Chapter 41

Dreamy Glow

The white had turned to blue.

The blue faded to a grey.

Couldn't say how long it had been since he'd been laying in the bed, days maybe, and no matter how many times Ludwig looked over, Ivan was at his side. Always smiling at him. Hands all over him, all the time. Whispering, constantly.

"I missed you so much."

Gone.

He'd been gone for years it seemed, but Ivan looked as if he hadn't missed a beat, and Ludwig just enjoyed the never-ending attention Ivan showered him with as the soreness slowly started receding. Couldn't remember much, but that didn't seem to matter. Not when Ivan was hovering over him constantly. Nice, to be fussed over by that man.

It never ceased to astound Ludwig how gentle Ivan's great hands could be, when he made them that way. When he focused on it and took interest in what he was doing. Just light, barely-there brushes over his skin, and Ivan patched up all of his wounds with so much care that sometimes he poked his tongue out as he concentrated.

So Ludwig, absolutely enamored, always looked up at him, and said, "I love you."

Ivan lit up, every time, and Ludwig felt like the sun had come out. After that darkness.

That place.

The darkness that time had been strange. Couldn't remember too much of the first instance, but he felt as though it had passed differently. The first time had been spent losing his mind and himself. This time had been spent losing his mind and missing Ivan. Hadn't ever missed anyone, anything, the way he had missed Ivan. To not be able to see that face. To hear that voice. Nothing in that room scared him anymore, nothing frightened him now, but to not be able to have Ivan was absolutely tortuous.

Nothing else had mattered.

No unwelcome visitors had stopped by. No arguing with phantoms. Just himself. Spent years up there holding conversations with himself, and waiting for Ivan. Staring at the door for days on end without moving a muscle.

Waiting.

Ivan had come back, as he always did.

Couldn't really remember getting out or getting here, couldn't remember when Ivan had opened the door, but he didn't spend too much time thinking about it. It was done and over, and Ivan had come back.

For the next few days, Ivan didn't leave his side. Worth it all, worth everything, worth all that pain, just to have Ivan paying him so much attention. Ivan was the only person that had ever made him feel like he was the only important thing around.

Days melded into each other.

As his strength started returning, being in bed was getting more stifling. Ivan wouldn't let him up, not until Ivan was satisfied that he could stand without harming himself. He grew increasingly restless. Ready to get up and about.

More days, and then she called.

Night.

Couldn't sleep much anymore. Too much pent up energy. Too much thinking.

Suddenly, sometime long after midnight, the phone rang from down the hall.

Ludwig looked over, but Ivan was asleep. Didn't stir.

It was only his restlessness, sick of being in the bed, that made him finally haul himself to his feet and try to get to the phone. Didn't know why, really. He hadn't ever picked up the phone. Hadn't ever been in a position to. He was now, with everyone else asleep, and maybe it was his newfound understanding of Ivan that gave him the gall to even try it.

This was his house, too.

Somehow, he pulled himself up out of the bed, after a great wobble that nearly had him falling flat on his face, rested his palm against the wall, and pulled himself along. Still had enough sense, somewhere in his muddled mind, to grab his gun off the dresser and put it in his belt. A force of habit now.

The phone kept on ringing. The sound of it echoed in the hall.

Getting down the stairs was harder than he had thought it would be. Maybe Ivan had been right to keep him still. He wasn't quite back up to speed yet. Made it all the same, and the ringing grew louder as he approached. He had no fear of answering the phone, not now, although no doubt it was nothing he would understand, and when he trudged into the office, there was no concern following him. No fear. Ivan wouldn't care if he answered.

He reached out a shaking hand, picked the phone up, put it against his ear, but didn't say a word. Let them speak first. Nothing right off, aside from static and silence. Felt like hours. Maybe because he was so damn dizzy. A great effort, just to stay standing.

Then, suddenly, from within that pulsing silence, a croon.

"Allo!"

Ludwig stood there for a still moment, staring at the phone with a furrowed brow. Unexpected. Unpleasant. Hadn't missed that voice, certainly, but absolutely recognized it. He couldn't have ever forgotten the sound of her voice. Something that made even Ivan shudder.

Crazy Natalia.

Who did she think she was, calling his house? Calling his Ivan. Ivan was his.

