A/N: Shorter than last chap, I know. Next one, which is the last, will be longer. Also, two things: 1) the saying Still waters run deep refers to quiet people often being capable of great acts of violence. This will be explored in fic #8, I believe. 2) the 'something stupid' Gilbert refers to when talking about Ludwig is in reference to fic #5 'When In Greece', which is already up, as I said.

Chapter 2

For a time, they walked in silence. It was neither awkward, nor companionable. It was simply a mutual acceptance of the novelty of each other's presence. Neither man was in the habit of simply existing with another, for no definite reason. Gilbert had romped around with Francis and Antonio, for the sheer sake of raising nine kinds of hell and whoring. Matthew was sought only when mistaken for his brother, or expected to rectify some mess his brother had created. As a result, this unprecedented company with each other had both men consciously taking the time to discover whether or not the experience was enjoyable.

-oOo-

Gilbert was inclined to conclude that yes, he did like the feeling of Matthew's presence. His interest didn't wane in the silence, nor did he feel bored as he so often did around quiet people. Antonio and Francis were the only ones he could tolerate for anything length of time, but then they had appetites that matched his own. That had been the way of things for a long time, until Feliciano had come along with his bubbly attitude. Dead hilarious, that Italian was sometimes. But to feel so at ease with someone he didn't know, without words, was not like Gilbert. He was a verbal person, when around others. He liked to dominate any and all encounters…but no, that had been the old him. Gilbert had to admit that the new him didn't interact with people outside of the estate often. Hands in his pockets, he wondered where this walk would lead.

-oOo-

Matthew thought the experience more than enjoyable; it was quite interesting. As they walked, he recalled all the time he'd spent with Francis. It hadn't meant anything to him at the time, but there had been mention made of one Gilbert Beilschmidt, and certain antics that Francis, Gilbert, and Antonio Carriedo had gotten up to. This had to be the same Gilbert. Matthew tried to recall specifics of what was said, but those details were lost, if he'd ever had them.

He couldn't quite quell the wayward little leaps his heart did in his chest. Little irregularities in its normally undisturbed beat that caused it to thud and stutter. He cleared his throat lightly, trying to calm down. They were only walking, after all.

-oOo-

They reached the center of the maze, where a shallow pond sat in an engraved, rectangle stone basin. The basin was recessed into the ground, no more than fifty feet in length, if that. A fountain rose from the center of this pond, whose water tinkled over scalloped stone tiers to fall back into the pond. Stone benches with griffins as their base were ranged around the center of the maze, on either side of the pond. Gilbert went to the far side of one bench and sat. The space he left beside him indicated that Matthew was welcome to sit, which he did.

"I've never seen you at a meeting before," Matthew ventured after some minutes of staring at the water.

"There's really no reason for me to attend one, is there?" Gilbert couldn't quite keep the bitterness out of his voice. He saw that Matthew winced in awareness of his error in choosing that particular topic. His jaw clenched at being so unintentionally acerbic, but he didn't apologize.

"No, I don't suppose there is." He didn't ask what Gilbert was doing at this meeting. He cast about for some topic that wouldn't offend, and came up empty. He knew nothing about Gilbert that could be used as a conversation piece, and didn't want to risk putting his foot in his mouth again. He clasped his hands between his prim knees, growing uncomfortable.

"Do you and your brother get along?" Gilbert asked at length. "I never seem to hear your name come up whenever the bastard is mentioned."

Matthew turned his head to find Gilbert staring at him again, and gave an enigmatic smile. "It's refreshing to hear someone call him a bastard openly."

"Does that mean you don't get along, then?" Gilbert asked with interest; Matthew's smile was almost…chilling.

Adjusting himself to this blunt manner of speaking, Matthew considered the question while looking at the pond once more. "My brother and I aren't at war with each other. I guess that's all that can be said for our…relationship."

Gilbert had to sit up and lean his forearms on his knees at the way Matthew's jaw flexed, and his glasses glinted. Definite steel in the spine. Gilbert caught the barest hint of hostility and raging resentment before these things were tucked away and neatly smoothed over with the pleasant expression Matthew seemed to wear constantly. Still waters run deep with this one. Very deep indeed. The spark of interest gave way to a thread of excitement, one that ran up the length of his spine deliciously. It had been a long while since he'd been in the presence of anyone truly dangerous.

"What of your relationship with your brother?" Matthew kept his eyes on the pond, leading Gilbert to believe that thoughts of Alfred hadn't quite left yet.

"Me and West?" Gilbert said. He scratched his jaw, now looking at the pond as well. "Eh, what can I say?"

In truth he ended up saying a lot. More than he'd meant to. More than he'd realized he had in him to say on the subject of Ludwig the Perfect.

Matthew listened to the tale of grudging respect and pride Gilbert had for, and in, his brother, and allowed the rough voice to further calm him. It was very different from how he and Alfred interacted. Night and day. Listening closely, he was able to learn quite a bit about Gilbert himself, things he didn't think the man was aware of divulging. He found himself turning on the bench and leaning forward a bit, completely enraptured and distracted from his previous thoughts of Alfred.

