Alles Klar by Kat and Tzigane
Summary: The only difference between a rut and a grave is the depth...
Characters: A, Bonham, Dorian, James, Jones, Klaus, Z
Genres: Alternate Universe, First Time, Hurt/Comfort
Warnings: graphic sex, graphic violence, non-con
Challenges: None
Series: None
Chapters: 22 Completed: Yes Word count: 227048 Read: 269041 Published: 11/03/2006 Updated: 12/03/2006

1. Chapter 1 by Kat and Tzigane

2. Chapter 2 by Kat and Tzigane

3. Chapter 3 by Kat and Tzigane

4. Chapter 4 by Kat and Tzigane

5. Chapter 5 by Kat and Tzigane

6. Chapter 6 by Kat and Tzigane

7. Chapter 7 by Kat and Tzigane

8. Chapter 8 by Kat and Tzigane

9. Chapter 9 by Kat and Tzigane

10. Chapter 10 by Kat and Tzigane

11. Chapter 11 by Kat and Tzigane

12. Chapter 12 by Kat and Tzigane

13. Chapter 13 by Kat and Tzigane

14. Chapter 14 by Kat and Tzigane

15. Chapter 15 by Kat and Tzigane

16. Chapter 16 by Kat and Tzigane

17. Chapter 17 by Kat and Tzigane

18. Chapter 18 by Kat and Tzigane

19. Chapter 19 by Kat and Tzigane

20. Chapter 20 by Kat and Tzigane

21. Chapter 21 by Kat and Tzigane

22. Chapter 22 by Kat and Tzigane

Chapter 1 by Kat and Tzigane
Author's Notes:

Warnings: In this work of fiction, there may be any, none or all of the following:

Laughter, tears, smut, lime, lemon, kisses, fondling, ice cream, torture, rape, mush, cursing, cross-dressing, James-kun, calculators, thievery, mad heroics, Cold War stuffs, espionage, oyster stew, homosexual and/or heterosexual sex and/or relationships, big-nosed scientists, masturbation, mutual masturbation, joy, nuzzling, happiness, orgasms, Alphabets, cute uke types, cute seme-types, adult abuse, abuse-abuse, and pretty much pain, suffering, and torture of all varieties. Oh. And the occasional death. If none of this is your cup of tea, maybe you should avoid it. ^_^

Klaus hated missions that involved civilians.

Especially civilians that proved time and again to be a danger to himself, and themselves. Not to say he didn't trust Dorian, but it was a tight situation, and they didn't have backup. It had been just the two of them on a whirlwind spree of breaking in Stasi buildings and safe-houses, snatching things and shuttling them back to the West. High adrenaline, and equally high risk.

The earl looked more and more uncomfortable with each near miss they had - probably a lack of familiar comforts. They stayed in seedy little hotels and places that wouldn't draw much attention, one room; Dorian took the bed and Klaus the floor.

"This is the last target, Eroica, and then mission accomplished," Klaus told the thief, pulling a tight black sweater down over his undershirt. "Then we can go home."

Slim fingers tugged the silver ring that made up part of the zipper closure on his catsuit, pulling it all the way up to his neck before beginning to braid all of that glorious golden hair in preparation for tucking it up under the black knit cap he had to hide the shine of it. "I never thought I'd say this, darling, but for once, I'll be glad NOT to be alone with you," he joked, though it fell flat. "The calls have been just a bit too close for comfort, Major."

"If I hadn't shot the thug who grabbed your arm, Eroica..." Klaus warned, remembering, vividly, the thief's near capture. "I could have done this mission alone."

"You could have cracked the electronic safe at the last place?" Dorian asked lightly, sliding on his black boots.

"I could have shot at it until it opened," Klaus snapped as he put a .22 against the inside of his ankle, already loaded, and then began to load his beloved .44 Magnum. No, he couldn't have gotten that safe. They both knew it, but at least he wasn't rubbing Dorian's face in his complete *failures* in avoiding the enemy! "This one will be the tightest -- they've probably sensed the pattern we have. Let's try to break it a little by arriving early."

Dorian's agreement was softly spoken, his expression worried. "All right, darling. I'll try to be more careful, since you're so worried about it. I don't know how they've managed to come so *close*. No one else ever has!"

"They're better than the bungling KGB." They should have been, too -- after all, they were German, naturally militant, and highly polished. Just like he was. "Keep a tight run of this, Eroica -- and you'll be paid well when we get home."

The response was remarkably dry for the British man. "Darling, I'll just be glad to escape unscathed at this point..." /And for you to do the same./

"Get this information for NATO, Eroica, and you can escape unscathed from Money-bug, too." An equally dry comment, and Klaus slid his shoulder holster on. "Let's go."

With a little roll of his eyes, Dorian stuffed his cap into his pocket and tossed on a shawl -- black etched with lively red roses and silver-tipped thorn edged green stems. "Of course, darling. Let's go.." The shawl would be stuffed away somewhere so that he could pick it up later, and the cap would be crammed onto his head to hide his golden hair. Klaus didn't need any such cap, with hair so dark and luscious...

"God, you're a flaming faggot," Klaus growled, shaking his head almost angrily as he led the way outside towards the beat-up, nondescript car they had bought. It would end up parked one block away from their point of entry, and everything would go perfectly, and then he would be *home*, in the *proper* part of Germany...

"Yes, darling," Dorian said cheerfully, climbing into the passenger side of the car. "I am. So what? I'm a happy flaming faggot, and YOU get the benefit of my skills since I love you madly, even if you *do* beat me around a bit much, you know. Haven't a clue where I picked up my tendency for emotional masochism, but it's certainly held me in good stead!" After all, he'd been chasing Klaus for *years* with no results other than the occasional punch, slap, or verbal abuse!

"Fuck off," Klaus sighed unhappily as he shifted the junker out of park, swearing to himself, for the seventieth time that he would get a Benz next time no matter what!

The drive was quick, and Klaus coasted into the spot he'd chosen to park -- got out and closed the door carefully, gesturing Dorian closer before murmuring. "Do you have your picks?"

"Would I ever leave home without them?" Dorian asked, raising his eyebrows as he abandoned his shawl and closed the door, tucking his hair up under his hat. "Really, darling..."

"Don't call me that," Klaus snapped softly, before starting off into the darkness in a careful storm -- one that Dorian could only follow in the wake of.

"Yes, darling," Dorian whispered wickedly, marching along after him quickly. "Wouldn't dream of calling you that!"

Klaus led the way carefully for a tiny bit over a block, around to the back door of a fairly discreet building. It could have been an office building, or a medical building, with the heavily tinted windows...

That made Klaus nervous. There was no way to tell if there *was* a trap; he could only keep his gun at ready, and let Dorian work his magic to get them into the building. Then he would locate the room the safe was in from the mental map he had, and Dorian would do his job once more.

"Let's go," Dorian whispered, pausing by the door to lightly pick it open. His fingers were quick, nimble, working almost unconsciously, and then the latch was undone and they were inside, leaving it unlocked behind them in case they needed to make a quick exit.

Their target was on the second floor of the stout building, and Klaus led the way not to an elevator -- that would have been stupid, an easy trap indeed! -- but a back stairwell, and then towards the room. To get in, though, there was another lock. Dorian got that one quickly, too, and Klaus covered him as they slipped into the darkened room, gun in one hand, flashlight in the other.

"This is too easy," Dorian mouthed, shaking his head as he walked through the almost-dark towards the safe that he knew was beneath the desk. "I don't like it..."

Klaus didn't, either, and that was why the gun was drawn. Still, he crouched down beside the desk with Dorian, light steady, gun hand steadier as he kept an eye on the door -- a door which slammed shut even as they both stood up quickly, an audible hiss sounding through the room.

"The window!" Dorian gasped, moving towards it. It was sealed shut, though -- caulked that way, and his eyes widened as he glanced at Klaus, trying not to take another breath.

"*Fuck*!" echoed resoundingly in the room, as Klaus stepped back from the caulked window and fired a round at it.

A bullet that could put a hole in a ceiling (and had on occasion!) barely put a tiny crack in the glass.

Terrified aquamarine eyes turned on Klaus as, unable to help himself any longer, Dorian drew in a deep breath. "Darling," he whispered, shuddering. "In case I don't see you again... I really do mean it. I do love you, truly, I do. If I don't see you again..."

"Shut the fuck up and help me with this!" Klaus snapped, turning away in a sharp pivot. Now was NOT the time for Dorian to fail him and go sentimental! Two more bullets rang out at the same point, then a third, and Klaus knew his aim was faltering.

The soft sound of the thief slumping to the floor was the last thing he remembered hearing even as he fired one last round...

Chapter 2 by Kat and Tzigane

When Klaus drifted into consciousness again, it was to find himself in a suspiciously large room. Large rooms in general were often bad, because it meant that there were more people expected than just he and Dorian.

He and Dorian... heavily cuffed each, wrists to ankles. In fact, the entire room, as his gaze let him focus once more, seemed to hold more chains and strange objects... "Lord Gloria..."

The thief's golden head remained on the floor where he lay, not lifting or moving, curls spread wildly around where his cap had been pulled off and his hair had been released. He slept still, though it seemed obvious that it shouldn't be much longer 'til they were both awake. It was cold enough in the room that waking seemed almost an act of self-defense.

Stasi.

So the mission now was a complete compromise, except what they'd managed to get so far. They would have to think of a way, quickly, to escape before they were interrogated. This was why he hated having a civilian on mission with him! Twice the risk, all his responsibility!

"Mmn..." The sound of Dorian stirring became obvious, the Briton trying to move and whimpering softly when he realized that he couldn't. "Nnn..."

Dorian would have to pick himself free. Then Klaus could be free, and together they would overpower their captors. "Lord Gloria -- wake up!" He shifted nearer the man, to nudge at his side best he could.

"Klaus?" It was a whisper of a question, sounding groggy. "Where...?"

"We're prisoners," he said shortly, nudging more gently now. "I need you to free yourself."

Coming around a bit more, Dorian shifted. "I can't reach my pocket," he answered shortly, trying to clear the fog from his mind. "They should be in the left one. D'you think you might manage it...?"

"I'll try," he uttered, shifting closer as the thief sat up a little. Right in front of the man, but hand movement was limited by the ties to his ankles, so he had to shift nearer yet, to get a chance to dig into the man's left pocket.

Nothing.

"Did you find them?" Dorian said softly, afraid of the answer.

"No." Now he had to work backwards, freeing his hands, shifting towards Dorian's right. "I'll try this side. Don't move."

"All right," Dorian whispered, already knowing they were gone. His hair had been taken down, as well, so the extra pair of picks he'd tucked there would be missing, also.

Klaus slipped part of one hand in, and already feeling defeat, pulled back, settling into a sitting position again. As if he had any choice; it was that, or lay curled on his side. "They'll slip up -- we'll get out then."

"I'm sorry," Dorian murmured, eyes closed. "I'm sorry, Klaus..."
"You shouldn't have even been on this fucking mission," Klaus hissed quietly to himself. "Fuck, this is my fault. But wait -- we'll get out..."

"All right..." Even though he didn't believe they would, Dorian was going to go along with it. After all, if Klaus said it was so, he'd do his best to MAKE it so.

Klaus remained calm, though, and that helped a great deal for Dorian -- nervousness was like a plague. It spread quickly... "Are you all right?" he was asked carefully.

"Sore," Dorian replied. "I feel like I've already been knocked around a bit, but that's to be expected, I suppose. You?"

"Same. Headache from the gas yet?" He sure could feel one coming on, but perhaps that was just a natural proclivity to headaches when they were least useful.

The other man nodded. "Yes. Queasy, a little. How long..." How long 'til they came was what he meant, but the answer was almost immediate with the sound of a door coming open somewhere behind him.

"Not long," Klaus murmured in a low whisper, closing his eyes as if sleeping. "Don't talk. Any."

"[Put Iron Klaus in a chair,]" the first entry instructed, while Klaus marked in his mind the footfalls of five other men behind him. Interrogation it was, then.

Dorian could feel his heart beating madly and he tried to stamp down the rise of outright terror in his blood as Klaus was moved away from him. His lashes fluttered open enough to see the men who placed the dark-haired German in the chair as they chained his ankles down before releasing his hands and bringing them up to cuff them to the arms of the chair, as well. /Oh, God help me to keep my mouth shut.../

"[I am a Major in NATO's army. My name is Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach. I know nothing else,]" he said in crisp German, opening his eyes to look at the face of the Stasi leader. Nothing placeable. Lower-ranking officer, then.

"[You know much more, Herr Eberbach.]" Slowly, he turned towards the four with him -- two more officers, two guards. "[Get me a knife. And tie down the fag.]"

To say that Dorian's German was rusty at times would have been kind. He understood that they were referring to him, though -- he'd heard that word, 'fag', from Klaus enough to know it. When they reached to move him, he couldn't help the tremor that ran through him even as he kept his eyes closed and his mouth shut tightly. /I won't talk. I will not humiliate Klaus.../

They did much the same to him as they'd done to Klaus -- settled him in a chair, ankles bound first followed by wrists. He didn't open his eyes anymore. He didn't want to see what was going to happen next, at least for the moment.

"One of you will tell me what I want to know," the officer said firmly in English, looking between the two of them -- Klaus, sitting firm and stiff jawed in his chair, Dorian looking fearful as his eyes opened again. "The partnership between the both of you is a famous one... Iron Klaus and Eroica. A reluctant partnership, the stuff of which books are written. You hate each other, or so we are told... [The fag will suffer if you do not speak, Eberbach.]"

"[I will say nothing.]" Klaus told him, eyes meeting Dorian's -- a message conveyed for silence.

/Yes./ It was the only answer he could give, wasn't it? And it wasn't as though Dorian knew what it was all about anyway. He only knew that he was to steal what Klaus told him to. It was best for them all that way. He knew nothing except for what they had stolen, and the Stasi knew that already. He had nothing to give.

"We will see." The Stasi officer moved near to Dorian, standing right beside him, knife glinting white in the dull florescent lighting. "If you look away, Herr Eberbach, I will cut his throat."

The pale blue cast of the light only heightened Dorian's pallor as he closed his eyes again, shuddering slightly. /Don't look away, Klaus. Please, God, don't.../ Not that he truly had to worry about that, he thought. It would bother Klaus more to feel that what was happening was his fault, his responsibility, than that it was happening to Dorian specifically.

Steel-green eyes kept locked with Dorian's, and the officer nodded slowly. "Good. Good, Herr Eberbach. You will not look away until I say you can." The blade slipped up, not touching skin yet, a glint of steel that Dorian could see as it came to rest against his cheek. "Tell me, Faggot, what you have been doing for the man across from you in that chair."

"You know what I've been doing," Dorian said faintly, the nausea that had originally been from the gas used on them now rising higher. "I don't think I really have to tell you."

For a moment, blade bit flesh, just a nick against the high bone of his cheek that gained a little shiver, a start. "Just repeat what I know, faggot."

"Why should I?" Dorian asked, still watching Klaus for cues on what could be said and what couldn't. He had a feeling that saying anything at all would be useless, all the same. "You already know, and I'd rather face you than face HIM if I tell you anything!"

Another small cut with that blade, against the same spot as before, with the same results. "Your name and rank, then."

"Eroica," Dorian whispered, eyes momentarily slitting closed, lips trembling. God, that hurt! To think, it was probably only the start... "I have no rank. I'm a thief."

"Why do you work for NATO?" Another press, but the blade didn't complete a downwards stroke -- not yet.

Across from him, there was nothing in Klaus's eyes -- no emotion, no urging, as if the man had already said his piece to Dorian and was expecting the thief to do as he'd said. "Because I'm an idiot," Dorian got out, trying not to whimper or say anything at all constructive. God, that hurt! "Why else would I be sitting here letting you cut my face?"

"It isn't a matter of letting you do anything, Faggot." Something flashed in the officer's eyes, and he looked as Klaus's blank gaze for a moment. "You like men, huh, Thief?"

"Tell me something the rest of the world doesn't already know," Dorian muttered, closing his eyes and biting the inside of his lip. /Bloody hell!/

Eyes closed, he could hear the familiar sound of a zipper coming down -- not his own -- and cloth rustling. Then the knife pulled away from his cheek. "Lean forward, Herr Faggot, and suck me off. I will take that as payment for your silence."

"No, thank you, all the same. I'd just as soon not, you know. I'm afraid I'm a bit out of practice and all that," Dorian murmured, shaking his head. He'd much prefer they kept on cutting him to making him do something like that in front of Klaus.... Klaus, who could never understand what it was to love another man, no matter how much Dorian hoped. Klaus, who would only be worse when speaking of perversions ever after... /IF we get out of this alive,/ Dorian told himself.

The man's hand came out, knife and all, and the slice intersected with the cut already there, a bone-deep dash of the blond's cheek that brought with it a muffled yelp. "You will do as I say, Thief. Lean forward."

Klaus's gaze was blank because he was furiously searching for a way to escape. As mission leader, it was his duty to get all agents home in the best shape possible... and alive, no matter what, was better than dead. He'd promised himself on every mission that he would do his best to make sure Dorian got home alive... "Do as he says, Eroica." Tone flat, carefully reigned in.

Dorian's trembling breath was audible in the room over the low snickers of the extra Stasi, the tears that flooded over his lids unstoppable as they mingled momentarily with the wash of blood that coursed down the line of his cheek, trembling over with heavy plops as he shuddered, leaning forward and opening his mouth to take the man's cock between his lips.

"Ah, that is a good faggot." Sharply sighed words, as the hand that didn't hold the knife patted his head. "If Herr Eberbach looks away, shoot the faggot for me. Now, do your business, thief."

It was worse than disgusting. The man wasn't very clean, and the overwhelming queasiness that Dorian already felt was only added to as he tried to pleasure him. The thickness of the thing, the taste of him, the deliberate jerking thrusts made into his throat, made it difficult, and he moaned in agony as his breath was momentarily cut off by the thing. Perhaps worst of all was the pain of his stinging cheek, the flesh tugging unbearably with the actions of his mouth. /Oh, God. Oh, GOD.../ He'd made love to many men in his life; there was no getting around that. He had. Nothing, ever, had been so terrible, or seemed so wrong to him... and 'Klaus told me to' suddenly seemed like the worst rationalization he'd ever thought to give himself!

Klaus couldn't look away, even as the sick-minded officer shoved in deeply once more, pulling back with a grunt of pleasure to let his semen spit barely inside of Dorian's mouth, aiming for that cut cheek. He would have to apologize to the man when they escaped, have to find a way to thank Dorian for keeping quiet. The thief was probably edging on hysteria now, needing to be freed and with his men, surrounded with his art and not cold metal, chained to chairs...

The officer folded himself away neatly, smiling. "Very nice, Herr Faggot. Now will you tell me what you know?"

"I know nothing," Dorian whispered hoarsely, eyes still slowly leaking tears. "Nothing!"

Now he leaned near to Dorian, the man's breath clean but disgustingly warm against his face. Then, a whisper of words that could only be heard by Dorian. "Would you speak to stop me from doing that to Herr Eberbach?"

The sound of Dorian's breath catching was heard, his entire body seeming to go still before he whispered, "I can't." That was more true than not. He *couldn't*. He would die if someone did such a thing to Klaus and it was his fault, but he *could* not disappoint the German NATO agent. He couldn't!

"We will see if both of you will hold that sentiment," the officer whispered, pulling back. The knife glinted near Dorian's eyes for a moment, but didn't strike. "Herr Eberbach! Will you speak to save your partner in crime?"

"Nein." And still, he hadn't looked away -- couldn't look away just as Dorian couldn't speak.

"Then he will not be saved. Lift your pretty face, Faggot, and I will clean it for you."

/No, no, no, no, no,/ Dorian thought, but he did it. He did it because going along with it wouldn't make it better, but because maybe it wouldn't be so bad if he did. /No, no, no.../

The blade pressed again, drawing blood anew, before scraping down the length of his cheek as if a straight razor, sweeping the semen from his face, and the blood and salty liquid over the gash already on his cheek. Another gash was added, from the edge of Dorian's nose across to the top of his jaw. The officer stepped back for a moment, surveying his work, before repeating the same marks on the other side, each time with a vicious slice of that fine honed blade, each of which drew wretched little sounds from somewhere deep in Dorian that he muffled to the best of his ability. "He is yours now, boys. Keep watching, Herr Eberbach. And remember that everything is because you will not speak."

The obvious trembling in Dorian implied hitched sobs, and the sounds of his breath did not relieve that implication even as the other five moved forward.

"[You ruined his face before we got to play with him,]" one laughed, working on the cuffs that held Dorian's ankles to the chair.

A second snickered slightly. "[It's not his face we're interested in, anyway, idiot.]"

Now beside Klaus, the interrogator only smiled coolly as they brought the slim blond thief to standing, one of them reaching for the ringed zipper that would remove his cat-suit. "Well, Herr Eberbach," he said lightly so that Dorian could understand him, "I'm afraid that your faggot friend won't like this at all."

"He knew the risks," Klaus said stiffly, still watching with half-open eyes. "He... has always known the risks." Whether he'd ever serious considered them, before, though, was another matter entirely! /Of course he never has... I will not let him work with me again. There will be no more missions with Eroica./ Because he felt that Dorian would never want anything to do with NATO ever again. The fun and shine was coming off of the spy game in those moments, the Briton shuddering as he was stripped. Klaus could remember quite vividly from the mission with the exploding vase that Dorian hated to be stripped, probably because it took control from him. Now, to be stripped, knowing there were five vicious agents intent on harming him to make Klaus talk...

The shivering releases of breath intensified once Dorian was naked, and his eyes were wrenched tightly shut. /I won't think about it,/ he promised himself, even though he knew it was impossible. /I won't think about it.../

"[Hey, look,]" one of them snickered. "[It's a natural blond!]" Those words accompanied a tug at the thief's soft manhood, painful, but nowhere near as bad as the gashes on his face.

"[All soft and white,]" the third one purred, a redhead with thick fingers that twisted and pinched at pale flesh as they pushed Dorian against a wall. Chains were brought down, manacles fastened about his wrists. They were loose, a little, not allowing for him to slide his hands out, but allowing a certain amount of movement away from the wall so that both sides of him could be reached.

"Don't...!" It was more a thought than anything else. Dorian wasn't even truly aware that he'd said it until raucous laughter sounded in the room.

Klaus bit down on the inside of his cheek, straining to keep from looking away. No, he couldn't watch this -- but he had to, or the officer still standing beside him would kill Dorian. He still might, but as long as there was a chance of the thief living... But Dorian, for all of his faggish way, did not deserve what was being done to him. He always flaunted his sexuality, but only for pleasure -- and that sharp objection was anything but pleasure. "[This will do you no good.]"

"[Oh, I think it will do us a fine bit of good,]" the interrogator said with that same easy smile, blue eyes lighting up almost cheerfully. "[After all. This is only the beginning.]"

Dorian bit down hard on his lip as one of them slipped fingers idly between the cheeks of his ass, rubbing a thumb up against the delicate aperture there. "[My, my, boys. Look what we have here...]"

"A little hole to fuck," came the tittering mockery in English as the man fondling him forced his wide finger into the Briton, drawing a muffled sound of pain from him despite Dorian swearing to himself that he wouldn't say anything.

/Don't, don't, don't, don't.../

"I won't talk." Klaus was sure of it, even as he watched Dorian bite back his own cries of pain. "Hurting him will get nothing from me." /So stop it. Leave the fucking civilian alone!/

"[Perhaps,]" the man beside him said, lightly smoking a cigarette. "[Perhaps not. It doesn't matter. This...this is only for the fun of it. This is to get them started. He is only the beginning for you.]"

"Hurting civilians for fun? You have no honor, Stasi," Klaus snapped, having to work now to keep looking at Dorian. Ahh, he needed to think of a way out soon! Needed to escape before much more damage could be done to the Briton. Already the sight of blood running down Dorian's face to spill in little runs over white skin was enough to make Klaus want to turn away from the sight.

Across the way, Dorian cried out as one of them pinched hard at his nipples, the lot of them laughing as steel clothespins were brought to bear. They marched them across his chest, pinching up flesh where they could, teasing at him, bruising him. A suggestion was met with more laughter, something he couldn't understand, and he moaned as the little steel pins were brought to bear on the softness of his cock, delved through golden hair to pinch at his balls. He couldn't help the little sounds he made, the thumb still in him, dry, and working at him as they enjoyed hurting him.

"[Perhaps I don't have any honor]," the interrogator drawled. "[Would you like a draw?]" He offered Klaus the cigarette with a strange little smile. "[Perhaps it will help to calm your nerves as you watch this little scene.]"

Careful -- because it would have been a sick trap he expected from such a man -- to not look away, Klaus nodded once, unable to use his hands to grasp the cigarette. "I could use a smoke." And he could, to steel himself both to watching the horror before him and for whatever else might come next. Dorian's skin was not supposed to be treated so. It was always soft and perfect whenever they'd touched in accident over missions and the past few weeks of living in close quarters. Clothespins... sick. Worse was the blood trickling down his throat and chest from his face, lovely and ruined, mingled with tears. Anyone would cry, hurt like that. Almost anyone, anyway, and Dorian was so soft...

The thumb was removed, but it was no relief. Dorian tensed, sensing somehow what came next even without the sound of the zipper that accompanied that cessation, the shifting of the man behind him, the laughter of the four who were watching. They tugged at him, touching the pins, snickering as he felt turgid flesh sneaking closer to him. /Oh, God. Oh, *GOD*!/

Klaus flinched as the man shoved ruthlessly into Dorian, drawing a helpless sound of pain; he'd almost, almost averted his eyes, but there was no part of Dorian that he could look at and not feel anger rise up in him. The man was his responsibility to keep safe, to see safely home after a mission was done, and now he was suffering in ways that Klaus would wish on *no* one, not even Mischa!

"[So. The two of you are still not speaking. This,]" the man smoking beside him, "[is a good thing. It would be less fun for me if you did speak. He has good technique, no?]" he asked, waving a hand towards the man now raping Dorian thoroughly, rasping him raw, blood now dripping down one pale thigh as the thief went limp, wrists above him carrying his weight momentarily. "[The faggot, he loves you. That is what they say in our circles. He works for you for that, even though you do not like him. It must be terrible, hm? To be treated like this as you watch, not caring enough to answer and relieve his pain...]"

If he said anything that could reassure Dorian it wasn't a lack of caring, the torture would only prolong. "Don't make me watch," Klaus said simply, even as he *did* watch, watched another take the first's place behind the Briton. No one, *no* one deserved that, and *no* one but him had ever, to his knowledge, hurt Dorian, and he could barely stand it. For a moment, as the second entered Dorian, Klaus's strong hands clenched into fists before relaxing with effort.

"[There would be no fun in that,]" the Stasi told him with a laugh, giving a sharp direction to one of the others.

The steel pins began coming off, tugged loose with roughness, and the sounds they made were terrible, breaking the skin as they came away, leaving little trails of blood behind. One of the men lifted Dorian from his feet, holding him to give the second rapist a deeper depth of penetration. The sounds coming from Dorian were terrible and soft, not screams... No, Dorian was not the sort of man to *scream*, and even then, even shaking and close to unconsciousness, he did no more than sob and moan quietly.

"You'll die for this," Klaus promised in a rough growl, hands clenching again. And he would -- there were unspoken rules of engagement in this war, and the sick officer beside him was breaking all of them. No one did that to Iron Klaus, or one of his missions, and lived.

"[Perhaps. Probably not, though,]" the interrogator chuckled, leaning down to put out his cigarette in the flesh of Klaus's right hand. "After all. It's just a faggot, isn't it?"

The double entendre was hard to miss, as Klaus let out a hiss of breath, eyes barely kept open. There really was nothing quite like having a cigarette pressed against the skin of one's hand... Though he could imagine, too, that there was really nothing like what was being done to Dorian.

They were on to the fourth, now, despite the fact that Dorian was clearly unconscious, and the first three stood and laughed while the last, the redhead, tugged at the softness between Dorian's legs. Fingers reached up and pressed the cuts on the thief's face, pulling him from his stupor with a cry that rang explicitly of agony. The sound of Dorian's voice was strained, and a sharp sound came clearly as a particularly vicious thrust was given.

"[Nothing of any true importance,]" the man beside Klaus chuckled.

"Shut up," Klaus snapped in a soft hiss of noise. "I will not talk." /Shut up, stop baiting me, before I rip your fucking throat out, you disgusting excuse for a fucking human being!/

"We will see," was the only answer as the redhead began to take his turn. The first of them reached up and loosed the chains from Dorian's manacles so that they could hold him better, bend him for the last one.

"[He's no good anymore,]" the man complained. "[This is no better than my hand!]"

"[So, fuck him harder. Maybe if you get deep enough, it'll get better,]" one of them joked.

In disgust, the fourth stopped, shoving Dorian down onto the floor. "[It's not worth bloodying my cock over, anyway.]"

Klaus started to his feet and caught himself, still watching Dorian. Still unable to look away, and immobilized, and the Stasi officer had caught him actually reacting. /Shit, shit, shit. Not what you wanted to happen... Not what needed to happen.../

It seemed, for the moment, that the thief was unconscious, and the man beside Klaus laughed softly. "Perhaps you would like to see better, hm? Bring him here," he said, gesturing for the men to pick up the abused and bleeding man. His orders were followed without question, Dorian brought along and placed, strangely enough, in Klaus's lap, head tucked against his shoulder momentarily. "Isn't it sweet?" the man said with that strange smile. "Do you think our little faggot will like waking up there with you, Iron Major?"

