Chapter 24

Snowblind

It felt like years.

The bed was warm.

He hadn't slept like this in so long. Hard. Deep. Dreamless. He could have slept longer, maybe, if there hadn't been a warm hand upon his cheek, and then a thumb running down his jaw line, and the comfort of sleep was slowly shaken off. It felt like he had been asleep for years, and at first, Ludwig couldn't even open his eyes, for the heaviness in his head. Too much effort. His chest ached. So tired, even though he had to have been sleeping forever.

Someone was whispering above him. He couldn't understand. The words were soft, and soothing. Gentle. Comforting. The hand moved from his jaw and entangled gently in his hair.

Garbled thoughts fluttered through his mind, and then there was a jolt of panic.

A kiss on his lips. Static. The cold feel of glass in his hand.

Ludwig came out of the fog, and for a horrible moment, he thought that the whispering was just in his head, because he had gone crazy, and with a sharp gasp he bolted upright so quickly that his head split open in a blast of white pain so strong that he cried out, and everything was dark.

The whispering stopped. Silence. Nothing stirred.

Fire.

He shut his eyes and placed his palms above them as the pain throbbed, gasping through his mouth, hissing and whimpering, and then someone placed a hand on the back of his neck, and Ludwig knew, finally, that he was not alone.

His head hurt so badly that he had to bite his lip to keep himself from sobbing.

"It's okay. Hush. I'm here. You're alright."

That voice.

When he finally managed to open his eyes, and when his vision cleared, he was relieved. It was just Ivan. He was glad. How strange.

Glad to see Ivan when he woke up.

"Hey," Ivan crooned in his ear, as Ludwig struggled to keep his eyes open against the unholy light of the morning sun that broke through the curtains, "How are you feeling? You've been asleep for a while. I was worried."

Ludwig couldn't answer; had he opened his mouth, he would have started bawling. Hurt so damn much. Heard a high-pitched whimper, like that of a dog, and knew it had come from him.

As the black fled from the edges of his eyes, he was finally able to squint and really see Ivan, and it struck him instantly that he was grateful, above all else, that Ivan had stayed with him all this time.

So glad to see Ivan, so glad he was there.

Sitting there in bed beside of him, a forgotten book on his lap above the blanket, Ivan stared at him with a smile, pale hair damp and uncombed, in a loose shirt that was half-unbuttoned. Pale hair on his chest. His cheeks were red and there was a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead and neck, and Ludwig realized then how warm the room was, and suddenly he could feel a heater blasting on him from the side.

"You were cold," Ivan responded, simply, when he saw him looking at the heater, "You lost a fair bit of blood. I wanted to make sure you were warm enough."

That made him grateful, too, because obviously Ivan was extremely uncomfortable in this heat and yet that had not stopped him from turning the heater on high.

"I'm alright now," Ludwig finally managed to whisper, voice barely audible for how rough and scratchy it was from disuse, thick too from trying not to cry, and Ivan did not seem to need any more than that; quickly, he leaned heavily across Ludwig and turned the heater off with a look that could have been relief.

The hot air stopped, and a chill set in.

When Ivan pulled back, he did not pull back all the way, falling still when he was hovering above Ludwig, so close that their noses nearly touched, and the look in Ivan's eyes was heavy and overwhelming. Ludwig could only sit there, frozen, and it occurred to him blearily, as a bead of sweat ran down from Ivan's damp hair, that Ivan was exceedingly handsome when flustered and unkempt.

Siberia in human form, perhaps, untamed and dangerous and wild.

Funny, how perceptions could change. Was fairly certain Ivan had appeared terrifying and frightening to him not so long ago, and yet now he was very close to being the most beautiful thing Ludwig had ever seen. It was Ivan, after all, that had pulled him from the dark.

Ludwig shifted, just a bit, and it struck him how sore he was. Every little motion was agony.

Ivan's heavy, lidded eyes ran endlessly over his face, as if they hadn't seen each other in years.

"You slept so long. I was worried. I'm glad you're awake now."

So long. How long had he been here? He felt like he had been run over by a train.

Ivan's fingers ran down his shoulder, soothingly. Ludwig leaned into the touch. Not alone anymore.