"He's a shit sometimes, Ludwig." Gilbert said at one point. "He likes to issue rules and orders for everyone, likes his life to fall within his own self-imposed little rules, but doesn't like having rules foisted on him in turn."

"You don't say?"

"Take this relationship he's in with Feliciano. He knows he can't live without the man, but doesn't want to be forced to settle down. Outwardly he accepts it, but inwardly…Germans court for a long time before making the final decision to settle down. Years. Italians must be different, though. Feliciano forced Ludwig's hand, and my brother went along with it. So far, any resentment Ludwig may or may not have hasn't reared its head, but give it time. I know Ludwig. He loves Feliciano, but one should never rush a German when it comes to love."

"What do you think will happen?"

Gilbert shrugged one shoulder. "He might do something stupid."

"I have the impression he does not do stupid things often."

"You'd be right. Ludwig sets up his life so that he doesn't make mistakes, but push anyone far enough, and shit happens. Oh, I could tell you some stories, ways I've provoked that asshole to madness," Gilbert chuckled. "One time…"

Through tales of brotherly exploits, Gilbert revealed a loyal and intelligent personality, with liberal splashes of wicked mischievousness thrown in. Adding this to what he'd gleaned from Francis, and Matthew was able to visualize a very complex man in Gilbert, a veritable world of fascinating contrasts, extremes, and subtleties that were just waiting to be explored.

He was enthralled.

Gilbert found, to his pleasure, that Matthew asked intelligent questions once it was his turn to speak. Though quiet and composed, he was not tedious in the slightest. He answered Gilbert's own questions, posed more of his own, and before they knew it, a lively conversation was flowing back and forth between them as if they'd known each other for years.

And yet the novelty of each other's company didn't wear off. It remained fresh, and for that both men were keenly grateful.

"I'm not sure why I came to this meeting," Gilbert found himself saying as the afternoon descended toward evening. "Just another one of those all-important, highly ineffectual, blatant excuses for chest-beating that I have no place in anymore. Ludwig was off somewhere, so I agreed to come in his stead. Then he brought his yellow ass back, dealt with his man issues, and decided he was going to come after all. I backed out. He comes along and asks me to accompany him anyway, thinks I'm too depressed and directionless…" he stopped there, realizing he'd said more than he'd meant to. He looked over at Matthew, and did not find an expression of pity or sympathy on the open features.

"You don't have to say more," Matthew offered in his mellow voice.

Gilbert studied the expression of attentive interest on Matthew's face. He swallowed, nodded, looked away. He hadn't really spoken of it with anyone. Maybe he should. He'd already opened the door, might as well push on through.

When he decided to continue, it was in a tone so low that Matthew had to lean very close to hear him. "I guess I am directionless. Depression has been my food and drink of late. I don't think-" he paused, as a breeze rippled the glass-like surface of the pond, as if the breeze had also disordered his thoughts. He stared, as the ripples grew fainter, diminishing until the pond was still once more.

Matthew didn't move, hardly dared to breathe.

"I don't think," Gilbert went on in an eerie whisper, "that people are meant to live without purpose. I don't think anyone who's never been without purpose understands how living without it can kill the soul. To be something…and then be nothing, while existing in the same world you've always lived in… It's worse than dying." He turned his head slowly, his eyes finding the violet ones in the gathering dark. "It's worse than anything else in the world."

A silence fell between them, but they did not look away from each other. Gilbert searched the wide eyes with a frown between his own, searched as if Matthew had something he needed. He stared hard, hoping to find it, desperate to find it. And then he did, and he thought, I'm attracted to him. Intrigued, he continued to hold the other man's stare, waiting to see if Matthew would look away.

Matthew didn't. Throughout their conversation he'd been aware of a budding attraction on his part, one that forced him to duck his head or drop his eyes whenever Gilbert looked at him for too long; he didn't know if his attraction was visible to the older man, and had no way of knowing how knowledge of it would be received. Same sex love was better tolerated in the quiet circles of Canada than in many other places, but it was not something one flaunted, ever. Not in this day and age. At any rate, he'd never been attracted to anyone this strongly, and he wasn't sure what to make of it.

But then Gilbert turned to look at him yet again, and this time didn't turn away. He stared and stared, and Matthew returned the stare, letting his attraction show, hoping it wouldn't be ridiculed or sneered upon. He'd hoped also, by returning the searching gaze, to show Gilbert his trustworthiness. Perhaps Gilbert saw. The stare changed, became less searching, and more assured. Confident. Bold. Unflinching.

The red eyes dropped to his mouth, and Matthew felt as if his lips were branded. He had to swallow several times, and resist the urge to lick his lips nervously.

