The Major pinched the tip of his nose and gave a long, frustrated sigh. Wordlessly he handed over the flask, back to Dorian and for a moment, the two stood silently, Dorian staring at Klaus and Klaus staring at everything other than Dorian.

    “How did you find out?” The Major asked, finally, breaking the silence. “I thought I’d covered my tracks well.”

    “My darling, you think I planned this little meet?” He replied, sweetly, still trying to stop himself from laughing. “If I’d arranged this, I’d be better dressed.” He gestured to the clothes he wore now, the thin light silk. It was a wonder he hadn’t frozen to death waiting at the station.

    Klaus grumbled something under his breath, allowing himself not to notice the skin that the Earl revealed. Bored and irritated by the situation, he turned and walked back to his seat.

    And Dorian followed quickly after, taking the seat opposite him, without a second though. The action wasn’t in the least out of the ordinary for Dorian. He had followed the man across the iron curtain and out the other side again, to the furthest lands across the harshest seas, through battlefields and into places so disgusting that the thought of them still made him want to retch. Dorian would repeat the action time and again, if only to show the Major that he was still there.

    What was out of the ordinary, however, was that Klaus didn’t stop him. There were no words of protest. No angry threats. Not even a filthy look. Just a casual remark, before the German turned back to his newspaper.

    “Even if you sit there, I’m not going to talk to you.”

    He was tired. Dorian could hear it in his voice, and see it in his eyes. They shared the same feeling of utter exhaustion, made worse by boredom and the bother of the train hitting a bump every few minutes and shaking the carriage.

    Dorian rested his head against the table again, staring sideways window next to him. The stained, red curtain was pulled, almost all the way across, obscuring most of the evening view. The Earl let his hand droop over one side of the table again and he glanced up to see the Major’s face once more. Hidden, just like the window was, except this time, it was blocked by the paper he read. International, none of the local crap. No crosswords either, of course, or sports, or gossip. Just…business.

    “What are you doing in Finland?” Dorian asked, in curiosity. “Work?” He paused and was greeted only by silence. “Well of course it’s work but I mean, is it a mission or are you getting some information? Or are you just…checking -”

    “When you sat down, what was it that I told you?” Klaus asked, from behind his paper. Dorian blushed a little and once again there was silence between the pair, for the longest time Dorian could imagine. He didn’t try to argue or tease or do anything to get an answer from The Major. Instead he just sat, idly gazing over the front of the newspaper. That’s when he saw it.

    Covering most of the page was a picture of what had once stood as a building, now reduced to rubble, and debris, dust clouding over most of it, obscuring the details. The writing surrounding the photo was all German but the meanings were obvious. He knew that rubble well enough.

   “Major…Klaus…I’m so, I’m so sorry.” Dorian stuttered quietly. “I didn’t…Klaus…”

    Klaus again said nothing, but lowered his paper and stared at Dorian who did his best not to stare back, instead looking straight down at the table. The Major sighed at put the newspaper down to one side rubbed his eyes with one hand.

    “…’s fine.” He whispered finally. “I don’t really want to talk about it.” But Dorian did. He glanced at the headline briefly, for some clues as to what had happened.

Before turning back to Klaus, eyes expectant of a translation.

    “It says that my offices were a terrorist target.” He explained, softly, but coldly turning to the curtains. “Yesterday evening.” He continued. “I was still in Finland at the time. They detonated several devices in the building. ‘s all that’s left.” He finished, pointing at the photograph of the wreckage.

    Dorian had to ask the question that had plagued him since he’d seen the picture.

    “Was everyone okay?” He inquired, he voice shaking slightly out of shock. “I mean did anyone…”

    “Most people in the building. The Chief. Six from my team. They’re gone. Dead.” He whispered the fragments of sentences, slowly. “They were working late. Finishing paperwork. They’re gone now.”

    Dorian put a hand to his mouth and moved the other across the table towards Klaus’s hand, which was snatched away quickly, the moment that skin touched, coupled with a furious glance at Dorian. Just because he was upset didn’t mean he would let his guard down for a second.