That awful dark. The bright light. A shatter of glass. That horrible solitude. Loneliness. Hopelessness. The inability to think. The burning fire in his head. Pain. Fear. Terrible memories.

And then Ivan, coming to his aid, like he always did.

Ivan had carried him to safety when he had collapsed in the forest of Brno. Ivan had defended so passionately his honor. Ivan had brought him back from the verge of hypothermic death. It had been Ivan, in the end, who had saved him from the dark. And it was Ivan, now, who reached out and placed a gentle hand above the stitches on his chest, observing the wound with a careful eye and sure fingers.

Seemed like Ivan always came running to the rescue when Ludwig did something stupid.

His knight in shining armor, stupid as it sounded.

When had Ludwig become such a damsel in distress? Never had been before.

...or had he always been in distress?

"That looks better," Ivan said, more to himself, and the feel of Ivan's heavy, balmy palm on his skin was strangely comforting. Ivan looked up, and caught his gaze, and asked, again, "How are you feeling?"

An honest reply would have been something like, 'better, as long as you're here,' but such a response would have killed whatever small shard of pride he had left within him, and he was clumsy with such words. With a weak voice, he only managed a lame, "Okay."

The urge to cry was ever waning with Ivan's presence.

Ivan smiled and reached out, smoothing down his messy hair fondly.

Ludwig couldn't help it. So overwhelmed. Without thinking, and as if his body was moving of its own accord, he raised a wobbly arm and placed the back of his hand against Ivan's damp forehead, wiping away the sheen of sweat. Didn't know why he did it. He was just so glad he wasn't alone. He needed to touch something. Needed to feel Ivan, to be certain he was real.

He realized, when he saw his palm against Ivan's skin, how pale he was. A ghost. Maybe he had just faded away in there.

Ivan fell still, and his smile faded. Looked so serious, then. For a horrible moment, as he sat there silently, Ludwig wondered if he had done something wrong. Ivan's calm eyes could be deceiving, and he looked suddenly so pensive, and, oh god, if he had done something wrong and if Ivan were angry—

Then Ivan reached up and took his hand within his own, and placed Ludwig's cool palm against his lips. And when he looked up, he was smiling again.

"I'm glad you're back. I missed you."

Ludwig was relieved.

"You should rest more," Ivan suddenly murmured, and then he pulled himself to his feet, and the warmth was gone.

A squirm of anxiety in his stomach as Ivan buttoned up his shirt and smoothed his hair, and then he took a step towards the door. Was he leaving? The door loomed in the distance. Ludwig straightened up, eyes wide and alert, and he grabbed handfuls of the blanket as he longed to leap up and follow.

Ivan was leaving.

He couldn't seem to move, and now Ivan had the doorknob in his hand. Oh, no. Not alone. Didn't want to be alone.

"Go back to sleep, and I'll come back for you later on and bring you something to eat."

As Ivan stood there, gripping the side of the door in his hand as he stood in the frame, Ludwig felt a horrible rise of panic. Oh, god, if he shut the door—

If he shut the door...

"Wait," Ludwig said, as he gazed at Ivan with wide eyes of alarm, "Where are you going?"

There was a pause, and Ivan watched him coolly.

"Just to work," Ivan said, and there was a hint of a leer twitching on his lips, almost as though he could read Ludwig's mind. "I won't be long."

They stared at each other, and Ludwig didn't want to say it, but Christ almighty if Ivan left him alone again he was afraid he would start to hear those voices, that he would see those things again, and he couldn't handle anymore of that horrible nothing.

Finally, Ludwig managed a weak, apprehensive, "Is it... Is it really important?"

Ivan quirked his brow, curiously, and then waved a hand in the air. "No," he said, and then left the door standing wide open, and came back slowly towards the bed. But he didn't lie back down, and instead stood there at the foot, staring down at Ludwig calmly. "Why? ...do you want me to stay?"

Ludwig opened his mouth, and lost his voice. He didn't wanna be alone. He didn't want Ivan to leave.

Not alone.

Swallowing his pride, Ludwig nodded his head, and that was enough.

