Part 2

Silent Treatment

The day had been long, and so had been the lectures, discussions and prayers that didn't mean much to him.

Most of the time he had spent in the hospital wing. There were only minor sicknesses to treat and a few routine checkups to run, but he had been busy learning more about the monks who worked there, especially those who were trained here. The information he had gotten about the extraordinarily skilled healers and doctors were not exaggerated, even the novices were impressively learned and knew a lot about the human body and its treatment, more than he had known at this stage when he was younger. Yet he still had to meet someone who exceeded his present knowledge. However, it was interesting and exciting to exchange stories and experiences; he was especially interested in the ways of education of those healers trained in this monastery compared to those of other clerical institutions in this country. The determination and devotion those young men showed impressed him a lot and he regretted that he hadn't met one of the older doctors yet. And probably wouldn't anytime soon, not if his stay here ended as soon as he hoped it would.

True, the medical facilities were surprisingly advanced, more than he had expected, especially as this place was otherwise, even for a monastery, very sober and old-fashioned.

His feelings for his temporary home were contradictory – on the one hand he enjoyed all the medical talk, he couldn't remember the last time he met with people that shared his passion for research and medicine. And the library was splendid, he knew he could dwell there for weeks, reading and learning. On the other hand - the whole place made him feel uncomfortable, he didn't belong here and he didn't want to. Although living the role he played now would make many things a lot easier, he knew this life would depress him sooner or later. He would miss his freedom, he would miss being himself. His regular life already limited him enough.

And of course there were the consequences to consider when they found out about his identity. Be it as it may, for the time being he was able to deal with living like this, he only had to be careful. And to withstand the temptation to forget his job again like he did today, the last few days, when he allowed himself to get carried away by his own interests. This way he would never come to any results.

He sighed, going through the few papers lying in front of him on the table once more. Without the notes Spy had given him before his departure he wouldn't have any leads at all, but that only reminded him of the fact that Spy would have been the better man for this kind of job.

"Vho is it?" Trying to let his voice sound neutral he answered the sudden knock at the door, shuffling the papers under a pile of books so that no nightly visitor might get a glimpse at the suspicious contents. With another sigh he got up and opened the door, regretting he hadn't reacted fast enough and closed it again. Within a second, Brother Nathan – the Sniper, he corrected himself – entered his room, removed a pile of books from the armchair and put them carelessly on the floor and plunked down into the furniture.

"Vhy don't you come inside and make yourself comfortable?" the Medic remarked dryly and closed the door.

"Thanks for the invitation, mate. Crikey! Why the bloody fuck are they givin' ya a luxury suite and let me stay in a shoe box?" Envious, the man looked around the room. It was almost twice the size of his and well better furnished. The bed wasn't bigger, but the mattress and linen looked softer and the window was actually big enough to let some light in, well, during daylight hours. Next to a wardrobe for the clothes there stood a shelf filled with books and some small boxes. Although there was only one chair – the one the Medic had just sat down on again – the table was large enough for two people to sit on. And of course the armchair, rather obsolete and worn already but still comfy, especially as it was placed next to the fireplace, a nice place to rest or read.

"If it bozhers you, you can go anytime. Vhat do you vant here anyvay?" The German frowned, wondering if he should just throw him out.

"Vhat the hell are ya cookin' here?" The Sniper ignored him and pointed at the kettle hanging over the fire.

"Tea. Go now, I'm busy."

"Can I have some?"

"Sorry, only have one cup."

"Nah, don't worry 'bout that, just need one." He grinned when the second time today a pencil was snapped into two pieces.

"Even if I had ten I vould not offer you anyzhing." the Medic growled, growing more and more impatient. This visitor was not only uncalled – the Sniper's relaxed attitude was trying his own composure.

"Ya hospitality is not up to scratch, ya know." The reproach didn't hinder him from snuggling deeper into the chair and laying his feet on the pile of books.

"Uh, vhat?" Idioms. They still confused him far too often, but of course he couldn't expect much more than slang from an idiot like this. And he wished he hadn't asked when the Sniper's grin widened.

"Ya not a good host, ya treatin' ya guest not very nicely." the Australian explained, obviously amused by the whole situation.

"You are not my guest. As I said, you can leave anytime. Now vould be perfect."