"I don't know." /Don't move him. He will. Leave him there.../ Anything to save the Earl a little suffering, anything at all...

A prod sent him tumbling off into the floor and brought laughter from the men surrounding them now as they picked him up and shoved him back in the chair across from Klaus, shackling him back into it.

"Leave him there," the interrogator told him. "When he wakes up, we'll go to work again. For now..." The smile he gave Klaus was utterly and completely wicked. "We will see you soon, Major. Perhaps you will enjoy our care as much as he."

"You will not be able to make me talk." To know that he was their next target brought stunning fear and strange relaxation. He was a professional -- he knew, full well, what could happen during any mission. He wasn't an innocent like Dorian was; he was a murderer, a man with a temper and strength behind it.

"We will see," the man said simply, still smiling at him as the others left the room. He soon followed, shutting and audibly locking the door behind them.

Two options laid before Klaus -- wake Dorian up and try to talk to him for a moment, or let the man sleep in the safety of unconsciousness while Klaus tried to escape. Letting Dorian be *not* awake seemed best, so he leaned towards his right hand, tested the lack of leeway he had, and inspected the lock. He'd need a pick, but there was nothing that would do.

It was hopeless.

"Nnnnmmm...."

"Sleep, Lord Gloria," he urged quietly, leaning in again to lick the burnt spot on the back of his hand. There. That took away some of the sting. Carefully, he sat upright, eyes closing to rest for a moment....

And then stopping. He'd been told to not look away from Lord Gloria until told he could... and he hadn't been told so. Best to not risk it when playing games with such a sick man.

The sight of Dorian was hard to bear. It wasn't his nakedness that was so bad -- though perhaps it should have been. It was, instead, the sheer vulnerability of him, the rivulets of blood staining pale flesh, the tears that were even now leaking from beneath blond lashes and swollen lids to clear pinkish tracks down his cheeks. Terrible, it was terrible, and worse was the realization that he was awake, the sound of his voice nearly gone, only a faint whisper reaching Klaus's ears.

"Did I say anything?"

"Nothing. Lord Gloria, I am sorry that... that was done to you. No one should..." He was looking clearly at Dorian, gaze a little shaky but still strong. /That officer will die... slowly.../ "Go through that. They will be back soon. Do not say anything to them. I will get us out of here somehow."
"Hmmm," Dorian managed to say softly, agreeing somehow as he brought his head up, dropping it against the back of the chair. "'t's all right. Hurts," he whispered. "But 't's not you. 'sokay."

"What did you say, Lord Gloria?" He was fluent in English, but there were times that it eluded him, and he was hoping Dorian hadn't said what he'd thought he'd heard.

Eroica was gone again, though, and only silence spilled through the room as Klaus remained there, the cold in the room increasing slowly. It was almost as if they were trying to make them both as uncomfortable as possible, and Dorian was shivering, but it seemed to make him rest easier aside from that. Klaus stayed silent, too, taking the time he was given to watch Dorian through half slitted eyes, resting that way. Cold was a matter of discipline, and it didn't effect him, still warm in sweater, undershirt, pants, boots... Burglar clothing that had been quickly stripped from Dorian's unwilling body.

The sound of the door coming open again seemed to startle Eroica to life, his entire body tensing as his head came up, eyes opening wide before dropping down again. "Ahhhh," a voice behind Klaus murmured, "I see our thief is at least semi-conscious. Enough to be afraid, so that is good."

So they weren't going to leave Dorian alone yet... He'd actually been counting on the thief having a little while to re-gather his wits, and perhaps spot something Klaus hadn't yet. If only the damned shackles gave him enough leeway to do something!

"Well, queer little burglar? Are you awake again?" the man asked cheerfully. "Perhaps someone can hold your head up if you can't quite make it on your own." A snap of the interrogator's fingers brought the redheaded Stasi to stand behind Dorian, hand fisting in those golden curls to hold his head upright. "After all, we will soon be starting on your friend, and I would hate for you to miss the opportunity to watch such a thing, hm?"

"This will not work," Klaus reminded the man, almost as much as he was reminding himself. There was no way that the same thing was in store for him. No, there would be something different, though perhaps just as bad... And when they unshackled him, he would attack as quickly as possible.

"We will see." God, how Klaus was beginning to hate the cheerful sound of those words! A sharp flicker of motion prompted the man who'd first raped Dorian to move forward, a knife in hand, and he began cutting Klaus's sweater loose from him. "After all, the tactics for our sticky-fingered friend have only begun. So it will be with you as well."

/Don't say a thing Lord Gloria, don't.../ There was a realization setting in that made it all the worse -- Dorian truly knew nothing of importance in the matter. Only Klaus. Dorian had suffered not for information that they both had -- only for what Klaus knew. And now... well, it was a relief to realize, idiotically, that the only person who had to keep quiet was himself.

The sweater fell away without resistance, the loss of good, sensible warmth as he was left with his undershirt only to keep him warm.

"Don't," Dorian was whispering, shaking even harder. "Don't...!"

"You will watch," the interrogator replied pleasantly as Klaus's undershirt was cut away, the knife working on getting the soft black pants off of him, not very careful of his flesh as it worked up from a leg and towards his waist. "Just as he did. Perhaps I will be lenient with you, in this. After all, you are not trained to withstand interrogation, are you? You are only a queer little fuck. You will watch, remain conscious, or he will lose a part of him. Do you understand? Tell me you understand, Eroica."

"I understand," Dorian mumbled, shuddering.

Klaus was frighteningly still in the chair as all of this was done, even as they cut off his underwear. So, Dorian was looking at him naked; he still had his pride, his defiance of the sick Soviet who was within his line of vision.

...for all the good it would do him...

"Begin." That word seemed to prompt something, movement behind him, and the men who'd worked on Dorian were now close to him. It was *not* a pleasant considering, and it was an even less pleasant feeling as one of them ran a hand slowly down his chest in a manner clearly meant to titillate, to arouse... or to humiliate.

Humiliate it was, Klaus closing his eyes when that touch came; no reaction other than that, and he was glad he was confined to the chair, glad that they wouldn't risk putting him up to the wall as they had Dorian.

"You see, it begins this way," Klaus was told. Dorian's eyes welled with tears again, heated saline that spilled over helplessly as a hand found its way to Klaus's genitals and squeezed consideringly. "It is always best to show a little of what you may do, do you not think, Eroica?"

"Bastard," Dorian whispered, gasping slightly as fingers pressed hard to his cheeks.

"Yes," the interrogator purred, pulling loose his knife and moving towards Klaus. "Perhaps that is so."

Klaus bit the inside of his lip, trying to not jerk himself free of that grasp -- to do so would have brought delight to them, far more than the unmoving, unwatching thing that Klaus was being in that moment. "[I am loyal to West Germany. I am Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach. I will not say anything you wish to hear.]"

"We will see."

The sound of soft laughter chuckled in his ear as fingers pried his legs open, seeking out the same spot they'd invaded in Dorian. It was conceivably the most horrible thing he could imagine, and the man who pushed a finger into him laughed. "[Ohhh, this one's tight. He's not some sissy fucking queer, though, is he?]"

Lip bitten through as his body failed to win its fight against the invasion, Klaus felt the taste of blood just as much as he felt the foreign digit working its way into him. So, they weren't even going to remove him from the chair...? Well, there was no possible way they could do worse. His pride would survive, and he didn't have to look at Dorian as he was. Eyes closed, yes, a shield against the reality that across from him, Dorian was watching his hands white-knuckle on the arms of the chair, trying to not bring his legs together, and frowning at it all.
"He is thinking that this is the worst which we can do to him," the interrogator said softly. "He is thinking that we cannot hurt him in the same ways we have hurt you. Perhaps he is right. Perhaps we cannot. Perhaps," he suggested, moving forward with the knife, "there are better ways in which to hurt the Iron Major. If destroying his precious pet thief does not make him flinch, perhaps other things will."

"[I thought you wanted me to talk, not flinch,]" Klaus challenged through gritted teeth, as the finger within him twisted sharply and without any warning at all -- ah, were they trying to *gut* him from inside?!

ALL of them seemed to find that amusing. The laughter was almost as bad, in a strange way, as everything else. "[Ahh, but we don't expect you to talk so soon, even though we encourage you to do so. This, then, is just the beginning of the fun for us. We will accept flinching, when later you will talk.]"

Just the beginning? Just...?

/No. Iron Klaus will not break. I will not talk./ He knew that his mind was a wealth of information on hundreds of things beyond any set of documents they could ever lay their hands on. He was a walking book of classified information, waiting to be read...

He gritted his teeth as another twist was given, concentrating on the blood in his mouth. "Oh-ho, so you don't like this. Perhaps we should have done to you what we have done to him. That would involve moving you from this chair, though, and I am not so stupid as that, I think. Boys," he said softly, a pre arranged signal of some sort.

A signal for *what*, though, Klaus couldn't tell. Only that the digit within him pulled out, and he clamped his legs shut instantly, despite his ankles kept so close to the legs of the chair. He couldn't go it blind forever, so he opened his eyes slightly, chin still held high...

To find Lord Gloria, still being made to watch. The expression on Dorian's face seemed so sorrowful, almost aching, and the terrible look in his eyes was nearly impossible for Klaus to bear even as the men around him shifted, a small table being wheeled in from outside of the room.

Laid out with exact precision upon that table was a variety of terrible looking instruments. Surgical steel seemed to be the overwhelming composition, gleaming and pale, better than the knife that the interrogator was now flipping back and forth. "Now, then," he said calmly. "We will begin, Major. What were you doing invading our offices?"

"You already know." This was more of something Klaus knew he could handle. Pain... was nothing. They'd stab him a few times, slip up, and they'd escape.

"This is no better answer than the faggot gave." A scalpel was chosen, the tip of it brought forward to rest against his shoulder. "What were you doing invading our offices?"

"You. Already. Know."

The first slice was made with what was almost joy, a diagonal cut approximately an inch deep that ran from mid-shoulder to just above his left nipple. "What were you doing invading our offices?"

"Ggghh." Klaus's head tipped forwards, teeth clenched sharply. He couldn't manage a 'you know' in that moment. Nothing more than a stoic negative grunt.

"Oh, God..." That was from Dorian, a horrified whimper that gained mimicked sounds from the three who were now watching the interrogator work on Klaus. "Oh, God..."

"What were you doing invading our offices?" The scalpel moved down, slicing across the nipple. "We know what you stole. Why?"

"Geneva... conventions... forbid... torture to...." Ah, God, so deep that scalpel was cutting more than just flesh. There was a patchwork of thin veins and arteries, muscles sliced... "Interrogate."

"[I do not think you comprehend what I mean,]" came the soft German words. "[We know what you stole. Why.]" The last word was said flatly, accompanied by another cut, this one from the right shoulder to just above the right nipple.

"[I serve... Western Germany. I am Major Klaus Heinz... von... dem Eberbach. I will... tell you... nothing more!]" Words barely gritted out in the aftermath of that slice, Klaus curling forward more.

"[You will tell me what I want to know. You will tell me why.]" The next slice crossed the right nipple, carefully calculated.

For a few moments, there was only the steady gasping of breath from Klaus, shuddering at matching sets of deep pain. He wouldn't be able to move his arms well, or quickly without pain, not with those muscles damaged. The man knew well what would hurt him best... "How dare... you..."

"[Tell me why.]" This time, the slices were barely skin deep, tracing patterns delicately over Klaus's chest despite the sounds coming from the thief so close by them.

"Stop... Please, stop, please, stop, *please*, stop!"

That stung, heightening Klaus's outrage, eyes closing again to pull together strength. "Shut up, Dorian." He didn't need to hear the Earl whimpering, over his *own* pain.

The quiet that came was marred by the soft sounds of Eroica across the way; the words had ceased, but it seemed to hurt him impossibly that he couldn't give them. "Ahhhh, this bothers you, then? It bothers the little thief and he bothers you. How remarkable. Make him talk, Nielson."

"[How, sir?]" the first one, another officer, sneered, moving towards Dorian with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "[Why don't we just kill him if he stops talking?]"

Klaus was sure, now, that he shouldn't have snapped that out at Dorian.

"[Keep him alive until I tell you otherwise,]" the interrogator drawled, momentarily laying down the scalpel and turning to smile at Dorian. It was absolutely chilling and the Briton's breath caught in his throat at the sight of it. "You will talk for me, faggot. You will let him hear your voice as I work. If you stop talking while I work, I will hurt one of you. I will not tell you which one. Tell me you understand this."

"I..." Dorian said softly, eyes trained on Klaus. "I understand. What do you want me to say? What if I can't think of anything?"

"You will manage."

Klaus closed his eyes again, against Dorian's face and the gleam of those blades. If it was just the pain, he could withstand it so much better... And better yet if Dorian weren't involved. The earl needed to be far away just then...

"Why?" Dorian whispered. "I don't know anything and he won't tell you anything. Why?"

The interrogator simply smiled. "He will tell me all, eventually. Perhaps I will have to kill you before then. The Iron Major is a strange man. The rumors about him are, perhaps, not as true as we thought. We may deal with him in many ways. I believe that first, I will remove his fingers. What do you think?"

"NO!" Dorian blurted out, nausea rising sharply again. "Oh, God..."

Klaus wanted to panic -- wanted to rage, too, and one was simply easier than the other. "You... will die at my hands. No one plays... fucking games like this with Iron Klaus and lives..."

"We will see."

The scalpel was in hand again, that terrible smile on the man's face, and Dorian's voice was in Klaus's ears even as he began to cut, shaking, trembling. It seemed pained impossibly -- but pained because someone was hurting Klaus, not because he himself was being harmed. "When I was very young, my mother used to sing to me. Oh, God, oh, God, what did she sing? I can't think of it. I don't know, how will I ever remember it this way? She used to sing..." His words wobbled, but they didn't stop, and he seemed to find the words of the song he was looking for. "The water is wide..." It was almost a whisper. "I cannot cross o'er..."

Klaus was just glad he had his eyes closed -- seeing his own blood would have made it worse, if that was possible. His pinkie-finger, fist pried open with two hands of the Stasi officer's nearest 'helper', was being severed slowly. Starting with the sensitive webbing between that and his ring finger, then sharply down against bone. "Awhh, *FUCK*." A growl of noise and his hand jerked within the man's grasp.

"Oh, God, oh, GOD," Dorian half-sobbed, shaking his head and trying to start up the song again. "And neither have I... wings to fly... give me a boat... that can c..c..carry t..two..."

"Your friend seems to be having some problems," the interrogator said cheerfully, wrenching the finger firmly and cutting it loose, dropping it to the floor. "I can't imagine why."

Klaus swore he heard one of the bones in his hand snap -- but it didn't matter much, since all he could feel was a seer of pain that shot from where the digit *had* been. "[Oh, fucking G-god...]" Half gritted and half gasped as Klaus slammed his head back against the chair's back... and then did it again, trying to put himself unconscious.

"Which one shall we try next? Perhaps the index finger," came the cheerful voice over the sound of Dorian's singing. The man obviously enjoyed his work.

"An...and... I thought it was... a trusty tree..."

Klaus tried one more slam, and when all he got was stars behind closed eyelids gave in, trying futilely now and violently to rip himself free of the chair. He didn't care what it did to his wrists and ankles, all he wanted was to be *free*.

"...swayed...and then... It broke..."

"Ah-ah-ah, how bad you are. How very bad, and with your friend still trying to sing for you! Index finger it is!"

Then, with just as much warning as before, he started on that finger, too. God, it was his right hand! His fucking right hand, he *needed* that hand, and... "*FUCK*." It somehow doubled the wrenching pain of the first finger. He'd rather have Mischa beat him senseless again. He'd rather it was the KGB...

"There, there. This is not fucking. Fucking will come later. Now, there are fingers. Perhaps, if your little faggot friend likes, we will stuff them in him later. He would like that, do you think?" he was asked as the scalpel pried down to bone, inserting itself delicately to separate the carpal metacarpal from the rest of his hand.

"An-nd... so my false love... did unto me....oh... Oh... Oh, god, oh, god, oh god, I've forgotten the words," Dorian said almost to himself. "Oh, God, oh, God, oh, Klaus, I can't, I can't, I...!!!"

"Agggh, *GOTT*," Klaus gritted, shaking furiously with that new blaze of pain as he tried piteously to get free again. It was barely a tug at the wrist restraints as he curled forwards again, head down between his knees. Perhaps God was listening partly to his cries, because with the way his mane of hair fell, no one could see the tears streak down his face.

"Oh, God." Dorian whispered, swallowing hard, eyes almost closing. His voice failed him momentarily before he managed to get out again, "Oh, GOD...!"

"Ahhh, your little friend has almost failed us... HAS failed us," the interrogator said softly as Dorian sobbed, unable to get anything out past the lump risen so heavily in his throat. "Since you are already at my whim, I think it is you I will punish this time. Next time will be him." With a nod, he gestured to the man who'd been holding Klaus's hand still. "Pull back his head."

"No!" Dorian spat out, shuddering. "No, no, no, no, no...!"

Klaus drew in a sharp gasp of breath as he was wrenched upright again, scalp tingling from that hard jerk. Now humiliation fought to rise above the pain. He'd been crying, and it was plainly visible. He, Major Eberbach, Iron Klaus, had been crying, and still almost was, the streaks still sliding down his handsome face.

And he was looking at Dorian again.

"Klaus..."

It was the last word he saw mouthed with two whole eyes, a blade digging into the right one firmly.

Dorian had never heard a sound like that come from a human being. He'd seen Klaus kill on occasion, those wolves in particular, and that was what came to mind when he heard Klaus's howl of outrage and agony. The one that Dorian gave echoed it, a sound born of horror and too much hurt and utter misery.

"[They are a pair, aren't they?]" the officer laughed, gesturing to his men. "[Unchain them. Toss one atop the other. We'll let them bleed for a while. Put something over his eye first, and wrap the hand quickly. We can't have them bleed too much before the next go around.]"

His orders were followed quickly and explicitly, Klaus unconscious now and Dorian simply too weak already from shock and loss of blood to do more than wrap his arms around Klaus protectively as they threw them in a heap in one corner. "[That'll be enough,]" one of them said. "[Get those fingers, though. We'll want them later...]"

For what sick purposes, Dorian didn't want to know -- but he could guess...

Things like that had happened to hundreds of men in the line of duty -- and they had been buried with full military honors if their bodies were recovered, and buried as such without bodies if there was enough evidence pointing to death. Klaus had lost a total of twenty alphabets through the years he'd been the head of his Alphabet Soup.

Now it seemed that they would both be joining those twenty agents.

"I'm so sorry, darling," he whispered, tears streaming loose again, body shaking, unconsciousness so very close. "I'm so sorry, Klaus..."

Gunfire.

The shooting of guns brought him to his senses again, after who knew how long. Klaus had yet to revive, but, oh -- gunfire! Orders being shouted, feet pounding down the corridor outside of the interrogation room, and then stopping. A hard battery of hits against that door, and then it swung open.

"Oh, God!" The sound of that gasp was horrified, and more voices joined it quickly, voices Dorian thought he recognized. Z, B, A... G? No, not G, someone was calling for G, calling for emergency medical assistance. It was all right to pass out again...

Chapter 3 by Kat and Tzigane

 

They were rotating shifts in the waiting room and in the room *they* were in, when visiting hours were going on. Two days now, and neither had woken up for more than a mumble or in Klaus's case, a groggy string of cursing. Perhaps it was better that way, because Bonham wasn't sure where they were headed next with anything...

"I'm glad we disobeyed the Earl's orders and followed anyway. Just Jones here and me, mind -- James is flying down tomorrow," he sighed, cupping his coffee's styrofoam a little tighter in his hands as he looked at A.

"Yes," the man said, tilting his head to the side slightly and sighing as he riffled fingers through the straight stuff. "We're all very grateful you disobeyed as well. Can't imagine what.... Well, can't imagine if you hadn't." They were all positively numb, and NATO had them all at a standstill. Half of the Alphabet had invaded the Stasi building and the other half had prepared for getting them out of East Germany, and NATO wasn't quite sure what to do with them since there'd been no order to do such a thing. On the other hand, they'd saved Iron Klaus and they'd soon know what sort of information might have leaked to the East German intelligence community. From the state in which they'd found the Major and the thief, it didn't look good.

"What I want to know is... Who decided they were going to go in without backup hiding somewhere? I mean, even a third person just to watch out..."

"The Major... wished to complete the entire mission alone, to begin with," Z said a little stiffly. "He didn't want anyone to be so at risk."

A sighed. "It just ended up with Eroica and the Major taking all of the risk on themselves..."

"And the major told the Chief he didn't want Eroica there," Z added, fidgeting for a moment to his own cup. "When they wake up, A, who will debrief them?"

"The Major *never* wants Eroica there," A pointed out, shaking his head. "I think the psych staff's got dibs on them, Z. Debriefing's questionable for a while."

"Did you Alphabets kill those agents?" Jones spoke up suddenly, looking at both of the men across from he and Bonham. "They need to die for what they did to Lord Gloria."

"We killed two," A told them. "We don't know how many there were there, though. Could've been more. We won't know 'til we talk to them."

"The Major won't have a thing to do with the psych staff; he'll want to be debriefed right off," Z guessed.

A only shrugged, though. "I think he probably isn't going to have any option unless they decide that it'd be even more detrimental to his psyche *not* to be debriefed than it would be if we did. And I don't think there's any way they'll let us at the Earl. His face..."

"We're going to keep him from mirrors until he's better," Bonham uttered sadly. "I think separate rooms for them might be good, in case.. Uncle NATO doesn't react too well to..."

A nodded. "For now, the hospital staff seems to like them as they are, though, so we'll have to do what we can. We've got someone in there as much as we can..."

"B and C right now," Z said. "I really think a debriefing before an eval would be better for the Major, A -- if either of them have told something important..."

"The Chief says psych gets them first," A said firmly. "We can debrief immediately after the first psych consult, but for the time being..."

"We just need them to wake up," Jones sighed, swirling his coffee a little. "I can't go to sleep at night without thinking about those men hurting our Lord like that..."

"It's terrible," came Z's quiet agreement. "We need to know everything, though..."

"Is... is Uncle NATO in any shape to go to duty again? I mean, his hand, Christ, and his eye..."

Sharp glances passed momentarily between A and Z. "I don't know," A said slowly. "It depends on what the psych consult says, what the doctors say..."

"Why's this psych consult so important?" Bonham asked delicately. "We know Lord Gloria will need it, but... the Major wasn't..."

"A little," A admitted warily. "Mostly just rawness in the area that makes them think that, but..." He shrugged. "Besides. It's not every day someone pokes out your eye."

"Yes, but he's Iron Klaus -- touted for being strong and unbeatable..." Jones chipped in.

"He's human," Z uttered softly, speaking down into his cup of coffee.

A shook his head sadly. "It's just not good, any way you look at it..."

"And Eroica..." Z drained the cooling cup in a swallow, shaking his head. Better than Nescafé, though the Major would have denied it... "Your Earl will probably never want another job with us again. I can't blame him."

A look much like the one that had passed between A and Z made its way from Jones to Bonham. "Well," Bonham said slowly, "until we talk to the Earl, who knows... though it's likely, considering..." It was likely, considering, that the Earl might well go home to North Downs and never come out of the East wing again...

"Considering," A agreed quietly. "I can't help feel we should have been there."

Z sighed. "The Major said no, so..."

"So, who in their right mind would go against Uncle NATO except...?" Bonham said slowly, sighing as well.

"If anyone had vacation scheduled this year, you'd better cancel them -- our guys will be giving us hell, I think, when they're out," Jones tried to say lightly.

Z only looked grim and vaguely sad though. "I'd gladly give up all our vacations to make this right somehow," he said solemnly.

"To undo what's been done, though..." Bonham sighed, starting to stand up. He wanted to go up and peek in at Dorian. "Well, it can't be undone entirely."

"That's the sad part," A agreed. "None of it can ever be undone..."

"I... have a feeling things will work out, Mr. A," Bonham told him gently. "Come on -- let's go."

"Might as well," he agreed. "It's our shift in the room..."

"And then ours next," Jones said, nodding to Z.

And maybe soon the two men they were waiting on would wake up.

Chapter 4 by Kat and Tzigane

 

The hall was locked down, a nurse at the desk and another patrolling past the rooms carefully.

The room the Major and Eroica were in was a large, comfortable one, with a wall of windows that had every other set of blinds drawn to keep the glare of the street lights to a minimum. The beds were several feet apart, perhaps six at most, and there was a chair against the wall near each one. Both chairs had been filled by one person or another all during visiting hours for days, but in the middle of the night they were empty, so there was no one to hear the whimpers that rang out into the half-dark of the room.

In his dreams, Dorian could feel them again -- touching him, hurting him, abusing him, and worst of all, he could feel Klaus's eyes on him. He had known, when the Stasi were hurting him, that Klaus could not look concerned. Intellectually, he had known that.

Emotionally, the wreckage of that look of non-caring was ripping him apart in his sleep.

Nightmares often encompassed the thing which one feared most, and there was only one thing that Dorian Red Gloria feared worse than what had happened to him at the hands of those men. He feared that Klaus, his Iron Major, truly did hate him, and hated him so badly that he didn't care at all what was being done to him. In the dream, Klaus's voice rang with laughter even as the Stasi laughed, even as they slashed his face and ripped him open with their cocks.

When he woke, it was with a violent cry that bled quickly into hysterical weeping, muffled against his arm at first for fear that someone would hear him.

"Wasss?" A heavy slur of speech, and he heard the hospital bed beside him bear a shift and then an aching groan. "Verdammt..."

In a moment that seemed sheerly surreal, Dorian opened his eyes to the realization that they were in a hospital room, seemingly safe. It didn't stop him from continuing to shudder with the weeping that was shaking him, for he couldn't seem to stop at all as he touched his bandaged face and wept all the harder for it.

"[Who...]" Pain was the first thing Klaus registered as he tried to shift again, sitting up only achingly, wondering why his arms were so sluggish to respond. There were many things wrong and odd, but none he could clearly catalogue yet... "[Who cries?]"

"I'm sorry," Dorian managed to whisper, and it became a litany, an endless unbroken string of hysterical words that wouldn't stop. "I'm sorry, I'm sorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry..."

"[What...]" He recognized the voice, though not... not the blurry figure on the bed that seemed to lack depth to it. "L-lord Gloria...?" His voice was thick and throat dry from too little water passing through his veins instead of his lips.

"I'm so SORRY!" Dorian sobbed, curling in on himself. He hurt, and he was more than a little hysterical, and nothing would ever, EVER make it right again, or so it seemed in that moment.

They were in a room, a clean room, and there were sheets keeping both of them warm... but he couldn't remember getting there, or even place where 'there' was. "Er... eroica. Lord Gloria, where... are we?"

The soft sound of that broken weeping went on, though, on and on, and there was no answer to the question Klaus had asked.

He finally struggled himself free of the bedding, standing up precariously on muscles that were cramped from disuse, and made his way to the chair beside Dorian's bed. "Lord Gloria, calm down..." They still had to get out, didn't they? Were they still held by the Stasi, or were they free? And what... was wrong with his vision?

The sound of Dorian rocking himself and crying was more audible than it was visible, and when he reached out his left hand and touched the thief, the man gave a sound that was filled with something desperately akin to loss and continued hysterics before any realization of who was touching him set in. The sound of Klaus's voice, real there in the dark, seemed to get through to him when accompanied by touch. "K..K..K...K..laa...us..."

"Ja." A quiet assurance as Klaus racked his mind for details. He left his hand on Dorian's shoulder, touch light, looking around the room for a moment more. Clean, white walls, sanitized smell. "We... are in Hospital."

"I'm so sorry," Dorian whimpered, touching his face again, feeling the bandages, wondering what he looked like, KNOWING Klaus looked worse. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry, I ran out of words, I'm so sorry!"

"Sorry?" That was repeated without understanding as Klaus processed the words before it. Dorian ran... ran out of words. Stopped singing and speaking at last, when the slice...

Klaus remembered now -- Dorian whimpering as their eyes met, the thief mouthing his name and then a seer of pain lancing through his face and skull. The injury itself... Klaus moved his left hand, the one more willing, to swipe across his own face, finding heavy bandaging over his right eye.

"I'm so sorry..."

The crying was back, now, soft and agonized and Dorian seemed to curl under his hands, almost fetal. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I know you hate me, I'm so sorry!!!"

It wasn't quite registering yet, and perhaps they were both lucky in that. None of it was registering yet for Klaus and wouldn't until the light of day pierced through the strange haze of pain-killers. "'n't hate. Can't."

"I'd die if you hated me," the thief whispered, the sound of it almost singsong. "I'd die..." /I'd die, I'd die, I'd dieI'ddieI'ddie.../

"We're safe now," Klaus said, not quite noticing the thief's tone. "We... got out." And he couldn't remember how yet, which pointed towards someone else getting them out. "'re you okay?"

The soft sound Dorian gave him wasn't indicative of anything one way or the other, and it seemed almost as if he couldn't answer, rather than wouldn't.