"Well!" Ivan drawled, cheerily and maybe triumphantly, "if you want me to stay so badly, what can I do? Alright. It's just paperwork. I can do that later. Better yet, I'll make Toris do it. We'll spend the day together."

Relief flooding his chest, Ludwig followed Ivan with his eyes as he returned and lowered himself down on the bed, and when Ivan reached out and pulled him up to his side, placing an arm around his shoulders, Ludwig fell into him, because Ivan was real. The ghosts back in the room were not.

Ivan was here. They were not.

"How do your feet feel?" Ivan suddenly asked, and Ludwig jumped a little. Pulling his legs out from under the blanket, he tried to observe the soles, but his limbs were too weak to really move, and he fell short. Ivan was quick to reach down and inspect, and before long he crooned, "They look better. Do you think you can walk?"

He nodded, even though he was pretty sure that he would have fallen flat on his face, but Ivan was suddenly leering away at him, and he realized that Ivan's question was not really meant to be answered.

"Well," Ivan said, neatly, "I don't want you to fall."

Before Ludwig could protest, Ivan reached down and enveloped him within his huge arms, and lifted him up straight into the air like a piece of paper.

Yup—a damsel, alright.

As he carried Ludwig to the door, Ivan looked down at him with a furrowed brow, and muttered, to himself, "You're so light."

Probably was, long as he had been up there in oblivion.

Anyway, that wasn't Ludwig's greatest concern, and he was thankful that the hall was empty, because he would have been mortified if anyone had passed and had seen Ivan carrying him like a doll, and he was thankful too that it was only a short distance before Ivan knocked open the bathroom door with his foot and stepped inside.

Humiliating.

Ivan finally set him down, and he immediately wished that he hadn't, as his feet stung and throbbed and his legs wobbled. A gasp of pain. Reaching out and gripping the sink for support, he could only watch as Ivan knelt down and turned the faucet of the bathtub on, and the sound of rushing water was wonderful.

He was about to fall over.

The mirror quickly steamed up, and when the water was high enough, Ivan shut it off and came over, hovering above him and smiling.

"Well? Go on, get in."

Now he hesitated, as Ivan leered at him and watched him expectantly, and even though Ivan had stripped him down once before (yeah, and probably more times when he had been unconscious), it was still shameful for him to be so exposed. Felt so embarrassed. Ivan's head tilted, like it always did when he was observing and calculating and taking notes, and then his smile widened enough to show his teeth, in that charming smile that Ludwig found himself increasingly fond of, and he drew his hands up and placed them above his eyes.

"Alright," Ivan conceded, "I'm not looking! Hurry up and get in."

Ludwig did, as quickly as his unsteady body would allow, and fell inside the water heavily. As soon as the warm water fell up to his chest, he realized how exhausted he was, and laid his head back, closing his eyes. Coulda slept right there.

A shadow fell over him.

When he looked up, Ivan was kneeling down, still smiling, and he had taken up a cloth in his hands.

"Let me see your arm," he stated, and Ludwig held it out instantly, without thinking.

It startled him, almost, how quickly he had done what Ivan asked of him, but maybe that would be for the best in the end. Jumping when Ivan said to.

Ivan cleaned and tidied the healing cuts on his arm, and then the other, and before he even really knew it, Ivan was inspecting everything, and he did mean everything, but it was alright. As long as Ivan didn't leave him alone. He laid his head back, let Ivan do as he would, and began to drift as Ivan whispered close in his ear.

On the verge of sleep and subdued in the warmth of the water, he took comfort in Ivan's hands, as they ran through his hair to cleanse it, and he was only vaguely aware of his surroundings when Ivan leaned in and asked, eagerly, "Are you alright to sleep alone tonight? I might be up late to finish those papers."

Looking up blearily, Ludwig furrowed his brow. Wasn't that Toris' job? Ivan was fucking with him.

He did not want to be alone, though, not alone.

Seeing his expression, Ivan's eyes narrowed coyly, and he continued, "Well, if you don't want to be alone, I guess I could let you move into my room. Would you like that? I can keep a better eye on you there. You're still so weak."

