pen on the desk, and then said, curtly, "Well. I guess I could have a life. Like normal people."

Alfred, reached out and punched him in the arm, playfully, and cried, "Hey! If you don't wanna do my homework for me anymore, that's cool, but don't sit here and try to bullshit me about a social life you don't have. Loser."

Ouch.

"Anyway, you can't stop! You're my secret weapon! My grades are way better now than ever because of you, you know," Alfred continued, quite enthusiastically, and he threw himself suddenly down on Ludwig's bed, arms resting behind his head. "The teachers just don't get it! Ha! Guess I'm the smart one in class now."

"Every dog must have his day," Ludwig muttered, and sighed, slumping forward again as his mood dampened.

Even with Alfred around, the same old thing just kept popping into his head.

Gilbert.

Alfred didn't miss it, and chirped, easily, "Ahh, he's fine. Trust me."

Trust. He trusted Alfred. He did. And he appreciated the effort, but it wasn't really helping. Just wasn't enough this time like it always had been before.

Although, he couldn't help but admit, he was grateful that he was not alone. He would have gone crazy by now. Alfred was obnoxious, and loud, and annoying, and self-satisfied and egotistical and a pain in the ass, but at present he was the only thing keeping Ludwig sane. And the words 'Alfred' and 'sane' were not two words he had ever expected to meet in a sentence, except, presumably, 'Alfred is making me less and less sane with every passing second'.

Strange, but true. His best friend.

Then again, his and Alfred's entire relationship could probably be summed up by a simple 'strange'.

They had met at the university. Well. Actually, outside of it.

Ludwig was seventeen the first time he had stood out there in front of the grand building, watching students flow in and out, staring up at the stone columns and the arches with his hands in his pockets. Wanting desperately to walk in, but knowing it wouldn't do him any good. So many days spent just staring. Daydreaming. People walked by him, fast and blurry, as he stood still and just watched. Days, weeks, months, and then an entire year, and no one had ever spared him a glance. No one had ever stopped to say, 'Hello'.

Until Alfred.

He remembered clearly that day. Cloudy. The first day of the semester. Alfred's first day there.

Ludwig stood there daydreaming as always, because he didn't have anything else to do. Gilbert had been gone, and the apartment Roderich had gotten him was utterly empty besides himself and staying inside alone was driving Ludwig very close to insanity.

Wanted Gilbert, and had only anxiety.

Felt as if he were suffocating in there alone. No air.

He'd stood out there in front of that building, and suddenly, out of the blue, a messy-haired, bespectacled young man had cast a shadow over him. Ludwig had come out of his daydream long enough to see him lean forward, amicable blue eyes lit up by the sun, and ask, in choppy German, 'Say, you lost?'

Ludwig had only stared at him then, too stunned to move, and the handsome young man had pressed on, casting a thumb over his shoulder as he added, 'I'm new too, but I can show ya around, I think! I'll try, anyway.'

It had been with a great sense of melancholy that Ludwig had finally shaken his head, and said, 'I don't go here. Thanks, though.'

Ludwig had turned on his heel and walked off, and as he went he could feel the man's eyes upon him. He hadn't gone back for a few days after that, a little embarrassed somehow although he had always wanted someone to notice him. Old habits die hard though, and it had been a week or so before Ludwig had found himself wandering around outside the university again. He'd never had any intentions of bumping into that man again. It had happened all the same.

Ludwig had been staring up, like he always did, wondering how it felt to hold books like that and have something more to look forward to, and suddenly that shadow was over him again. That oddly unforgettable voice.

'Man! For someone who doesn't go here, you sure do come around a lot.'

No one had ever spoken to him, let alone remembered him. Maybe it was just because Gilbert was gone and he had been lonely. Maybe. Whatever the reason, when the man had extended a hand and said, 'I'm Alfred!,' Ludwig had accepted it, and tried to smile.

'Ludwig.'

'So, Ludwig! You just like standin' outside of schools and watchin' people walk, or are you lookin' for a girl, 'cause I know a few pretty ones!'

...right.

Maybe, in some part of his mind, he had hoped a girl would see him there. Say hello. Notice him.

Embarrassing questions aside, Ludwig would never forget that day. The first day he had ever made a friend in his life. So isolated his entire life, sheltered and boarded up by Gilbert, and so new now to the vast world. Maybe he had looked as lost as he felt, because Alfred had honed in on him immediately and took him under his wing, so to speak. Every day, Ludwig stood outside the university, and that time he had a reason to, because he waited for Alfred to get out and come over to talk to him.