Klaus moved his left hand again to rest on Dorian's shoulder. "We 'n't talk."

After several moments of those soft sounds and the rocking, things seemed to get better. The thief uncoiled slightly, one of his hands reaching desperately for Klaus's even as he fought to keep his eyes from shutting again, from sending him back into the terrible nightmare world only so recently escaped. "Don't go away," he whispered, a desperate plea despite its faint sound.

"I w'n't." Why would he? The chair was comfortable enough, and there was a bar right against his side that he could lean against... And did lean against it, even as Dorian grasped onto his left hand. There was discomfort on putting pressure against the direct side of his body, so a little shift moved the constraint of the rail supporting his back behind his shoulder. "'m going to sleep for... w'ke me up in thirty..."

Come morning, that was precisely how Z and A found them.

Chapter 5 by Kat and Tzigane

Z was startled when he came in the next morning, and gave the smaller agent a glance, and then, coming in just behind him, there was the doctor assigned to them, who looked just as bewildered.

Klaus was out of his bed -- the sheets in fact, were a little ripped and wadded up at the bottom of the bed, and he was still sitting in the chair beside Lord Gloria's bed. His left hand was clasped in Dorian's stone-fingered grasp, head resting back against the wall.

A whispered softly, "Well, it looks like they've been awake..."

"It... would seem so," Z spoke a little nervously, looking to the doctor. "Should... we move him back to his bed?"

"Major Eberbach," the doctor said clearly, leaning close to him. "Major Eberbach?"

"Nnnh?" A groan of noise, as the one grey-green eye slitted open for a moment before his entire body tensed and he was awake.

The doctor cleared his throat slightly. "I'm Doctor Schneider. Would you like to go back to your bed?" he asked.

"[So we made it out...?]" Klaus's one eye was unfocused, fighting to keep it open at the moment until he gathered himself better. carefully, though, he pulled his hand from Dorian's grasp, sitting up fully at last. "'s Z? Why're you here?"

"Yes, sir. We're here to make sure you're all right," Z said slowly. "We got you out. Lord Gloria's men were keeping an eye on things even though he told them not to, so when trouble struck, they gave us a call..."

One more failure to take onto the mission -- he'd gotten them caught, and hadn't been the one to get them out. No back up, no... Hazily, Klaus looked to Lord Gloria for a moment. Had the man's actions the night before been a complete dream? "'s he goin' t' be 'kay?"

"Physically, yes, sir," A said softly as he reached to help the Major back to his bed. "They think there'll be some scarring..."

All his effort of moving forwards, though, got him was a shake of Klaus's head, as the man didn't rise. "'m okay h're."

"Sir, you might need to lay down," Z pointed out. "You're not in such great shape yourself...."

"Really, sir," A tried to coax, smiling nervously at the major as he grasped the man's elbow to help him up -- only to get a cut off noise of pain, bit back quickly by Klaus. "Oh, the gashes -- sir, I forgot, I'm sorry, Major..."

The sound woke Dorian with a start, a cry parting his lips that was more fear than not, blue eyes unfocused and desperately, desperately afraid. "MAJOR!!"

Both of them in the same room, yelling at each other or not, had the same effect no matter what -- minor chaos. Klaus turned to Dorian again, shrugging off A's barely there grasp. "'m h're."

That seemed to be all it took to lull the British thief into a semblance of calm, that tall body curling in around itself shocking both of the Alphabets as much as their Major's strange reassurance.

"Major, it's time for your medications," the doctor explained gently. "If it's necessary, we can have the beds moved more closely together."

"Ja." he stood on his own, still shakily, and stiff, and let A help him a little, back onto the bed. "'d be a good idea. 'n I think I... r'pped my IV out... n't sure..."

"We'll take care of everything," Dr. Schneider assured him, pressing the call button. "Don't worry about a thing, Major."

"'m n't worried... I just cn't... see pr'ply, 'n I need a sm'ke..." He laid down, though, and let A put the pillow under his head, sheets coming up.

"You rang?" a nurse asked, peeking into the room a few moments later.

"Ah, yes... Could you bring the morning's medicine and go ahead and call psych? Our patients seem to have awakened. You might want to add a sedative for Lord Gloria, as well, thank you," the doctor told her. "Oh, and we'll be shifting the beds a bit closer... They seem to want that..."

"I'll get an orderly, then," the nurse said briskly.

"You don't have to bother -- we can do that," Z offered.

That seemed to gain him a strange look, but the nurse didn't say they couldn't, so A moved one of the two bedside stands out from between the beds and got on the other side of Klaus's. "No problem, right?" he said, eyeing the thing. "I mean, I'm not going to tangle any lines or anything, am I?"

"It should be fine," the doctor said absently as he stepped over to Dorian's bed.

The Earl's blue eyes were open and focused entirely on Klaus. They did not waver or shift until the doctor touched him, and then they widened, fear overriding the necessity of watching the other man so that he shuddered and pulled away from that touch.

Psych was going to have a fun time with those two, the doctor was sure of it.

"I don't think Lord Gloria likes being touched," A said once they'd stopped moving Klaus's bed. The major was already dozing a little again.

"I believe you may be right," Dr. Schneider replied dryly.

Z shook his head as he shoved the other bedside stand towards the corner. "I'm going to go and tell Bonham that they're awake," he said, heading for the door.

"And I'll wait here," A murmured, peering at the Major for a moment, before looking back at Lord Gloria. "This is just a mess."

"It certainly isn't pleasant, is it?" the doctor said almost sadly. "Such suffering."

"What exactly is psych going to do when they come down?" A asked, moving to a spot that was between the two close-together beds.

"They'll have to evaluate both of them and determine what kind of care they need. Your Major seems almost diffident, and Lord Gloria," the doctor said, indicating the Briton with a wave of his hand, "seems both terrified and obsessed..."

"Wait until the Major's off of pain killers. I don't think it's... set in yet, what's happened." A looked over to Lord Gloria again. "And Lord Gloria has every right to be that way."

The doctor nodded slowly. "Absolutely..." Notes were being made now on the charts at the ends of both bed, quickly and efficiently. "Since the nurse will be coming back and psych will be here shortly, I'm going to make my other rounds. Have a nice day."

'Have a nice day'... A sighed, pulling one of those chairs up towards the middle of the room, and plopped down to wait for Z and or Bonham to come back, and for the psych people to arrive.

A sound at the door drew his attention -- Bonham, arrived to check on things. "A," he said quietly, moving into the room. A look at the Earl told him quite a lot, and none of it was good. Those cerulean eyes were fixated firmly on Major Eberbach, and his gaze didn't move even when Bonham sat down beside him. "Hello, Earl."

"They're both awake, I think..." Z said, closing the door behind him carefully. "Someone from Psychiatric is coming down soon, I think -- can you try to rouse the Earl a little?" Then he shot a look over to A, "And you can help me wake the major up a little. Get him up sitting."

Even the touch of Bonham's hand brought a visible flinching and withdrawal from Dorian, the blond thief sliding to the edge of his bed with a soft sound. He glanced away from Klaus only momentarily, long enough to ascertain who was touching him, and then he went back to watching the other man. Guilt was written all over those beautifully expressive eyes, guilt mingled with fear and a strange, intense self-loathing, the only things clearly available through the bandages swathing him. "M'lord..."

"I'm sorry..."

"Lord Gloria, what are you apologizing for?" A pressed while Z gently shook the Major to consciousness. Z was probably the only person in the room who could wake Klaus without an outburst -- excepting, of course, Dorian, who would have only gotten the outburst once he'd said something to Klaus after waking him up...

...but that was usually. And the usual rules just weren't applying at the moment.

"I stopped talking," Dorian whispered, shame written on every inch of him. "I'm so sorry. I stopped talking..."

"Why were you talking, m'lord?" Bonham asked in a worried tone of voice, while Z shot A a glance. Was Dorian trying to tell Klaus that he stopped talking, that he didn't say everything? Just how much damage had been done to the West in that room?

And over in the other bed, Klaus groaned as Z made the device on the side bend the mattress so that he was sitting. "['at day 's it?]"

"[It's Monday, sir,]" Z said gently. "[Psych is coming up for a consult on you and Eroica, sir...]"

"[Psych...?]" Klaus opened his eye again and looked around hazily for a long moment. "[Tell me... everything that happened.]"

"[Bonham and Jones disobeyed Eroica, sir. They followed, and once they knew you were in trouble, they called us. It took us a while to get there,]" Z said reluctantly, "[but you were rescued. We killed two men as they left the building, a redhead and a blond, but we don't know how many might have escaped...]"

Blond -- what a vivid description. His men had always had a way of leaving out anything that could have been important. Klaus was quiet for at least three, maybe four minutes as he ran through everything he could remember. "[Five total. Three officers, two grunts. Was the blond 'n officer?]" He fixed a gaze on his two agents that said, despite his current state -- of which he wasn't fully aware of yet -- that he was mission intent.

"[Yes, sir,]" Z answered firmly.

The blond officer had been the first one to 'have' Dorian.

"['s good,]" Klaus murmured decisively, closing his eye for a moment. "[One guard, one lower rank'd officer, and their commander still need to be f'nd.]"

"[...yes, sir," the blond agent murmured, knowing they'd have to wait for a debriefing to get the descriptions of the men necessary to find them.

"Sir..." A said softly. "I hate to ask you this, but... what did Eroica tell them? He keeps saying he's sorry and that he stopped talking..."

The switch from German to English took a moment for Klaus to register -- not a good sign for a man so fluent -- and then a moment more to remember the answer. "[th' officer who interrogated us made 'm talk -- j'st anything that came to his mind. 'e started to sing, but forgot the words, and...]"

And the man had plunged a knife into his eye for it.

"Gott..."

"[And, sir?]" Z asked gently, the expression on Klaus's face frightening him slightly because it was accompanied by an aching sob from the thief across the way.

"My eye's gone, 'sn't it?" Klaus asked, looking straight at Z, his un-bandaged eye wide in horror as everything finally, *finally* sank it.

"Yes, sir," A murmured, hating to answer that question. "I'm sorry, sir..."

"*Shit*," A low, tight hiss of noise from him, that curse, as he looked at his bandaged hand, head turning to look at it. "H-how... how bad?"

"It's a total loss, sir," Z informed him quietly as Dorian wept hysterically in the background.

"A-all of it? I... thought it was just two..." His voice was a little panicked now, but only quietly so, as he looked over to Dorian. "Lord Gloria? What's wrong?" He didn't need the man crying, not now...

The words were back, barely spoken, hysterical. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!" Oh, and he was, terribly, deeply *horribly* guilty and so very ashamed and so very *sorry*!

"I'm calling a nurse, m'lord," Bonham said grimly. "You can't keep on like this or you'll make yourself ill!"

"Hit that button there," A said to Bonham, even as he tried to stop Klaus from getting out of the bed.

"[Nein, this is my fault, this entire fiasco,]" Klaus uttered, pushing past A easily since the man was wary of Klaus's injuries. "Lord Gloria..." A hand, light, rested on the blond's shoulder. He'd always been reluctant to touch the man, but now it seemed a necessary and there was no chance of the man hitting on him. "'s all my fault, that we w're caught. 'u need.. to calm d'wn."

The touch brought a slight pulling away, but it also brought slightly calmer breaths, as if the mere feel of those fingers against him were enough. "I'm so sorry... I'm *SO* sorry..."

Lightly settled there, those fingers stroked softly, completely unsure. "'s my fault. Y're a civ'lian. Y' did perf'ctly."

"I stopped talking," Dorian sobbed, heartbroken. "Your perfect, beautiful eye. It's all my fault. It's *all* my fault. Too stupid to even keep running my mouth..."

"Oh, Jesus," Bonham whispered.

A leaned over for the man and rang the call button.

The hand on Dorian's shoulder squeezed lightly. "I dun' care. 'f I h'dn't 'f told y' to shut up, 'f I h'dn't cuss'd 'im out, 'f I h'dn't let the door cl'se... None 'f it wo'ld 've happen'd."

There were no words after that, but the crying didn't stop, and Eroica began to rock slowly in the bed as if for comfort.

It was frightening to see Dorian that way -- he was always cheery, flamboyant and just *up* about so much... Klaus kept his hand there for a moment more before he let Z move him back to sit on his bed. "'s like watch'n' light dr'wn," Klaus murmured vaguely, before looking at his favorite agent almost desperately. "[My entire hand?]"

"[Two fingers only,]" Z murmured. "[We couldn't find them, so they did some reconstructive surgery to get the muscles to lay properly.... but the other fingers are there, and the hand should be all right..]" Aside from the fact that he could never hold or fire a gun with it...

"[Which ones?]" He needed to know, desperately so -- he knew, was sure that he'd lost his little finger, but beyond that, it had only been another sharp pain...

Z almost sighed, just barely managing to hold it back. He really didn't want to tell the Major, but... "[Index and pinkie.]"

"Someone rang for a nurse?" a woman asked, coming in with a tray holding several medications. "And psych is running late. They say it'll be another half hour... oh, dear, I see Earl Gloria isn't doing well..."

"'s hysterical," Klaus told her. "'e needs t' be c'lmed down." He was looking at the bandaged mess as he told her that -- his hand had been rendered useless. His right hand, the hand that held his Magnum... completely useless. No trigger finger to fire with, no grip...

"We've got a sedative for him here," she said. "Lord Gloria, you have to take your medications," he was told loudly, her hand reaching for him.

He damned near fell out of bed to avoid being touched, Bonham catching him before he could and gently pushing him back in. He could feel Dorian trembling violently, jerking in reaction to his touch, but it couldn't be helped. "Lord Gloria," he said firmly to catch Dorian's attention. "She has medicine for you."

"Pl'se c'lm down, Dorian," Klaus added, having startled again when Dorian moved violently to avoid the nurse. "'s okay."

Again, words from Klaus seemed to calm him, enough so that he nodded and reached for the cup of pills with a shaking hand, looking over at Klaus as if to see if that was the thing to do.

Klaus was a little surprised by that look, but gave Dorian and affirmative nod. "Ja."

The pills were shaken into Eroica's mouth and he took the water Bonham gave him to swallow them down before curling up into a ball, watching Klaus again. "I'm really sorry," he whispered. "Really really..."

Klaus was quiet for a moment, and then he murmured, sure to make his words clear, "Don't be."

"I am," Dorian sighed as the nurse moved to Klaus's bed, handing him a little paper cup full of pills, as well. "I am..."

/God,/ A thought, utterly aching with some vaguely unpleasant emotion. /This is horrible.../

"I d'n't need a sed'tive -- t'ke it out," he told her, handing the cup back, as suspicious a man as he'd ever been.

"One wasn't requested for you," she informed him gently. She *didn't* tell him that the painkiller would probably have a sedative effect -- he needed it too badly.

That got her a drilling look for a moment, and then Klaus obediently took the cup back, taking all the pills at once, swallowed dry. He followed with the water that Z handed him, draining the full glass and handing it back to him. Once the nurse saw that he had taken them, she slipped from the room. "When 'm I goin' t' be debreif'd?"

"After psych comes in," A said. "I'm afraid the Chief insisted. He's really worried, Major..."

"[Fat slug,]" Klaus sighed irritably. "[Why?]"

Z shrugged slightly, looking at Klaus earnestly. "[He's sort of fond of Eroica, sir, and as much as he doesn't *like* you, he does get the most *work* out of you...]"

"[I know th't. Why worry?]" he pressed -- was there something he wasn't being told. "['ll be fine. I need t' be debrief'd.]"

Leaning close, A whispered, "Um, sir, there're signs of gang rape with Eroica, and you've had an eye... hurt, and fingers cut off. I think the chief's considering your welfare as much so that you *can* be debriefed as anything else. If Lord Gloria can only cry, he's not much good to anybody..."

Klaus had to agree there. "[Lord Gloria needs the h'lp. But I don't. I can be debreif'd now.]"

"[Yes, sir,]" Z murmured, thinking quickly, "[but the rest of us have to humor the Chief. We went in to get the two of you without orders, so we're sort of treading lightly...]"

"[T'll him I order'd you to debrief me,]" Klaus insisted sharply, leaning back in the bed again. "I want 't get 't over with."

A glanced across the way as Bonham came towards them. He noticed that Eroica was sleeping now, but still hiccoughing lightly, and that was something of a relief. "Well, sir, since he's got higher rank, I'm afraid his order sort of supersedes yours," A said sheepishly.

"I d'n't need to see the fuckin' psych people... They're full of shit, just a bunch 'a babble." Klaus let his hands fold in his lap, the right one so strangely awkward. He sighed again, unhappily, and then moved his left hand towards his mouth, two fingers slightly parted in a familiar gesture for a cigarette.

"'Ere, Major," Bonham said, pulling a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from a pocket. "Figured you'd want those."

"One way or the other, sir, you're still going to have to go past psych first. Sorry," Z apologized.

The pack was hard to peel the plastic off of one handed, and open, but he didn't ask for help -- he managed to fit it between his lips, and then found he couldn't properly mark the depth and position of it while using his left hand with one eye. "[Light this.]" It was an order directed at Z while he glowered at him.

"Yes, Major," was the correct and *only* answer Z could give, and he lit the cigarette.

Klaus took a slow drag, then murmured, "[We didn't talk.]"

"Nothing?" Z asked softly.

"Nothing."

Z and A both nodded as Bonham looked over at Dorian, reaching up to rub thoughtfully at his face. "The Earl didn't know anything to say. You didn't tell him anything. They just did what they did to *him* to try and put the fear of God in you before they started on you, didn't they?"

Klaus nodded slowly, nursing steadily at the cigarette. It was calming him nicely, and everyone in the room seemed glad that things were quiet again. "I couldn't look 'way, 'r they would 've killed 'im."

Bonham nodded again, thoughtfully. "So. You watched what they did to him, he had to talk through what they did to you, and he couldn't."

"'s right," Klaus affirmed, closing his eyes for a moment. It was still burned into his mind, seared there, what was done to Dorian... "B't we liv'd."

"And that's the important part," A agreed quietly, watching Bonham nod.

"Yeah..." the older thief agreed, expression neutral. /But is it really living? If he's going to be the way he has been so far? Will he get better? Hell, will the Major get better? He thinks nothing's wrong with him, but we all know better.../

A knock sounded on the door then, lightly, before it opened, allowing in a couple of men dressed in khakis and sweaters as opposed to white uniforms or doctor's coats. They didn't even have little name-tags on, and their sweaters were both neutral shades of green and brown, very soothing, one would suppose. "Hi, there," the first one said, a little man with glasses and a monk's fringe of hair, the top of his head gleamingly bald. "You most be Major Eberbach, right? I'm Dr. Spalding and this is Dr. Tigner. We're coming by to talk to you a bit..." Hazel-green eyes glanced at the visitors. "I'm sorry, but perhaps you could step out of the room for a while?"

Klaus gave a snort, looking over to his men, and Bonham. "'f Lord Gloria w'kes, 'll tell you." It was a clear dismissal for Bonham, and permission to leave granted to the other two. "'t w'n't take long."

The little bald man only smiled, nodding at the men as they left and taking a seat close to Klaus as the other doctor checked on Lord Gloria and then lightly brought a chair to the end of the bed. "Well, then, Major Eberbach. I'm pretty sure you know we're here to do a psych evaluation, talk through some things, see how you're doing. How are you feeling this morning? We're glad you've finally awakened."

"'m fine," Klaus murmured, tapping a little ash into bedpan because he didn't want to drop it on the floor. "'ve slept too long."

"Well," Dr. Tigner murmured, his voice deep and calm and terribly assured, "why don't you tell us a bit about what happened?" He seemed to gain some understanding as he looked at Klaus. "It'll help us when the other patient wakens. We've been told there's some hysteria and a great deal of guilt, so..."

"'re you NATO approved? Some of 's classified information," Klaus told them both, tapping ash again.

"We're with their medical staff, yes," Dr. Spalding replied solemnly.

"'re in the NATO hospital? No-one tells me 's things..." A shake of his head and silence while he took another deep, smoke-filled breath. he could have used a drink, too, but he needed two hands for that, didn't he? "'s just like debriefing, then?"

"Not an official debriefing, per se," Dr. Tigner murmured. He had dark red hair and terribly blue eyes and he seemed more commanding than the little man. "More informal, I suppose you could say."

"'s the same thing," Klaus decided. "We broke into the Stasi building. Got trapped, gassed. 'n we woke up, we were chained. Lord Gloria d'n't have any 'f his picks on 'im, 'n I couldn't break the chains." He snubbed out the filter, and started to fumble a second cigarette free. "'n then the Stasi men came in."

An encouraging nod seemed to be simultaneous action from the two, Dr. Spalding saying quietly, "And what did you think then?" Better to use a more concrete word than 'feel' there, he decided. Major Eberbach wasn't likely to react to a word like that very well.

"That we 're in deep shit," Klaus murmured, looking at his borrowed lighter for a moment, and the cigarette. Well, he could try to light it himself, slowly... "We 're each chain'd to a sturdy chair, 'nd the higher offic'r started t' ask Lord Gloria questi'ns."

"Questions about your mission?" the taller doctor prompted gently.

"s right," Klaus murmured, slipping the cigarette into the corner of his mouth and picking up the lighter. Once he'd flicked it on, he moved it carefully closer until it touched and caught the tip of his cigarette. /Perfect./ Then he turned it off, and set it down, taking a draw before he spoke again. "'d told 'im not to speak, so he didn't. He talked a little, prattle, and then, the officer started to cut 's face."

Neither doctor seemed to react too terribly to that and the soft sounds of Klaus's speaking went on again. "'e told me that I had to look at Lord Gloria, or he'd cut 'is throat. So I look'd. Then 'e made Dorian... made 'im give him a b...blowjob. I told him to go along with anything, so we might get out alive." Despite the fact that his voice seemed flat, there was a slight twinge there -- not disgust so much as something almost guilt, almost *aching*.

"And then?"

"'e asked Dorian to talk 'gain. Lord Gloria refused, 'n the man said something to him that I co'ldn't hear. Then the Stasi asked me t' talk, 'n when I refused he... us'd a knife to sc-scrape his... semen off Lord Gloria's cheek." They waited for him to talk again, both simply looking at him quietly, expectantly. Obviously, that particular subject was one that wasn't easy for him, and both of them made note of it. "'e cut Lord Gloria's face more, then told the other four in the room t'... have 'im. They took him out of the chair, chained him against the wall, 'nd... stripped him, tortured him and r raped him. Repeatedly." Klaus let out a shaky breath, his visible eye far from any state of closing as if he were trying to avoid seeing what he *could* clearly see in his mind's eyes. "The offic'r kept talking t' me. I co'ldn't look away."

"Because the man said he would kill Lord Gloria if you did," one of them said softly, more statement than question. "How did it make you feel? To see that?"

"I kn'w... Lord Gloria's a queer. 's been chasing me for years. Everyone know's that he loves me, but... I... No one should ever have that happen t' them. 'specially not Lord Gloria. He's a good, honorable person, even 'f he 's a pervert." Klaus took another slow drag and tapped his ash once more, the gesture almost nervous.

"Did Lord Gloria say anything to them?" the shorter man, Dr. Spalding murmured.

"When?"

"While they interrogated him," Dr. Tigner replied.

"That w'sn't interr'gation. 's sick. He ask.... pleaded for them to stop. By th' third man, he passed out." That gained him a nod, an indication to go on. "'en they dropped 'im to the floor after the fourth, I started in the chair. Couldn't help it -- jus' a reaction to not let him fall. They started to laugh, and the head officer had them pick Lord Gloria up and put him in my lap. He asked me if I thought Lord Gloria would like to wake up there -- I told him I d'n't know, and they shoved him off my lap and picked him up, then put 'im back in the chair again. They left to let 'im regain consciousness."

"You seem so calm," Dr. Tigner said. "What do you feel, now that you don't have to remain as calm as you did while that was happening?"

"When I get out of here, 'm going to find that officer and kill him." That, too, was said in that strangely flat, calm tone, an undercurrent of anger barely audible.

"Do you think that killing him will make you feel better somehow?" came the question from Dr. Spalding.

"It will."

That didn't seem to surprise either of the doctors -- both, after all, had been briefed on Major Eberbach before entering the arena, so to speak. Instead, one of them prompted quietly, "And what happened then?"

"Lord Gloria woke up -- he asked if he'd said anything, I told him no. 'nd I apologized for taking him on this mission. Then they came back in -- the officer had them lift Dorian's head so he could watch when they started on me. They started by cutting off my clothing, because they knew if I was moved from the chair I'd take them out." Klaus snubbed out the filter of that cigarette, and started another. A nod indicated that he should go on, both men watching the steady consumption of those cigarettes. It was the third, so far. Though it seemed, with each progressing breath of smoke, the clarity of his speech got better -- like listening toot a man talk while he woke up at the same time. "They told Lord Gloria that he was to watch me, or they'd cut something off. He said he understood, and then the officer told his men to 'begin'." And then, Klaus was quiet, smoking again.

"And what did they do?" Dr. Spalding asked him.

Klaus cleared his throat, cigarette coming away from his lips, and when he spoke, it was particularly detached. "On of them ran his hands over me while the officer told me that that's how queers do things. Someone... groped me, while another put a... finger or thumb inside of me and twisted it. I gave the officer only my name and rank." Silence seemed to indicate that he continue, and he drew on the cigarette again.

"It was... painful, and from the expression on my face, the officer picked up on it as a weak point -- but told me he declined to remove me from my bindings for his safety. I'd had my eyes closed the entire time, so I opened them when I heard a metal sound and the... digit was removed. Lord Gloria was looking at me, and they'd brought in a table of surgical instruments."

"Surgical instruments?" Dr. Tigner asked softly.

"A scalpel in particul'r. He asked me questions about the break in and every time I didn't answer, he cut deep into my chest. Then when he'd made a matched set, he just started slicing. Dorian started to beg for him to stop, and I told him to shut up.'s when the sick fuck got the idea of making Dorian talk. He cut off my fingers while Lord Gloria talked and sang, and when he stopped, said something... I can't remember what, and then I lost consciousness."

The change from Lord Gloria to Dorian and back again was noted and one of them nodded. "Do you remember anything else between then and waking up?"

"Nothing."

"Overall," Dr. Tigner murmured, "how does all of this make you feel?"

"I already told you," klaus uttered, giving them both a flatly displeased look.

"You want to kill someone," Dr. Spalding replied, trying not to make that sound too dry. "So, you're angry? Furious, upset? Because of what happened to you?"

"'m a professional. I do this for a living, because it's my job and I believe in what we do. Lord Gloria's a contracted sometimes employee who thinks it's a game. I knew what would happen -- I expected something sick. He didn't. 's not right to do that to a civilian."

Dr. Tigner took a deep breath. "So, it's Lord Gloria's hurt you feel anger over, not your own."

"s right. I've done some sick things in the line of duty, myself, but never to a civilian." He finished his cigarette, thought about starting a fourth, and put it off for the moment.

"Is anger all that you feel?" Dr. Spalding asked.

"What else 'm I supposed to feel?" Klaus snapped at them, rather suddenly.

Dr. Tigner only shook his head slightly. "Whatever you feel is appropriate. There's nothing wrong with anything you feel about the matter...."

A soft pained whimper sounded, edged and just barely audible as a momentary silence stretched between them.

Klaus looked over and past them, concern flickering over his face. "Lord Gloria?"

Dorian didn't seem to be waking, though he was shifting and obviously seemed uncomfortable. Another sound came, the two psychiatrists now watching both of them.

"Is he having trouble any time he sleeps?" Spalding asked softly, uncertain as to whether Klaus would know the answer or not.

"Yes. He was crying last night and 's what woke me up. I sat in the chair b'side his bed until he fell asleep again." Klaus was still watching Dorian a little, trying to determine if it was the start of a nightmare.

He seemed to quiet down, though, for the moment, leaving all of them watching him. "How do you think Lord Gloria is going to handle what's happened to him? We know he's been hysterical...." Spalding murmured, Tigner remaining quiet.

"I don't know. 's tougher than he looks..." Klaus finally did light that cigarette, another pain-staking effort of unfamiliar coordination.

"So you think he might pull himself together given enough rest?" Tigner murmured.

"Maybe. I really don't know." He wanted to say yes, but there was no way to tell -- if only the man would stop apologizing to him!

"Have you noticed any strange behaviors aside from the difficulty sleeping?" Spalding was asking the questions again, and that seemed somehow as if the man had read his mind!

"He keeps apologizing for my eye."

"Why?" The why of it hadn't been entirely clear in what Klaus had told them, though Tigner felt that he *knew* why...

"The officer threatened to hurt *one* of us if Dorian stopped talking. When he did, I was pulled upright again, and..." He shrugged, tapping ash off of his cigarette.

"And that was when you went unconscious..." And, by any guess, when they'd destroyed Klaus's eye. "So he feels guilt about this."

"Obviously," Klaus murmured, as if the two men were stupid.

"Do you feel guilty? For what happened to him?" Spalding asked.

"It really is my fault we were captured at all. And my fault that he was even in East Germany." Klaus seemed to say that is if he was discussing the weather, or the newspaper -- but there was an edge around the line of his mouth, the corner of his eye, that was hardened.

"Was there anything you could have done to prevent it? It seems unlikely," Tigner murmured, "so there's really no reason for either of you to feel guilty or at fault."