Ivan's strong fingers entangled in his hair, Ludwig could only lay there and stare up at him helplessly. Into Ivan's room? Did Ivan even have a room? Did Ivan even sleep?

Ivan's room.

Ivan was waiting, patiently, as he began to rinse the soap from Ludwig's hair.

Then, feeling in a strange way that he was being granted an exceedingly rare privilege, a glimpse into Ivan's privacy and personal space, Ludwig nodded. Because, god help him, he didn't want to be alone.

Would rather sleep with Ivan than with his own mind.

"That's great!" Ivan said, and there was something in his voice that was nearly excited, like a little kid, and Ludwig could only smile, weakly. "Don't worry, I'll stay with you as long as you want me to. I won't leave you alone."

Oh yeah, Ivan was definitely like a little kid sometimes. So quick to smile, and so easily pleased. Endearing.

Ivan's hands fell down to his shoulders.

It occurred to him suddenly that, if he had seen Ludwig curled in bed next to Ivan like a love-struck teenager, Gilbert probably would have slapped him across the face and then would have burst into tears.

You're so stupid!

A sudden burn of anger in his veins startled him, and it was with a pang that Ludwig realized that the thought of Gilbert was almost more of an annoyance now than it was a comfort. Dumb Gilbert. Gilbert always overreacted. So jealous.

Ivan's hands were kneading away the soreness in his shoulders, and he pushed Gilbert from his mind. What good would it do, to let Gilbert get under his skin? He wasn't here anymore. Those days had passed. Better to push Gilbert from his mind altogether from now on. Thinking about him was doing him no good.

Thumbs in the back of his neck. Comfort.

Finally, Ivan seemed to be finished, and grabbed his arm, pulling him up to his feet. When he looked down, he saw that the water was a murky, dull burgundy from the blood that had crept from his wounds.

Ivan placed a towel over his head and around his shoulders, and dried his hair while successfully pulling him steadily closer. He was so subtle and skilled at it that Ludwig didn't realize it was happening until he was pressed up against Ivan's chest, the soft fabric of Ivan's shirt pleasant against his skin. Ivan's unwavering, scorching gaze was almost as pleasant, and it was strange to be stared at in such a manner after so many years of Gilbert sheltering him from the world.

Gilbert's over-protectiveness would be his downfall to Ivan, in the end. Gilbert had never let him out to find himself and the world, and that must have made him vulnerable to someone like Ivan.

"Feel better now?"

"Yeah," he whispered, and it was true. He felt so much better, clean and bathed and in Ivan's appreciative gaze, and suddenly his churning mind was calmer.

He felt better.

Ivan saw his tranquility, and reached out, taking Ludwig's face in his hands and leaning in, pressing his lips into Ludwig's forehead. He could have gone to sleep right there, in Ivan's arms. Something wrong with him, surely, but too late to take it back.

"That's good."

Ivan swooped away from him, leaving him chilly and exposed in the middle of the bathroom, and when he looked over, he saw Ivan rummaging through a tall wicker cabinet for fresh clothes.

His brow was furrowed as he looked through this section and that, and finally he pulled out a shirt, and stared at it with pursed lips. "This is too big," he grumbled aloud, but he threw it over Ludwig's shoulders nonetheless, and Ludwig allowed him to draw it together and connect the buttons. A pair of pants followed, and even though Ivan's shirt was all but engulfing him, clean clothes were more than appreciated.

Ivan's shirt.

How odd. Had thought of himself as Ivan's property, and it seemed more so suddenly, in Ivan's clothes. Felt somehow as if he had been conquered.

Ivan observed him, and no doubt felt the same way, for that smirk.

"You don't look so bad in my clothes!" he said, pleasantly, and reached down, grabbing Ludwig's hand and pulling him towards the door. "It doesn't hurt to walk, does it?"

He shook his head, even though it did, and followed behind Ivan, the cold tile welcome beneath his bare feet.

Ivan tugged him into the hall and led him around the corner and towards the door.

"Here, come with me. Let's go for a walk. Your legs need it."

A walk? Now? Of all times.