Pitiful, yeah, but what else did he have? Gilbert was in the East and Roderich was always working. Alone. Vulnerable.

As it turned out, he and Alfred got on quite well. They had learned more and more about each other with every passing day, and Alfred seemed as happy to see Ludwig waiting as Ludwig was to wait on Alfred.

Somehow, they had fit together so well.

Ludwig had always been an outcast, and in a way Alfred was too, still learning German and with no friends or family in Germany. He must have felt a little alone, and for that he sought out Ludwig. They had clicked, instantly. Ludwig could stand Alfred's occasional bouts of complete and inexcusable American-ness (for lack of any other possible description), and Alfred seemed immune to Ludwig's sometimes sharp tongue and dismal moods. The more they had gotten to know each other, the more Alfred grew on him, and when the blond Yank had proposed getting a flat and splitting the rent, it had sounded alright.

He was tired of being alone. Gilbert was gone. He had just had first panic attack not long before, the most terrifying moment of his life, and didn't want to be alone because he never wanted to feel that way again.

Alfred had been there.

So he told Roderich that he didn't need the apartment anymore, because he had made a friend and was moving in. At first, Roderich had sounded worried, a little, but that had quickly faded and Roderich had been so happy, so proud, and Ludwig knew that it was because Roderich was pleased that Ludwig was out from under Gilbert's thumb and living his own life for the first time.

Missed Gilbert so much, but being with Alfred made Ludwig happy, and for that Ludwig would have done anything for him.

They moved in together, splitting bills evenly although only Alfred's name was on the lease and Ludwig's money of course came from Roderich. Ludwig couldn't remember the last time he had been so happy, making a friend like that. He and Alfred grew closer every day, and before long they knew everything about each other, absolutely everything.

Ludwig learned that Alfred was the only son of an American fighter pilot, who had flown spitfires over Germany when the war was at its peak. He had grown up hearing that Germany was the home of the devil, and, when he was eighteen, he had decided to cross the ocean and find out for himself. 'I came during Oktoberfest,' he joked sometimes, 'and I never went back!' Alfred had always loved Germany, and for that had learned the language very quickly. Alfred was dumb, but not stupid. Lacked common sense and tact, but Alfred was smart, damn smart, even if he didn't show it. So easy to talk to him.

Ludwig told Alfred things he would never have told anyone. Not Gilbert. Not even Roderich and Erzsébet. He talked about Gilbert, and his life. Or what he remembered of it, anyway. Told Alfred all about it, about how Gilbert wasn't his real brother, how Ludwig had never known his parents, how Roderich had found Ludwig walking all alone in the street with no memory and had taken him home. About how Gilbert became Ludwig's world, how much he loved Gilbert, would die for him. But he also told Alfred about all of the bad times, told Alfred all about Gilbert's addictions, his craziness, his possessiveness and violence.

Told Alfred everything, and Alfred just listened. Something Ludwig had never had.

The years started flying by, the wall got higher, Ludwig's mood sank deeper, but Alfred was always there to hold Ludwig's head above the water. Always. Ludwig knew that no matter how bad it got, Alfred would always be there. Alfred let Ludwig start doing some of his university schoolwork, to take his mind off of things and because Ludwig liked it, and Ludwig pretended that he was doing Alfred a favor when it was really the other way around.

Alfred tried to alleviate some of the pain with his own brand of optimism, and sometimes Alfred said things so absolutely stupid that Ludwig couldn't help but burst into laughter, despite it all. Those moments, when Alfred made Ludwig laugh, Alfred looked as if he had won his own war. Alfred was gorgeous when he smiled, when he was happy, and Ludwig was able to feed off of his optimism for those five years. The stupid things Alfred would sometimes say! So absurd, and Ludwig loved it.

'Well, look on the bright side! If Gilbert does kick the bucket, you'll always be able to say, 'my brother said 'better dead than Red,'' and all the chicks will think you're hot shit!'

Ludwig loved Alfred, and knew, in Alfred's smile, that the feeling was mutual.

But the wall was finished, and Ludwig suddenly couldn't see Gilbert anymore. Couldn't see his face for that very first time, and when he had come back home that day, Ludwig had had his first panic attack since he had been seventeen. One of the worst moments of his life, the absolute worst, unable to breathe, chest clenched up and dizzy from lack of oxygen, as a panicked Alfred held him and tried so frantically to calm him down.

After that, the attacks became frequent, far too frequent, and Alfred came home one day with a bottle of pills. Pills—Ludwig was so scared of pills, terrified by the notion of them, because nothing good had ever come from Gilbert putting them back by the handful.