"It's my duty to protect him," Klaus told them firmly. "He was my responsibility on this mission. I let the door close; I was unable to manage an escape after having escaped successfully on many prior occasions."

Spalding told him softly, "The possibility of escape on prior occasions doesn't guarantee that it would have been possible to escape on this particular one, Major. Were the persons who captured you prepared to do so on this occasion?"

"Obviously -- it was a trap," Klaus commented, shifting restlessly for a moment before he gave up with trying to lay or relax at all. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and crossed them, wishing he had more on than that idiotic hospital 'gown'.

"Then it's certainly not your fault that you couldn't get both of you loose," Spalding explained to him patiently. "If it was a trap, then it must have been a very good one. You aren't at fault."

"It's my responsibility to keep my eyes open for anything suspicious. I shouldn't have let the door close!" Klaus snapped, flicking his cigarette into the little pan. "I failed in my duties and nearly cost a civilian contract his life!"

"And your own injuries?" Tigner asked him mildly. "Your own life?"

"'s the least that I get for slipping up so badly," Klaus murmured, buttressing a shoulder against the part of the mattress that was nearly completely vertical. "I know what's been at risk from the first day I was an officer."

A glance slid between the two men in sweaters and Tigner nodded to Spalding. "We'll have to come back to speak with Lord Gloria," he said quietly. "Until then, try to get some rest, Major, and think about what we've said. It really *isn't* your fault, you know."

"Everything in a mission is the commanding officer's fault if it goes wrong," Klaus countered, watching them stand up. "Can I be debriefed now?"

"We'll talk with your Chief," Tigner promised as he placed his chair back on Dorian's side of the room.

"Don't bullshit me," he growled, shifting back to sit fully on the bed again. "I want to close this mission off."

"Of course," Spalding said smoothly, "but he's the one who'll have to send someone for the debriefing."

Bureaucracy. Klaus reminded himself that, despite A and Z being right outside, the orders would have to be given. So it was in a tense tone that Klaus finally uttered, "[Fine.]"

That seemed to throw Spalding, but not Tigner, who simply smiled and nodded. "We'll see you again soon, Major," he said as they headed for the door.

Klaus hoped that he never saw *either* of them again, but doubted that would happen. "[That was just shit,]" he muttered to himself, reaching for the sheets with his good hand and pulling them up. He'd just nap. Just a short, short nap...

Chapter 6 by Kat and Tzigane

 

When Dorian woke some hours later, it was afternoon, and he wasn't even entirely certain he was awake. Grogginess filled his head, made him feel lethargic and just a tad queasy. /We're in hospital,/ he remembered, turning his head slowly to the side. Yes, there was Klaus. Klaus was close by, even if he wasn't all right, so things weren't too bad. There was some reason that he didn't think he could bear to let Klaus out of his sight, though for the moment, he couldn't remember why. It was probably just as well. There were lots of things he didn't want to think about, just at the moment. Lots of things he didn't want to *do*...

On the other hand, there were things he *needed* to do -- like pee, badly.

There was a bed-pan on a little table just beside his bed -- two of them, in fact, through one was filled with little spots of ash. That was the one nearer to Klaus. And the room had two doors -- one of which presumably led to the hall outside, and the other probably to a bathroom.

For a moment, he thought about it, even wondered momentarily about how he might have gone before he'd wakened -- he didn't want to think about that, he decided, slowly shifting.

That movement woke the pain that was in him and made him hiss softly, biting down on his already broken lip to keep from making any louder noise. His legs hurt, and there were parts of him that hurt even worse than that -- parts he also didn't want to think about. The memory of his
mother telling him as a child that sticking his head in the sand and playing ostrich wouldn't help him a bit was almost enough to make him smile... almost. If he hadn't had so many truly terrible things running through his head...

Still, Dorian was nothing if not determined. A leg shifted over the bed and then another, both feet on the floor, and *God*, it hurt to sit up, but the need to piss was *definitely* growing. A tug on his arm reminded him of his IV and he peered at the stand, frowning at it as he tried to decide what to do with it.

It moved, though -- so he could actually use the wheeling stand as a crutch of sorts to help in his little journey. The tile floor was freezingly chill against his bare feet, for as soon as he warmed a spot, he stepped forwards again -- heading towards the door that didn't have a little window slot cut into it. That one *had* to be the bathroom.

Naturally enough, it was, and he used it silently, thinking blankly of white tile as he did so, antsy and nervous. He didn't like being in the little room and he *detested* being alone. Once he was done, toilet flushed and hands washed, he was grateful to step back out into the room he was sharing with Klaus. He was even *more* grateful to be able to see him.

There was something about seeing Klaus that seemed necessity. In many ways, seeing him reminded him that Klaus was alive. He could ask for nothing better, that he could think of...

Well, nothing better than that Klaus be alive and whole.

That, in the end, was entirely his fault. Probably the only time in his life he'd ever run out of words, and Klaus had been punished for it. Talk, don't talk, talk, don't talk, it was the story of his life. From 'children should be seen, not heard', to 'don't tell them anything', the world suddenly seemed to revolve around the words that came out of his mouth, or perhaps the words that *hadn't* come out of it. That brought the ever present flood of intense guilt, terrible, swelling, crushing.

He wouldn't think about what had happened to him; he wasn't going to think about why his face hurt, or why it felt as if... Well, as if what had happened to him *had* happened. No... but it was impossible not to think about Klaus. He wanted to think about Klaus and oh, it hurt so much to know that they had hurt his darling Major and it had all been his fault...

"'re you up, Dori'n?" Klaus's voice slurred its way into existence as he clawed up from the groggy sleep of painkillers, starting to sit up again. "I heard a noise..."

"I had to pee," Dorian told him very quietly as he crawled back into the bed, curling up slowly. His toes were cold, and so he was grateful to stuff them back beneath the white sheets and pale pink blanket on the bed. "I don't want to think about how we did before now."

"They took out my cathed'r this morning," Klaus murmured, leaning towards his better, left-hand side for a moment before he sat up fully. "Hate having that strapped against my leg. Tape hurts like hell coming off. Must've taken yours out then, too."

"I didn't notice," Dorian admitted, blue eyes on him sad, yearning almost. "I'm sorry if I upset you this morning..." He felt sort of like crying again, but also a bit numb, exhausted, the sedative he'd been giving still dragging at him. He was too tired for histrionics, and the realization that Klaus had probably been disgusted with him made his mouth tremble momentarily.

"You didn't upset me," Klaus told him, turning enough to study Dorian properly. "I was worried."

Dorian shook his head slightly. "You don't have to say that. It's all right, da... Major."

"I'm not 'just saying' that," Klaus told him, a little furrow starting between the mess of bandages and his visible eyebrow. "How are you feeling?"

Those blue eyes were firmly fixed on him, half-open. "Numb, I think," Dorian said softly. "Tired...." He wondered for a moment why Klaus would care -- after all, he knew how Klaus felt about him, mostly, and the things he'd seen...

It was more than mortifying to feel tears well up and spill over, and it was probably more than a little frightening to see him weep silently after the fits last night and earlier in the morning. He couldn't stop them, though, as they kept trickling. Klaus had *seen* him. He'd *seen* what they'd done, and then he'd been too stupid to keep them from taking Klaus's fingers and his *eye*...

It never struck Dorian that Klaus harbored similar feelings of humiliation.

Slowly, the major slid out of his bed, taking his IV stand with him this time, as he moved to sit in the chair beside Dorian's bed again. "Why are you crying?"

"I don't know," Dorian said at first, trembling violently as Klaus came closer. God! He couldn't control himself! "Because... because... I don't know."

"Does..." Klaus settled into that chair, hands folded into his lap. The movement jostled the IV stand a little. "Does it help any?"

"I think it just makes it hurt worse," Dorian whispered, reaching a shaking hand up to cover his eyes. "I wish you hadn't seen that. I wish you hadn't watched that. I wish they'd cut my throat after all..." And he did, suddenly, wished it desperately! "If they'd killed me, then they wouldn't have... I wouldn't have run out of words... an...and...."

"No!" Klaus's exclamation startled himself just as much as it must have Dorian, but he had to make the other man *see*. "No." Only... only he couldn't think of how to make Dorian see that it was his fault, Klaus's, fault. "You watched me, too. Neither of us had a choice."

Those shaking hands remained over Dorian's eyes, careful not to touch his face, because it ached awfully. It ached even worse when he talked, but when words were so important, how could he stop? "I would have rather died. I would have. I would have, so it wouldn't... so they wouldn't...." His voice trailed off raggedly. "I.... Klaus, you... I'm so sorry..." They were back to that again, then, as it was hard for Dorian to think anything else every time he thought about it. Sorry for Klaus's eye, sorry for Klaus's fingers, sorry for the perverted things they'd done to Klaus, sorry *he* was a pervert, sorry he even existed!

"Don't apologize -- 's as much my fault for getting us caught. It was stupid of me to let us walk in there," Klaus murmured, moving a hand to rest it on Dorian's shoulder again. His muscles ached to make that move, and a few protested loudly, but the painkillers still in his system muffled them.

The slight flinch wasn't the same violent shift of movement that Dorian made when others touched him, but it wasn't good, all the same. "I'm so stupid," came the shaky whisper. "If I hadn't stopped to tell you I loved you, maybe we'd've gotten out."

"The door was locked, the gas was coming in, and I couldn't shoot through the windows," Klaus told him, keeping his hand right where it was. "We... we're both playing a... stupid game here."

A soft hitched breath shifted through Dorian. "I just...." He took a deep breath. "I just... I just..." /I just what, Dorian, you fucking idiot?/ he asked himself, sounding almost like Klaus in his head. "I just wish you had never seen that. It should... what happens, it should, it should never, ever, it shouldn't, and I only wanted..." /I only wanted you to love me, and now I know you never will, because I know I have to disgust you after that. God, I disgust *me*.../

Klaus closed his eye for a moment, partly in frustration, before he looked at Dorian again. "'n you say that coherently?"

Dorian shook his head slightly, drawing his hands away from his face to tuck them between his knees as they came up. The unpleasant tug he felt gained a sharp breath from him as he shifted, shivering. "Nothing should ever be like that. You should never have seen terrible, perverted things like that. I would never... I would never, ever..."

"Do that," Klaus finished for him, and then fell silent for a long moment. "Nothing like that should have been done to you."

"I'm a pervert," Dorian whispered raggedly. /If anyone deserved it, it was me and not you. No one does, but... but they shouldn't have touched you, not *you*.../

"So?" Klaus barely registered his own voice saying that -- was he actually defending Dorian's perversions? /Don't think about that you're doing ... just say it./ "I'm a killer -- neither of us deserved that!"

"You should never have had to see that," Dorian said simply, softly, the sound of it tremulous. "Someone so abstinently clean and strong should never, ever have had to see that..."

"It shouldn't have happened to you; they shouldn't have touched you. I couldn't stop them..." Klaus was having a little trouble, in the face of Dorian's insistence of things he didn't quite believe, of keeping his temper even.

"I'm so sorry," Dorian whispered, sniffling back snot helplessly, childishly. "I'm so sorry..."

"STOP APOLOGIZING!"

Oh, God, the tears that brought, and a violent jerk away from his fingers with them, as if the terror Dorian had felt when everyone else had touched him was now instilled in him at the feel of Klaus's fingers, too. "I'm *sorry*!!" Dorian sobbed, apologizing for apologizing, now, that helpless wash of remorse and shame and utter horror beginning to rise up in him again.

/You fucking idiot. You stupid fucking *idiot*, can't even do this right? Can't keep your fucking awful temper in check.../ Two options were before him -- try to calm Dorian down himself, or hit the call button. Since it was his fault...

"Lord Gloria -- Dorian, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to yell..." /DAMMIT!/ He half stood, hand moving to touch the side of Dorian's upper arm. "Please calm down."

"I c-c-can't h-h-elp it," Dorian sobbed. "I w-w-w... a-a-a...." He didn't seem to be able to say what he wanted to, but *God*, how he clung to Klaus's hand and wrist where he was touching him, not wanting to let go. "I j-j-just..."

"Shhh. Sit up a little -- 't'll help," Klaus told him, not *daring* to move his hand, but also not daring to touch anything with the bandaged mess that was his right hand.

With obvious effort, Dorian pulled himself together, still trembling rather violently. "I d-don't mean to b-be such a b-baby," he whispered, shaking his head. "O-only I c-can't ssseem to keep myself t-together!"

"After what they did to you, you've got every right." Words told to him seriously, even as Klaus sat down again, still holding onto Dorian's arm.

"I c-could h-have stood it if... if... they...." Dorian closed his eyes, shaking his head. Ah, it didn't matter. He'd still be a wreck even if they *hadn't* hurt Klaus, but then, at least, he could have sent Klaus away and fallen to pieces alone. Then he could pretend that Klaus hadn't seen it all with both perfect eyes and he could pretend, then, that maybe Klaus loved him, the way he'd pretended off and on for so long. So long.... With Klaus right there, vision destroyed by Dorian's own inadequacies, it just wasn't possible to *pretend* anymore. Worse, Klaus was being nice to him. Somehow, that made things seem even more terrible, as if he was offering him pity!

"You need to calm down, Dorian, and rest." Somehow, the intimacy of calling the man by his name and not 'Lord Gloria' or 'Eroica' added to the calming factor Klaus had on the Briton.

"I d-don't know if I c-can," Dorian hitched, sniffing again, the bandages on his cheeks slightly damp. "H-hurt sssome." A lot, actually, the morning's drugs wearing off and the feel of being awake and being in pain certainly wasn't helping the emotional state in which he seemed to exist, now.

Klaus was glad that he'd a higher pain tolerance. "Do you want me to ring a nurse?"

"I d-don't know," Dorian whispered, confused. "M-maybe it's supp-pposed to hurt..."

"What is?"

"Everything," came the mumble. "Everywhere...." Especially his face and *especially* the tender areas below his waist where the steel pins had resided and where he'd been....

/I'm not going to think about it!/

"It isn't." Klaus shifted a little in the uncomfortable seat, and hit the call button.

"D-don't l-eave me alone," Dorian whispered, shutting his eyes. "I c-can't stand it. B-being a-lone."

"'m not going anywhere. Why do you think I would?" Klaus asked him, turning back to the British man and resettling his hand on Dorian's shoulder.

It gained him a slight shake of that golden head, curls sadly matted and not in their usual glorious array. The Earl didn't seem to gleam anymore. Instead, he was a broken toy, used and tossed aside, the glitter all worn off of him. All that was left was a pale glimmer of who he had been, the passing of him marked only by those still-brilliant aquamarine eyes that remained flooded with guilt and shame and that unsettling agony.

Klaus didn't care, though -- perhaps the lack of gleam and glitter was worrying Dorian's men, but it was the Earl's eyes that hurt him so deeply. With a sigh, Klaus drew his hand back, and settled into the chair again, glad to rest his torn muscles once more. "I'll stay right here if you want me to."

"Just don't go away," Dorian begged sleepily, eyes closing as a nurse came into the room.

"Yes?" she asked, smiling worriedly at Klaus. "You really shouldn't be out of bed, Major."

That wasn't even justified with an answer. "Lord Gloria needs his medication."

"It's due in another fifteen minutes," the nurse replied with a slight smile. "I'll go ahead and bring it in, and yours as well," she noted. "But you really do need to get back in your bed..."

"It's all right, Major," Dorian whispered, lashes parting to look at him yearningly, so sad. "Just don't go away..."

"I'm fine right here. Just bring a blanket over," Klaus told her in the firmest tone he could manage.

Well, the chart had said he was a stubborn one... Smiling at him, she moved to his bed and fetched his blanket, carefully draping it around him and then covering Dorian up a bit better as well. "I'll be right back," she promised, heading out of the room.

"It's okay if you lay down," Dorian whispered. "I just don't... I don't want to be left alone." He was a bit more in control, for the moment, but he wasn't *thinking*. If he could just keep on not *thinking*, he thought he'd be all right, but he wasn't sure he could do it.

Klaus shifted a bit, getting comfortable where he sat. "You won't be left alone." /You being this way is my fault entirely, you don't deserve this... no one does, but you, Dorian.... Infuriating as you are, especially don't./ "I'll just rest here."

The urge to apologize once again rose in Dorian, but he ignored it, closing his eyes. He was so tired, and he hurt so much... /I'm so sorry, Klaus. I love you. I'm so sorry..../ At the moment, he couldn't even tell if it was loving Klaus he felt sorry for or the terrible things that had happened to them. The sheer amount of shame he felt made everything overwhelmingly deserving of apology.

"You rest, too," Klaus told him. "Once you've had your medications. Your men will prob'bly come back today."

"I don't want anyone to come," Dorian said numbly. "Just don't go."

"I won't." God, if he had to assure the man of that a thousand times, he would! Anything to calm him down and take away that sharp edge of hysteria... Anything to make him understand. Then he closed his eyes, waiting for the nurse to come back.

It was nearly ten minutes, but when she did, she had both of their medicines with her in little cups, and the inevitable presence of Tigner and Spalding once again.

"Hello, Major," Spalding greeted. "I see you're up and about."

"'m up," he agreed, looking at them both with a bit of a disgruntled look. Two of the people he least wanted near him, right in the room.

"Hello, Lord Gloria," Tigner greeted, watching as Dorian not-so-subtly shifted away from them and somehow shifted a bit closer to Klaus at the same time. "May we talk to you?"

Dorian was already shaking his head. "I don't want to talk."

"Leave him alone," Klaus uttered a bit gruffly, more order than anything he'd said yet. "'s not up to your games."

"We only need to check on you," Spalding said soothingly, shaking his head. "That's all."

"Make it quick." Another order as Klaus glared at them both from the blanket he was situated in. A watchful gaze that said if they made a stray move, despite his injuries, Klaus would find a way to hurt them.

The nurse handed Klaus his medicine and a cup of water, doing the same for Dorian and watching them both take it as Tigner once again found himself moving a chair. "Lord Gloria," he said as the nurse walked out once again, "I know you aren't feeling well, and I'm truly sorry to bother you. We need to talk to you about what's happened, though."

"I don't want to talk about it," Dorian said quickly, hurriedly. "I'm not going to!"

"There's your answer. Leave him alone." Klaus was firm in that, and didn't care if he had to tell *them* that a few hundred times. "Come back later."

"But..." Spalding began, only to be headed off by Tigner's rising from the chair only just moved.

"We'll come to see you again, Lord Gloria," the taller man said calmly, nodding. "I hope you're feeling better soon."

As they headed for the door, Dorian whispered, "I'm not going to talk about it. I'm not. I don't want to. They can't make me, can they?"

"Not if you don't want to," Klaus assured him, settling back into the chair again. He understood *that* -- a horrific mistrust and dislike of doctors in general, of their odd stifling ways. It was humiliating, and what was still there of his pride wanted to rebuke those two sweatered fellows in some violent ways. "Going to rest?"

"Yeah," Dorian told him, glad when the door was shut and they were alone again. "I think so. I'm so tired... I could sleep forever..."

The twitch of his lips that got out of Klaus was a tight one, filled with a flood of bitterness and cynicism. "I could, too. G'night, Dorian."

"Good night," Dorian whispered, closing his eyes.... and that was all it took for him to drift off into a sleep that was uneasy at first, but settled down quickly into a deep and dreamless place where he could finally rest.

Chapter 7 by Kat and Tzigane

It was developing into a frightening situation for Klaus.

Frightening when he thought of it for long -- which was why he was not thinking about it. Or anything, for that matter.

Physical remnants of the humiliating, but blessedly brief, penetration had faded completely. The pain of the smaller cuts on his chest were nothing more than cat-scratches that would scar. The deeper cuts, too, would scar, probably into raised colorless lines, but the tissue was healing in its own slow way. Movement of his arms was becoming less painful. The throb of his hand and occasional searing pain of his still bandaged eye... those were a different story.

It had been a week since they'd woken up, so over a week since the capture and interrogation occurred. Klaus was a near permanent fixture in the chair beside Dorian's bed, despite his own pain. For that, Dorian was intently grateful. The only time the blond thief rose from his bed was to move to the bathroom and back. They were still feeding him a mostly liquid diet -- there had been some tearing as a result of the rape, something that they'd discussed quietly with the British thief one afternoon while Klaus had pretended to nap. It had apparently been quite bad, the reason for the depth of pain Dorian had been in besides the cuts on his face. It had seemed strange to Klaus to realize that they had no mirror in their bathroom, but he began to understand it one afternoon as Dorian's hand silently brushed over his bandaged face as if he could see what lay beneath.

Now, though, they lay close together, both awake and quiet and utterly *sick* of being where they were. Dorian sighed, moving his head slightly. The curls were back again -- Bonham had come in to help him wash his hair, though he'd protested fitfully and been terribly upset when the man had finally managed to get him into the bathroom to do it. He'd refused to remove the hospital gown entirely, despite the fact that he was trembling violently and about to fall by the time they were done. Bonham had left him alone to finish bathing and dress, though he'd stood outside the bathroom door listening every moment Lord Gloria was in there alone.

Bonham had thought Klaus might very well kill him for making Dorian do anything he didn't want to do, even if it had been something so simple and necessary as bathing!

Klaus very nearly had, even with his temper reigned in completely. The protectiveness of the Earl was... unrealistic and maddeningly frustrating for Klaus -- yet, if he'd been unable to protect the man adequately before, he would do so now, even if they were just in a hospital.

The German man was careful to only use the bathroom and shave when he was *sure* Dorian was asleep. It was hard to shave left handed, but Z had brought in an electric for him -- gotten God knows where and he hadn't asked -- so there wasn't any chance of him cutting himself up badly in his efforts. He'd taken one bath, and that was with the humiliation of a nurse supervising the action. The bandages on his injuries had been changed once a day, and it gave him too much of an opportunity to see just what had happened to his hand. He still had no idea, beyond the pain, of what his eye looked like, except that it was still a total loss.

"I think we need books," Klaus murmured.

"That might be good," Dorian agreed, managing to give him something resembling a smile. He in no way came close to the smiling, laughing creature he had once been, but neither was he crying hysterically all the time anymore.

Only at night... only in the dark...

Only when Klaus was so deeply asleep that he couldn't hear it and try his best to bring Dorian out of it.

"I could get Z to bring newspapers..." Klaus suggested, shifting in the chair slightly, leaning his left elbow on the arm of the chair, and then his chin atop his fisted hand. "I hate being in hospital."

The tilt of lips that Dorian gave him wasn't even the beginning of a smile, but it was better than nothing. "You always have, Major," he said quietly. He hadn't called Klaus darling since he'd wakened.

Klaus had never thought he'd miss something that annoying so *stupidly* much. "Dorian... why have you stopped calling me 'darling'?" Klaus asked after a moment's silence. He might as well ask -- isolated as they were, it wasn't as if there was anything better to talk about.

There was a distinct tremble across those fine, pale lips, and Dorian closed his eyes momentarily, voice hoarse when it came out finally. "Because I don't deser..."

"Hello?" came a voice accompanied by a knock.

That horrible, horrible voice -- those men, no, idiots, had left he and Dorian alone for days! Without even an attempt, and now they were back again. "Fuck off," Klaus growled, lifting his head enough to look at the door when they came in. They were determined, sickly so, in trying to get Dorian to talk, and keeping Klaus from being debriefed.

"I don't want to talk to them," Dorian groaned, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes.

"Lord Gloria, you really need to talk to someone," Dr. Tigner said firmly. "We don't want to push you, but it's very important that you do."

"He doesn't want to talk about it with you two, why don't you just *stop* pressing it," Klaus snapped. "You're idiots! Leave him alone!"

Spalding moved farther into the room, looking steadily at Klaus. "We have to talk to Lord Gloria before anyone can debrief either of you. I'm very sorry. That's just the way things are."

And he had to be debriefed, or else he *couldn't* go back to duty... or at least, it would take a while... "[Do you understand that you are stressing him out?]"

"[We understand,]" Tigner told him smoothly, "[but he needs to talk to someone. Not talking about it won't make it go away.]"

"I *don't* *want* to *talk* about it!" Dorian whispered, curling up tightly in his bed. God, he was almost ready to panic, pale and beginning to shiver. He didn't have to understand German to know what they were talking about! /I won't think about it. I WON'T talk about it! I won't!/

"[He talks with me. Isn't it enough?]" They didn't talk about that, though -- he didn't have to mention that fact to them.

"[I'm afraid not,]" Tigner replied quietly. "[He needs to see someone professional and talk about this.]"

"[Can't he do it privately? He's a civilian. He doesn't *have* to do anything NATO tells him, you remember.]" Klaus's tone was cold, uninflected as he gave the two those suggestions.

"He's a NATO contractor," Spalding said firmly. "He needs to speak to one of us."

"I don't want to, I *won't*!" Dorian insisted, voice beginning to edge on shrill. "I won't! I won't talk about it, I WON'T!"

"[You're as bad as that fucking *Stasi*,]" Klaus snapped at them in a rough snarl, before turning to Dorian. "Dorian, please calm down..."

"I don't want to talk about it," Dorian whispered, those detested tears welling up. Damn them! "I can't. I can't. I don't want to talk about it!!"

"[Eroica will not talk with either of you unless he wants to -- he can talk to a private counselor, but I think he's had enough of sick fucks trying to pick his mind!]" Klaus stood up now, letting the blanket slide off of his shoulder and lap, and moved to sit beside Dorian on the bed, a hand on his shoulder again. "Dorian, please, calm down -- you don't have to talk about it."

With a sigh, Tigner shook his head slowly and nodded for Spalding to go out. "[We'll drop back by tomorrow, Major. Do you think it would be better if I came alone?]" he asked, watching Eroica cry and Eberbach comfort him. Their relationship was even stranger than he had been led to believe, and no doubt it was doubly so after what had happened...

"[If you do come again, come alone -- I'll kill him if he says something like that again.]" Words, when heard from Iron Klaus's lips, not to be taken lightly. And then, just as quickly as he'd answered, his attention returned to Dorian.

"All right," Tigner murmured, nodding. /Perhaps if I'm alone, I can convince the Major to help me.../ "I'll see you again, Major. I'm sorry to have upset you, Lord Gloria."

He got an answer, though, from neither of them.

"Shhh, shhh... No one is going to make you talk."

"I can't... I *can't*..." was the last thing the doctor heard as he left the hospital room.

Not too long after, the door creaked open again. "M'lord?"

"Yes?" Dorian asked, eyes opening, still wet, lashes spiked from tears.

Klaus was still perched on the edge of Dorian's bed, as much a sight as Dorian was. He only drew himself up a little stiffer when James slunk into the room.

"M'lord, oh...." The little black-haired accountant trembled for a moment, before rushing to the side of the bed opposite where Klaus sat, and wrapped his arms around Dorian. "Oh, M'lo~oord!"

With an almost violent gasp, Dorian turned, flinching, and cried out, trying to pull away. "Stop! Don't touch me! Don't!!!"

And James all but jumped backwards. "Oh, m'lord, I'm so sorry! I didn't hurt you did I, m'lord? *HE* hasn't hurt you, has he? Ohh, you must come home and get better!"

The sheer pallor on Dorian's face wasn't from moving so fast as much as it was from the horror of being touched. "Just don't touch me," he managed to say finally, trembling wildly. "I don't like to be touched, Jamesie. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

"Ohh, what's been done to you, m'lord?!" James demanded. "How can I make it better? PLEASE let me help!"

"You can help by not making me talk about it, Jamesie-dear. Just please, I... I don't want to talk about it. Tell me everything's all right with you? Tell me North Downs is fine. Bring me something to read, old newspapers, anything," Dorian said wanly, shivering and moving closer to the side of the bed at which Klaus still sat.

"Old newspapers?" James's eyes glinted for a moment, and he nodded obediently. "Anything else, m'lord? Anything?!"

"Just peace and quiet and keep those damned psychiatrists away," Dorian murmured, cringing slightly. Oh, he loved Jamesie, but he wasn't up to so much energy....

"Yes, m'lord! Oh, yes, I'll do it!" And then the accountant was gone in a flash.

And Dorian had, somewhere in there, leaned so close to Klaus that when the German man touched him again, it was a gentle touch to his waist from behind, Klaus's arm up behind his back. High and nowhere near dangerous territory. "You okay?"

"No," Dorian whispered decisively. "Ah, Jamesie... he takes so much energy and..."

"He's dedicated to you -- just tell him that and he'll understand," Klaus murmured. His voice was just beside and behind Dorian, to the right, and it was suddenly very clear to him that if he leaned back perhaps and inch or two more, he would have been completely in Klaus's arms...

Instead, he shifted forward, curling into the hospital bed against slowly. /He didn't want me before, when he hadn't seen all of... *that*, when I wasn't... when I was still beautiful.../ Dorian hadn't seen his face, but he wasn't stupid. /I won't make him suffer me touching him *now*.../ "Maybe," Dorian said slowly, turning to look up at him. "You've been so kind, Major. Thank you. I... don't know what I would do without you."

The bandages on the right side of Klaus's face always irritated it a little, so it was always a little red, but when the left side, too, flooded red, he knew that he'd said something that Klaus just didn't know what to do with. "You deserve to be treated well."

The smile that earned him was so sad that it was somehow terrible, and Dorian licked his lower lip to wet it, saying simply, "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Said almost fondly, as Klaus moved those few inches from the edge of the bed to his chair, picking up the blanket again. "The psych people won't be returning today."