Ivan was pushing him to his absolute limits, testing him somehow, seeing how much he could take, how long his body could function under constant and intense duress. No rest, never, not for Ludwig, not until Ivan had finished up his analysis. Nearly died last night? Oh, well. Locked up for days with no food? Oh, well. Weak and half-dead and unable to walk properly? Oh, well, let's go for a fuckin' walk.

All of a sudden, as Ivan took his turn to dress Ludwig up in a bundle in every possible article of winter-wear, Ludwig just wanted to cry again.

Didn't want to go outside. Didn't want to walk. Wanted to huddle under the damn blankets in Ivan's arms and stay there for three months or so.

No choice.

Ivan finished dressing him, and when only their eyes were visible, Ivan reclaimed his hand and the door pushed open, and he was in the outside world. A moment of silence, and then it hit him like a bullet, the terrible pain in his head, and for an awful moment, he was frozen under the glaring winter sun. The light was far too bright.

Too bright. His eyes were not ready for this yet.

Wrenching his hand out of Ivan's, he covered his eyes and hung his head, stifling his cry of pain, and even though he didn't want to appear so weak in front of Ivan, it was just too bright.

Pain. Awful pain.

Everything was still for a second, and then Ivan's hands were on his wrists, pulling his arms down and exposing him back into the light.

"It won't hurt for long," Ivan said, sternly, and gave him a tug. "Come on, open your eyes. It won't get better if you won't open them. Can't stay in the dark forever, can you?"

No, not forever, but wouldn't just a few days be alright? He squinted his eyes so tightly then because the urge to cry was powerful, and he tried hard to push it away because Ivan was waiting.

Under Ivan's serious voice, he had no choice, and forced himself to open his eyes. The bright sunlight slowly faded into a hardly bearable glare, and even though his head hurt like hell, Ivan looked pleased at his efforts, and that was enough to force him to keep his eyes open.

Passed another test, he supposed.

Ivan did not lead him down the path that led to town, and instead took him around the back, where the edge of the great forest loomed in the distance. The frozen river gleamed in the sun far beyond.

His head was pounding so hard that Ludwig honest to god thought his ears might start bleeding, but Ivan either didn't notice or didn't care about his pain, tugging him ever onward. Ludwig followed alongside him clumsily, unable to match Ivan's fast pace, and when he stumbled, Ivan looked down at him and leered, "If you can't keep up, I'll just have to carry you again."

Ludwig furrowed his brow and forced himself onward, even though, in the back of his mind...

He might not have minded. Not really. His feet hurt. Everything hurt. Wouldn't mind being carted then, as long as he could bury his face in Ivan's coat.

The forest was closer than ever, the clouded sky was still, and the quietness of this wilderness was alarming. Nothing seemed to move, and the trees seemed overwhelmed by the snow and even the sky itself. A mist hung down low over the ground.

Ivan's hand gripped his own.

They approached the tree line, and then Ivan stopped walking, and pulled Ludwig up to his side, staring out into the forest. He looked at home. Confident. Master of this domain.

Those woods. Made him shudder. Ludwig was glad that he had someone so brave and fearless next to him, because standing out here alone would have been terrifying. He had always loved the forests, but not this kind. This forest was endless. Wild. Not the kind of forest Ludwig was used to, one he had never encountered.

Shivering and shaking, Ludwig asked, voice low and weak and rough, "Are we going in there?"

Please, no. Didn't want to go in there. Ever.

Ivan's pale, sunlit eyes flitted up to the forest, white lashes fluttering in the breeze, and Ludwig felt a horrible rush of apprehension.

A forest like that.

Then Ivan quirked his head to the side, thoughtfully, and scoffed.

"There? Not you. Not yet, anyhow."

Ludwig exhaled in relief, and then Ivan reached out and placed a heavy hand on his back, and began to nudge him forward. He walked automatically, his boots crunching along in the snow as he trudged through it clumsily, and Ivan glided next to him, steps quiet and sure and skilled. He felt inadequate, next to polished Ivan, who knew this environment like the back of his hand. Out of place.

They walked until the trees were so close that he could smell the pine, and they towered above him, casting dark shadows upon the white. Ivan fell into one of the shadows, and his eyes went from silver to a dark grey. And then, in the wake of the forest, Ivan finally fell still, and stared out into the trees.