A moment of static over the line, and then she chirped again.

"Allo!"

Feeling his territory being tread upon from a rival, feeling threatened and invaded, he dropped his head, brought the phone up to his mouth and rumbled, gruffly, "Hello, Natalia."

The static crackled. A whisper so ghostly he could scarcely dissect it from the white noise. The line was cracking. Communication garbled.

He waited in silence.

And then there was a giggle.

Soft, high-pitched, saccharine and feminine, insane, and the giggle evolved into something like a cackle, and then into full-blown, roaring laughter, and he stood there, clenching the speaker in his hand and staring at the wall with a low brow. Hated the sound of her voice, even after so long away from her, and that goddamn laugh was somehow making him feel crazier than that room did.

After a minute or two her laughter dissolved back down into giggles, and when she finally spoke, her voice was breathless and eager as she gasped, "I know you!"

He curled his lips into a grimace, and even though she was hours away, it felt as though she were sitting up on his chest again, clenching her fingers in his hair. He reached up, irritably, and scratched his head.

"You haven't come to visit me," she whispered, silkily, and he scoffed, and held the phone all the tighter.

"Sorry," he drawled, "Been busy."

"No doubt. I hear you've been fitting right in."

Her fuckin' voice. Couldn't stand it.

The way she looked at Ivan.

"And how's that?"

"Oh... I have friends. Say, what was your name again, colonel? Don't think I ever caught it."

"Ludwig."

The moon glowed in through the curtains.

He leaned against the wall, feeling faint and weak. She still riled him up enough to keep him standing, though.

"Ah. Ludwig. Such a handsome name. I'm sure it sounds sweet coming from Ivan, doesn't it? For now, anyway, until he gets tired of you and finds something new. He always does. Why don't you just go home? Let me help you. I'll get you out of there. Isn't that what you wanted? Go home before he gets bored with you."

Ludwig stayed silent, and let her say what she would.

For all the good it would do her. In the end, for all her words, he was the one that warmed Ivan's bed. No one else. That wouldn't ever change. Leaving was no longer an option. She had had her chance, so long ago, to help him get out, when that had been what he had wanted. Too late. This was his house now.

"Or! Better yet, why don't you just go ahead and shoot yourself? It would be easier for the both of us. Just kill yourself. Ivan doesn't really love you, you know. You have a gun don't you? Go on. Why not? Everyone else is dead."

Static.

Everyone else, whoever they may have been, didn't matter.

He smiled, pushed the wall a bit to steady himself, and when he spoke, his voice was beyond fervent. "Unnecessary. Can't say I care much about everyone else. Maybe you should take your own advice."

She giggled again, hardly bothered.

"You're cute, you know. I can see why he likes you. But he won't forever. So. Come on. Why don't you get out of there?"

Ludwig snorted, and would have rolled his eyes if he weren't so exhausted.

A creeping agitation.

What was this? Why was she calling? What could she possibly have wanted? He didn't understand, but he knew he was actually beyond agitated. If she had called to speak to him, that was one thing, but the thought of her calling Ivan, trying to talk to him, was somehow infuriating. The thought of anyone trying to undermine him and get into Ivan's affections. Couldn't stand it.

All he muttered then, was a tired, rough, "Don't ever call here again or I'll come out there and shoot you."

A silence.

He was almost certain that he could hear her mind whirring away.

A smooth change of voice then, perhaps a softening, and she tried a different tactic. As if, somehow, she was trying to coax him.

"Say, don't you want to go home?"

He was already home.

"I have someone who's looking for you. You've had some fun. Time to get out of there now. Come on, you remember how to get here, don't you? Come to me, and I'll get you home. You don't belong there. You need to go back to Berlin where you belong."

That word.

A rush of anger, so strong that it completely overrode the twinge of panic he felt at the mention of that word. Didn't even think twice about her comment of someone looking for him. Who would be? Nobody there on the outside. His fingers contracted on the phone as his pulse hammered.

How dare she!

Beyond the rage, a sense of indignation. Offense. This was his house. His land. He belonged here as much as any one of them. Ivan was his. Always would be.

He could barely hear his own voice when he rumbled, feeling absolutely enraged, "I won't ever go back there. But I'll come down to see you, alright, if you want me to. I'll come down there and we'll have a talk, if that's what you want. Call here again and I'll come down."