"Nope, no can do, sorry mate."

"I could zhrow you out, you know."

But the Sniper only laughed at this threat.

"I doubt ya would make a fuss here. I ain't plannin' to give ya away, but only as long as I don't have to. Why don't ya save us the trouble 'n just be a bit more friendly, doc?"

The Medic scowled, knowing the intruder was right. It was a stalemate situation – when he uncovered his rival's identity the Sniper would uncover him at once, too. He would do the same.

For a moment he looked at the corner of one of the notes. But then he took one of the books about Scotland's history and opened it.

"Stay if you vant. But don't expect me to talk vizh you." he finally said and started to read.

"I'm fine with that. Don't need ya talkin' anyway 'cause I'm gonna talk till ya ears are bleedin, ya bloody wanka!" All of a sudden the Sniper's mood changed, from relaxed to stressed out, as he spoke on.

"Thanks to ya bloody vow of silence I had to shut up all day, not gettin' anywhere with my job, and spendin' 'bout two extra hours prayin' as punishment for talkin' anyway! That's why ya gonna sit there all night and listen while I talk, got it? And I don't give a bloody fuck if ya fine with that or not! Dammit. That felt good." The frown disappeared from his forehead and he smiled again, crossed the arms behind his head and continued talking.

The Medic had raised his eyebrows during this unexpected outburst and despite his resolution to get rid of this annoying man as soon as possible he almost chuckled at his words. Shaking his head, he focused on his book again and let the Sniper talk, trying his best to ignore him and was glad it worked. At least for a while.

"Hey, I asked ya somethin'!"

Giving a start, he looked up from his book and at the other man, a confused expression on his face while his mind tried to find its way back into the small room at their time.

"Back with us, dreamer?" the Sniper joked with a smirk.

"I'm sorry, vas lost in zhe text, vhat did you say?" Still trying to recollect his thoughts he forgot that he had been determined to ignore the Australian until he got bored and left.

"I asked ya why yar here at this place." He snorted. "If not payin' attention to others was a skill ya were the master. Had to ask ya 'bout 4 times until I got as much as a simple reaction. At least ya sorry, guess that's some improvement."

"If somebody ever called you funny, have a second opinion – he vas vrong, you are just an idiot." the Medic scoffed.

"Maybe, but a funny one. Come on, why did BLU send their nurse to this place? Hey!" A book missed his head by an inch only because he dodged in time. "Bloody hell, ya really havin' a bad temper."

"Give me zhe book back." was the cold reply as the Medic stretched out his hand. The Australian picked the book up and looked at the title. "History of Scotland's architecture"

"Ugh, sounds as exciting as havin' a conversation with ya. Here. Get it yarself." He closely observed the man's movements as the German stood up, careful not to put too much weight on his left leg. When the Medic touched the book, the Sniper quickly seized his wrist and pulled him down.

"Do I have ya attention now? Good, listen." Unimpressed by the Medic's struggle and curses he continued with a low voice. "I don't like bein' here. I hate this place, these clothes and the motherfuckin' country! And I don't like the idea of you bein' the only link to the real life but there we are. I want to get away as soon as I can and I ain't takin' anymore shit from ya, alright?" He released the other man who retreated at once, glowering at him. The Sniper sighed.

"Listen, Sebastian. That's ya name, right? I'm not ya enemy here. So when we are really on the same bloody job, can't we just work together and be done with that shit?"

He didn't receive an answer. Again all he could do was watching the Medic's serious face while he focused once more on his book, doing his best to shut the presence of the Sniper out. For a while the Australian simply rambled on, like before. Talking about his voyage, how depressing this country was with all its fog and rain. But all the Medic did was adjusting his glasses whenever they slid down the bridge of the nose or sometimes ruffling his hair while was he silently reading on. Finally, the Sniper gave up. He was tired anyway and the nights at this place were short. So he stood up, said a few words of goodbye that were ignored, and left the warm, cozy room.

He closed the door behind him and walked down the corridor, hoping he would find his room without getting lost this time.

x x x

The first day had left him dead tired. At least his sense of direction started to get used to the identical layout of the corridors that recurred over and over again like in a labyrinth of a dream. A dream that hunted him in his sleep – even when he lay down and closed his eyes he still saw himself walking through one hallway after the other.