"I'm grateful for that, too," Dorian told him, watching Klaus almost yearningly. "I hate them. I don't want to talk about it. Talking about it will only make it worse..." And how much of it did he remember, anyway? He didn't know. He wouldn't think about it!

"I understand that. They already had me tell them everything I could remember; they might as well have debriefed me. Now I'll... have to tell it twice." That prospect bothered him a little, but there was nothing he could do for it. It was part of his duty. A shift, and he moved his hand to rest on Dorian's hand, very lightly.

With a low sigh, Dorian closed his eyes. "I'm so sorry, Major. I just can't. I can't. If I think about it, if I talk about it, I'll fly all to pieces and never find them to put back together again! I'm sorry! I know it's stupid and childish, but I just can't!"

"I'm not asking you to, Dorian," Klaus reminded him.

"I know," Dorian whispered. "I know."

"It doesn't matter to me at all if you don't want to talk, Dorian. The only reason I said anything was because they're my superior officers."

Dorian took in a deep breath. "They seem to think I'll feel better if I talk. I just... I won't, though. I can't. If I could, I would, I just can't."

"'t didn't help me feel any better about it all," Klaus told him, not yet letting go of the thief's hand. "If you ever can talk about it, I'll listen. If you can't, I'll still listen to you."

Finally, finally, like the sun peeking out from behind storm-laden clouds, Dorian smiled at him -- a *real* Dorian smile. "Thank you. I don't know what I ever could have done for you to be so good to me, but... Thank you."

Klaus wanted to capture that smile, but didn't have a camera -- so instead, he let it sear into his vision, trying to overwrite some of the worse things that lingered in his mind. "You've done a lot of things over the years. Pissed me off a lot, but 's just because I have a temper. You're a good, w-wonderful person, Dorian."

That brought a strange little hiccough of breath and glistening eyes. "Please, Klaus," he whispered shakily. "Please don't say things like that. I don't know if I can bear it..."

"Why not?"

The blond thief shook his head, biting his lip. "I wanted so badly for you to think well of me before, and now, after everything, after what happened. I just... I'm not... I can't..." /I can't be worthy of you,/ he wanted to say, but he didn't know how. "I don't know..."

"I've always thought well of you. You're impressive in what you do, and do 't well. I just..." /Say it, dammit, say it now or never!/ "Had too much pride to tell you before."

That seemed to stall Dorian cold, his lips parting slightly, expression confused. "Why now?" he whispered, looking at Klaus. "Why not before?"

"I don't know." Truthful words, though the truth of them probably didn't help. Klaus shifted, leaning back in the chair, absently rubbing the back of Dorian's hand with his own. "You've seen..." /Parts of me, humiliated, vulnerability, fear, concern, god-dammit you *saw* me frightened for you, I thought you were going to be killed.../ "Things that... I-I..." Klaus took a moment of shaky silence to reign himself in, before he said what he was thinking. "I just can now."

The realization that it took near-death to drag any sort of admission, even of admiration, from Klaus was.... so typical. He turned a palm that paused visibly before clasping Klaus's left hand lightly, his face serious. "I'm glad," he said simply. "There's never been anyone I've..." Loved, he would have said before, but now... "...admired as much as I admire you."

Admiration, though, Klaus knew what to do with. Or, could act like he knew what to do with it. "'n't know why you would. I just do my duty." /And not even effectively, or we wouldn't be sitting here!/ Still it must have been a little startling to have Klaus clasp his hand back, just as lightly but it was certainly not an accident.

"No one else... could *ever*..." Could ever do what Klaus could do. Could ever steal his heart and not give it back. Could ever be so very wonderful and worthy to someone as unworthy as *Dorian*. He bit his lip tightly and shook his head, gaze glistening. "No one else could ever be as wonderful as you," Dorian finally told him hoarsely.

"Don't try to feed me romantic drivel," Klaus murmured, meeting Dorian's gaze with his own still hazy one. His vision was still clear, but the problem of focusing was still there, learning to rely on just one eye. "I don't take compliments... just... if you want to do something like that, get better."

That hurt, somehow, and hurt so much differently than anything Klaus had ever said before. He had ought to be able to take it as he always did, to understand it as he always did, but Dorian's own emotions of shame and sheer unworthiness worked against him in that so that he couldn't understand anything at all. "Of course," he said dully, closing his eyes. "I'll get better, Major..." /So I can leave and stop bothering you so much with my romantic drivel. Even when I try not to annoy you with these things, I can't help myself!/

"Gut." Something roughed Klaus's voice as he stroked the back of Dorian's hand with his thumb, hands still clasped palm to palm. He didn't want to think of that; the factor that touched his voice was... just blanked it out. "Gut." Silence fell for a few moments, and Dorian's lack of movement led Klaus to believe him asleep. "Get better so we can go out on the field again together. If I could make it so you'd smile again..."

That brought a slight shift, Dorian tilting his head up slightly. "I'll try to smile for you, if you want. It just seems so hard right now..." And smiling hurt his face, which in turn hurt his heart....

"This should never have happened to you, Dorian," Klaus murmured, looking a little guilty at having been caught. He'd thought the other man asleep, and he wasn't! "It wasn't deserved, and that sick..." Another word was growled out, one Dorian didn't recognize but could tell was a curse. "That he touched you, hurt you like this... I'm going to kill him once we're out of here."

For a moment, the entirety of Dorian's body was doused with what seemed a strange joy at the thought, at Klaus's words. He smiled, not caring that it hurt. "I'd like that," he said firmly, yearningly. "I'd like that *very* much!"

It was starting to sink into Klaus that the man he'd known as Eroica was either very different from Lord Gloria, Dorian himself, or that what had happened had changed Dorian. But if it was either, it was still stunning to Klaus to hear those words. He could only squeeze Dorian's hand gently and nod. "Ja. 'm going to sleep now. Wake me up 'f someone comes in."

"All right," Dorian agreed quietly. "Do you want to lay down a while?" he asked, looking up at Klaus.

In truth, he did, but... but sleeping in the chair was all right, and just as restful. "Nein. I am fine here." And he didn't want to let go of Dorian's hand yet.

"All right," Dorian said again, closing his own eyes. "I think I'll just rest my eyes while you nap. I'll wake you..."

It was the last thing the tired major heard as he slid into a heavy sleep, half emotional exhaustion, half the drugs hitting his system.


"He won't talk to anyone," Z said with a sigh. "And the Major won't let anyone talk to him, even though he *needs* to. If they don't cooperate, we're never going to get to debrief them."

"From what the psych people are reading off of the Major, Z, I don't think it's going to *matter* if he's debriefed or not," A said unhappily, looking at the coffee cup he held. It was becoming a sort of life's blood now...

Bonham sighed heavily and peered into his own styrofoam cup. "And the Earl *flinches* if anyone gets too near him..."

"Unless it's Uncle NATO!" James uttered mournfully. "Lord Gloria jumped back from *me*! And kept moving closer to that... that bloody *bastard* that got him hurt!"

Z's reaction was automatic. "It wasn't the Major's fault. It couldn't be helped or the Major would have gotten Eroica out right off. He would never let something like that happen if he could stop it!"

"He's always been cruel to Lord Gloria," James told everyone there -- as if they needed a reminder of Klaus's sharp and renowned temper. "And now he's in there, sitting beside the bed and..."

"And making him feel better," Bonham said firmly. "Uncle NATO's bizarre, but he's not a total monster, James."

"He is! He IS a monster!" James half wailed and half pouted, clutching tightly at the cup of coffee he'd stolen. Bonham had paid for it after the cafeteria people had noticed, of course, but it still gave James his little rush...

"I'll agree with bizarre." Mr. A, saying that, was a surprise.

"There, there." Bonham sighed and patted James on the back as he sniffled into his cup. He shook his head. "Well, they say they can leave in another couple of days if they'll just talk to psych, but the Earl...." He shook his head again.

"Lord Gloria can leave," Z corrected. "The Major still has a surgery to... neaten up where his eye was. Tomorrow, isn't it?"

"The day after," A replied, looking over at the other agent. "The Major isn't helping with the Psych people, either. Apparently he's assuring Lord Gloria that it's okay to not talk."

A round of ponderous sighs sounded, the lot of them heavy-hearted. "Well," Bonham said, "I don't know where he'll want to go from here. I'm not sure he'll want to go."

"Who'll want to go?" A asked, looking over to Bonham.

"The Earl," Bonham clarified.

Z shook his head. "Why wouldn't he want to go home? That's where most people like to be when they're ill or hurt..."

"He probably doesn't want to leave Uncle NATO," James sniffed, frowning again.

"Well, when he's well enough to be checked out, he can't just *stay*!" A said firmly.

Bonham's round face became determined. "Well, no one will be doing anything to upset the Earl and that's that. He's badly enough off without anyone making it any worse." Dorian's men were all madly protective of him and the current situation was making most of them more than a little edgy.

"What A is saying is that once the hospital discharges him, you'll have to take him home. That's all," Z replied. "It's not unreasonable to think that you would."

"He'll probably make us stay in Bonn," James said, frowning anew all over again. "He'll make us stay here, and that means I should probably have the flat opened up again..."

"Lord Gloria has a flat in Bonn?" A sounded a little shocked, but...

"Has had for years," Bonham replied. "Ever since he met the Major...."

"This is just... it's just surreal. If... When the major is reinstated he'll probably send all of us to Alaska," A shivered.

Z smiled a little and said, "At least I like snow...."

"I suppose you'd best go along and check on the flat, James," Bonham told the little accountant. "Fetch something for the Earl to read or do while you're at it. Maybe a puzzle of some sort or something." With any luck, James would buy it and not steal it. The little man wasn't the best of thieves! Once, he was good, but then he'd gotten rusty and eccentric...

"I'll do that now," James sighed, finishing the cup quickly, then taking the cup with him as he headed towards the door.

"Well," Bonham said once he was gone, "I don't know how to make the Earl talk to the psychiatrist. If he doesn't want to talk about it, I can't see how forcing him will be good for him."

"It's just... it's the psychiatrist's insistence that they *both* talk -- one of them is worried that more might have happened and that they collaborated on what Klaus told them," Z said. "They just want to be able to give Lord Gloria a clean bill of health before they let him out."

"Then the psychiatrist's a bloody moron," Bonham said bluntly. "Why would they need to collaborate on anything? What happened is fairly clear from what we found and their injuries. If he doesn't want to talk about it, I don't see where it'll do anyone any good."

"When Lord Gloria can eat real food, again, though, it won't matter if he's told them anything or not -- he'll need to sign a statement about the mission, and we'll have to brief the Major eventually..." A sounded frustrated, but it was bureaucracy playing with them all again. The chief was dragging this entire thing out, possibly to humiliate Klaus. "Let's go -- Do E and F have the next shift?"

"Yeah," Z said, standing.

Bonham nodded. "Jones will be here shortly. The statement... what will Lord Gloria have to give for it? If he won't talk about it..."

"We'll find a way round it. Just that he agrees to everything Klaus will say about it," A shrugged. "Signing to let the Major speak for him. Maybe he'll tell us the details of earlier in the mission."

"So long as no one pushes him," Bonham said with a sigh.

Z shook his head. "I think if anyone does, the Major might hit them."

"That... that's what's bothering me most about this. Maybe when Lord Gloria leaves we can get him to sleep in a bed again," A murmured, frowning as they moved towards the trash can to throw out their cups.

"We'll see you," Bonham said, pausing beside them. "For now, I'm heading back to the waiting room to wait for Jones."

"We'll see you tomorrow," Z said pleasantly enough, with a nod, as he and A moved to go to their respective homes. Somehow, the days were just as tiring even when the Major wasn't on duty....


A light knock sounded against the door and it was pushed open, the taller of the two psychiatrists stepping into the room. "Major?" he said softly. Both men were obviously sleeping, but the German man stirred at Tigner's word.

He had all the instincts of the soldier and efficient officer he was -- one moment, dozing soundly, the next, his head was lifted from the wall it had been leaned against, and he sat up, letting go of Dorian's hand in the process. He'd forgotten he'd even been holding it. "Ja?"

"I came back alone," Tigner assured, raising his hands slightly in surrender. "To talk to you once more and to speak with Lord Gloria, if he will."

"Fine." Klaus gave a sharp gesture of his left hand, and nodded at the man. "Begin. Lord Gloria is still sleeping."

"I'm sorry that we upset you earlier," Tigner murmured, settling into the only other chair in the room. "Lord Gloria is obviously not dealing very well with what's happened."

"Obviously -- pushing it doesn't help any," Klaus replied, still glaring at the man -- looking as if he got too close to Dorian, he'd be snarled at.

"Still," the response came, "I'd like to try. I'll also need to talk to you, though, before I can clear you for debriefing. Since Lord Gloria's sleeping, would now be all right?"

"Now is fine."

Tigner smiled at him. "How have you been sleeping, Major? Any problems -- waking up, any feelings of pressure or panic?"

He got a *look* from Klaus, and a little silence before the man lied, "I sleep fine."

"Ahh," the psychiatrist said, nodding. "[No bad dreams, then?]"

"[Some. It isn't anything new.]" He seemed to relax more, speaking to the man in a tongue that Dorian couldn't understand.

"[Are the dreams related to your capture, Major?]" Tigner asked, recognizing that slight relaxation and deciding to go forward in that vein.

"[Not that I can tell.]" Klaus's replies were strangely bland and mechanical as he answered -- as if it *were* a debriefing.

Nodding slowly, Tigner resisted the urge to sigh. "[Are you still angry, Major?]"

"[Yes. Wouldn't you be?]" That was a little sharper, a dryly asked question.

"[I think I would be upset in a different way. There's nothing wrong with feeling anger, and considering the situation, it's more than natural. The fact that your anger seems almost solely based on what's happened to Lord Gloria more than what's happened to yourself...]" Tigner paused, rephrasing that thought. "[I would think you'd be angry for yourself as well.]"

"[I am, but I can't very well shoot myself and have it do much good, can I?]"

THAT wasn't a very good sign. "[I don't think I understand, Major. Why would you want to shoot yourself?]"

"[I failed miserably in my duty to protect my subordinate and to complete the mission.]" The way Klaus said it, it was as if it *should* have made perfect sense. "[I should just shoot myself. This has brought up enough trouble.]"

That didn't seem to shake Tigner visibly, but it wasn't good. "[So you're feeling a bit inadequate, perhaps? And perhaps suicidal as well?]"

"[Inadequate? I don't understand.]"

"[As if you weren't capable of doing your job,]" came the clarification.

"[I'm capable. I've just made an idiotic mistake that nearly cost the life of a contracted civilian and could have put a great number of NATO operations at risk,]" Klaus murmured calmly, shifting to reach back as best he could and grab the pack of cigarettes that Z had brought him.

That clinched the recommendations that Tigner would be making for the Major, but he asked further, "[And the desire to shoot yourself?]"

"['Passing fancy', as Lord Gloria would call it,]" Klaus murmured, sliding a cigarette between his lips and lighting it carefully. His left hand was, out of necessity, getting more dexterous. "[You asked me if I was angry at myself. I vent anger through shooting -- far better to put it to a use.]"

"[And Lord Gloria?]" the man asked, nodding towards the man in the bed. "[Have you noticed any problems that he's been having?]"

"[He's hysterical. Often. Won't let me out of his sight and won't let anyone else touch him,]" Klaus said calmly, taking a deep draw and letting it out slowly.

"[And he refuses to talk about it. Why do you think he won't talk about it?]" Tigner murmured.

"['s probably humiliated by it. I would be. I'd probably deny it ever happened, if I could,]" Klaus murmured. Rather reminiscent, what he was suggesting, of how he'd skirted vaguely over the part of the ordeal where he'd been molested.

"[Would you mind if I woke him and tried to speak with him one more time? It will help him if he will,]" the psychiatrist assured.

"[The first time he tells you that he won't talk is it. I will throw you out of this room if you press it.]" That, too, was said calmly -- but the glint in Klaus's one eye said that he'd manage it somehow.

"[I understand,]" Tigner replied, nodding. "[One last try.]" After all, there wasn't any way to force the man to talk; that would only be even more traumatic for him.

Klaus settled down in his chair, almost on the edge though -- cigarette clasped loosely in the fingers of his left hand, waiting for Tigner to move. "[Do you want me to wake him?]"

"[It might be best if you did. He responds well to you, doesn't he?]" Tigner asked quietly.

"Ja..." Another shift, his cigarette back between his lips, and he settled his hand lightly on Dorian's shoulder. "Lord Gloria...? Dorian...? Dorian, 's me. Wake up?"

It gained him a slight grumble and a sleepy opening of those eyes, a sigh of breath. "Major?" Tourmaline peered from beneath the heavy gold fringe of lashes above white bandages and, for a moment, there was all of Dorian as he used to be in that gaze. It changed, though, and Dorian as he was now became slightly fearful due to the seriousness of that gaze. "Hm?"

"Lord Gloria," the psychiatrist said softly, "I'm back again. I'm not going to make you talk about anything you don't want to talk about. You don't have to worry about that."

Worried blue eyes sought out Klaus, pale face somehow desperate. "Major..."

"If you don't want to, he'll leave," was Klaus's quiet assurance to a man that he had sworn to hate for years. Sworn, but never fulfilled...

That promise was enough to make Dorian turn and look suspiciously at the psychiatrist, but he seemed to agree to the man being there. "All right..." he said slowly. "So long as I don't have to talk about anything I don't want to talk about."

Nodding, the German man sat back in the chair again, going back to smoking -- essentially, the doctor was not going to be able to get him to vacate his protective position beside Dorian's bed.

"Lord Gloria... tell me, how do you view your work for NATO?" Tigner asked after a moment's thought -- round about, he would get what information he could, pressing as far as he could.

"It's enjoyable," Dorian said, curling up slightly to move his feet farther away from where the man sat at the end of the bed. "It's high-risk, but also high-excitement. I... I like that," he admitted.

"So you take the jobs because of the excitement? You can be honest with me, Lord Gloria."

Unhesitatingly, Dorian replied, "I take the jobs because Klaus is on them, and he deserves to have the best." There was no question of whether or not Dorian was the best at what he did.

The German man nodded to that. "Dorian t... truly is the best possible."

"His track record with you proves that," Tigner smiled. That afternoon he'd skimmed the files on them that he could reach with his clearance, and been mightily impressed by the odd dynamics of their relationship and working habits. It had cast Dorian in a slightly better light, and Klaus in a slightly worse light, however, than he'd viewed them before. "Do you still think you're the best?"

"Yes," Dorian said simply. There had been nothing wrong with his tactics for breaking in. Those had been perfect... even if it had been a trap.... A tremor worked through him and his brows drew together slightly. "I do."

"Klaus still thinks the same. So this entire... unfortunate incident hasn't affected either of your own perceptions of your professional selves. But how do you view *yourself* now?" He'd already gotten the answer vaguely from Klaus -- an event that was work related hadn't taken down his opinion of himself in the realm of duty, but had scraped so very low his personal opinion of who he was... and Tigner sensed the same sort of answer, if any answer at all, would come from Dorian.

Silence met that question and, for a while, it seemed that Dorian wouldn't answer. When he did, it was sort of oblique. "I've never been ashamed of anything that I was or... or that I am..." Only now, he was, horribly, deeply, terribly ashamed, mortified that Klaus had seen those perverse and terrible things done to him, ashamed because of his vanity and what had been done to his face, just terribly horribly *embarrassed*, and he felt dirty. Yes... "I...." He shook his head.

"Just tell me if your view of yourself has changed. Yes or no -- you don't even have to tell me how it's changed, Lord Gloria."

"Yes." Oh, that was definite. How could it not be, when he felt the way that he did now?

"All right. Do you think there's any way you could ever view yourself the same again?"

The next answer was just as certain, but softer, almost whispered, and those golden lashes were closed, hands curling closer to Major Eberbach. "No."

Tigner watched the strangely unconscious movement of Klaus's left hand. Cigarette back between lips, hand settling atop one of Dorian's. Was the man even aware of the signals he was sending -- while claiming to be straight? "Do you think you'll be able to live your life the way you used to?"

"I don't even like to go to the *loo* alone," Dorian admitted, brows knitting further. "No."

"Have you thought about what you're going to do when you're released? That's soon, Lord Gloria."

That seemed to be one of those things that Dorian wasn't going to talk about. His fingers shifted, clutching at Klaus's for comfort, a shiver rippling through him. "Next question, please."

"All right." Tigner nodded and gave both men a smile. "Will you work with NATO any longer?"

"As long as Klaus needs me, yes," was the simple reply. "When Klaus no longer needs me, no. I'm not in this for politics, Doctor. That's someone else's call. I'm in this for..." That smooth, deep voice paused, slowing. "Call it admiration, if you will."

"Do you talk with Major Eberbach outside of work?"

THAT brought on a pause, as if Lord Gloria had to consider the matter. "Inevitably, however we meet, it ends up being work, one way or another. Sort of...." There had been the meeting in Iran, but even that had been something... *together*, hadn't it?

"Do you think that you'll contact Major Eberbach when you're released from the hospital? The two of you seem to be rather good friends."

"I don't know..." That answer seemed melancholy, said. "Not if he doesn't want me to, I suppose, but either way, I really don't think that's any of your business...."

Then Dorian was questioning it himself, and defensive about it. "And what would you do if Major Eberbach could no longer hire you for contract jobs?"

"That's an idiotic question," Klaus snapped. "I would never *not* hire Dorian!"

"Do you mean..." Dorian considered the matter. "If someone told Major Eberbach I couldn't be hired, I'd ignore them and come anyway. My accountant would see we were paid, in the end. If *that's* what you mean..."

"I mean if Major Eberbach wasn't there to hire you," he breached quietly, darting a look to Klaus to gauge a reaction.

And saw only a stunned grey-green eye, pupil narrowed in some un-placeable emotion.

"I won't work for NATO without Major Eberbach," Dorian said firmly, shifting. "What's this all about?"

"First, tell me if you would still talk with him."

"[You fucking son-of-a-bitch....]" A soft German utterance, directed straight at Tigner. "[You can't have meant that...]"

"Yes... No... I don't know, why does it matter, what is this about!? It's not about anything that happened, is it!?" Dorian demanded, panicking.

The soft-spoken seeming doctor smiled at them both then, an almost nervous expression. "There's no need to become on edge, either of you..." Klaus looked like any moment he'd lunge at the man's throat, so Tigner stood up, smiling again. "I'm trying to gauge the strength of the bond between the two of you -- since each of you is so intent on the other's condition."

Dorian was shaking, pale beneath his bandages as he shifted to sit up on a hip. "I don't think I want to talk to you anymore," he said sharply, shaking his head. "I don't want to talk about this anymore!"

Klaus, though, was not bellowing as Dorian expected -- he was shaking as he stood up, tossing his cigarette back towards the bed-pan. "[Get out. You fucking high-and-mighty doctor, think you're going to ruin my life by pulling this shit on me...]"

"[My apologies, Major,]" Tigner said quietly as he moved towards the door, keeping an eye on both of them. "[I hope you're both feeling better soon...]"

"[God *DAMMIT*!!!]" he roared at the door that shut behind the man. It left him without an outlet for the anger, no, fury, that had his body caught tight -- standing beside Dorian's bed, facing the door, hand clenched into a fist and what he could move of his wounded right hand trying to fist itself. "Fuck..."

"Klaus?" Dorian whispered, tearing up as he moved away from him slightly. It seemed prudent. It actually seemed prudent to remove himself from the room, but he was afraid to do that. "I'm sure he didn't mean it..."

"Fucking hell... 's not going to... I-I... I... *FUCK*. That god-damned son-of a bitch!!!" It was barely coherent as words anymore, Klaus's swearing -- and only a moment longer before the man stormed away into the bathroom, still cursing, now in four, perhaps five tongues -- loud, sharp words probably aimed at every human he'd ever met. The IV stand couldn't move as fast as he did, and it tore out again, drawing another smattering of sharper curse words than before.

And then, from inside of the bathroom, lights off, Dorian could hear a pounding.

Unable to help himself, Dorian began an unsteady crying again. He was afraid to call the nurse -- they gave him the creeps! He wished desperately for Bonham as he reached for the call button, hiccoughing with fear.

"My Lord!?"

"Is something... Major?!" E's voice, joining Jones's in the worry as the door was opened and they, along with F, peeked into the room. Dorian looked horrified, and the sound of swearing and pounding from the bathroom...

Jones dove for the call-button.

By the time the nurse came in, the sound of shattering tile was more than obvious and Dorian was in a state of such high dudgeon that he was hyperventilating, curled tightly against the head of his bed and fending off Jones's attempts at comfort desperately. Blue eyes were trained on a bathroom door that was locked, despite E's efforts to the contrary. "What's going on in here!?"

"Th-the major!!!" Agent E exclaimed. "He's locked himself in the bathroom..."

"I'll fetch some keys and security," the nurse said quickly.

"NO!" Dorian yelled, breath hitching wildly. "Jones!!"

"Fetch security!" Jones told her, diving for the door -- he had a set of picks out of his pocket in record time, and the simple latch of the bathroom door was undone.

The scene that greeted them within was worse than disturbing -- it was like some bizarre horror movie ritual performed in an insane asylum of old, Klaus repeatedly slamming his left hand into the white tile even once it was shattered, blood streaming down his fingers, and the sight of it made Dorian cry out, a terrible, pained sound as he got out of bed and moved forward. "NO! *STOP* it!!!"

But Klaus didn't *seem* to hear Dorian -- he just kept striking, over and over mechanically, snarling out obscenities.

"Stop it, stop it, *STOP* it!" Dorian moaned, moving past Jones and E, neither of whom seemed capable of doing more than staring in shock. "*STOP* it, Klaus!!!" he cried, reaching for the hand that continued pummelling the broken wall.

Dorian didn't abort that strike, but he did stop the next. Tight muscles under his hands were shaking, and Klaus's every breath hissed in and out between clenched teeth. He wanted to kill something. Throttle something. Hurt something -- not Dorian. Not... oh, he did! He wanted to hurt anything, but couldn't... couldn't do it to Dorian. No, not Dorian. Not...

"Stop it," Dorian sobbed, shaking, clutching Klaus's hand to him despite the horrified onlookers. "Stop it, stop it, stop it!"

There were bits of ceramic drilled into the flesh of that hand, one knuckle split, maybe a fracture -- Klaus couldn't feel any of it yet. Only the thrum of anger in his veins and Dorian's sobbing pleas to him. Dorian was crying and... it was his fault. It was all, entirely his fault, anyway, so why not this, now, too?

Klaus was frozen, unresisting as Dorian clutched his blood-smeared hand against his chest, getting some of it on his hospital gown.

It was then that the two orderlies came in.

"Here, here, move out of the way, there's a good fellow," the first one said, pushing Jones out of the way and heading forward as if to manhandle Dorian away from Klaus as well, bare-assed in a gown or not.

Less than a foot away from Dorian, though, the man got a sharply snarled, "[Go the fuck away!]" from Klaus, the man barely turning his head to look at him.

"Here, now," the second orderly soothed over the sound of the tall blond's hitched breaths. "Just come on out. Someone's going to have to take a look at your hand...."

Both men were hoping it wouldn't take a drugging to get the large, tense officer out of the small room, or the blond man off of his wounded hand.

Adrenaline wouldn't yet let Klaus feel embarrassed that orderlies had been brought in, or that the door had been picked to gain entry... But it would soon. For the moment, though, he responded with that adrenaline. "'s all right, Dorian. I've stopped."

"I c-c-can't b-b-b-b-ear it!" Dorian whimpered, shuddering. "Y-y-your h-h-a nd..." Oh, it was torn and bleeding, and his breath caught in his throat at the realization, blood everywhere and on *him* again, and for a moment, he thought he wouldn't get his breath back at all. It did come, though, finally, as he swayed, shuddering. "Oh, *GOD*...."

But it didn't matter.

Bloodied hand or not, Klaus caught the slight man quickly when he fainted and pulled him close as he looked to the orderlies for help in getting Dorian back to his bed.

"Lord, what a circus," the first of them muttered, moving forward gingerly. He was worried if he tried to take the blond man away from the other one, he'd get punched, so he said soothingly, "We'll just put him in bed, all right? And my friend here will help you back to your bed, all right?"

"Ja. I can't..." His other hand was still useless, and now the muscles that had been sliced were starting to scream at him in protest for trying to bear Dorian's weight. "Need to sit down..."

"I'm going to get the doctor," the nurse said, peeking into the room for a moment, then moving on.

"Lord," Jones breathed as they got things settled. "Jesus. Poor Earl..."

"Poor Major," E whispered, the orderlies putting their two wounded back in their respective beds.

"I'm going to call A," F told E, and then moved out the door.

Klaus was still breathing hard, trying to ease himself down from the surge of numb anger -- the end of it was like going from ice-water to hot. Both hands, the old wounded and the freshly wounded one, were folded limply and unmoving in his lap, leaning back against the partly vertical back of his mattress, and he was looking nearly straight ahead, except when Dorian made a noise, and there were very few of those. Only stray hiccoughs sounded, at best, the other man laying still and white on his hospital bed.

The door opened again, Dr. Schneider coming in with strong strides and glancing at all of the people standing around. "You two," he said shortly, glancing into the bathroom. "Clean that mess up, please. And you two..."

