The darkness was suffocating. The light bulb exploded earlier and made the two men jump as they sat on the rubble in the middle of the room to think of an escape plan. Gilbert's hairpins could not unlock the rusty locks of the 5 iron gates, and the 6th newer lock just broke his spare hairpin.
They forgot how long they were down here in this cold hell for, but just as Berwald went to check the time on his mobile… it ran out of power and he cursed, slamming the device to the ground. The Nokia mobile only sustained some small scratches and a slight crack on its screen… Gilbert didn't bother checking his mobile out.
"Hey… could ya call emergency services to get us outta here?" Berwald asked quietly.
"I can't," his companion grunted. "The signal here is virtually non-existent."
'We really are trapped,' Berwald thought grimly and rested his cheek against his hand. Maybe he won't die because of Tino after all, but slowly die down here from starvation and exposure to the cold. At least he wouldn't die alone as long as Gilbert is with him. But that lingering smell of rotting meat still permeated in the air and it's bothering the two men greatly. No matter which corridors they looked at, the smell seems to be at its strongest in this particular space of the massive room. They only thought it was the 6th corridor that had the strange meaty smell, but that was before they realised it just smells rusty and that fear was confusing their minds and senses. Fear is dangerous. Fear can manipulate on what you believe is there when it isn't.
He stood up and pocketed his abused mobile, looking around and sniffing the air. He couldn't hear any buzzing of insects, because if you have rotting meat you have insects or… wild animals… wild CARNIVOROUS animals… around, then you can tell where they are. Meanwhile, Gilbert was examining the crumbling pieces of concrete and thin iron poles and rotting wooden parts. He planned on making a ladder or a tower for them to scale back to the hole they fell through, but then the iron bar snapped in half when he tried to do a balancing trick on it and almost broke his neck, but luckily he fell on his butt.
"Hey, Big Guy, kiss it better?" Gilbert grinned, managing to find his humour in the dire circumstances as he waggles his butt at Berwald. The Swede thought he was going crazy himself when he started laughing softly at Gilbert's behaviour and turned away to look at the door-less corridors.
As he tried formulating plans in his mind, he felt a warm hand wrap around his and he turned his head to face Gilbert. His face was really close to his, though it is quiet and devoid of any fear.
"Hey… can I kiss you?" his lips asked, "it's not as if we're going to get out of here for a long while, right?"
Berwald couldn't deny the tight knot in his conscience that they probably won't ever get out of here, but his heart made slow beats that grew faster. That's it. He gave up trying to think of escape plans as soon as he pulled Gilbert's body against his and he kissed him, lips searching in synch with his through the harsh darkness. Their hands found their way under their shirts and hair was tugged, throats were softly nipped at (or bitten after silent consents) and domination heated them. Gilbert's wig was taken off ages ago as they lay there on the stiff ground with Berwald's fingers enjoying the soft feel of the German's real hair.
It was unknown how long they spent there, basked in the intense warmth emanating from their heated bodies, but they cuddled close when they have both finished with tired breaths. They didn't say anything. They didn't need to.
"Hn…" Gilbert grumbled, pressing his cheek against Berwald's shoulder. As soon as he was fully conscious, he shivered violently when he felt the cold still wavering in the underground hall. Berwald woke up too and his wrapped his other arm around the German in a tight hug, burying his face in his silvery locks and inhaled. "Freaking cold… and I'm hungry too…" Berwald kissed his forehead, responding with an "I know."
Their stomachs rumbled loudly and Gilbert laughed while Berwald gave out a nervous chuckle. The German slowly moved out of his arms and he grabbed his clothes, putting them on to cover his bare body.
"Uhm… am I interrupting anything, gentlemen?"
Gilbert and Berwald both gasped and sharply looked up at the ceiling, where a policeman hangs onto a rope ladder trailing from the huge hole they fell through earlier. He adverted his eyes as soon as he saw Berwald, who was still completely naked. The Swede didn't know why he looked away until Gilbert snickered and threw his clothes at him. "Get dressed, Big Guy."
The policeman eventually climbed down to the ground, followed by other officers with their own torches. They didn't react loudly like Gilbert thought they would when they saw the dried blood smears, but on the contrary they just calmly got out some forensic testing kits.