The Sniper had been tired when he left the Medic's room, but now his mind refused to rest. Loneliness and silence were crucial parts of his trade and he never minded being alone, sometimes watching the same spot for hours through the lenses of the scope until his target showed its head. He wouldn't even call it "loneliness". The waiting game, a mixture of boredom and pent-up tension, released with one quick movement of his finger when he pulled the trigger. When his eyes told him "Now!". Meditative solitude. A state he loved and enjoyed, as long as he could return to the world of noises, motion and banter after his work was done.

But here – he was alone, pushed into a role that neither applied to his personality nor his skills, not even knowing where to begin and the only one who shared a similar burden was a rival he couldn't read at all. Was this Medic a danger or the potential ally the Sniper felt he needed if he wanted to return as soon as possible? He flinched when he admitted to himself that he was homesick – what a shame for a man in his thirties, considering that the base of the RED company wasn't even his real home. But it sure felt like it, especially now that he could lose it once he returned.

The dark corridor around him dissolved and finally vanished and he found himself back in his bed. Without being aware of it he had fallen asleep after all, the transition so fluent and blurry he wondered for a second what was real and what was a dream. The moment when the source of his awakening, a rapid knock at the door, was repeated, he knew he was back to reality. He opened his mouth to invite the caller in, but stopped. No way he would risk another hour of extra prayer or work to be reminded that he wasn't supposed to speak. He shoved the blanket aside and - stretching his arms while he crossed the room with a few steps – and opened the door.

"Oh! It's you" he exclaimed as he stood face to face with the Medic.

"Quiet!" The German looked down the corridor. "You vill vake up zhe vhole ving."

"Yeah whatever." Grinning, he leaned against the wooden door frame, but nevertheless he lowered his voice. "Whaddya want, lady? Feelin' lonely?"

"Vould you stop zhat nonsense? I vant you to come vizh me." he hissed, then he turned away, his cheeks slightly flushed. "But get dressed first. Hurry, ve don't have much time."

"Hu?" The Sniper looked down his body and scratched his bare chest. "It's not like I'd run 'round this place in my underwear anyway. Much time for what?" It was plain that he was in the Medic's bad books so following him into the unknown was probably a stupid, dangerous idea, but he didn't even have to think about it, his curiosity would get the better of him in the end.

"Wanna come in?" His offer didn't even receive an answer, the other man had already disappeared from the threshold, probably waiting in the darkness.

After a few minutes he joined him, still fastening the belt around his waist.

"Yar a strange bloke, ya know that?" he muttered and pulled the hood over his head.

"Shh! Come." was the short reply and the German walked ahead without any further look behind and the Sniper was surprised how quick the man still was, even when his leg obviously gave him troubles.

Both men tried to avoid making any noise as they passed several corridors, the rustling of their robes the only sounds to be heard. After a little while they had reached a stairway the Sniper hadn't even known to be there at all. Apparently he still hadn't completely grasped the whole layout of the building complex.

He followed him when he climbed the flights of stairs and then another until they reached an attic cramped with old chairs and tables and large boxes filled with books. The smell of old, yellowed paper and dry wood lingered in the air. While his eyes slowly adapted to the darkness his guide had taken a small lantern from the wall and lightened it. Dust danced in the warm, flickering shine of the little flame. Careful not to stumble over the discarded bits and pieces they traversed the longish, cluttered room until they reached the other end.

The Medic nodded at a wooden ladder.

"You go ahead." he ordered.

Lifting his head the Sniper glanced upwards, sceptically eying the rusty, heavy looking hatch.

"Why me?" Instead of a reply the other man gave him a light push.

"Alright, alright. Did I already tell ya that yar strange?" Swiftly he climbed the last few steps, unlocked the bolt and with some effort he pushed the hatch open.

A cold draft blew in his face and into the attic, almost extinguishing the lantern. From what he could see it was still dark outside. A glance at the Medic's face answered his silent question and he climbed onwards, feeling like he was stepping into a pitch-black hole that ignored the laws of gravity.