"We'll stay out of your way, Doctor," E said respectfully.

"Completely. We'll be outside," Jones promised softly, already backing towards the door.

It was starting to sink into Klaus that he'd just, in a fit of temper, given them even more of a reason to discharge him. His life, his duty, the *only* person he was or had ever cared to be was going to be taken away from him... He remained quiet for the moment, trying to not feel the pain in either hand.

"Well, Major," the doctor said. "I hope that the damage I see *is* limited mostly to your left hand...." Catching his attention, a nurse moved into the room, looking nervous. "Bring me surgical tweezers, gauze and disinfectant," the man said with a sigh. "As well as new bandages for the Major's other injuries. I'm going to take a look at those while I'm here."

"[I didn't hit anything with my right,]" Klaus told him, laying his head back against the mattress as he let the man start his work once the nurse returned. No real reactions to any pain as the few shards of ceramic in his skin were removed.

"Well, we'll have to take X-rays of this. Call radiology and ask them to slip him in," Dr. Schneider murmured to the nurse, disinfecting the hand, "and bring back fresh gowns for both of them, since it appears that Lord Gloria's gotten a bit bloody, as well." Looking at Klaus, he said, "It doesn't *look* broken, but there are a lot of small bones in the hand. I want to see a film on it before I decide anything else. Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to untie your gown and take a look at your chest, all right?"

"[I mind, but I won't stop you,]" Klaus told him. It was a medical necessity, he knew -- the man had to look at his wounds, but it didn't make him any more comfortable with having so little on.

The other man's motions were matter-of-fact, quickly and easily accomplished. "You've strained a few stitches," the man said disapprovingly, disinfecting the area. There was a fair bit of drainage, but the stitches had held, so it would be all right. "Aside from that, you seem to be all right..." As the orderlies moved out of the bathroom, Dr. Schneider said absently, "Could you please hurry along the nurse with those hospital gowns?"

"Will do," the second one promised him as they moved out with bits of tile in the biohazard trash-can from the room.

Klaus let out a little hiss of breath with the application of disinfectant, but only closed his eyes. "[When will I be... discharged from the hospital?]"

"We're going to have to do a bit of surgery to clean up the area around your eye, Major," the doctor told him. "After that, then you can go home. Another week, probably. Surgery is scheduled for the same day as Lord Gloria's release, day after tomorrow."

"[Lord Gloria is being released...?]" So soon! And if he was being discharged from his position... Misery clutched tight at his chest as he tried to not think about that. No, Dorian probably wouldn't contact him.

"Yes. The gashes on his face are healing well, and the torn..." The doctor paused, coughing. "The other affected areas are healing, as well."

"[Good,]" Klaus sighed softly. "[That's... good.]" /He'll get better./

"Hmmmm," the doctor said in agreement. "With any luck, plastic surgery will diminish the scarring somewhat for both of you. We'll see," he said, looking now at Klaus's eye, or rather the lack thereof.

"[I don't care.]" It felt strange to have that bandage removed -- it was familiar now, even if he hated it. /It doesn't matter. Nothing fucking matters../

"Well, it makes some people feel better to know that," was the reply as the doctor re-bandaged him. "I'm given to understand Lord Gloria passed out... Does he do that often? The sight of blood, the nurse suggested..."

"He doesn't faint. I... scared him badly," Klaus admitted, English a bit thick when he decided to switch back.

"All right, well, then, we'll just take a look at him now, all right? Lean back a bit, Major. I'm going to get the nurse to bring you some pain medication shortly, before radiology comes to get you, all right?"

"All right." Klaus acquiesced, relaxing back against the mattress a little, letting his gaze drift over to Dorian's sleeping form. He'd frightened the man, made him half hysterical all over again...

"Lord Gloria," the doctor said, moving to the bed. "Lord Gloria. Can you hear me?"

The distinct flutter of Dorian's lashes came in response, a slightly hitched breath sending a quick shudder through him as his eyes opened. "Wha...?"

"You fainted," the doctor said. "We're going to bring in a fresh gown and let you change, but I'm also going to check your injuries. Is that all right?"

The truth was that Dorian wanted to pull away to the other side of the bed. He didn't want the man to check him, *any* of him, despite the fact that someone obviously had before now. He didn't want to be touched. He wanted... "How is Klaus?" His face turned towards the other bed. "How are you?"

"I'm fine." Oh, he was lying... lying completely. No, he wanted to have a break-down, wanted to kill something, wanted to cry... "I didn't mean to upset you."

"Your poor hand," Dorian whispered as the doctor began to lightly pull bandages free from his face. "I'm so sorry he said that. That terrible *hateful* bastard. He didn't mean it the way it sounded. He can't...."

Dorian watched a wave of *something* wash over Klaus's face, and then fade back into just a blank simmer of anger and shame. "I don't know." And wouldn't know until it was official, but... his gut instinct said it was true -- the man had *apologized* to him, for Christ's sake! "If..." If it was true, it was simply the end of Klaus. The worst shame of his life; he wouldn't be able to go back to the Schloss, not having been discharged. God, what could he *do*?! He was a military man, through and through; there was and never had been a defining line between Klaus and The Major.

"Be still, now, Lord Gloria," the doctor said, the bandages gone as he looked at the healing slashes on what had obviously been an utterly beautiful face. Black thread laced its way in and out of the cuts, healing remarkably well, all things considered. "Ahh, they're coming along nicely," he murmured, nodding slowly before he began lightly touching those ebony-traced lines with antibiotic ointment.

Klaus couldn't help but look -- it was odd to see Lord Gloria looking like that, that pretty face marred by the starkness of black thread. It was *his* fault that Dorian had that done to him, *his* own fault that the Stasi officer had done that to Dorian to get to him. "That won't scar, will it...?" Klaus asked softly.

"We hope it won't be too bad," Dr. Schneider replied. "A little plastic surgery wouldn't hurt, but perhaps it won't be necessary..."

"It's that bad, then?" Dorian whispered, looking to Klaus for his reaction.

"No. It... it's better than I thought it would be." There had been so much blood he'd been afraid the Stasi officer had cut clean through...

Those clear blue eyes shut tightly, the doctor's body shifting as he re bandaged Dorian's face so that Klaus couldn't see them. A moment later, the nurse returned with two clean gowns, handing one to the German NATO agent and the other to the doctor. "Thank you," he said. "Could you pull the curtain?" he requested. "And stay while I check the rest...."

/Oh, GOD,/ Dorian thought miserably.

That put Klaus on edge a little, watching the nurse pull the curtain around Dorian's bed -- if he heard one stray noise, even in the pain that was throbbing through both hands... But he took the chance of partial privacy to rise warily from the bed, and change the gown. *He* had completely refused to wander about bare-assed in that thing and had, from the first chance he'd had to have a say about it, worn boxers beneath it.

As he changed, he could hear the doctor and nurse shifting behind the curtain, Dr. Schneider murmuring softly to Dorian. No sounds of protest came, but he knew Dorian was uncomfortable and unhappy. That had been more than obvious...

"Yes, that's going to heal just fine," Schneider was saying now, the sound of it no surprise. "Yes, let me... there, that should make you feel a bit better, as well....."

Klaus didn't want to know *what* the man was doing now -- better to stay ignorant about things if at all possible. The pain was starting to quell his need to move, so it was very quietly that he got back into the bed again, the warmth of blankets keeping the chill from his legs though they were a trouble to pull up.

When the curtain was pushed open again, Dorian was in a clean gown, but he was white as a sheet and stiff and desperate for sight of Klaus. The vision of the black-haired man was enough to make him relax a little, but even that small amount was replaced with tension again as the doctor pulled up the covers. "There. Major, radiology will be up shortly. Until then..."

Until then the man was going to sit quietly in the bed, and try to not think about anything at all. Thinking brought the rage again, and he'd already hurt his functioning hand... He gave the doctor a quite nod, trying to dismiss him.

"I'll see the two of you tomorrow if that hand isn't broken," the doctor said with a sigh as he headed for the door.

Both of them were glad to see the back of him, and before he was even out it already, Dorian was wrapped up in every ounce of covers he had, pulled all the way up to his nose. "Major," he whispered. "Please. I'm sorry. I'm sorry..." He shook his head. /Klaus. Darling. My darling..../

"It's not your fault," Klaus said gruffly, truthfully. "This is... Entirely me."

"If they..." Dorian shook his head. "They can't. They just can't. I won't... if you're not there, I can't...." /Can't see you. I won't have any excuse to see you, and if I come to you, you'll just throw me out because I'm queer and *dirty* and not worthy of you..../

"You... you can," Klaus murmured, trying his damnedest to not think about it. But it wasn't working, God, he was in a fucking NATO *hospital*, how could he *NOT* think about it?

"Klaus," Dorian whispered, mouth lingering on the next word. "Darling..." He had to say it, simply had to. "Don't say anything. Please. Just... I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry...." He was crying again, and the door opened, allowing a gurney in along with a smiling technician from radiology.

"Hi, there," the woman said quietly. "Major Eberbach...?"

Klaus gave her a nod, still looking at Dorian -- of all the damned times and bad timing possible! He wanted to reply, say anything at all to try to make the blond man understand what *he* understood himself. "Dorian, please calm down."

The soft pitiful sounds just kept on, though, even as Jones, E and F came back through the door. "Oh, my Lord," Jones sighed, shaking his head.

"Major...?"

Klaus just closed his eyes for a moment, not answering. Hopefully his hand wasn't broken...


Two days later, Dorian watched wordlessly as the nurse came in to give Klaus certain medications. He listened to her prattle about the anesthesiologist waiting downstairs and bit his lip tightly.

When Klaus returned, Dorian would be gone.

James had opened the flat in Bonn, and for that, the British man was grateful. He didn't want to leave the hospital, didn't want to leave Klaus...

Didn't want to leave.

He was afraid that if he left, he would never see him again. As much as he felt ashamed and desperately dirtied, somehow, he couldn't bring himself to feel that he was unworthy of seeing Klaus again. Klaus was, after all, a driving force in his life. In many ways, he'd had trouble getting through a day without Klaus *before* now. And now....

Now the man was a desperate part of his life. But... what if that horrible Psych man had been right...? What if Klaus was going to lose his job...?

The man had all but completely withdrawn into himself since the incident where he *had* fractured his hand. Not a break, but enough to warrant an air-brace and many many stitches. He still sat beside Dorian's bed when he could -- mostly at night now, when there was no one to tell him otherwise -- and tried to lift Dorian's spirits, but the British man could see Klaus dying inside at odd, unguarded moments.

"So you're being discharged," Klaus murmured, looking over at Dorian.

"Yes," Dorian told him sadly, looking across the way. "This afternoon. James has opened the flat in Bonn. I..." /don't want to leave you.../ "...don't want to go back to England..."

That one green eye was hooded and tired-looking and Klaus nodded. "Will you leave the address for me?"

Those words brought the sweetest most hopeful smile to Dorian's face! "Of course I will!" he said quickly. "Will... you come? Sometime?"

"I... will. I have an apartment in the older part of the city... I... I'll be staying there for a while." It was a delight to see Dorian smile -- and to know that it wasn't for the possibility of flirtation any more. Dorian wanted him for friendship, companionship... and God help him, Klaus wanted to give that and more.

Cerulean eyes closed, masking quick tearfulness. "I hope the surgery goes well, Klaus," he said quietly. "I hope everything goes perfectly. When do they think you can go home?"

"Another week." But not... not home, no. "I'll contact you when I get out, Dorian."

"I'll be waiting..." Waiting to see him again, waiting to be close to him again, if only for a moment. His was the only touch Dorian could bear, and even then, not much beyond the feel of Klaus's hand clasping his own...

A sad, slight smile crossed Klaus's lips as he nodded -- just as the door opened.

"I'll see you then, Dorian."

A nurse and doctor came in with a gurney again, and Klaus sighed as he got up from the bed and moved towards it in silence. "Good morning, Major Eberbach..."

Prattle that Klaus wanted nothing to do with was all he heard as he was moved out of the room. What he'd wanted to hear was Dorian's response.

/I love you, my Major.../ Dorian thought with a sigh. He rose, much less sore than he'd been even a few days ago, and pulled up the small travelling bag that Bonham had brought with him the day before. Inside lay underwear, tailored slacks and a button-up oxford shirt -- stuff obviously bought only recently since most of the clothing in the Bonn flat had been eaten by a vicious attack of moths courtesy of James's dislike of spending money on mothballs. Well... He supposed James would just have to replace it all, and *that* made him smile a little.

/Poor Jamesie,/ he thought as he moved to the bathroom.

He avoided looking at the still-broken tile as he dressed, contemplating the afternoon. Someone would be in to get him shortly... He'd have to leave the address for the Bonn flat with Klaus's things. /Oh, God.../ How was he ever going to sleep without Klaus there?

And how could he *tell* the man that he needed him to sleep? It would be a terrible blow to what was left of Klaus's ego to find out he was wanted as a giant teddy-bear or night-light to fend off bad dreams.

"M'lord?" Bonham's voice, as the smaller man peeked into the empty hospital room. "Is Uncle NATO gone already?"

"They took him down to surgery," Dorian called, voice flat. "He'll be back. Do me a favor and leave a note for him with the address of the flat, will you? I'll be ready in a moment..." He was buttoning his shirt, and for once, he buttoned it almost all the way to the top. He couldn't... he didn't want anyone *looking* at him...

"All right, m'lord!" Bonham went about doing just as he'd been told, writing in neat penmanship the address and 'Please Visit' beneath that. "How are you feeling today?"

"All right, I guess," Dorian told him. /I don't want to leave Klaus.../ "Maybe we can send the Major something for when he gets back. Not flowers, he wouldn't appreciate that, but... but something he'd like..."

/A job, maybe?/ "If you can think of something, m'lord, I'll find it," Bonham promised, looking back to his fully dressed Earl.

"Thank you, Bonham. You... you're too good to me, you know," Dorian said, trying not to tear up again as he sat to put on his shoes. It was only a *little* uncomfortable, but it still prompted him to finish quickly. "I'm ready..."

The little man nodded, and gave Dorian a smile -- a wide one -- and moved to grab the day-bag, now empty, that he'd brought. "Is that it, m'lord?"

"....yes," Dorian said finally, looking around the room. /Klaus shouldn't be alone when he gets back.../ "Let's go find a toy shop, Bonham. And then, let's go buy a *fish*."

"A fish?" /Well, any whim he wants to satisfy.../ God, just that Lord Gloria was having whims again made him happy. "And a toy store?"

Nodding firmly, Dorian gave him an almost-smile. "Yes. If we can, I want everything back before Major Eberbach is awake."

"Well, then -- let's go!" Bonham chuckled, a little worried, but... /Fish and a toy store...? Oh, this odds me right out.../ And then he led the way from the stark room where Lord Gloria had been for far too long. To be back among beauty and color again would no doubt help him.

"Right," Dorian agreed. /Klaus won't be alone when he wakes up!/


"Just look at this!"

"Oh -- hey, don't poke your finger at it! It puffed up!"

"What if I've killed it...?!!"

"No, I think it's supposed to do that..."

"Waas?" A slur of noise that wasn't even a word, dragged from the sweetness of unconsciousness by A and Z's voices.

"Oh, sir, you're awake!" A said, moving to sit beside his bed. "The surgery went well, Major. They say you'll be able to leave in another four or five days."

"'s good," Klaus slurred softly, eyes closing for a moment as he threatened to slip away on them again -- but curiosity got him first. "Was you poking at?"

"Eroica sent you gifts, sir," Z told him. "A red fish that's supposed to be a Japanese fighting fish. It's got instructions to feed it once a week, and there's some kind of plant in the bowl for it to eat, too. And he sent you a jigsaw puzzle, sir, and a trivia game."

"'s gone?" That had slipped his mind entirely -- well, it was expected, since consciousness had slipped him, too. "'e sent what...?"

A was nodding, though Klaus couldn't see him. "Yes, sir. He sent you a fish, a jigsaw puzzle and a trivia game. The game had a note attached that said you could play it together later."

"Huh. 's good." Shifting a little, using his elbows as levers to groggily sit up, Klaus looked at them -- well, tried to, then just closed his eye. Everything was just swimming. "'d he leave an... address?"

"Yes, sir," Z said softly. "For now, just go back to sleep. We'll be quiet for a while so that you can rest. Everything went well, so there's no need to worry."

"'ve I been disch'rged yet?"

THAT was a confusing question, and A and Z both looked at one another before Z said, "No, sir. You can't leave the hospital for another four or five days, at least."

"' know th't... 'm be'ng reliev'd 'f my... coman'..." he trailed out there, as if saying it, however incoherently, made it worse. Hours from now, after another sleep, he wouldn't even remember saying that to A and Z.

That gained a look of startled dismay from both of the agents as they looked at one another. /Relieved? But he's..../ Z thought, expression stunned. A looked no less shocked, and so he said finally, "Everything will be all right, Major. Rest..."

"Jus'... t'll me..." He was protesting that suggestion with his words, even as he slid back down beneath the covers.

"We don't know anything about that, sir," A told him quietly. "For now, sleep. We'll find out the rest."

"'ll r'ght..."

And then Klaus went back to sleep.

"I'll call B and D," Z said softly, "and get them going right now."

"Get them going...?" A asked.

Deep blue eyes looked across at him seriously. "I want to know what's going on. Don't you?"

"Yes," A nodded. "Let's find out fast, then."

With a nod, Z turned and was gone.

Chapter 8 by Kat and Tzigane

He'd given Z keys to his apartment, under the suggestion of turning on the thermostat and getting him real clothes.

What Klaus hadn't expected in the bag Z had left for him, aside from his car keys, apartment keys, and a spare pair of his boots, was a uniform. One of his very obviously, neatly pressed and folded carefully, at the top of the bag.

He donned it without hesitation, though with a little trouble. The feel of familiar fabric, cotton and wools, had been long missed during his time spent undercover in Eastern Germany, and the time in the hospital.

His hands, though, were still wrecked, and so was his eye, though it was neatly covered with an eye-patch. The stitches on his knuckles were all right to leave exposed, and careful, small bandaging covered the still sensitive stumps of what had once been his trigger and pinkie fingers on his right hand. The phantom pain of those missing fingers bothered him somewhat, but not so much that he couldn't ignore it.

What he could no longer ignore was the impossible knowledge that NATO would be getting rid of him.

That had prompted a decision on his part -- one to go directly back to Headquarters today and speak with the Chief. Klaus had never been the sort of man to put something off, no matter how distasteful it was, and so the necessity of it was impossible to withstand. He wanted to be told to his face about this decision, rather than be given third, and fourth-hand information any longer. If his career, his life itself was over because of some bastard of a psych officer...

No. No, he couldn't blame the man. There was something wrong with him -- perhaps, always had been -- but now he was a risk. A risk to NATO, a risk to missions, a risk to himself and his subordinates...

It still didn't help that his life's work was coming to an end before his very eyes.

The jigsaw puzzle and Trivial Pursuit both were put into his shoulder-bag that his clothes had been in, and he had the fish -- bowl and all, -- held carefully under one arm in his left hand. When he left the hospital, he would look like the perfect NATO officer that he'd almost always seemed to be. No fits of fury or blood -- clean polished, sharp and ready for an inspection that would never come.

"Major Eberbach?" a nurse said hesitantly from the doorway. "I have your wheelchair here... Hospital regulations state that you have to be wheeled ou..."

"I'm walking." It wasn't a snap of words. It was a calm, controlled bellow, of the sort that was expected from the man. God, he even had his hat on, cocked at just the perfect angle! And then he brushed past her.

As he walked past the nurse's station, A and Z moved to greet him, obviously having just come up the elevator. "Can we take anything, Major?" Z asked, eyeing the burdens of games, bag and fish.

"This." Klaus was being so very calm and as if... nothing at all had happened, the mission, the horrors both during the interrogation and in the hospital proper, had never happened. He was Iron Klaus, The Major, if only this last time...

He thrust the fish-bowl into Z's hands with a look to say that he'd better not drop it.

"Y-yes, sir!" Z answered, eyes widening as the fish's water shook up the sides, but didn't spill.

"Can I tote something else, Major?" A asked.

Without hesitating, Klaus imposed on A as the man had asked of him -- the bag that was slung over his shoulder was given to him, Klaus not even bothering to stop his walk down the hallway. A could hear the puzzle pieces shift in their box within it.

"We're going to my apartment first, and then to the office."

"Yes, sir!" both men answered simultaneously as they turned around and marched behind Klaus to the elevator. The doors came open immediately upon a punch of the call button, as if they had known that Iron Klaus was standing outside of them, and all three men got into the thing and headed down into the lobby. From there, it was a quick trip to the parking decks, Z leading the way to his own car, a black Benz much like Klaus's. "Here we go, sir," he said, keying open the locks.

Klaus slid into the back passenger seat, right side, as had always been his custom. They knew. A and Z... they knew by now. It was all just a final, stretch of a facade, one last pathetic moment... Klaus looked down under the guise of studying something, letting bangs and the brim of his hat shield his face from anyone who looked back at him in the rear-view mirror. He'd stay Iron until the last and no one would see weakness.

"Drive."

"Yes, sir," Z said, pulling out of the parking spot and towards the front gate. There, they paid the parking fee and drove away from the hospital in silence. It was a beautiful morning, crisp and cool with the sun shining and the wind blowing pleasantly, not a cloud in the sky.

This was Germany. This was Free Germany, West Germany, that he'd done so much to protect in his life. It was and always would be home. Klaus wasn't losing that, at least -- it would just be home in different ways. He'd find some other way to serve the Fatherland.

He was composed and calm during the drive to his flat, barked at Z and A to follow him up. It was a rare chance -- the only one they'd ever had -- to see the sort of place in which Klaus would live.

The apartment was nearly sterile, so sheerly lacking in personality was it, and Z was suddenly *very* glad that Eroica had given the Major a fish as they stepped inside and saw the purely functional furniture and the bare walls. "Where would you like me to put your fish, sir?" he asked, holding the big round bowl carefully.

"On that table," he directed towards a small table where he ordinarily ate dinner. Klaus took his hat off then, setting it on the nearby kitchen counter. Not only a sterile space that made the hospital seem welcoming, but small. "Just put my bag by the door. Let's leave."

"Yes, sir," A said, putting down Klaus's bag as Z obediently placed the fish in the indicated spot before they headed back out to the Benz again.

Once they were in the car, the trip to Headquarters was short and silent. Both of Klaus's agents knew what was coming -- B and D had done an excellent job of finding out that NATO was going to pension Klaus off and retire him from duty, period. Not even a desk job was going to be offered him, though the Major's notorious dislike of paperwork MIGHT have had something to do with that...

"We're here," Z said softly as he parked his car, glancing back at the Major in the rear-view mirror.

Stiff chinned, single eye cold and flat as two had been in the early days -- when Z had suspected secretly that the man was a robotic prototype super-human agent. It was silly to think that now, but in those first days, what else could Klaus have been? It wasn't that he'd lost any of his edge -- but learning some of his odd habits, and almost endearing quirks humanized him greatly.

"I know." He opened the door with no pause, sweeping the parking garage with a monocular gaze that he was adjusting to dealing with. "Thank you, Mr. Z. Mr. A." To let it slip, or... /They know. They know./ "It's been a pleasure to work with both of you. You're both fine agents -- I'm glad I never sent you permanently to Alaska."

"Thank you, sir." Z answered as they stood together. "It's been an honor to work for you."

"We hold you in highest regard, sir," A murmured, nodding to Klaus. "Every one of us."

No smile -- only a compression of his mouth, and a stiff nod. Then he shook hands with both of them, gruffly, and walked away. In through the parking garage's entrance, he seemed to surprise a great number of people as he wound up the floors to the floor where his office, Chief and Alphabet awaited.

And he still got the satisfaction of having the entire room fall into silence when he stepped in. "Get back to work." No snapping, though -- just a flat, hard-edged order to them. Immediately, all of them obeyed, but they all seemed so happy to see him that they were *smiling* at him as he walked through to his own office to gather together the few personal belongings he kept there so that they would be ready after he had spoken with the Chief. Tossed together into a small paper-tray box. Everything -- pens, little bits of things he'd picked up in some mission or another, a gun in his desk, lighter, cigarettes... His favorite brand. One was put into his mouth, lit and savored for a moment, before he swept the room one last time and then moved out of his office.

Finally, Klaus walked over to the Chief's door, and knocked. "Come in!" came the call, and he pushed the door open and entered.

Inside, the old man sat at his desk, papers stacked in front of him, the majority of the desktop clean as if he had been expecting Klaus. "Have a seat, Major."

He did sit in the indicated chair, one long leg crossing languidly over the other as he let his hands settle on the arms of the chair. "Sir."

"How are you feeling?" the man asked. "We didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"I feel fine, Sir. I recover quickly." /Slovenly Bastard./

"I have your statement here," he was informed. "We didn't get one from Eroica, but your injuries indicate that the briefing given was accurate, and since he wouldn't agree to speak with the psychiatrist..." THAT earned him a *look*. "...we'll do without. As I'm sure you aware, recommendations were made from both the psychiatric unit and the medical doctors who cared for you, Major. Their recommendations were that you be retired from duty as you would most likely be unstable and volatile in dealing with further situations. Would you like to say anything to that?" he offered.

"That you'll never have another officer sitting in my office that had the same success rate and dedication as I have." Proof of that dedication was hard to miss -- two missing fingers and his eye, hidden away under a utilitarian eyepatch.

"That's probably true, Major," his Chief said, holding back a sigh. Even now, getting rid of the man, he was difficult to deal with! "However, all things considered, I'm afraid that we're going to have to take their recommendations as they stand. The paperwork is being processed currently. You'll receive a regular pension and still be able to benefit from NATO medical care, since you've been such a loyal man." He stood, holding out his hand to Klaus. "Good luck, Major Eberbach."

The hand-shake he got was as awkward as the ones that Z and A had gotten -- but it hadn't made them uncomfortable. It made the chief uncomfortable, the brush of gauze bandages against his palm, the weak clutch of only two fingers where before it would have all but crushed his hand.

Then Klaus drew back, silently, and left. Left the Chief's office, reentered his own, grabbed the little box of his belongings, and nodded a farewell to his men. G, clutching a handkerchief, wept openly as he headed towards the door, and the others didn't appear to be in much better shape. Z and A, waiting by the doorway, were the last to nod at him.

"Can I give you a ride somewhere, sir?" Z asked softly.

Drive... he'd need to re-test on his vision soon, so he could see if he was allowed to drive or not with just the one eye. "Lord Gloria's flat. I'll give you directions."

"Yes, sir!" Z said promptly, glad that the Major would allow him to go with him. The keys were in his hand automatically, and they were out the door together, heading back down to the parking bay.

Klaus had always worked well with Z, even if he was a bit of a boot-licker at times. He was a fine man, served well under his command.

They walked to the car in a companionable silence, and this time, Klaus sat front passenger side, the box of things he'd emptied from his desk resting on his lap. "Which way is it to Eroica's flat, sir?" Z asked as they pulled out onto the street.

"It's in the 'upper-class' section of the city," Klaus murmured. He rattled off the address -- then clarified it by reminding Z that it was off of a more familiar road for the younger agent.

They drove in silence for most of the way. Traffic was light, as it was only mid-morning and most of Bonn's citizens were diligently at work (or at least, in their offices). The quiet was only broken by the soft strains of Paganini and Debussy barely heard over the radio as they drove along. "Somewhere near here..." Z finally said softly, slowing down as they reached the section of town where Dorian's flat was, eyes glancing at each of the buildings in the 1300 block. When he finally saw it, he pulled to the side of the street and looked across at Klaus. "Major..." he said quietly, then sighed. "We're all going to miss you very much, Major. You and Eroica."

It gained him a tight silence, and Klaus swallowed back something, lips thinning again. "I... will miss all of you, too. Don't let the Chief get away with too much shit -- it'd be a pity if he did." It was awkward, and he felt oddly near to tears -- so he got out of the car quickly. "Thank you for the ride."

"You're welcome, Major," Z said quietly. "I hope to see you again."

"I hope to see you again, too. You know how where to contact me if I am ever needed." Though pensioned and retired from NATO seemed to close every door off for that.

He turned his back on the other man then, little tray-box still held as he walked towards the unfamiliar building that bore the number of being Lord Gloria's. A pause for a moment at the door, and he rang the buzzer.

#"Yes!?"# came a faintly hysterical voice over the intercom. #"If you're not the Major, go away!"#

"It is," he spoke into the intercom. "It's Major Eberbach."

#"Oh, thank God, Major! Come straight up, please!"# The tinny sound of Bonham's voice over the intercom was accompanied by a clear sound of the electronic latch on the door being opened.

It let him into a stairwell that must have been built for much shorter people than him, and from there to another door, which the small man opened for him.

"Is Lord Gloria in?"

"He's locked himself in his room, Major, and barricaded the door," Bonham answered miserably. "We got the door unlocked, but we haven't managed to get the furniture he stacked in there out from in front of it. He just keeps crying..."

"Show me the room," Klaus demanded, stepping into the over-decorated place, setting his little box of desk-possessions on the table inside the door, scanning to see if the door was immediately visible. "Lord Gloria?! Dorian!"