Her voice changed as much as his did, then, and that gentle tone of coercion turned into a sharp hiss. No doubt she hated him just as much as he hated her, and no longer deemed him worthy of the effort it took to pretend to be concerned.

"So! You think he's yours now, huh? Who are you? You're nobody! I won't ever give him up. I won't ever stop. Ivan is mine. He always will be. As long as I live."

Fury.

He was so angry then that the only thing he could think of to do was to hiss, "Then don't expect to be alive for long," and pull his gun out of his belt.

Couldn't shoot her right then, because she wasn't there, but something had to suffer his wrath, and it was the hapless phone that wound up getting it.

Ivan was his.

Aiming the gun at the phone, having no care that it was the middle of the night and that everyone was asleep, he pulled the trigger, and the silence was shattered by an explosion. The bullet tore a hole through the phone's center, smoke and sparks shot up, a final crackle of static, and then everything fell still.

Her voice was gone. For good.

So fuckin' angry.

Long after her voice was gone, he could still feel the adrenaline pulsing in his veins, and hear that laugh echoing in his ears.

He stood there, immobile and feeling somehow triumphant, as the phone smoked in its final moments and the gunpowder filled the stale air. He looked around a bit, waiting for all of them to come rushing into the room in fright and ask him what had happened, but nothing stirred from above. Everyone slept still. The benefits of a big, stone house whose inhabitants drank too much for their own good.

Placing the gun back in his belt, he retreated, leaving the broken phone to fizz out alone, and set a course for the bedroom.

Irritation.

If she had intended to push his buttons, then she had succeeded. Anger and frustration. This couldn't come to pass again, of that he was certain. Her calling once was enough. Too much. One way or another, Ludwig decided then, she had to go. If he had to take the car himself and drive down, then so be it. She had to go.

Scaling the stairs without a sound, he crept up and slipped inside the bedroom, where Ivan still slept away. Ivan. That man belonged to him. Crawling over into the bed, he braced his hands in the mattress and fell forward, resting his weight on Ivan's chest and dropping his head down until his lips were against Ivan's ear.

"I love you."

A stir beneath him, as his words and weight penetrated the haze of Ivan's deep sleep. Hands on his waist. A whisper of his name.

Ivan's eyes opened before long, with a deep inhale, and then there was a smile. Fingers clenched in the fabric of his shirt, and he could feel Ivan's breath on his neck as he whispered, huskily, "You alright?"

More than alright, as long as Ivan was in the bed. Ludwig could only nod.

Slow, lurching movements and uneven breathing as Ivan roused steadily from sleep.

"What's the matter?" Hands up his back and sides, as if searching. "Stitch come undone?"

Hardly.

Something had come undone, but not any of his stitches, and when he grabbed Ivan's face and kissed him as hard as he had strength left for, it finally seemed to get through Ivan's thick skull that nothing was wrong at all.

The hands fell still, and Ivan seemed surprised, more than anything, at Ludwig's sudden boldness.

The possessiveness he felt then might not have been normal, but they weren't, either, so when Ivan's hands became a little rougher, Ludwig was quick to lean down and start whispering in Ivan's ear. It felt absolutely necessary that he let Ivan know that this was his bed, and that Ivan was very much his as much as vice versa. It wouldn't have ever happened, but it felt necessary to let Ivan know that his being replaced was not an option. He'd shoot Ivan, before he ever let himself be replaced.

By the time positions had shifted and he found himself beneath Ivan, Ludwig was feeling increasingly secure.

His.

Whoever was looking for him, assuming that someone actually was, could keep on all they wanted. Natalia could keep trying all she wanted. He had found his stable ground, and wasn't going anywhere.

Hours, it felt like, that he kept whispering into Ivan's ear, that Ivan's hands couldn't stop running over every part of him, and by the time Ivan fell above him and pressed him down with his full weight, Ludwig had long since been content that his territory was still very much intact. The borders were secure.

Natalia's words evaporated like smoke.

Ivan was his.

And that was that.

Finally, a day came when Toris found himself not looking around corners and sneaking about.

For once, he could walk proudly down the hall.

Found 'em.