All of a sudden, with this many people buzzing around with lights and test kits, the underground hall doesn't look so scary after all.
The first officer introduced himself to a fully-dressed Berwald and Gilbert.
"My name is Arthur Kirkland, an Inspector for this investigation. I would be back home in England, but someone make a cock-up up of records and ended up sending British officers abroad to Europe. I'm stranded here until they set records straight or I complete this investigation," the blonde man sighed. Gilbert wouldn't stop staring at his thick eyebrows and Berwald had to tap his shoulder to get his attention.
"Well… My name is Berwald Oxenstierna, and this is my companion—"
"MARIA Beilschmidt," the German grinned, giving the Swede a playful nudge with her elbow. But Arthur raised an eyebrow and looked at his face for a few seconds before looking away with some shock in his face.
The policeman seemed really uncomfortable as he rubbed his head. "Ah, I do apologise for any... transphobia... that I may have exhibited… But I'll need to know your official name that you are born with, then I'll write that down alongside with 'Maria.'"
Gilbert huffed. "Okay, okay, my real name is Gilbert. But besides that, refer to the awesome me as Maria! And no, you weren't being deliberately transphobic."
Berwald whispered to Arthur quickly, "Don't worry, he's not a transsexual, he just loves cross-dressing."
"Hey!"
"Oka, so…" Arthur murmured as he finished writing in his notepad and looked at the pair. "What are you two doing here in this foster home?"
Huh. Tricky questions already. Berwald and Gilbert glanced at each other, wondering what to say. Finally, Berwald spoke.
"We're here because m' partner used t' be 'n care here and I want t' know what really happen'd to him here," he said calmly. He wasn't exactly lying.
"So you two are not… well, together?" Arthur glanced between them, awkwardly fiddling with his pen. The men quickly shook their heads. "Alright. Thanks for your time. Go up that rope ladder and someone'll escort you two to the ambulance."
"Wait a second," Gilbert spoke quickly before he could turn. "Why are you guys doing here? I thought this place was supposed to be off-limits! How could you have known we were here?"
Silence. Everybody who worked on their little tasks of evidence-gathering stopped and stared at the silverette. Arthur pursed his lips and spoke after what seemed like an eternity of 10 seconds and clicked his pen.
"We didn't. We only knew the existence of this place from an anonymous tip-off."
What? An anonymous tip-off? From someone who obviously knows the existence of this place.
"…What? Who told you to come here? Is it Braginski?!" Gilbert yelled, feeling his blood boil.
"I am not allowed to divulge any information on that!" Arthur snapped suddenly, but Berwald could see otherwise.
Gilbert hissed at him closely. "That bastard has threatened Berwald that if he doesn't do as he says then he'll kill his family if he doesn't find out more about his wife's past here!"
Arthur spoke back sternly. "I want you to leave immediately and go to the ambulance. From the fall of 10 feet, I'm sure you have probably suffered concussion and are therefore thinking crazy theories. Berwald." He turned to the Swede. "You seem like a gentleman who can get situations under control easily. I want you to talk sense into your companion. In fact, I'll have the ambulance take you two to the nick as soon as you are both treated."
Gilbert was like an angry albino cat as he wouldn't stop hissing about grumbling about Officer Kirkland, the English policeman. Berwald on the other hand was just quietly listening to him, thinking about today's events. Right now they're at the police station back in Stockholm after a long journey. Luckily somebody collected his car for him, which is now waiting outside the building in the compound. As they sat in the interrogation room, Gilbert still carried on bitching about 'stupid, sexy British policemen'.
After a few minutes, Arthur walked into the room and sat opposite them, sighing as he splayed his papers and photographs over the table. Some photos showed familiar parts of the building that they had already been to and seen, but the others were a complete mystery. They assumed the unfamiliar photos were taken from the ground floor rooms. The police did not miss the dried blood puddle from the one corridor outside a bedroom as a photo clearly shows it on bright glossy paper. Gilbert finally stopped ranting as he stared at the photos with unblinking eyes as if relieving the slight horror he felt from those chilly halls.
"I take it you examined the whole building?" Arthur asked. The men shook their heads.
"Not all of it. We agreed to search the place from top to bottom," Berwald answered clearly.