No answer came, but Bonham pointed the way. "It's down this hall, Major. He..." Bonham shrugged. "He hasn't been sleeping, all week, but he's pretended that he has, and this morning, he found where Mr. James stashed all of the mirrors..." The miserly little thing hadn't wanted to toss them out or rent space for them, so he'd tucked them into the spare bedroom instead. Unfortunately, Dorian had found them.

Klaus didn't listen to the rest of the man's story -- instead, he rushed down that hall, towards the door at the end, slightly, barely ajar, while all the other doors were opened. He knocked first, using the brace on his left hand to hit hard enough. "Lord Gloria? Dorian. Dorian, 's me."

"Go away..." The sound was barely heard, but the soft sniffling and little hitched breaths were familiar to him -- the sound of Dorian's misery that he hated. "I don't want you to look at me this way..."

"If you don't let me in, I'll break it. I came today, just like I said I would -- I'm here, I want to see you." Firm words, sure of what they were saying. Strange, how easy it was to concentrate on Dorian instead of himself -- it certainly made him feel better.

The question that came was half-whispered, barely gotten out at all. "How can you bear to look at me at all?" Dorian eked out. "How can you look at me when I look like this?" /If you didn't like looking at me when I was beautiful..../

"You look fine, Dorian!" Klaus called at him through the door.

"No," Dorian moaned. "No, I *don't*!"

"*Yes* you *do* -- I saw what you looked like when the stitches were still in place! It isn't bad, Dorian!"

Finally, answer came, soft and low. "Really? You....don't mind it? Aren't just saying it to make me feel better?" /If Klaus doesn't mind...if Klaus doesn't mind, I can live with it. I can... I can't...!/ One hand tangled momentarily in snarled locks and he almost laughed. Oh, God, what a mess. What would Klaus say when he saw it? He'd been so upset...

"I've never said something in my life *just* to make someone feel better," Klaus uttered, leaning still against the door. "Now please let me in."

"....all right." The sound of furniture being pushed away from the door came and, finally, it came open slowly, Dorian standing there, shorn locks ragged as he bit his lip. He'd been so upset, so terribly....

"What... what did you do to yourself?" Klaus asked, pushing in through the doorway just in case Dorian saw fit to shut it on his face with him still on the other side. Now there was no risk of that. "Your hair..."

"I was upset," Dorian whispered, eyes welling over with tears. "I thought, if I was so terribly ugly, maybe... maybe I should... maybe I should..."

"Ohh, Gott," Klaus whispered to himself, moving forwards to pull the tearful earl into a light, light embrace. The Earl's hair was a mess -- as if he'd hacked at it with scissors, instead of cut.

That embrace was all that was necessary to finally make Dorian sob, a coarse sound, harsh in his throat, unlike the stifled sounds he'd made as he'd been raped and tortured, unlike any of the noises he'd made in hospital or any time before that Klaus could remember. It ached and was raw, followed by another and another until the entirety of him was shaking with it, his arms coming up to cling to the German man tightly.

Klaus kept himself composed, letting Dorian cling, one of his own arms around the Briton's shoulders, the other loosely around his waist, a light, almost gentle hand on his back. "Shhh, shhh..."

"Major," Bonham said softly behind them, watching the two worriedly. "If you could get him to sleep..."

"I will try," the German man promised quietly, still holding Dorian and letting himself be held, fingers of his left hand soothing against the man's spine. It took him a moment of thought how to manage the position and then grit back the pain of stitches bearing pressure as he picked Dorian up, a slip of motion to catch him under the knees and take a good many steps to deposit him atop the bed. The sounds of that raucous, heart-broken sobbing never faltered any more than Dorian's grip on him, and even when he was lain on the bed, he wouldn't let go of Klaus. That left the other man no choice but to lay down beside him, and the Earl curled automatically against him, almost breathless with the force of his weeping.

Dorian would have to stop crying eventually. Klaus wasn't going to rush the coming of that moment -- no, he was going to let Dorian hold him, and hold the man in turn, absently studying the sobbing face. Just thin little lines, red yet from newness. It could have been so much worse and they in no way -- to Klaus, at least -- marred Dorian's beauty.

The mangled cap of golden hair shook back and forth slightly as Dorian clutched at him exhaustedly, trying to gain his breath back again. "I-I-I'm sssss..."

"No." Klaus cut him off firmly. "Don't start that -- there is nothing to be sorry for."

"I c-cried all o-o-over you," Dorian hiccoughed, finally starting to settle down. "I ruined my *hair*," he whispered, tears coming more quickly again, though without the heart-wrenching sobs that time.

"You can cry over me if you want -- I can't wear this uniform anymore," Klaus murmured softly. "And your hair can be fixed."

"Ohhhhh, noooo!!" Dorian moaned, beginning to cry again in earnest. "Th-th-th they D-DIDN'T!!!"

"Shhh. Calm down, Lord Gloria," Klaus murmured softly. "Dorian... don't cry because of that." /Leave that to me. I don't want to think about it just now.../

"*Bastards*," came the shakily hitched vituperative, the slim thief trembling from head to toe with misery and exhaustion. "M-miserable b-bastards!"

"I don't want to think about it right now," Klaus told him, half fact, half a warning. "You need to rest."

The feel of Dorian's head shaking came against his shoulder. "C-can't sleep," he whispered. "Dreams..." Bad dreams, terrible things in which he relived what had happened to them and, sometimes, Klaus was so cold, and sometimes, he nearly died in them. They were horrible things, and he couldn't sleep knowing they were coming!

"I won't leave. We... you can sleep just like this." And it might chew up every nerve Klaus had, but he'd try it. He'd slept beside the man's bed, how different was it from the actual bed...?

After a while, the weeping grew to only soft hiccoughs and the blond man went silent, curled there in his arms. The feel of breaths shivered against his neck, and Dorian's hands were both pressed lightly against his chest. The scent of roses wafted up around him, tantalizing, slightly spiced, the smell of Eroica that haunted him.

Klaus couldn't tell if the man was sleeping or not; only that he was quiet, calm and warm. So strange, to feel Dorian close against him like that -- he'd always been reluctant to touch anyone, just a simple matter of his upbringing. He'd held the man a few years before when they were in the tank, though... and that was when he'd hated him.

He didn't hate Dorian anymore, hadn't past that initial rage and outrage. "Everything... is meant to happen... for one reason or another. This would be the end... of my killer cycle."

A murmur of sound came from the thief, then, barely heard. "Mmmm?" Definitely asleep, then, and only paying attention to him in the last vestiges of wakefulness that might have clung to him.

"Sleep." A soft order, as Klaus closed his eyes, letting his stiff form relax minutely into a state of watchful doze.

When Dorian finally woke, it was fully dark out and he felt... better. A glance at the clock revealed a red LED display that told him he'd slept nearly eight hours and he felt better than he'd felt since he'd left the hospital. A slight shift reminded him that Klaus was in bed with him -- at some point, he'd turned over, and they were now spooned together with Klaus's arm wrapped about his waist.

Maybe he felt better than he'd *ever* felt...

Klaus dozed for longer than Dorian did, but another shift or so brought him to a hazy consciousness. He was feeling pain again, but his medications were at the apartment, so that would have to wait. For a moment, the arm around Dorian's waist tightened, as Klaus sat up a little. "Was?"

"Hi," Dorian whispered sleepily. "Thank you for staying..."

"There was no reason for me not to stay," Klaus murmured, looking around the apartment and alighting his eyes on the clock. Late. But not too late to walk to the main road and catch a taxi, if he wanted... but he didn't. "Sleep well?"

"Yes," Dorian answered, eyes closing as he laid his head back down on Klaus's arm before turning to look at him. "I haven't slept in almost a week. I couldn't, without... I couldn't."

"It was strange to not look over and see you there." As close as he would come to admitting to some of the same troubles. "So, what now?"

"Would... you stay?" Dorian asked hesitantly. "I can send someone to fetch your things...."

"Stay here...? I've left my contact address as my apartment..." There was no one there to forward a call for him or any other nonsense, if he was gone from there. Just a lone answering machine that had probably blown itself up. "It... wouldn't bother me."

A growl sounded between them, Dorian's stomach rather loudly announcing that he hadn't eaten since the night before. "Ah... perhaps we could see what's in the kitchen or call out for something," he suggested. "And while we eat, I'll send someone to bring some things from your place? Did you..." Dorian gave him a smile that seemed tentative. "Did you like your fish?"

"Yes, I like it very much," Klaus murmured truthfully. The little fish had been company of sorts, and entertainment when he'd badly needed it. "I've got my keys in my pocket here..." He shifted back a little, taking the keys out. So that was what had been stabbing him in the leg. "Your men know where I live?"

Sheepishly, Dorian nodded. "I know everywhere you have to go, da... Klaus," he said solemnly, closing his eyes. "I'm sorry. I do, though."

That was an odd violation of his privacy... then again, the Soviets knew every place he stayed, too. Probably still had it all under surveillance. "'s convenient," Klaus excused, sitting up a little more. "Yeah, have them go there."

As Klaus sat up, so did Dorian, stretching every inch of him with a groan that reverberated through the room. "I feel so much better," he sighed, going slightly limp once he was done. "Thank you," he murmured. "I... I really appreciate this." He sighed again, this one seeming to come up from his toes. "I'm sorry to seem so pathetic...."

"Have I said anything about you looking pathetic?" Klaus asked, shifting up completely sitting at last and pausing a moment before he started to unbutton his uniform jacket. He was soon to be *retired* Major Eberbach... they probably wouldn't bother with a ceremony for him.

"No," Dorian admitted. "I know I must, though. My face...." That trailed off and then he added, "What I did to my hair. Ah, not that it matters...." After all, Klaus hadn't appreciated his looks when they'd been there, so why should any of it matter now that they weren't?

"Your face is still beautiful, Dorian, and your hair will grow back," Klaus told him, slipping off his field tunic and then pulling a pack of cigarettes out of the pocket. It was with a strange reverence that he touched the lapels and epaulets of the jacket, fingers skirting over the silver stitching that marked his rank.

"Thank you for saying that," Dorian told him softly, standing up. "Let's... go get something to eat. Are you hungry? I'll bet you need medicine or something, don't you?"

"'s at my apartment," he murmured in reply, setting his jacket down and standing up, lighter flicking out. "I could use something to eat."

"Come on," Dorian said. "I'll get you something. A sandwich or... well, something, anyway." A quick snatch off of the dresser provided a rubberband so that he could tie the remainder of his hair back and, perhaps, not scare Bonham and James clean to death by the look of him. Then he left the bedroom with Klaus behind him, heading for the kitchen.

"M'lord...?" Bonham's voice was quietly, looking up from fidgeting with the radio in one of the off-shoot rooms. Klaus gave him a single assuring nod as he passed the door behind Dorian.

"We're going to the kitchen," Dorian called. "Could you go and get some clothes for the Major? And his medications.... and.." He looked at Klaus. "Your fish?"

"Yes. Don't break in, the security system isn't worth your trouble -- these are my keys." He paused long enough to toss the man his keys, and then let Dorian lead the way into the kitchen. "I... I'm glad you asked me to stay."

"Are you?" Dorian asked him, looking back at him in surprise. "I... I'm more than glad to have you, I've always...." Always wanted him to be there, or anywhere, for that matter, so long as they were together. If only the circumstances weren't so utterly *awful*...

"I don't want to be alone." There -- he'd admitted it. That he was as fearful of being alone as Dorian. Now... now he had himself to fear in the aloneness of his life. There was nothing for him to do. His life was shattered -- what could he do?

That softened the other man's expression, Dorian reaching out a hand to him hesitantly as he stood in the doorway of the kitchen. "You don't ever have to be alone, Klaus. Not ever. Not so long as I'm alive."

"Small comfort to have when the rest of my world's gone," Klaus murmured in a quiet, miserable tone as he moved towards Dorian.

The slight smile Dorian held faltered, trembling wildly for a moment. "I'm not much, but I hope I'm better than nothing," he whispered, trying to be brave. /Worthless. Totally fucking worthless to you, aren't I?/

"Much better." He was feeling the pain now, feeling it bad, but he still moved towards Dorian, and skirted the offered hand -- instead opting to embrace him again, trying to express his gratitude. To return to his stark apartment, with the only signs of life therein being NATO related... To not be alone.

A sigh wafted past his ear, the sound of it shivering slightly, Dorian holding him close for a moment. "Until Bonham gets your things, would you like an aspirin?" he asked softly, sensing Klaus's tension.

"Yes," Klaus murmured, stepping back at last to be fully in the kitchen, glancing around. Artwork, color... it really was the sort of life Klaus expected Dorian to lead, the kind of decorum he expected. Most of the paintings in the small kitchen weren't the expensive, rare kind that Dorian seemed to like best. Instead, they were small still-life portraits, fruit, kitchen items, that sort of thing. Some of them undoubtedly *were* rare, but those were kept far from the gas stove to make sure that heat would in no way bother them.

"What would you like?" Dorian asked, peering into the refrigerator. "We've got turkey, ham, swiss, gouda, mayonnaise, mustard, kosher dills..."

"Turkey and swiss." He moved to sit at the small -- and probably antique -- kitchen table, resting his chin in his left hand, eye nearly completely closed. It was hard to concentrate so much on *not* thinking...

Watching Dorian putter around the kitchen helped, though, pulling baguettes from the bread bin and slicing them in half as he began to put the sandwiches together. "Would you like mayonnaise or mustard or...?" he asked, the strange feelings of companionship and comfort not questioned as he waited for his answer.

"Mustard." An easily made decision as he lifted his chin from his hand, sitting up a little more. It was good to see Dorian relaxed again, calm and doing things. /At least one thing hasn't changed so much. At least I have this./

The sandwich was made and set upon a plate, joined shortly by a pickle and crisps that were delved out of a cabinet. Dorian made his own, then, turkey and gouda with a little mustard and mayonnaise, and turned with both plates in hand. "I'll get some milk, too," he offered, putting them down on the table. There was something so comforting in Klaus's presence that he knew he was practically boneless with mellow feelings!

"Thanks." Klaus looked at the sandwich, the crisps, and popped one of them into his mouth. Not usual fare for him, but he could enjoy it. Hunger was, after all, hunger... "How long will you be staying here in Bonn?"

"A while," Dorian answered, setting milk down in front of Klaus before curling into a chair to pick up his own sandwich. "I didn't want to go back to England. I thought, maybe, if I was at least in the sa... Well, I thought I'd be able to sleep here. I... can't. Not without you."

The German man nodded, picking up his own sandwich carefully. "I haven't slept too well, either. It... It's been a hellish week."

"I'm glad you're here," Dorian agreed, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully for a moment before swallowing to speak again. "I think I could go back to bed *now* and sleep 'til morning, with you here."

"We could probably both use it. You especially." A sip of milk chased down the first bite, and from there Klaus ate steadily. He'd always done that with most food, eaten quickly even if he enjoyed it. "Tomorrow I need to go get my eye checked to see if I've got clear enough vision to be able to drive."

Dorian nodded. "Of course. We'll go first thing and pick up your Benz. You'll be more comfortable in that than in my car, won't you? It's not red for once, but still..."

"Yes. I'll need to stop for a minute to see if the Soviets have their surveillance equipment up again. I didn't check when I dropped things off before... going in to the office." His voice dropped quieter during that last part. Office. Damn, he was thinking again... /Stop. Stop, it doesn't do you any good.../

Tentatively, Dorian said, "What did you learn? At the office? Are they... I mean, exactly what... did they say?"

"I've been retired with full pension. I don't know if they're going to bother with a ceremony -- no-one would come anyway. I wouldn't come."

"Every last one of your Alphabet Soup would be there, dar... Klaus. They respect you. They love you, I think, in their own ways. They must be heartbroken, now..." Dorian's voice trailed into silence.

Klaus wasn't looking at Dorian then -- he was looking down, eating his sandwich quickly. He only replied when he was done, finishing the glass of milk. Neat and cleanly accomplished. "There was... no... I've been retired because..." Because they'd marked him as unstable. Volatile. A danger. "I'm thirty two years old. Retired. I... there is nothing I can do."

Gently, Dorian looked across the table, reaching for the hand that laid there beside the plate and touching it. "Klaus...." He paused, tilted his head to the side. "A man like you could do anything. A man like you could rule the world, if he wanted. Don't let them make you believe anything to the contrary. I certainly don't!" Tentatively, he said, "And... there are always other options..."

"There are no options. I'm a spy -- an officer, an agent, a killer. I'm trained in machinery and guns. Other militaries would love to have me -- if it wasn't that I was discharged for being 'Unstable'." And that was the back handed blow to his discharge.

He'd served loyally, suffered through things that no man should for the cause... only to be tossed aside. Failed a mission so badly, and he'd been tossed aside so easily by NATO. Worthless. He was fucking worthless to them.

"That's not quite what I meant. You know... we make an excellent team, Klaus. For the most part. We've been working together forever and... and only gotten caught once. And we survived..." Not whole, no, but survival was survival. "That's more than almost anyone anywhere can say...."

"I'm not going to rob places with you," Klaus told him firmly. "I... can't. I've shamed my family enough."

Dorian shook his head, sudden excitement striking. "No, no. That's not what I'm talking about. That's not what I'm *thinking* about, though of course I don't plan on stopping, I enjoy it far too much, you know. No, I was thinking of something else entirely..."

"What?" It would probably be impossible, or insane, but the way he felt just then...

"I've been contracting out with NATO," Dorian said thoughtfully. "Contracting because of you, I admit, but now that you aren't with NATO any more, that won't remain an option. But..." He smiled, a slow, almost evil little smile, full of glee, somehow, so typically Dorian! "But Klaus, contractors don't have to be stable. We can be as volatile as we like, so long as the results are reliable. And you and I, Klaus... We achieve reliable results... NATO might not want us, but there are so many others who will...." For all that Dorian felt as if his personal life was shattered and he *himself* was full of shame and more than a little degradation, that obviously in no way extended itself to his talents as a thief!

"Like who?" Klaus asked. And what was he good for? Yelling? Shooting...? Not even shooting just then. A hundred different things he could do came to mind, but none of them stuck because they'd never really been a matter of concentration for him.

"Like the Americans and the British and the Swedish and anyone we want to contract out *to*, darling," Dorian answered, caught up in the sheer romanticism of it momentarily before dragging himself back down. "It's an ideal possibility."

"And do what? You'd steal, what would I do? I'm an agent. They have their own agents. No need for me..."

That ragged cap of blond curls was shaking already, though, slips of hair falling loose from his rubberband and just brushing at his shoulders, some still dangling below. "No. I won't work with agents who aren't you. I trust you not to leave me dangling, Major. You would *never* leave me behind, not any more than I would leave you."

"Then... as your back-up," Klaus said, lips curling up a little at that thought. It stung, but yes, that's what he'd be doing. Backing up the thief's operations, serving as bodyguard and perhaps liaison to whoever they were working with.

"No," Dorian answered. "As my *Major*. Nothing more and nothing less than perfect equals. You understand me?" His mouth was trembling slightly. "I'm nowhere near as perfect and good as you..."

"I'm a psychotic fuck that NATO won't even throw into the fray as cannon fodder," Klaus bit out bitterly. "I'm not perfect."

"FUCK NATO!" came the quick response. "It's an excuse on your Chief's part, no more than that. You remain Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach and you always will be, no matter *what* NATO says! You..." That lustrous voice broke. "You're m...y.... Major," he whispered, closing his eyes tightly. "Always. Always.... Even though I disgust you, and I should." Ah, that expression was so sorrowful, so sheerly aching that it hurt!!

Hurt to look at for the Major and know that he was the source of it -- his fault that Dorian felt such pain. /Never should have taken him with me. Maybe I'd be dead by now, but at least it would just be me./ "You don't disgust me, Dorian," he uttered, shifting a little in the chair to take a more comfortable position of leaning back slightly, long legs crossed. "There's nothing about you to be disgusted with."

Curls escaped the elastic holding them back as Dorian shook his head, eyes still tightly shut. "No," he whispered. "There is. There truly is. And I'm sorry for it. I am. But.... but... You *ARE* my Major..." Tears spilled out and over those scarred cheeks. "You *are* my Major. You *are*. You could never be anything less. Do you understand? Please, tell me you do..."

Klaus was lighting up another cigarette as Dorian spoke, having put out the filter of the last one into an ash tray on the table. "Tell me what you mean by that."

"Just because NATO is stupid enough to think you incapable doesn't mean that *I* do," Dorian whispered. "I know you're still just as wonderful as you've always been. Only an idiot wouldn't."

Almost, in Klaus's exhaled breath of smoke, Dorian could hear a tremor -- a minute unsteadiness. "I failed."

"No," Dorian told him. "No. We didn't fail. They learned nothing. We knew they were closing in. *We didn't fail*!"

"*I* failed," Klaus snapped. "I am the one who failed. I moved away from the door. It's *my* fault that we were even caught. *You* were hurt -- I failed in everything I should have done. *I* *failed* in ways that not even one of my Alphabets would have!" Anger was clear in his voice -- anger directed at himself more than anything.

"Please... no....!" Dorian shook his head frantically, eyes flying open. "No! That's not true! It's not! You couldn't have done anything more than you did, Klaus!"

"I moved away from the door! It closed because I moved away from it!! If I hadn't done that, if I hadn't stopped watching our backs, you'd be fine right now! I'd be fine! I deserve what I got for a fuck-up that bad!"

"No one deserves something like that!" Dorian cried, tears streaking down his cheeks as he stood, chair sliding back and sounding loudly on the kitchen tile. "No one, ever, *no one*, and certainly not you!"

Klaus was looking up at that tear-streaked face, heard the falling chair... but didn't hear it, at the same time. It only registered in the back of his mind, absently as he, too, stood up. "This entire fiasco is my fault. It's my fault we were even caught, my fault for bringing an... an innocent civilian with me on such a dirty job, it's my fault for being inept."

"Damn you! That's not true!" the other man shouted, shaking his head again. "I KNEW what could happen! I'm not an innocent, Klaus! I've *never* been an innocent!! It isn't your fault!"

Being shouted at in turn, Klaus would note later, was what brought such a reaction out of him. He slammed his hand down on the table, the brace of the cast making the sound ring louder than if it had been flesh against wood. "*SHUT* *UP*!! I know what I'm capable of!! I know that I didn't perform my best!! *I* *FAILED*!! I've not only ruined my own God-damned life, but I've hurt yours!!"

The pallor of Dorian's face grew as he backed away from the table, still shaking his head. "No," he whispered as he turned to run out of the room. "No!"

Part of Klaus wanted to stay stubbornly where he was. Let the thief flee. If reality hurt so badly.... if the truth hurt Dorian so badly that he'd run from Klaus, then so be it. But another part wanted to make sure he didn't hurt himself again, or do something rash... and then he wondered, quickly, even as he let long legs carry him after the earl, how long he'd cared about the man and why hadn't that part of his mind communicated with any other part of it.

"Dorian!"

The door to the bedroom didn't shut behind him -- after all, Dorian knew even in his fit of being so upset that he'd just open it for Klaus later, anyway. Instead, he simply stopped beside the bed and covered his face in his hands, sobbing fitfully into them. "W-wasn't y-your f-fault!" he wept, shaking his head. "I n-knew something was r-wrong when we went in. I-if I-it's a-anyone's, i-i-i-it's *MINE*!"

"It doesn't matter who... whose fault it is." Klaus's tone was grim as he spoke, unmerciful for himself. "I'm no longer Major Eberbach."

"It does!" Dorian cried, flinging around to look at him. Even weeping, even scarred, he still had that wild beauty that was so impossible to resist. "It *does* matter, it's *my* fault, and you *ARE*! You're *my* Major Eberbach. You will *always* be my Major Eberbach, here!" A hand was placed over his heart, a dramatic motion, but one that was meant to the core of Dorian's being. "Even though it's unbearable to you, even though I'm not worthy of you, even though I fucked up, even though....!" Even though he'd stopped talking... "I love you," he whispered, head falling forward. "I love you, and to me, you will *always* be my Major, *my* Major...."

"Don't call me Major anymore. You can... think it if you want, but don't call me it..."

The look of agony on Dorian's face said so much. "Then what do you want me to call you?" he whispered. "I don't know. I don't know..."

"My name? Anything else you want..." /Darling?/ It was familiar to hear from Dorian's lips, but his pride wouldn't let him ask.

"I don't deserve to call you what I want," Dorian husked out, mouth trembling. "I don't..."

"Stop saying that." A hard, sharp order from Klaus, as he moved closer -- but still unsure, still not touching the other man. "You're still the same person to me that you always were, and you've always called me what you wanted."

That blond head shook, curls trembling around his face now, band fallen loose as he'd run from the kitchen. "I knew something was wrong. I knew, and then, they did... and I... I'm not... and I stopped...."

"Dorian, *Stop*."

Finally moving, the German man put his hands on Dorian's shoulders and walked him backwards to the bed. "Sit down. And remember that you're a civilian. Unlike you, I've been trained all my life in what to do, what signs to watch out for. And I didn't even fucking *notice*."

"I'm a civilian," Dorian whispered, "but I'm also a thief, and my life depends on my instincts, Klaus. EVERYTHING depends on my instincts..."

"So then we've both failed. It doesn't matter."

Dorian shook his head again, leaning forward. He was in Klaus's arms, then, with a strange grace and need. "I just..."

"Stop." Another order, as Klaus closed his eyes, smoothing his hands down Dorian's back. They were unsteady, as if still doubting he should even have been there. "We're... going to talk ourselves mad if we keep this up."

"Then come with me. *BE* with me, be partners with me. We'll work it out," Dorian asked desperately. "We'll make it right."

"I won't steal with you. I won't help you break the law..." /Yes. Yes, dammit, I have nothing else to do, my life is dead, I'm ruined in ways you can't understand, Dorian.../

Arms crept around his neck slowly. "You won't have to steal anything. I won't make you come with me when I steal something, only when we contract out or something.... we'd be so good together, Klaus." /I've always thought we would be so good together.../

"Failures for Hire," Klaus chuckled grimly, bitterly, pressing his cheek against the mass of Dorian's hair. Even cut raggedly, it was still thick and beautiful... "Yes. But I want to get out of Bonn for a while. I... need to."

It was such unexpected and undeserved heaven to be in those arms... "Why not America, then?" Dorian whispered. "Let's go there. Nowhere near Europe or anything like it, darling. We can lord it over all of the ignorant heathens or something..."

"America..." Klaus flipped that over in his mind a few times. There they would be tourists, and he would not be recognized. No one would know the shame of his dismissal, or what had happened to the two of them. "Yes."

"Really?" Dorian whispered, looking up, those damp blue eyes widening. "I'll have James make reservations immediately! Right now! Oh, da..." The realization that he'd already called Klaus darling made him stop and almost shake his head. /I won't bother him with my foolish heart. I won't encumber him with that, when I'm burdening him with so many other things.../

"Where would we be?" Klaus asked, cringing at the thought of wherever the money-bug would put them. "I don't want to be near D.C. Or any capitals."

"Why not the northeast?" Dorian whispered, soothed from the hands still stroking down his back. "The Catskills or the Berkshires. Mountain regions or something, with lots of little antique shops or something to look at..."

Klaus had very little idea of what Dorian was talking about, but nodded. The further away from the risk of being known, the better. "Yes. We'll go there, then."

"Oh, Klaus!" The arms about his neck tightened, Dorian holding him close. "Oh. Thank you!"

"'s as good for me as it is for you," Klaus murmured, hands pressing the mid point of Dorian's back, keeping him close. "Have him make those reservations tomorrow."

An uncomfortable warmth spread down Dorian's spine, his face flushing. "Klaus," he warned softly. "You... might not want to hold me so close..." Ohh, because being close to Klaus was arousing him and he didn't want to chase the other man off now! Not when he needed him more desperately than he ever had before...

"I'm hurting you? I'm sorry, I didn't think..." Klaus's grasp relaxed instantly, hands just barely resting there at all any longer.

"No! No, you couldn't... well, you have, but that's not what I meant!" Dorian said, flustered. "I meant... um, you'll find this disgusting, I *am* disgusting, oh, *GOD*, I can't tell you that or you'll leave..." By then, he was half talking to himself more than Klaus!

"Dorian... Dorian, stop babbling. I don't want to hear any more of this goddamned shit about you being disgusting," Klaus growled.

"Klaus...." Dorian shook his head, not looking him in the eye. "I find you very attractive," came the whisper. "If you stay too close to me, it will be very obvious, all right? I can't help it. I've never been able to help it when it comes to you..."

"You wouldn't do anything while we're sleeping, would you?!" Klaus had obviously startled with Dorian's words -- he'd always been very wary of being hit on, raped by Dorian or otherwise molested.

The flinch that he felt said enough, Dorian pulling away from him. "I'm sorry. I should never have told you... No. No, no, no, I would never... never...."

"G-good," he was told a bit shakily, as Klaus moved to sit on the bed. "Let's go back to sleep, Dorian. You still need more rest. Tomorrow..." Tomorrow he would think, or perhaps not. The new life he was trying to lay down over the ruins of the old one seemed unstable at best just now. /Take each day as it comes./

"You... don't really think I would do that, do you, Klaus?" /You don't think I'm like those men, do you?/

"I... No. You wouldn't." /Not like what was done to you./ But there was always seduction, and he knew if Dorian ever put his heart into such an effort, he'd crumble.