    The Earl apologised softly, almost inaudibly to the Major, who turned away from Dorian and pulled back the curtains to look at the view outside. It was completely dark outside now, save for the lights of the train signals, every so often and the lights of the distant villages. The snow was falling heavily, blocking most of the dark scene outside with a white icy screen.

    “B…C…L…K…R.” Klaus murmured distantly, still gazing out of the window. “Gone now.”

    Dorian nodded and opened his mouth to speak when he paused and joined Klaus in looking out of the window at the outside world. The hills and trees and sky and snow seemed a million miles away from the pair. Everything did.

    “Who was the sixth?” Dorian finally asked. Klaus turned to the thief confused, before the realisation dawned on him and he turned back to the window, untucking the hair caught in his shirt collar and swallowing.

    “Z” He sighed. “B,C,L,K,R and Z.” He pushed the paper further away from himself, until half of it fell slipped over the edge of the table. Klaus mouthed the letters over and over, burying his face in his hands and closing his eyes tightly.

    A lump caught in Dorian’s throat briefly and tears pricked in the corners of his eyes as he thought over the information. He didn’t even know the six’s names but….he’d met them all. He’d talked to them. He’d spent quite a bit of time with some of them. Played cards with them once or twice. On several occasions they’d probably been responsible for Dorian escaping the clutches of Interpol and intermittently they may have been to blame for placing the thief in near mortal danger.

    And Christ, that one time. That one night with Z. That one, intense, sleepless night. But that was the past now. None of it mattered now he was gone.

    Dorian thought about asking more questions, until he saw the look out of the corner of Klaus’s eye and knew that he probably had a similar look in his own. Instead he let his hand run over the picture of the ruins that he’d once known as an office block. His fingertips stained slightly as he pressed his digits down hard into the dark ink, nails gouging small lines into the paper. Finally he swatted the broadsheet away, knocking it into the gangway between the seats. He joined Klaus and cupped his face into his hands, with a long sigh.

    “I’m really sorry Major.” Dorian mumbled, ending what felt like another decade’s worth of silence. “If I’d have known about this…I’d have left you alone. I shouldn’t have -”

    “Nein.” Klaus cut him off again, but still avoided eye contact. “Nein, no, it’s really fine. I’m glad of the company.” He looked up at Dorian and smiled, but only for a second. “For once.” He added but not maliciously.

    Dorian nodded and smiled a little. He didn’t feel like flirting or silliness. Not now. Even with Klaus so close in front of him, so tired and fragile. Helpless. Bravely, he stretched out a hand again, to cover Klaus’s. This time he didn’t pull away. He didn’t even seem to notice.

    His skin was cold, considering the heat of the train, but eventually the heat from Dorian’s palm over his knuckles alerted him to the unusual touch. At this point, he did drag his hand away, but slowly, closing it into a fist, atop the table.

    “Eroica…” Major murmured quietly, but not angrily. “Please don’t think that I need…”

    “I’m so sorry.” Dorian repeated interrupting him. He wasn’t sure what he was sorry about though. The deaths? The hand? The fact that he still hadn’t left the Major alone? “I just…I’m just sorry. Really sorry.”

    The train was slowing up now. Dorian was still about forty minutes from his destination, and there were yet even more stops to make before they reached Jyväskylä. There was always the chance of delays from the snow or fallen trees on the lines. Being November and so far north, the light had left quickly and the beautiful pale amethyst sky that Dorian had witnessed earlier was gone, eaten by the night and the clouds.

    It was nearly ten minutes after his apology that Dorian spoke again. Klaus had sat motionless, his eyes fixed on the table top, whilst Dorian fidgeted awkwardly, fiddling with the straps of his shoes, tangling and untangling hair, just wishing that the noise of the train was enough to drown out the ghastly silence.

    “Where are you getting off?” Dorian asked. “Are you heading back to Bonn?”

    Klaus nodded. He explained to Dorian how he would get off the train at Helsinki and from there take a ferry to Tallinn, in Estonia and from there a plane ride to Poland and then a second train into Germany. It was a long and awkward route to get home.