Everything was quiet.

A great tree stood before them, a tall pine with branches so broad that they spread out against the backdrop like huge fingers. Snow drifted silently down as the needles shifted, no doubt from birds flitting about above, and Ludwig shifted too, uneasily. It was too quiet, and Ivan was gazing out into the stripes of trunks and snow so intensely that it was almost frightening. Shadows shifted deep within the forest.

Ivan's eyes were focused, razor-sharp. Didn't blink, although the weight of the ice on their lashes was ever increasing. He didn't blink, didn't move, as though he were in a silent battle with the wilderness itself.

Ludwig shuffled his feet, anxiously.

A long moment of nothing, and then Ivan finally whispered, softly and very calmly, without twitching a single muscle, "Have you ever seen a tiger, Ludwig?"

He almost didn't hear Ivan's low voice against the static in his head, and jumped in alarm.

"What?"

Ivan didn't look at him, his gaze unwavering, and he asked again, just as softly, "A tiger. Have you ever seen one?"

...huh? What, like in the zoo or something?

"No," he finally managed, with a furrowed brow, "I guess not."

Gilbert had never taken him to a zoo.

Ivan's eyes were ever focused and unblinking, and Ludwig cast his gaze to the trees, and tried to see what Ivan saw. He couldn't. He saw only snow, and tree trunks, and shadows and inconspicuous movements. Wisps of drifting snow. A fluttering of wings. White and brown and every shade of grey. The mist hanging low.

The wind started blowing, the tree branches swayed eerily, and Ivan said, against the breeze, "If you turn your back on a tiger, it will jump right out and grab you by the neck before you even take a step. It won't let go. It won't back down. It's not afraid of you, because it knows it's stronger than you. Faster. Smarter."

Ludwig shuddered, for something beyond the cold, and now his eyes scanned the trees rapidly, because Ivan saw something out there, alright, and Ludwig couldn't really stand knowing that there was something watching him and that he couldn't see it.

Fear.

Ivan reached up and replaced that heavy hand upon his back, and continued. Yet still, he stared into the trees, not twitching his gaze for anything.

"It will take you, if you turn your back. But, if you look it in the eyes, it stops. It looks back at you. If you watch it, and don't look away, it knows you're not afraid of it. And after a while... It will go."

Ivan was calm and confident, but he was not, and no matter how many times Ludwig looked over the same stretch of forest again and again and again, he just couldn't see it. Couldn't see it. He shifted his weight nervously, as he struggled with the flight response in his veins. Wanted to get the hell out of there suddenly.

Ivan's hand wouldn't allow him to turn around, though, and Ivan must have felt him shifting about this and way and that, for he suddenly leaned in and whispered, casually, "Calm down. You do everything so quickly. Just slow down, and look. You'll see it."

Ivan's left hand flew up, and he flinched mechanically, but there was no harm. Instead, Ivan's hand fell above Ludwig's eyes, casting him into merciful darkness, and when Ivan whispered, "Calm down," in his ear, Ludwig took a breath, and everything slowed.

Dark.

Ivan's hand was strong, and without his vision, Ludwig could suddenly hear the shifts within the forests, the whistling of the breeze within the pine branches. He could smell the snow and the trees and something else, a musky warmth that emanated from the wood. He could feel the cold and Ivan's sturdiness beside of him, and his racing mind began to steady.

The first stir of calm.

His breathing deepened. He was still and silent. He could smell Ivan, so close next to him. The cold air stung his lungs.

Slow. Calm.

"Look."

A movement, and Ivan's hand withdrew, and Ludwig was momentarily blinded by the white sun that glowed out from behind the clouds, but then his pupils constricted, and he could see the forest again. And something else. It was almost automatic, how quickly he could see it this time, under Ivan's sure guidance. He inhaled, startled.

He could see it.