But Alfred had insisted, pleading, looked so distraught, and the fact that Alfred had gone to a doctor and pretended that he was having panic attacks just to get medication for Ludwig, Ludwig finally relented. Didn't know what else to do. Just Valium, after all, Alfred said. Just to calm him down when he started feeling too anxious and too down, just when it got too bad. Alfred had begged him, just to take a pill when he felt that way, and Ludwig had obeyed.

What else could he do?

Hated the feel of those panic attacks, and hated more so Alfred looking like that.

So, when it got bad, Ludwig took a pill, and let the medication calm him down when Alfred just couldn't.

Lethargy and surrealism was a hell of a lot better than not being able to breathe, and Ludwig realized before long that he was taking the pills more frequently than he probably needed to, wasn't waiting anymore until the need was dire, but Alfred didn't care and seemed pleased and so Ludwig finally stopped fretting so much about it.

Like everything, though, it just wasn't enough. It wasn't ever enough.

He wanted Gilbert to be here in the West, where he could see him and touch him and be absolutely certain that everything was going to be alright.

His pen tapped the table. Alfred's essay was forgotten.

"Ludwig," Alfred suddenly called, and Ludwig looked over his shoulder to see that Alfred had pulled himself up into a sitting position, legs hanging off the bed and propping himself up on his palms. Alfred, as always, could see Ludwig's mood, and, like always, tried to cheer him up. "Say, what you think about this weekend? I got a girl that's been asking about you. She saw us walking. She's cute...? Don't say 'no' this time, eh?"

A rush of warmth to his cheeks, and, for just one second, Ludwig felt better.

Alfred was a good friend, always had been.

Ludwig meant to speak, but before he could open his mouth to reply, the door to his room burst open again, and a woman barged in. She stopped there in the doorframe, looking a little hassled and a little weird, and they gawked at her in alarm. Hadn't heard a knock, and hadn't heard the front door open.

A surge of anxiety in Ludwig's chest, just at the look of her. Any man would feel that, after all, seeing their mother barge in looking so utterly frazzled. Erzsébet was essentially Ludwig's mother, as much as Roderich was his father.

"Lutz, you really gotta start lockin' this house up, man," Alfred murmured, covering his chest with his arms as though abashed at Erzsébet's sudden intrusion.

He was one to talk! Alfred hadn't locked the door one damn time since they had moved in, and Ludwig was usually the one to sigh and go back. ...usually, but apparently today he had forgotten as well.

Erzsébet, ignoring the words with a look of panic, bolted inside and shut the door behind her.

"Ludwig," she cried, urgently, "We have to talk. It's about Gilbert."

The air changed.

Immediately, Alfred's hands fell into his lap, his face scrunching up in a rare moment of seriousness. Funny; when Alfred focused like that, he didn't look at all like himself. Looked stern and hard and older, unshakeable. Alfred's best moments, perhaps, were when he was serious.

Ludwig's heart started to race. Cold sweat. Oh. Dumb Gilbert. What had he done now?

"Has something happened?" Ludwig finally asked, when she made no move to continue, his cool voice masking his fear.

Her hands twisted in the folds of her skirt.

"Not yet, but it might."

"What's going on?"

She hesitated, uncertain, but finally sat down beside of Alfred, opened her mouth, and told them everything. She had no worries about speaking such sensitive information in front of Alfred; he had a big mouth, sure, but he would never betray a friend's confidence, and as far as they had been concerned, if Ludwig trusted Alfred then so could they.

She told them of Gilbert's increasingly reckless behavior, his declining patience and sanity, his arrogance, and his foolish plan for escape in his desperation to be reunited.

With every word, Ludwig could feel his face become more pallid. Like the life had literally drained right out of him. He couldn't believe it; Gilbert had wanted to do it so many times before, but he had been talked out of it so easily. All Ludwig had had to do was say, 'no way, it's too risky!' and Gilbert backed off. And those plans surely had not been so suicidal.

That stupid man, fuckin' Gilbert. Had to be him.

Ludwig fell back in his chair, dizzy and sick, and then there came a horrible twinge of guilt rising in his chest.

Ah, hell. This was his fault, really. Maybe. If he had tried harder to get Gilbert to stay on this side before the border had closed. If he had been less severe in his repression of the earlier attempts. Maybe if he had just called more often, just to talk and reassure Gilbert that everything would be back to normal soon. Just to wait. Just to be patient. They had fought when he had moved out, so badly, and Ludwig hadn't talked to him for a damn year, and now he hadn't been calling every day like before.

It was his fault.

Burying his face in his hands, Ludwig shook his head, and gave a great moan. Chest already clenching up, could feel, but couldn't even move then to get up and rummage around for the pills.