As a matter of fact, it was five days after Ludwig had picked himself up off the floor that Toris had finally received the call he had been waiting for. Only, the call had come from the phone in the foyer, the private number, because the phone in the office had apparently done something to piss Ludwig off.

Toris had only asked him, when Ivan had finally let him out of the bedroom, 'What happened to the phone?'

Ludwig looked over at him through heavy eyes, chin resting on a balled fist as he sat at the kitchen table, and drawled, 'What phone?'

Okay, then.

Toris took Ludwig's hint, and left it well enough alone. That man terrified him. Anyway, a busted phone couldn't dampen his mood, not then, and neither could a frightening Ludwig. A phone was easily replaced, and Toris couldn't worry about it.

Not when he had finally found Gilbert and Eduard, holed up in a hotel and being absolute sitting ducks without even being aware of it, not when he had them cornered and trapped. Not when they didn't even know he had crept up behind them. Not when he could finally go up to Ivan, and proclaim victory, although it was still a little early to do so.

Couldn't help it, almost; he was so fuckin' desperate for Ivan to praise him that he was ready to tell Ivan that he had found them, even if they weren't dead yet. So desperate for Ivan to be proud of him, for once.

So he went into the office, where Ivan was crouched on the floor, hooking up a new phone, and stood there in the frame until Ivan glanced up at him through pale lashes. A crinkle of his nose, a narrowing of his eyes, and Ivan carried on with the cables without so much as a word. Toris wasn't worth the effort it took to open his mouth. Then, yeah, but that was because Toris hadn't told him yet.

Excitement.

Maybe he was shuffling a little, maybe the air around him was as excited as he was, or maybe Ivan could see the way he was suppressing a smile. Maybe the constant moving of his hands had caught Ivan's attention.

Whatever it was, Ivan finally looked up at him again, and asked, rather casually, "What?"

Ivan was in a good mood. That was even better. Maybe Ludwig blowing the phone to hell had been hilarious to him.

Well. Time to say it, then.

Toris took a deep breath, let himself smile a little, and stood up straight and at attention. "I found them," he said, shoulders high and chest puffed, and maybe some part of him was waiting for Ivan to smile and say, 'Good job!'

He felt proud. Accomplished. Found 'em, after so long, and Ivan had to be proud of him. Had to be. This was still his fuckin' job, no matter how crazy Ludwig was or how hard Raivis stared at his back.

Toris waited for praise.

A long stare, maybe a heightening of Ivan's brow and a loosening of his face, but there was no jump upright, no shout of victory, and no kind words for Toris.

Instead, Ivan just said, with a scoff, "So kill 'em. Why are you tellin' me? Just kill them."

Disappointment. His excitement deflated, and so did his smile. His shoulders slumped before he was even aware it, and his hands had fallen still. Before he knew it, Toris' brow had lowered, and he almost felt like sighing. Shouldn't have stung as much as it did.

'Good job.'

Was that so hard to say? Nothing he ever did was good enough. Not like Ludwig, who could do no wrong. Couldn't ever seem to show up Ludwig, no matter how hard he tried.

Feeling as disheartened as he no doubt looked, Toris just said, "Alright," and went back for the door.

As he retreated, Ivan called, "Wait."

Toris stopped still, and was certain he was holding his breath in anticipation. Heart hammering. A twinge of exhilaration up the back of his neck. Oh, please acknowledge him! Say something. Anything. 'Good job, Toris.' Tell him that he had done something right for once.

Ivan stood up, rested his palm on the desk, gave a half-smile, and then said, "Wait. Let's let him make the official order, shall we? Wouldn't that be poetic?"

Toris felt himself slump again, although he tried hard not to.

Him. Figured.

Tired and lethargic, Toris just nodded. Ivan didn't even let him go fetch Ludwig, and was quick to dart by Toris and into the hall. Toris lingered there, alone and irritated, and glowered at the desk, running a hand absently through his hair. Felt so agitated suddenly. Fuckin' Ludwig. Yeah, sure! Why not? Why not let Ludwig make the official order to kill his own fuckin' brother. Sure. Poetic, alright. He'd done everything else. Why not? Why the hell not? Let Ludwig kill Gilbert, then.

But tell him.

If Ivan were really brave, he'd tell Ludwig damn well who he was killing. He'd tell him.