Out ahead, standing unmoving in the midst of the snow drifts and trees, was a great tiger, unblinking and unflinching, its orange fur covered and matted with snow. It was frightening, how focused its golden eyes were as it stared into Ivan's. Its paws were braced in the drifts, tail straight out behind it, and it didn't even appear to be breathing, looking more like a statue than a living animal. Immobile. Blending in so well with the forest. Ludwig could see, just from the look in its eyes, that it would have liked nothing more than to have leapt out and dragged one of them into the woods, but it was caught under Ivan's eyes.

It was not afraid. Neither was Ivan.

Ludwig stood there, caught up with awe in this deadly staring contest.

Two beautiful, piercing sets of eyes, battling it out for dominance. One golden, round and peering out from behind gleaming fur. One grey, lidded and sharp and gazing from beneath long white lashes.

In the end, it was the tiger who broke the stare, with an irritated twitch of its tail. A lift of its head in annoyance, one final look, and then suddenly it turned and retreated into the mighty trunks, and in a second was lost to sight within the camouflage of the forest.

Finally, Ivan's shoulders relaxed, and he turned to Ludwig with a smile.

"Did you see it?"

Ludwig nodded, dumbfounded, and was stunned by Ivan's control, even over nature itself.

Cheerily, Ivan merely said, "Neat, huh?"

Neat? As if it was nothing. Like Ivan had seen a house-cat. No one, nothing, looked into Ivan's eyes and came out of the gaze victorious. He had learned that lesson himself, and now, as Ivan stared him down, he just couldn't seem to move.

"You shouldn't be scared of it. As long as you can look it in the eye, you're not in danger."

Ludwig nodded again, dumbly, and Ivan reached out and grabbed his hand, and tugged him back.

Ah, fuck. Without Ivan, he would have gotten eaten. In a second. Best to stay close to Ivan. Everything out here was determined to kill him, it seemed. Even the wildlife.

"Here, look, I wanted to show you something."

Ivan tugged him back through the snow, until a mighty pine stood a fair distance ahead, and suddenly Ivan was directly behind him, strong arms wrapped around his chest and pressing heavily into his back. Ludwig stood still, as usual, and didn't pull away. Ivan's warmth was comforting behind.

"Have you ever fired a gun, Ludwig?"

A coldness in his palms, and he remembered Gilbert standing behind him, just like this, and he remembered Gilbert putting the gun in his hands and lifting his arms. But...

"No."

"Don't worry, I'll show you how."

Because Gilbert had never let him actually pull the trigger, saying that he wasn't old enough and that it was too dangerous, and he might hurt himself.

A flash of light in the white sunlight, and suddenly Ivan had thrust something hard in his hands, and when Ludwig looked down, he felt a lurch of nervousness in his stomach. Ivan's gun was within his fingers—Ivan's gun—and he couldn't help but shudder, because this was the same gun that had pressed into his forehead not so long ago, the same gun that had killed that woman, and yet now Ivan was allowing him to hold it.

As if Ivan just trusted Ludwig so that he knew his own weapon would not get turned against him. How strange, trusting him like that.

When Ivan's hands covered his own and drew them slowly upward until the gun was level, just like Gilbert had done all those years ago, it never even crossed Ludwig's mind to just turn around and aim the gun at Ivan. Never even thought about it. Never contemplated it.

The gun felt heavy in his hands. He hadn't held a gun for so long.

"It's not so hard. Here, look, just keep your arms straight, and put your fingers here... That's right. Good! Now, take your aim, and keep both of your eyes open."

The last time he had held a gun, Gilbert had startled him so that he had dropped it. He couldn't hold it straight. Gilbert had laughed. Agitated and almost embarrassed, he shifted his weight, fretting that Ivan would sense a certain weakness within him.

Ivan didn't seem to mind his anxiousness, and held his arms steady.

"Don't look so worried! Here, I've got you! Just find your aim. It's not so hard."

He had dropped the gun before.

This time, with Ivan's strong hands gripping his own, Ivan's chest pressed against his back, and Ivan's warm voice whispering heavily in his ear, he stayed firm and steady. Ivan's thumbs traced circles over the back of his hands as he clenched the steel.

"Look at you," Ivan crooned, their heads pressed together, "You're a natural. You're so good at everything. Perfect aim." Ivan's hands tightened around his own, and Ludwig could only fall back against him, breathless and feeling his heart racing in what could have been pride. Stupid, because Ivan was aiming, not him.