Erzsébet saw his distress, and, like Alfred, tried to help. "Listen to me, Ludwig. I'll try to stop him, as best I can. Roderich can always find reasons for me to stay in East Berlin, so I'll go over, and let you know if I can find him, but... If you don't hear from me, and if he's not on this side in two or three days..."

She trailed off, and the unspoken outcome was stifling.

'...then don't expect to ever see him again.'

Gilbert.

It was his fault.

"I'll go with you," Ludwig said, immediately, so sick that he couldn't think, and he leapt to his feet deliriously, as if he really could just waltz right on over, but she shook her head, reminding him quite brutally of the impossibility.

"How's that? Trying to get you over there is just as hard as trying to get him out."

Her look was a little stern, and Ludwig fell still, and bowed his head, defeated. Felt so useless, suddenly. She was right. There was nothing more he could do; Gilbert's fate was beyond his control, resting solely on Erzsébet's slim chance of tracking him down and then the slimmer chance of her actually wrangling him.

Ludwig fell back down into his chair, and stared at the floor.

Could barely breathe, and reached up without thought to tug at his collar as air seemed harder to find.

An awful silence, and then—

"I'm going with you," Alfred suddenly cried, and he leapt to his feet to take Ludwig's place.

What?

Ludwig looked up at him, and sometimes, it surprised him still. The look that Alfred got in his eyes when he was passionate about something. When he wanted to help. Brow low and eyes wide, shoulders braced and bristling from head to toe, pupils dilated and nostrils flaring. That stern look that came with that seriousness. Looked as if Alfred could have done absolutely anything, when he wore that expression. Ludwig, honestly, had never seen anything like Alfred, not when he was taking charge.

Alfred's fearlessness.

When he looked like that, Ludwig would have followed Alfred anywhere, because he looked so sure and so confident that victory, whatever form it may have come in, seemed so inevitable.

Erzsébet scoffed, though, and immediately said, "No. You're not."

Ever the firm mother, but Alfred was undaunted, that look still there on his face, and suddenly he was staring Erzsébet down.

"What?" Alfred asked, with a lift of his chin and a long rake up and down of her, "You're gonna stop him? All alone? You think you're strong enough to control him when he's like that? Really? You really think you'll be able to stop him?"

Ludwig looked back and forth between them, and felt so much dread then that he couldn't speak or move. Could only watch fate leave him out, as always, and trust other people to live his life for him.

At last, Erzsébet relented, because Gilbert was strong and violent, made more so by drugs and adrenaline, and there was no possible way she could have ever overpowered him and pulled him back. Gilbert was like a damn bull, and it would take a good bit of muscle to subdue him.

Muscle was Alfred's specialty, and so she finally nodded.

Alfred just smiled, and went to Ludwig instantly, clapping his hands down on Ludwig's shoulders and leaning down. Ludwig just stared up at him, dumbly, and tried to take some of that confidence from him as he always had before.

Just didn't work this time.

A low, sincere whisper.

"I'll get him for you. It'll be alright, you'll see. Trust me."

He trusted Alfred, all the way, always had, and so Ludwig finally found enough mobility to nod his head.

It wasn't much of a plan, they all knew it, but, hell. It was the only chance they had, really. What else could they do? Stupid Gilbert, so stupid. Couldn't ever wait. Couldn't ever be patient. Couldn't ever control himself. Putting other people in danger. Gilbert didn't care about anyone but himself, never had. Alfred should never have gone across that border, because Alfred didn't have anything to do with this. Risking his life, for a man he didn't know, just because he cared about Ludwig.

Made him sick.

Sometimes, Ludwig hated Gilbert.

"Let's get going then. Now."

As they moved toward the door, Alfred turned back, and caught Ludwig's eye. A long stare, a quick crinkle of Alfred's brow, as his eyes flitted over Ludwig. As if Alfred was trying to see him, really see him, to get a last look at him, just in case.

Just in case?

Was about to fall over dead, he knew it, from that awful feeling. He inhaled, sharply, as the urge to cry came up, and that awful stare between him and Alfred felt far too long. Alfred inclined his head, suddenly, saying a silent goodbye, and Ludwig's face crumpled.

The door shut, and they were gone.

Once again, Ludwig was forced to remain on the sidelines, with no inkling as to what was going on across the wall. Not knowing.

The second they were gone, Ludwig suddenly found the strength to move, and bolted to the kitchen to frantically grab that bottle of pills, and this time he took two instead of one and waited. Waiting. All he ever did.

He was so useless.

All Gilbert ever did was get into trouble.