Then the world around him took shape. He stood on the roof of the main wing of the monastery. A strong wind howled around the towers and oriels and he shivered, wishing he had an overcoat with him, or at least put on a shirt under his habit. The sky was dark and clear and countless stars twinkled coldly above his head. Only a few miles away he saw the small fishing village, few windows were illuminated, otherwise the heartland seemed to swallow whatever light there was, even the silhouettes of the mountains vanished in the thick, consuming black. A shudder ran down his spine. He couldn't deny the cruel beauty of the sight, but he was cold and still tired - this was far too eerie for his mood.

A stumbling sound followed by a low groan caught his attention. He turned around and saw the Medic, kneeling on his right leg, his left hand lying on his left leg, the other holding the lantern.

"I see. Why didn't ya just give me that bloody thing or ask for help?" Of course, no matter if the man had used his good or bad leg for the last step outside, one way or the other he would have had to shift his weight on the injured limb at one point. The Sniper took their only source of light and reached out, but the man ignored the offer, flinched, and finally stood up and straightened his clothes.

"Ya alright?"

"Yes."

"'kay, and why are we here? It's dark as hell's dunny, might as well enjoy that while sitting in my cell. Minus the bloody wind. What time is it anyway?" he demanded, still being clueless.

"Peering zhrough your scope all zhe time obviously caused a serious case of tunnel view." the Medic stated and pointed in the opposite direction. "Zhere's always more zhan one perspective. Come." Not bothering with an explanation he went to the edge of the other side of the roof.

The Sniper followed him – the strong breeze left a salty flavor on his lips – and whistled in amazement.

In front of them lay the small island with the lighthouse, its light still on duty in case any ship sailed by despite the hour; but what really caught his eye was the North Sea as it seemed to cover the rest of the planet with its liquid black.

"It's about dawn." the German muttered and the Sniper nodded in agreement.

The ocean was still dark, but at the horizon that seemed to be the birthplace of the waves the first, weak rays of sunlight emerged and while the water glittered in a deep purple the sky was aflame with a bright, saturated orange. Slowly, while they stared in silence and their robes fluttered in the wind, the burning globe rose and set the horizon on fire – a bright, endless line separating sky from earth, flooding the firmament with all possible shades of purple. The water mirrored the sun itself, like it offered the star to the men's eyes on its ever-present waves.

The monastery's walls and the lighthouse, unmoved by the antithetic atmosphere of warm colors and cold air, stood like black, threatening shadows against the burning scenery.

"Beautiful, isn't it?"

The Sniper gave a start when the sudden whisper brought him back from his lost thoughts. Without averting his eyes from the sunrise he nodded.

"Yeah. But why am I here?"

"You vhere complaining about zhe horrible country and zhis horrible place. Not zhat I vant to encourage you, but I fear zhat you haven't bozhered me for zhe last time tonight. And I really don't look forward to listening to your vhining all zhe time." the man explained calmly, his voice missing sarcasm and irritation for once. Sniper looked at his profile as he still watched the ocean – a calm, peaceful expression. He gave a short laugh.

"So you were listening to me after all."

"Yes." the Medic admitted dryly. "Alzhough not all zhe time. But it's impossible to ignore everzhing vhen you talk like a vaterfall."

With a chuckle the Australian sat down on the ledge, letting his legs dangle. Carefully the other man followed his example, but preferred a position parallel to the edge.

"Afraid of heights?"

"No, only respect." the Medic explained.

"That's one way to call it. Anyway," the Sniper hurried to continue before the other man could protest. "It's the leg, right? The reason why ya that hostile." He raised his eyebrows when the man shook his head.

"Zhat vas your job, I can be glad I'm alive. Still, to know that hunting me vas a game isn't a pleasant zhought, but I understand zhat I vere dead if you had behaved as expected." He shivered a bit as the wind increased. The orange had changed into a pastel shade of pink, the sun hovered over the ocean with a golden glow. The sky turned slowly from purple to blue, as did the water.

"Good. And I don't hold it against ya that ya ran off with our documents." He grinned almost sadly. "Although ya little stunt brought me here in the first place. The boss's pretty pissed off, putting the blame on me 'cause I wasted my time foolin' around. This bloody job's my punishment and my last chance to make it up." He sighed. "It's a Spy's job. I ain't no good at this investigating stuff. Even if ya hadn't cursed me with ya mute spell I wouldn't know what questions to ask anyway. Ya here 'cause of the murder, too, ain't ya?"