Felt far away, hypnotized, as if that tiger was back and this time staring him down, and when Ivan suddenly barked, "Fire!" he did, without even thinking. His finger squeezed the trigger without even a second of hesitation, because Ivan had given him an order. The shot was stronger than he had imagined, as the explosion of gunpowder cut through the silence of the outdoors like a bomb, and the force of it sent a tingle through his frozen hands.

It made his head split open in pain, the sound. It was louder than he had always imagined it would be. It felt different, too, somehow, than he had thought it would. More horrible. More frightening. Didn't care much for it.

The bullet struck the tree, straight in the center, and even though he knew it was Ivan's steady hands above his own that made the aim so perfect, he could not stop the bristling of ego when Ivan's eager voice was in his ear again.

"Great! That's good! Again."

He fired again.

The second bullet hit right beside the first, and he knew now what to expect, and braced his feet accordingly. And by the time third and fourth bullets were unloaded, he didn't even notice that Ivan's hands had dropped down to his waist, and he was aiming and firing completely on his own.

Ivan was watching him. He didn't want to falter.

The fifth and sixth bullets sank into the bark, as Ivan's hands wrapped around him and held him steady, and Ludwig stared at his target and almost smiled. Not one miss. Was Ivan proud of him? Oh, god, Ivan must have been proud of him. Please, be proud. A miss might have sent him back into that room. Hadn't missed—

"One day," Ivan murmured as he buried his face in the crook of Ludwig's neck, "if you keep that up, you'll be the one protecting me."

Him? Protect Ivan? The thought was almost absurd, comical, and he could hardly envision himself standing at Ivan's side, walking beside of him loyally wherever he went, ready and willing to shoot any dissenters with a calculated coolness, aim never wavering. Like a bodyguard. How frightening.

Did Ivan trust him so? Maybe. Did he trust himself so? No.

...he would let Ivan down, in the end.

For a moment, doubting himself and feeling suddenly morose, his arms fell, and the gun felt too heavy in his hands.

Insecurity. His curse.

"I can't," was his low response, and he lowered his eyes to the snow, because he was nothing out here in this wilderness, nobody. How could he ever protect Ivan if he couldn't even protect himself? "I can't."

Hadn't ever been anyone.

Ivan was silent, and then he suddenly his voice was sharp again.

"If I say you can do it," he began, sternly, "then you can do it. Here." He took the gun away and opened the barrel, tossing aside the empty shells, and reached into his pocket, taking out six more. And as he loaded them in, never releasing Ludwig from the circle of his arms, he added, "You'll get even better at it, in time. Remember what I said? If you couldn't handle it, I wouldn't have ever brought you out here in the first place. I don't make mistakes. I said you can do it, so you will."

No doubt.

Ivan shoved the gun back in his hands and forced his arms back upright. "Come on, just like before. Keep both of your eyes open."

Ludwig furrowed his brow and took his aim, and as Ivan's voice filled his ears with encouragement, he fired.

Why was Ivan teaching him this? So that he could take him out into the world with him, without having to keep an eye on him every second? So that he would have a second view of his surroundings? Just because it amused him? Because he liked risk and danger? Surely it had crossed Ivan's mind that teaching him such a thing could be dangerous.

Did Ivan really trust him so? Would he end up using this gun to keep Ivan safe?

"You're perfect, you know, you really are. You don't ever let me down."

The bullets struck the tree with dull thuds.

"We make such a good team, don't you think?"

A team?

Him and Ivan. Strange.

"We look out for each other. You and me. I'll protect you, no matter what."

You and me. A team.

We'll always be together.

The clouds burst above and snow began to fall, and as the wind picked up, Ivan clenched him tightly to keep him steady, and it occurred to Ludwig, randomly, that he didn't miss Gilbert as much as he had before. Not really. He could live without Gilbert, after all, it seemed.

Every day, Gilbert seemed to drift out of his head more and more.

And this time, with Ivan's heavy hands propping up his own, he had not dropped the gun.

Ivan trusted him.

He was probably better off without Gilbert.

He didn't drop the gun.