Gilbert let his mind dwell on the moistness of Matthew's pale lips, before slowly raising his eyes again. Caught staring at Matthew's mouth, he saw that Matthew himself did not seem to mind this. If the way his cheeks colored faintly in the setting sun was any indication, the stare had been welcome. Matthew was certainly doing a fair amount of his own staring.

"If you're not too fussed with staying for the rest of the meeting," Gilbert said with uncharacteristic hesitation, "I have an estate less than a day's drive from here…and my brother's car."

It was an admission of things men typically did not mention, Matthew knew. Electrified to a point of near incoherence, Matthew nonetheless was not in the habit of behaving irrationally or recklessly. That was Alfred's way. "May I consider the offer?" he asked with the faintest stutter. "It's a bit sudden."

Gilbert smiled thinly, then dipped his head once. "Of course." He knew a rejection when he heard one.

Matthew got up then and bid him good night.

-oOo-

Gilbert remained in the maze long after the other man had gone. A stiff wind came and blew the shrubbery around him so that it whistled and creaked, but he found himself feeling utterly still inside. Yes, Matthew had turned his offer down, but today had still been one of surpassing enjoyment for Gilbert. Outside of Feliciano, he couldn't remember the last time he'd enjoyed someone's conversation. And the Italian was quirky at best. Matthew, on the other hand, had a sharp and expansive mind, one that held its own with Gilbert's easily. He let himself relive some of the choice parts of their conversation and found himself chortling softly.

Maybe he'd enjoy this meeting after all. Seemed Matthew wouldn't be missed. All they needed to do was find another secluded corner or two, or come to this very same maze again,and who knew. Conversation could lead to other things.

Matthew didn't sleep well that night. He didn't sleep at all, in fact, and soon gave up trying. He turned onto his back and listened to the rain that was falling yet again.

Ordinarily, most things did not trouble him overmuch. He was a sensible person who never let things build up within himself to the point where they became a problem. Most things, anyway. He had an easygoing and tolerant way of interacting with people; he rarely, if ever, became agitated or fixated on people and the things they said or did. Why, then, couldn't he get Gilbert and their conversation off his mind? A perfectly normal conversation, and yet he'd sensed all throughout it that Gilbert had not spoken that way with many other people, if any. There had been a clear sense of secrets shared and camaraderie.

As he stared up at the ceiling, Matthew realized that his attraction had the power to become an obsession.

Or love.

He shied away from that thought. It was impractical. He'd just met Gilbert. An afternoon of pleasant conversation didn't mean love. Neither did the stiffness in his groin.

Around dawn Gilbert found his way to his room and discovered Ludwig inside it, having an argument with Antonio and Kiku. A closer look revealed Ludwig to actually be ranting to the room at large, and Antonio and Kiku merely watching. Kiku was sipping tea. Antonio was sitting in an armchair and looked bored.

Ludwig rounded on his brother the moment Gilbert stepped into the room. "Du Hurensohn," Ludwig spat. "Where the devil have you been?"

Gilbert only loosened his collar and undid the first few buttons on his shirt. Ludwig would carry on his ranting whether or not he answered. Sure enough…

"This meeting is pointless! Minor issues that mean nothing to anyone are resolved with great ceremony and pomp, while the serious problems circle the table without a resolution. And that arschloch Alfred thinks to dominate everything. Always an answer to every nation's problems but his own. Schwanzlutscher!"

Well aware of how much Ludwig detested inefficiency, Gilbert calmly faced him while pouring himself some of the brandy that sat on the coffee table. "And why, you Nazi, would you have needed me present for such high excitement?"

"Nazi-!" Ludwig reddened dangerously, advancing toward his brother with fists balled.

"Yes, Nazi, control-freak, whatever you want to call your particular brand of insanity. It sounds like I was right to step out of the meeting early."

"You-"

Gilbert obligingly set his glass aside. "You want to fight? Come. Good big brother that I am, I will oblige you."

It didn't even tax him. His blood was still high from his afternoon with Matthew, and a good fight was almost as good as a hunt.

Antonio, who had his legs stretched out, lifted them out of the way as the brothers rolled energetically on the floor. He sipped his own brandy idly, comparing the color to one Italian bastard's eyes.

Ludwig stood after he'd been thrown to the floor a third time and peevishly straightened his shirt. "A draw," he sniffed, eyes averted.

"I beat you," Gilbert smiled. He picked up his unfinished glass of brandy. "And you know it. At least be man enough to admit it."

Ludwig glared around the room, then stormed out. "Meeting begins at nine again. Be ready."

Gilbert stared thoughtfully at the slammed door. "He's going to do something stupid sooner than I thought, I can tell."

Neither Kiku nor Antonio responded.

Sometime around midmorning, while the meeting was well under way, it was discovered that Gilbert wasn't the only one absent from it. He wondered who could be knocking on his door when he went to open it and was surprised to meet a pair of shining violet eyes.

"If the offer is still on the table," Matthew said with a nervous smile. "I'd very much like to take you up on it."