"You are razher talkative for a man vho usually sits in one place all day vizhout company." the other man mocked him and feigned a yawn, avoiding the question.

"Aw, come on, I ain't gonna stop ya from working on the case, I just wanna know. And I still think we should work together."

"If zhere isn't anozher murder zhen yes, ve are on zhe same assignment." The German admitted and paused. "I hate your sense of humor." he finally growled. The answer confused the Sniper and he looked at the frowning face for a moment. Maybe the Medic felt comfortable in this place, it occurred to him as he noticed that the priest's robe suited him well, giving his slender frame an elegant appearance. He would probably always feel clumsy in this skirt. Suddenly, he understood the reply, and burst out with laughter.

"Ya tellin' me ya not hatin' me 'cause I almost killed ya, injured ya leg or am a rival on the same job, but 'cause I called ya 'nurse'? I was right, you are a strange bloke!" He still chuckled when the Medic kicked against his hip. "Careful," the Sniper gasped. "Ain't eager fallin' down here. And ya don't want to explain that to the prior."

"Vell, if all zhings fail I'll simply take a vow of silence, too." the Medic remarked sarcastically.

"Ya shouldn't be that aggravated 'cause of a harmless joke. I mean, what did ya expect? Wearing that dress at work..."

"That's a normal coat and part of my uniform!"

"...and ya wearing a dress right now." he continued, ignoring the interjection.

"I hate to break it to you but you are vearing a similar design. Can ve drop zhis matter now?" With an annoyed groan he faced the sunrise again.

"And finally," the Sniper smirked. "What do ya expect, fighting with the arms of a woman, stealin' my first kiss on the battlefield." He chuckled again when he saw the Medic's exasperated face.

"Aren't you just a barrel of laughs! I'm sorry and you can believe me, if I had had a better idea back zhen to get away from you I had gladly refrained from zhat. And I'm certain I was years too late to zhreaten your virtue." he snapped and for a moment the Sniper feared the man would push him over the brink after all. But he still couldn't help laughing.

"Well, of course not, but congrats, ya my first on the battlefield. Okay, okay, I gonna stop." he tried to allay the Medic's wrath he could see in his eyes that were almost as dark blue as the sea now. "If ya can't deal with a simple joke, no problem, no more lady-jokes. Can we team up already and solve this bloody case?"

The Medic gave a snort and stood up.

"I vill zhink about zhat. Come, it's almost time to get up, ve should return before ve run into zhe ozhers."

"Fine." The Sniper smiled. Better a quick-tempered ally than no ally at all. This could turn out to be fun after all. He picked up the lantern and followed the Medic to the hatch.

"Can I help ya in some way?" he offered.

"No, zhank you. I can climb down a simple ladder by myself. I'm not an invalid."

"Fine." he repeated, realizing he was chilled to the bones once they were back in the attic, away from the wind.

"This country isn't that ugly after all." he finally said while they climbed down the stairway.

"Of course it isn't. The inner land is fascinating, too. But I doubt ve have time for sightseeing."

"Doesn't matter, I believe your words for now. Ah, before I forget – you are not a real priest or something?" the Australian inquired curiously.

"No, I'm not."

"But Sebastian's ya real name?" he went on.

"Yes."

The Sniper sighed. Obviously his new ally again preferred to be taciturn.

"Can I call you that, Sebastian?"

"You already do, don't you? But don't do zhat vhen zhe ozher's are around." the German reminded him.

"Don't ya worry, thanks to ya curse I ain't callin' ya anything when we are not alone. I'm..."

"Nathan, I know. Quiet now!" he hissed in alarm as a shadow was cast on the floor where two pathways met.

"Good morning, dear Brothers." a calm and sincerely kind voice greeted them and a very old looking man followed his shadow. "I don't think we have met yet? You are the new arrivals?" He smiled, revealing two rows of yellow teeth.

The Medic gave the stiffened man next to him a nudge and bowed slightly.

"Good morning. Abbot Godfrey, I presume?"

xxx to be continued xxx

Another part that doesn't tell you much because it's too busy setting the stage and atmosphere and being a bit silly at times ^^

My Snipers always talk too much for their own good.