Gilbert suddenly snickered; "Literally." Arthur ignored him.
"We searched th' top floors an' we were about ta check th' bottom floor when the floorboards…" Berwald trailed off when the policeman nodded and pointed to a photograph of the massive hole in the grand stairs.
"So… you searched the top floors, but then fell through the stairs and proceeded to check out the 6 corridors?"
The men silently nodded.
"Okay then… did you have trouble trying to open those iron gates?" Arthur asked.
"Ja, we did. We tried usin' hairpins…"
Gilbert snorted. "MY hairpins."
"But you couldn't even get the locks to budge?" the Englishman asked.
"Nej, we couldn't." Berwald answered.
With that Arthur took out a radio and spoke quickly in Swedish, but he had a frustrated look in his face when he got a reply, before ranting back in English. "I'm not exactly the Queen of the United States of Fecking Swedish, you know!" His face was flushed, but then he spoke more Swedish at a slower pace and he nodded after a reply. He put his radio back and turned to the men. Gilbert was trying not to laugh loudly at the man's poor Swedish.
"Berwald. Gilbert said that your family are in danger. Are they? If so, I can give them around the clock security to protect them from threats," Arthur said quietly.
"W-well…" the Swede was clueless on what to say. "I'm… They're… They're actually alright." He said this lowly. "I'm th' manager o' Ikea. I get lots o' strange people threatenin' me, especially fer bargains."
Arthur chuckled at this. "Oh I completely understand. Prices that low are just criminally satisfying. I had to deal with a knifeman who stabbed somebody over a sofa in England once because the sofa was just £20. Twenty pounds for just a bloody three-seat sofa!" He laughed and Berwald nervously laughed a little. Gilbert just raised an eyebrow at him, but didn't say anything.
"Well, if everything is alright and you have no more questions, I'll be here or call my number on this card," Arthur said as he handed out two white cards with his phone number on.
"I got a question!" Gilbert said abruptly and stood up with crossed arms. "Why were you and your guys at the foster home to begin with? What's there that could help Berwald's partner get over his insanity and crazy pills?"
"Gilbert!" Berwald growled. Arthur looked at them, frowning.
"I'm afraid it's classified," the Englishman said quietly and calmly. "It's a sensitive investigation carried out between the Swedish, Finnish and Russian governments."
"Why Russia?" The country's name brought a deathly scowl to Gilbert's face. "That Home is not on THEIR turf!"
"It's like I said; classified information." Berwald could see the patience is running thin on Arthur's face as a slight glare made its way onto his face, twisting his lips into pursing again and his pen snapped from being held so tightly. "Now please leave or I'll have you arrested for obstruction of an investigation."
Arthur watched the two men leave the interrogation room quietly (with the German fuming silently) and he sighed heavily.
"As soon as I get home to Birmingham, I'm going to have a nice, steaming cup of tea at the Bullring… if it's not raining…" he grumbled, gathering his photos together. He glanced up to see a young woman sitting on the edge of the table, looking down at him as she crossed her leg and shifted her long green skirt. Her braid tickled at Arthur's hand which still rested on a photograph.
"What do you want, oh greatest Special Agent Bonnefoy of Interpol?" he asked and rolled his eyes. The bespectacled woman smiled at him slightly.
Her French accent purred while she spoke. "Don't look worried, Arthur. I assigned you in this country for a special reason. I'm just here to inform you that I know who Berwald Oxenstierna is. In fact, I teach his son at school."
Arthur raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh, really, Princess Frog?"
The agent giggled and got down from the table. She's short for a young woman of her age, but she is not short on looks when it comes to her beauty.
"Oh, oui~" she hummed. "The young boy has a connection to you too. The name Peter Kirkland should be familiar to you."
Arthur stared at her, face draining of all its colour. "What…? Peter… is here…?"
Monique Bonnefoy nodded grimly. "Berwald was lying when he said his family is safe. They're not safe at all. Keep investigating the Braginski case as well as the Foster Home abuses case, then I'll personally see to it that Peter is kept safe at all times; as his teacher and, as of tomorrow, newly-appointed family advisor."
A/N: Gets trapped in a haunted building. Has sex.
Pfft that should be a meme or something.