    “Why didn’t you just fly from Finland to Cologne?” The question played on Dorian’s mind. Was it for security? The numerous changes in transport made him difficult to track. He hadn’t seen the news for the past few days, cooped up in the hotel room. Maybe Germany was on it’s guard and had closed Cologne airport, following the attack. He didn’t care to ask. He wasn’t sure that he-

    “And yourself? Where are you destined?” Klaus interrupted his chain of thought, suddenly, startling him slightly.

    “Oh, Jyväskylä.” He answered, the surprise showing in his voice. “I spent the week in Oulu. A change of scenery. And…weather.” Klaus nodded, slowly. His fingers drummed against the plastic of the table and slowly the train came to a stop. The PA system crackled out the name of the station.

    The white station building was covered in a thick blanket of snow, and the windows frosted over. The lights inside glowed yellow, in the darkness, and the few figures on the platform, trudged towards the train, wrapped tightly in thick warm layers.

    A cold wind blew in, through the doors as they slid apart and with this wind came the snow, covering the first few feet in front of the entrances. Dorian shivered slightly, cursing himself for his lack of practicality when choosing his clothes. The passengers all took to their seats quickly, but the doors remained open for several moments afterwards.

    Dorian turned with another shudder from the cold, back to Klaus who had his eyes closed and his head bent forwards, resting on his palms. He didn’t look sad. Just…weary.  

    “Klaus. It’s going to be alright you know? Dorian assured. “Things are always worse at night.”

    He looked over to his travelling companion and smiled at what he saw. Klaus hadn't heard him at all. He was already asleep.

      The first sunlight  streamed in through the thin metallic blinds. A gust of cold air blew in through a crack where the window frame joined the wall, and did away with the little heat produced with by the humming lukewarm electric fire. The dark wet slush that had come to rest on the roof  was leaking through the ceiling, staining the walls with a dark, damp blotches.

    Dorian rolled over, burying himself deeper in the grey sheets, hoping to find a spontaneous source of heat. He didn’t. There was only more cold.

    Casting a drowsy eye over to the clock. Christ. Only an hour till he had to be at the station. With a long groan, he slowly pushed the sheets away from himself rolled over to the edge of the hard, uneven mattress.  

    Another draught of icy wind from the window hit Dorian as he lay, coverless on the bed. Finland had been less than an enjoyable trip. The weather had taken a turn for the worse they day he’d arrived, with snow storms and large storms all over Oulu and most of the north of the country. These conditions alongside James’s detest of the Earl spending anything whilst in Finland had condemned Dorian to a week of the cramped drab hotel room.

    Swinging his legs leisurely over the side of the bed, Dorian sat up, contemplating the day ahead of him. In eight hours he’d be in central Finland where he could catch a plane back to England. He’d be back at home, by the following lunchtime.

    Even the thought of home, didn’t motivate him enough to get dressed, something that he quickly paid the price for, as the electric fire clicked itself off, ending a twelve hour cycle. The room almost instantly plunged into an artic freeze. That was as good a prompt as any, for Dorian to get up, even if he didn’t really want to.

    The floorboards creaked underfoot, with every step he took and lorries passing outside rattled the walls. A moth flew out of the wardrobe, followed by a larger moth, followed by a spider. 'This', Dorian thought to himself, as he picked out his attire from the closet , is an excursion that I shan’t wish to repeat.

    Closing the ill-fitting door to his room for the last time, Dorian made his way down six groaning flights of  dimly lit stairs. The elevator looked about as well maintained as the rest of the building. Dorian wasn’t willing to bet his safety on a contraption that had seen more rust than a scrap yard and hadn’t seen an inspection since the day it was installed.

  Each step down was a step homeward. Or at the very least, a step out of Finland. Dorian sighed. So many things he’d have liked to have done, this week that had to be forgotten. He supposed that they’d never get done. Just things to be added to the long list of places he never got to see and activities he never got to do. So many things to regret.

    Ah well, thought Dorian, as he began the second flight of steps. You can’t have everything. But he’d always known that.