When Ivan came back, a wobbly Ludwig in tow, Toris looked up and saw nothing there that he recognized. Just two crazy men with no sense of the world outside. Ivan led Ludwig over to that great map in the wall, twisted him around so that Ludwig's back was up against his chest, and when he rested his chin on Ludwig's shoulder and wrapped arms around him, Ludwig smiled.

Crazy.

Ludwig probably didn't even notice Toris was there, not when Ivan directed Ludwig's attention to the map. The map. For what? Toris hadn't even told Ivan where the hell Gilbert was, and Ivan didn't seem to care enough to ask. Maybe just seeing it was enough to make Ludwig focus.

A quiet, fond whisper.

"Ready to get back to work?"

Ludwig nodded, eagerly, despite the wan shade of his skin and the shadows under his eyes. He seemed quite happy to be staring at that map again, at that world in his head that he owned, and Toris had no doubt that he was very proud that Ivan had let him come 'back to work'. The last time Ivan had led Ludwig over that map, Toris had seen the outcome. This time, maybe it would be worse, although no towns would burn. Worse, because Ludwig would be sending a death-sentence to someone he knew very well, to someone he had loved once, without even knowing it.

Wished Ivan woulda told him, and see how eager Ludwig looked then.

"So, Ludwig—"

Lyuuudovik!

Toris shuddered.

"—tell me. You remember last time? How you put everything together? Let's do it again. There's another little group, a lot smaller, just a few of them. How do you want to do it? We can get them while they sleep, or we can wait for them on the road and chase them down. What do you think? Which would be more exciting for you?"

A flash in Toris' mind of Gilbert, sleeping in a creaking hotel bed, Eduard sitting up and drinking, those two, not even knowing, thinking about how they were going to go on in the morning. Eduard laughing at something Gilbert had said. Gilbert, in some other place, clenching a younger Ludwig to his chest as they slept on the floor after a long day of roughhousing. Gilbert's pale fingers brushing over Ludwig's face with nothing less than absolute adoration. Ludwig smiling.

Oh. Tell him.

'So, Ludwig, how to do want to kill your brother? You know, the guy that you did all of this for. The man you woulda died for once. Remember him? Do you want to terrorize him first in daylight and scare the hell out of him before you shoot him, or just kill him in his sleep?'

Ludwig looked at that map like he'd been in the army his entire life. Like he owned everything he saw. Like that world was his for the taking. Like he could have gone out to any one of those cities and set it ablaze if he wanted to. Then he smiled, leaning back wearily in Ivan's great arms, and reached out to run cool fingers over the map.

A gentle snort, and then Ludwig spoke.

"Why wait? If they want to get anything done then they shouldn't be sleeping in the first place."

Ludwig didn't sleep anymore.

Toris felt more agitated than surprised, but was at least relieved that the more merciful option had been chosen. Not that it mattered. Ludwig's order was a formality only; in the end, it was Toris' call, and Toris had always intended to move in at night.

Wished, still, that Ivan had told Ludwig the truth. Test that loyalty a little.

At Ludwig's words, Ivan's wolfish grin had widened, and he looked over at Toris from behind Ludwig's head, pale eyes on fire and hands still clenching Ludwig rather possessively. What he whispered, in Russian, made Toris shudder all the more.

"You see? You see how he is? He's my own mind. You see how easy it was for him? Didn't even have to think about it. He doesn't play by that world anymore. He won't ever leave here. He'll kill anyone I ask him to. He'd give the order to raze all of Germany to the ground if I asked it of him. He was meant to be here. Can you see it now, Toris? Ludwig is mine. Now go kill him. Go. I want you to go. I want you to be there. I want you to stand over his body and make goddamn sure that he's dead, because I won't ever let Ludwig go. I told you already. I'll shoot us all. Go. Now."

Toris could only stand there, frozen, and stare at Ivan.

Lyudovik, Lyudovik, Lyudovik, Lyudovik, LyudovikLyudovikLyudovikLyudovik—

The sound of that name, from Ivan's lips. Hated it. Ivan would never let Ludwig go.

Ludwig just smiled away, maybe enjoying the different pitch of Ivan's voice since he didn't understand the words.

Ludwig had made the order. Time to go, but...

No, no, that wasn't fair, though. None of that was fair. Ivan hadn't told Ludwig the truth. Hadn't told him who it was. Hadn't told him who he was killing. Ludwig had done it so easily because Ludwig didn't know. That wasn't fair. Not fair.

Ludwig turned his head and lifted his eyes to Ivan then, and asked, dreamily, "Are we going out again?"

A short silence, and then Ivan broke into a smile and reached around to grab Ludwig's chin.

"Not this time. Next time. We'll go together next time."

Next time.

If Ivan were really brave, if he really wanted to play roulette, then why not let Ludwig go with Toris? Why not let him stand before Gilbert and see if all of Ivan's talk held up in the real world? Why not see if Ludwig was all machine yet?

Ivan spoke about bravery all the time, but when it came to Ludwig, when it came to risking that thing he had in his hand, Ivan wasn't brave. Wouldn't take any chance at all of having Ludwig slip away.

If Ludwig's only fear was Ivan, then perhaps Ivan's only fear was of losing Ludwig.

Ivan and Ludwig should never have encountered each other.

Together, they were a whirlwind; a hectic, frenzied hurricane. A perfect storm. Ivan, providing leadership that lost Ludwig needed, offering support and oceans of confidence and fearlessness to a man who had been desperate to know who and what he was. The boost that self-conscious Ludwig had needed. And Ludwig provided just the right foil for Ivan, who had needed someone to bolster him and further extend his own boldness and audacity. Ivan had needed someone to see him as a god in order to start acting like one. Ludwig was just as smart as Ivan, but in a different way. Ivan was intelligent when it came to manipulation and using people; Ludwig was book-smart and logical. Putting those two minds together was like mixing chemicals and hoping they didn't blow up.

They fueled each other. Eerily similar and yet very different.

For the most part, Ludwig was calm and cunning, able to foresee outcomes and repercussions that brash Ivan might not have. Unwaveringly loyal to anyone he finally gave his affection to. Ivan was intrepid and relentless, able to come up with plans and ideas that aloof Ludwig would never have thought of on his own. Obsessively focused on someone who loved him.

Ivan needed to be dominant to thrive. Ludwig was content to be dominated. Ivan needed to be in complete control. Ludwig was willing to surrender. Ivan needed to manipulate and to be obeyed. Ludwig was willing to be manipulated, and obeyed without thought. Ivan was sadistic. Ludwig was masochistic.

But both of them were dangerous, and both of them were insane. Both of them had little qualms about hurting anyone that wasn't the other, and both of them enjoyed being on top of the world. Both of them felt as if they were above the rest of humanity. Both of them loved having other people's lives under their boots. Both of them were killers now.

And who knew? Maybe one day they really would own the world, as they had always wanted to. Unstoppable. Maybe the end of the earth would be born of their minds coming together. Lovebirds of destruction; together they caused nothing but havoc, but parted they would die in a supernova of annihilation, like stars. Had to be together; couldn't be one without the other anymore.

Together, always, or else.

Toris couldn't help but wonder then if Ludwig would have even cared if Ivan had told him the truth. If Ludwig had known, maybe he still would have had the same answer. Ludwig loved someone else now, had given himself to someone else, and there was no more room for Gilbert.

Lovebirds.

Ivan had said 'go', so Toris went, because, in all honesty, he felt stifled and terrified in that house, with Ludwig there. Couldn't stay in that room anymore. Couldn't be around them when they were together. With those two together. Ludwig scared him.

He left that night, under Ivan's orders.

Didn't say goodbye to anyone. Didn't look over his shoulder and try to catch a glimpse of Ludwig. Didn't see Irina or Raivis. He didn't pack anything; as always, it never occurred to him to just high-tail it out of there for good. It was just another routine. Get his boots on, get his gun, gloss his uniform, and go wherever Ivan told him to go.

That was all.

He might have had other dreams for himself long ago, but he couldn't remember those. The only dream he had now was to stand before Ivan and to have Ivan reach forward and clap him on the shoulder. To hear him say, 'I'm proud of you, Toris.'

'Good work, Toris.'

Ludwig may have owned Ivan's love and attention, but one day, Toris would force Ivan's eyes up, if only for a second.

One day, he'd impress Ivan.