Dorian shivered. "I would never do anything to hurt you," he whispered, shaking his head. "Never..."

"Sit... lay down, Dorian." He began to do so himself -- though he still wasn't bothering to undress. Half of him wanted to sit up and wait for Bonham to return with his things -- the medications that would ease the phantom pain of his fingers and the ache of his skull.

"I wouldn't," Dorian breathed again, visibly trembling now. "I would never do anything l-like that to you. I would never.... not to anyone, not ever... never..."

"I *know*," Klaus growled softly. "I'm sorry I suggested it. Just lay down."

Wordlessly, Dorian obeyed, the way he so often obeyed Klaus when it was truly necessary, laying down on the left side of the bed and tucking his head against a pillow. "I wouldn't," he said again sorrowfully. "I wouldn't, not ever..." /I can't ever touch him, ever, or he'll know I want him and he'll be afraid of me and he'll *hate* me, oh, God.../

"Dorian... I believe you." A tense tone of voice, as Klaus rolled onto his side a little, hand reached out to touch Dorian's shoulder.

"I just... have you *always* been... worried that I would... would *do* that to you?" came the horrified question.

"...Yes, when I first met you." Quietly spoken, Klaus pulled Dorian a little closer, ignoring the earl's rigid horror. *He* wanted to succumb to that same stiff sort of shock over the fact that he was moving. He was moving closer to Dorian on purpose, he was trying to hold him, grasping a shuddering shoulder with his ruined right hand.

"Oh, *GOD*," Dorian moaned, nausea rising sharply. "Oh, *GOD*, how can you lay here with me when... when..." /When you're afraid I'd do *that* to you. Oh, God, oh, God, no, no.../

"I haven't been afraid of it in a... while." At least a year -- and part of that fear had been homophobia, pure and simple.

The soft sobs that shook the man in his arms weren't the hysteria he'd experienced earlier. Instead, they seemed so sad, so heartbroken and utterly miserable that it was impossible to imagine. /He thinks I'm like them. He thought I was... he thought I would... oh, God, am I that terrible a person?/

"Dorian... Gott." There was no way to tell why he was crying now, only that the blond man had to sob himself out of his misery soon. At least, to sleep... "Shhh."

He could feel the slight rocking of the thief's body against his own, almost as if it was a comfort to Dorian to do that, and the way the other man curled up slowly seemed so sad. "I wouldn't... I wouldn't... I'm not..."

"I know you would not, Dorian." It was getting hard to stay patient just then, but he had to -- no frustration entered his voice through some grace of God, and he shifted again, fitting himself protectively against Dorian. "I know you wouldn't."

"It's no wonder you h-ate me...."

"I don't hate you!"

"Don't you?" came the aching whisper. "If you ever thought I would do something like that, then you must. God, what sort of terrible person am I that I could make someone I love so much f-f-feel... *AFRAID* of me, of *that*!?"

So close they were now, that Dorian could feel a shaky breath leave Klaus. "I... it isn't because of you."

"Then why?" Dorian asked, trembling. "Why?? I don't... I don't know, don't answer, just..." His breath hitched. "Just please don't leave me..." /Not like this. It's not what I wanted from you, but I don't deserve what I wanted from you now.../

"I won't leave." It was all he could promise then, all that Klaus could bring himself to agree to. He couldn't leave Dorian, not with the state that both of them were in.

/My Major. I love you. I love you so much.../ "Thank you..."

"You should sleep." /We both should. I shouldn't be in bed with you, holding you, but I can't let go.../

"M'lord? Are you all right...?" Bonham's voice, soft and careful as the footfall that sounded at the edge of the room.

For a moment, it seemed that Dorian wouldn't answer, but then... "Mm. Yes. Did you bring Klaus's things?"

"I put them in the bag that was inside the door, m'lord. I brought the fish -- 'e's on the kitchen table. Are... are you all right?" It was odd to look at the scene in front of him -- Major Eberbach, Uncle NATO, half-curled protectively against a thief he'd sworn hatred for.

"Everything is fine," Klaus uttered quietly.

"Fine," Dorian echoed even as a hiccough escaped him.

Klaus waited until Bonham was gone, closing the door behind him, before he spoke again. "I'll tell you why, someday, Dorian. Not now. 's been a bad enough day already."

"All right," Dorian whispered, sniffing. "All right."

Dorian could have sworn he felt the ghosting brush of lips against his temple -- but perhaps it had been just a hope. Shortly after that soothing touch, though, they were both asleep.

~~~~~

Chapter 9 by Kat and Tzigane
They'd arrived in Boston, and rather than stay in the city for longer than necessary, Klaus had rented an understated car. The problem came to the actual driving itself. His eye-sight in his left eye was good enough to be able to drive in Europe -- but in America, he had no idea. The shaky reaction times his hands had, too, made him unsure of the idea. So he and Dorian had rotated on the four hour drive across the state of Massachusetts to the sleepy little town of Lanesborough.

James had stuck them in a fairly cheap, quiet place. Put them in a house instead of a hotel, which Klaus supposed would give them privacy. It was only as they drove that Klaus realized that it was on a lake -- a lake that route 7 took them neatly along the edges of. He'd driven the last part, keeping his eye out for a street called 'Bull Run' -- and then took a second left onto 'Sunrise Street'.

At the end, another left hand turn onto a drive that curved back in, they found the house waiting. The owners were still there, to give them the keys he supposed, but the house...

Three stories and a basement from what he could tell, a porch on the elevated first story. Pine trees framed the house where it sat on a wide finger of land that stuck out into the lake.

"We're here, Dorian," he murmured, opening the car door and stepping out into... not silence. Bird-noises and the rustle of oak-tree's branches, tousled by the wind. There was a wide cement wall that kept the land from eroding into the lake on one side, and steps that went right down into clear water...

/The little money bug did something right./ It was, too, the sort of scenic beauty that Dorian could get himself thoroughly lost in.

So much the better.

"Mmmh?" Dorian stirred, waking. He'd fallen asleep in the last half hour, an inevitability after the long flight and the drive. There was something about driving that made him sleepy! "We're here?" He rubbed both eyes and shoved his hair back out of his face. It was just barely shoulder length, once it had been straightened, and even more wildly curly than before. "Oh... it's *GORGEOUS*!! Jamesie did a *perfect* job!"

Klaus smiled at his companion as he opened the door and stepped out onto the curving drive-way that sloped downhill to the garage. Then he walked around to the other side of the car, opening Dorian's door for him. "Let's go see if the owners are in -- it really is a... beautiful area."

"Come on, Klaus, let's do! I can't *wait* to stay here! What a beautiful place," Dorian said with a sigh before stretching. "Mmmmm!!"

A smile touched Klaus's lips for a moment, as he moved across a little strip of grass and then up six sturdy stone steps to ring the doorbell. "Leave the bags there. I'll bring them up once the car's in the garage."

"All right," Dorian agreed, long legs moving him easily towards the house as he tucked his hands into the pockets of tailored slacks. He was once again clad in something less than flamboyant -- mostly in defense of Klaus's delicate sensibilities -- but Klaus was *certain* he had any number of frivolous outfits tucked away in his suitcases. "The air is bracing, the view refreshing. Oh, I can't BELIEVE James managed this!" On the other hand, James knew exactly what Dorian liked in a house and generally did his best to make sure that the British thief had what he liked, so it didn't surprise him half as much as it did Klaus.

It did surprise him that the accountant hadn't thrown a conniption fit when he'd had him get two plane tickets.

He didn't know that Klaus had stroked a check for the man to cover the cost of the rental car and plane trip. "It's good. It's perfect, in fact -- those woods there need to be walked through." It was a small-town, with a small-town feel, but it was a small town that didn't know who or what they were... or, in Klaus's case, had been.

"Oh, hello!!" The inner wooden door opened, and then the glass one swung out. "Come in -- you must be... Mr. Gloria?"

"Herr Eberbach. This is Lord Gloria."

"Hullo," Dorian greeted the woman. "It's so lovely to meet you. Thank you for letting us rent your house. This area is just beautiful..."

A man moved up behind her, tall, dark-haired, smiling. "I'm George Cason. It's nice to meet you. I hope you'll enjoy things over the next month..."

Klaus could look him in the eye, which was a little impressive -- he offered, automatically, his right hand and shook the other man's hand, grip still terribly awkward. It would *always* be terribly awkward, just as much as it was meeting anyone's eyes. "I'm sure we will. The scenery was impressive on the drive through, and the lake is beautiful."

"Lake Pontoosuc is a lovely, just lovely lake," the woman smiled, shaking Dorian's hand in a friendly way. "I'm Mary Cason."

"It's so nice to meet you," Dorian said again, smiling. "I hope you have a wonderful second honeymoon." That had been the reason that James had managed to get the house, and managed to get it so cheaply. The couple planned on spending their second honeymoon in France and didn't want to leave their house empty while they were gone.

"I'm sure we will. We're glad someone will be staying here," George told them firmly. James had agreed to pay a fairly hefty security deposit, so long as he was going to get it back when the house was undamaged on their return. He'd nearly threatened both Dorian *and* Klaus to make sure that it would be!

And there was the upside of the rental helping the pay for a little of their trip. "I doubt you could be leaving this house in safer hands," Klaus murmured, looking around with his monocular gaze, as he slipped his maimed right hand into his pocket to hide it.

"George and I will be heading out in an hour or so, but... why don't you sit down and we'll have coffee for a few minutes?" Mary suggested. "And then I'll show you the house. It's pretty simple. This room here is the dining room, and the kitchen -- well, it's right here..." Connected seamlessly to the main entry-room. It looked like, if one kept walking straight, they'd find a small living-room, and a door down into the basement. "Oh, and the great room! We use if for music, and the real living room, but the view is just breathtaking. Picture windows all around... I'm sure the two of you will have a nice stay."

"I can't wait," Dorian answered honestly as the husband stopped in the kitchen to make coffee even as the wife took them further through the house. "It's a beautiful house. Just as nice as the view," he admitted with a smile.

"I'm just glad that we had the luck to find or... well, be found by two people like yourselves looking to vacation! Here, in our little town, of all places..." They skirted the oddly high-ceilinged great-room, and into the living room. Panelled wood walls made the place feel warm, the furniture all old, comfortable and well-broken in. Another turn took them up into a narrow stairwell that came up to the second level. "We have three bedrooms here. The master bedroom, which I can tell you is about as comfortable and warm as a barn, a little room that I use for my sewing and crafts, and the spare-room. I've put fresh linens down in all of them, and the bathroom pipes shouldn't freeze because that room was re-insulated two years ago."

Klaus was trailing vaguely behind, taking it all in. Comfortable indeed... "I'll be downstairs," he told Dorian with a smile. to talk to the husband and find out anything that needed to be watched especially.

"All right," Dorian told him, smiling slightly. The scars on his face hadn't been remarked upon, so he was actually feeling fairly jovial as he followed the woman around the upstairs, being shown what was what.

The master-bedroom was just as huge as had been promised. "It's barely insulated -- I wouldn't want you two dears freezing to death some evening."

A slight flush rose on Dorian's cheeks as he smiled at her. Ahh, James *had* done well! Even if he and Klaus *weren't*... in a relationship quite like the one the other couple probably thought they had, it was still nice to be expected. "Oh, no worries about that. Are there blankets...?"

"Oh, yes -- in this closet right here..." Mary made her way over to a narrow door on the near wall, and opened it. "It shouldn't get too bad in the evening, since it is only September, but then again, we've been known to get snow in October. Never can be too safe!"

"Understandable," Dorian replied cheerfully. "The Americas can have such odd weather! It's charming. Now, about local food... what's good?"

Klaus was standing nearby George with a certain military posture, sharp, straight-backed, surveying and cataloguing everything in the small kitchen. And trying, in a very strained sort of way, to socialize a little with a Damned Yank. He hadn't said it in so many words, but he was *thinking* it clearly. "Is there anything in particular about the house that needs to be looked after?"

"No, not particularly. Everything's been done to ready the house for winter and our terrier is firmly deposited with Mary's mother. Everything should be just fine," George told him. "There's an alarm system which can be set every night -- just use the keypad here. I'll show you before we leave. Other than that, everything should be just fine."

"Gut," he nodded, taking a step back to better look around. "Tell me, is there a firing range anywhere near here?"

That didn't seem to startle the other man -- he could tell a military man when he saw one, and he nodded. "There's one just a little further down Route 7. You turn right onto Bull Run and go past the post office and it should be on the left a block down from there. There's a sign that will show you very clearly where it is."

"Thank you. My... companion is very interested in art and museums and such. Are there many in the area?"

"Quite a few things of interest, though not all are museums. The local museum is small but good and if you travel down the highway and through some of the towns, there are a lot of antique shops with some things that would probably keep his interest." The fact that the couple was obviously gay didn't really bother George. His brother was even more flaming than the blond man, so he was accustomed to that. It was actually this dark-haired one that made him a tad uncomfortable -- so stiff! "There's a theater where a lot of small local productions are put on, as well. That might be of interest to both of you."

That stiffness, though, might have been the military man in him. The accent, heavy and sharp in that firm voice, didn't help either -- such a contrast from the rich, liquid British accent of the other man. "Thank you. I... am very sure now that this was the best choice of place to come to."

George smiled, pulling down coffee cups from a cabinet. "This is where the glasses are. Plates are here," he indicated the cabinet next to it. "You shouldn't have any problem. We're just glad to have someone to look after the house. It's a bad idea to leave anything empty, in the end..."

"A house like this that is best when lived in, perhaps. My family's home has been vacant for at least half a year." Except for the servants, but they didn't count.

Politely, George didn't ask why. "I have to agree. Do you take sugar or cream in your coffee?" he asked, hearing footsteps on the stairs.

"Neither."

"Ahh. Here you are," the man murmured just as they were joined by his wife and the blond man.

"It's just a *beautiful* house," Dorian gushed as he followed Mary into the kitchen. "Lovely, really. I'm so glad to be staying here!"

/Glad to be out of Bonn,/ Klaus thought. Even if it was the homeland, and he'd be heart-sick for it in a week. /Glad to be away from them all, away from NATO, stealing... everything./

"Do you have the coffee ready, honey...?" Mary asked, eyeing Klaus as he looked at Dorian surreptitiously for a moment.

"I'm going to move the car so it doesn't block the drive when you pull out. And get the bags," Klaus told Dorian.

"Would you like some help?" the Briton asked as he was given a cup of coffee, smiling beatifically at Mary as she wordlessly offered him cream and sugar, both of which he accepted.

"Nein." He moved out of the kitchen and down the short hallway, past a tiny half-bath, and out the front door.

It really was a lovely place. He and Dorian could get lost in it -- and he was sure that a month wouldn't be long enough.

"So, what brings two continentals like you to America?" Mary asked pleasantly enough, only once Klaus was gone.

"An accident of fate, I'm afraid," Dorian replied, waving a hand shyly at his face. "We had a bit of misfortune recently and felt the need to recuperate. It seemed best to do it away from Europe, since we wanted something a bit *fresh*..."

"Hm," George murmured in agreement, nodding. "That does sound like a good idea."

"It's just funny... That Americans like to escape to Europe. I've never thought of Europeans wanting to escape to America," Mary commented, taking a sip of her own coffee.

"Usually," Dorian admitted with a fair bit of humor, "they wouldn't! But we're both fairly well known here and there in Europe..." Especially after the fiasco in Italy! "So we thought here would be better..." So long as it wasn't Alaska, they should be just fine!

"Well, neither of us have heard of you," Mary smiled, looking over to her husband -- it was the complete truth, too! "Your friend seems like an unhappy man, dear. I hope this vacation helps him unwind a bit. People like that have nervous breakdowns, you know."

George nodded firmly, thinking, /Or they go postal.../

Dorian smiled. "It's been a rough few weeks. We'll see. Klaus has never been particularly happy, but... we'll see."

"The environment here will work wonders on him, I'm sure," Mary smiled, patting Dorian's arm gently as they all sat down at the dining room table. "However did the, uhm... accident happen?"

"Oh, it's a very long and uninteresting story," Dorian demurred. "It wasn't pleasant. I'd really rather not talk about it at all..."

"Oh, that's perfectly all right! I'm sorry!" Mary was blushing, taking another sip of coffee. "I'm sorry."

"No, no!" came the assurance. "It's perfectly all right, only it's still rather painful to talk about..."

George glanced at his watch and nodded. "Mary? We need to be going now..."

"Quick, show Mr. Gloria here how to use the security system, and I'll go start up the car." And then Mary slipped down into the basement to pull up the garage door.

"It works just like this," George said, lightly pointing to the box. "Hitting arm will set the alarm, the code for disarming is 3135. If you have any problems, this is the number to call. Someone should be out within five minutes if anything goes wrong, but we've never had any trouble..."

"Thank you," Dorian said genuinely, though he knew that in his and Klaus's case, trouble would easily bypass something that seemed so simple. "We really appreciate this."

The sound of two cars passing each other over the gravel drive was audible even in the kitchen, and then Klaus came up from the garage, their bags carried in both hands, the door pushed open with his shoulder. "What room, Dorian?"

"Third one up the stairs on the left," Dorian answered, standing up. "Let me have some of them..."

"The keys are on the table," George said with a smile. "We'll see you in October."

"Come on, George!!"

"October," Klaus nodded, with an almost smile on his mouth. "Goodbye. Dorian, why don't you take one of your clothing bags."

Dorian waved as George stepped out the door though which Klaus had come. "Have a nice time!" he called, moving to take one of the indicated bags. "Well," he said as they headed towards the steps, hearing the other car drive away, "it's just you and me!"

"Yeah -- just you... and me." He smiled a little, letting Dorian lead. "What do you want to do once we settle in?"

"Eat, or take a nap," Dorian laughed, almost dancing up the steps. "Mmmm, I'm still sleepy from the trip, but I'm starving! Airline food is horrid," he decided with a sigh, stepping into the master bedroom and easily laying his single bag down beside the door.

And Klaus dropped three, moving towards the bed. "Nap, then food. I don't want to cook when tired, and it's... *really* eleven at night back home." The joys of jet-lag.

With a wide yawn, Dorian stretched before nodding in agreement. "And when we get up, perhaps it'll be time to go and eat. Let's go out somewhere? I can't imagine whether they've left anything in the refrigerator..."

"They didn't. Last of the cream went into coffee," Klaus told him, stopping and taking off his sweater. He still had his undershirt on underneath, so that was still okay. "We'll have to go shopping tomorrow."

"That sounds perfect," Dorian agreed sleepily, yawning. "Ohh, dear!"

"Ohh, dear?"

"That felt MARVELOUSLY good," Dorian sighed, shivering. "Mmmm. The only thing better than stretching is sneezing. That's positively orgasmic," he sighed.

A half amused snort from Klaus, as he stopped to quickly remove his boots. "I'm going to run a sweep for bugs. You go to sleep -- I'll join you soon."

"I'll be waiting for you," Dorian told him, opening a suitcase to search for his satin pajamas. They were blue, and they felt delicious against his skin -- and Klaus's. "Don't be long?"

"I won't."

And he wasn't. He checked over the bedroom first, and then disappeared into the hall. Ten minutes later, satisfied with the security of the house, and came back into the bedroom to find a lovely picture. Dorian, in the bed, sheets tangled around him a little... Klaus smiled to himself a little as he removed his belt, and didn't bother changing into pajamas. Trousers and an undershirt would suit well enough for a nap.

"You're back," Dorian sighed sleepily as Klaus laid down beside him. That promptly shifted a change, the blond man pressing against his side, face lightly placed against Klaus's shoulder. "No bugs?"

"None. 's a real..." He yawned a little, closing his eyes and slipping an arm around Dorian. "Nice place. 'n this bed's comfortable..." Not that it mattered to him. Bed, ground, chair, it was all the same to him.

"Mmmhmmmm," Dorian agreed with a sigh. Oh, there was no place better to be! How bizarre, that it had taken... THAT... just to get this. "Sleepy," he whispered, breath rushing warmly over Klaus's throat.

"Then go back to sleep." Klaus's half-order was soothing. In particular over the last few days had been that he wasn't thinking about what he was doing, or why. Dorian slept poorly at best when he wasn't there, and he, too, gained from the other man being safe in his grasp. No nightmares or much trouble sleeping, when he had Dorian there with him.

The man was a stability in a life that was still in ruins. This month would give both of them time to see what they could still manage, to fortify the odd bond between them, and for Klaus to work out his mind.

"Yes, Klaus," came the easy agreement, and it was only moments before soft, even breaths were coming from the now-sleeping Briton. With Klaus in bed, it was so easy for Dorian to sleep, especially when held so close...

Chapter 10 by Kat and Tzigane

 

"'Bob's Country Kitchen'...?" Klaus questioned as the car rolled its way down route 7 again, the direction opposite the one they'd come. Mary had told Dorian about the place, recommended it for the palatability of the food and friendliness.

"She said the food was marvelous and that the people were *awfully* nice," Dorian replied, stretching slightly. It was almost eight, but surely the place would still be open on a Friday night!

"That will do, then. Feeling better now that you've slept?" Klaus kept his eyes on the road, looking for the forewarned sharp turn-off that was straight into the place's parking lot.

That question gained him a little groan. "Oh, God, I feel positively *decadent* now that I've slept!" Dorian told him. "Relaxed, rested, pleased with myself..." There was something about waking up in Klaus's arms that did that for him!

"Pleased with yourself?" Klaus took the sharp left turn, and rolled into the parking lot without a problem. Not packed, but certainly not empty, either.

"Inordinately," Dorian sighed. "Everything just seems better, now. I don't know why. Maybe because we're away from Germany and feeling a bit better and I've been sleeping nights..."

"You've been calmer. I'm glad you're doing better." /You haven't called me by my rank... you haven't cried in at least a day.../ He parked the car in a spot far from the building, and paused a moment before he opened the door. "We really needed to do this."

"I agree," the other man murmured. "Mmm, I can't *wait* to see what they have to eat! I'm starving! And I wonder what sort of dessert there might be..." Something with cherries, he hoped!

He wanted to remind Dorian that sweeties weren't exactly good food... but then, the blond man ate them occasionally and it hadn't gotten to him yet. Not anywhere near as bad as it had gotten to the Chief. Klaus got out of the car, waited until Dorian was out, too, then locked the doors. "You'll probably eat it no matter what."

"Mmmmmm, if it's good, I will," the Earl admitted, smiling up at him, the scant inches between them a pleasant difference from the small boys and young men Dorian had once adored. "Maybe I can even convince you to have some, too!"

"Eat that shit? No," Klaus laughed, pocketing his keys and then falling into pace beside Dorian to the white wood-sided building.

"Even if it's re~ally good?" came the cajoling plea. "I'll share just a bite with you. Just a bite?" Dorian teased.

"Nein. You show me how good it is when you start to get a tummy on you," Klaus snorted, patting Dorian's very sleek, flat stomach.

That little motion was so unknowingly erotic it was almost enough to buckle Dorian's knees. /God.../ "Well, I've been eating them all my life," he declared, peering downward. "It hasn't seemed to hurt me at all!"

"That's because you have an idiot's luck," Klaus murmured, drawing back his hand without any hesitation at all about having touched Dorian in the first place. Then he opened the door for Dorian.

With a smile, the blond man breezed past, moving lightly into a well-lit entranceway before pausing to look around.

Bob's Country Kitchen certainly wasn't anything to which Dorian Red Gloria had ever been accustomed. He wasn't sure he ever wanted it to be. The place was clean, the floor was shiny yellow linoleum and the countertops and tables of the yellow vinyl booths were all made of Formica. "Oh... dear."

There was a wipe-board menu up behind the cashier with specials written on it, and then beside that menu another was painted onto a big chalkboard. It looked like the patrons of the place -- a mix of everything, half the town, Klaus would have guessed -- didn't bother using it much, though, and he and Dorian looked just a little out of place

"Fucking dammit."

"Well," Dorian muttered, still smiling, "I guess we take a seat and make the best of it, hm?"

The cashier was looking straight at them and smiled. "Hi -- can I help you...?"

"Ahh.... do we seat ourselves?" Dorian asked. "And is there a menu, or just the chalkboard?"

"Oh, just sit anywhere -- but you order right here, first," the woman smiled at them both, patting the counter-top. "You two new here?"

"We..." /God damn nosy Yanks.../ If the woman was bright at all, Klaus knew he stuck out like a sore, foreign thumb, and that Dorian's accent was hard to *not* place. "We're staying for a few weeks."

"On vacation," Dorian added almost sweetly. "Umm... What's good, then? I'm not altogether familiar with the sound of anything on the menu...." Except perhaps fried chicken, which was something he'd had on the occasional picnic. It usually was sort of soggy, so he didn't like it much.

"How about Clam Chowder?" she smiled. Only 'chowder sounded more like 'chaowdah', which gave Klaus pause.

"Steak, Dorian, is safe," Klaus reminded the man, pointing to a section where most of the less interesting things were -- hamburgers, hot-dogs, baked potatoes.

"Steak, then," came the cheerful agreement. "And baked potatoes and salad, perhaps? Oh, and do you have anything for dessert?"

"Well, we've got ice-cream... and pie -- key-lime, apple, blueberry, and pumpkin."

The Englishman's disappointment at not hearing cherry on that list was almost visible as he said, "Oohhhhh... I don't think I want any, then, thank you all the same! Do we pay now, or sit now?"

"You pay now, because your food will be right along," she smiled again. "So, that's two steaks, two salads, two baked potatoes?"

"One baked potato, one... order of fried potatoes," Klaus corrected, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket with his better hand. There, that was his indulgence in a guilty pleasure for the day.

"Fried potatoes... Oh, you mean french fries?"

That made Dorian smile. The notion of Klaus's little weakness was altogether too sweet and he wished, in that moment, that he could lean up and kiss him for it. He didn't dare, but oh, how nice it would have been!

French... fries? Why did the Yanks have to take something *good* and make it *French*?! "I suppose I mean that, ja."

"You two are so cute," the cashier laughed, ringing up the order, then calling it back to the kitchen.

THAT brought a slight gleam to Dorian's eye, one that was definitely of pleasure as he tugged out his wallet and dropped a twenty on the counter. "Thank you," he told her with a smile, shrugging slightly as if to say that it was simply the way they were -- cute.

Klaus, wallet already in hand, though, did not seem amused by either the woman's comment, or Dorian paying. So he finished opening it -- with his damned hands that still felt slowed -- pulled out a twenty, and then shoved it into Dorian's back pocket. "I told you that I was paying."

That was almost enough to make Dorian's heart stop. "Ohhh!"

The cashier turned away momentarily, shaking her head, and Klaus glared at Dorian for a moment, unsure of *why* the man's expression looked so shocked and startled. "Was?"

"N-nothing!" Dorian squeaked, blue eyes wide. "You just... I mean... um... oh, dear. What do we want to drink?" he dithered.

"Huhm..." Klaus glanced up at the menu again. "And, uhm, a cup of coffee, and... Dorian? Well, whatever he wants," the cashier was directed. "I'll get a table."

"Water," Dorian murmured as Klaus walked away from him to secure a booth. "Lots and *lots* of ice water..."

"Poor thing," the woman chuckled, adding that last bit to the order, and then handing him Klaus's change.

The German man picked a booth in the corner of the room, not too far from the exits, but with a good guarded feel to it. For a Yank restaurant, it wasn't too bad. He'd been in worse places in eastern Europe -- places he would *never* want to go near again.

"Well," Dorian said as he slid in across from Klaus, tongue darting to wet his lower lip nervously, "it should be out shortly..."

"Do you want to go to the museum tomorrow?" Klaus murmured, looking around the room for any no smoking signs.

"That sounds just *perfect*..." Of course, laying in bed all day with nothing more than thin pajamas and a sheet between him and his gorgeous black-haired German also sounded perfect... MUCH more so than a museum at which he probably wouldn't want to steal anything!

Deeming it a safe prospect, Klaus pulled out his pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. "Think the water will be warm enough to go swimming?"

"Maybe," Dorian said. "If you don't mind a little cold. I would imagine that the water's gone chilly by now..."

"That'd be all right. I'd like to give it a shot tomorrow. You could probably sit on the steps and laugh at me when I find out just how cold it is." The plastic was taken off the pack, and he offered one to Dorian before he even thought of taking one for himself.

The other man took one gracefully enough and let Klaus light it before sitting back, elbows on the table. "I'll definitely laugh, Klaus. If it's as cold as I think it'll be..." Dorian glanced around before smiling wickedly. "You'll be lucky if your balls don't shrivel right up."

A slight burn rose into Klaus's cheeks, as he lit his own cigarette, and drew a breath so hard the tip glowed red. It was good to see Dorian getting his old sense for words back again, but the down-side was that Klaus was the *only* target available for it. "I doubt I'd notice much."

/Ohh, my Major, I think you'd notice a whole lot,/ Dorian thought, holding back a sigh. "Hmmmmm, we'll see," he drawled as a waitress came forward, plates in hand.

"One baked potato, one french fry, here you go!" she declared, setting the plates down on the table.

A smile crept across Klaus's face as he looked at the plate. /Damn Yanks didn't mess them up too badly./ "Thanks." He popped one, hot, into his mouth, chewed for a moment and nodded to himself. /Not too badly at all./ It still wasn't the way the Sister made them back in school, but... ah, well. Klaus chanced a glance up at Dorian for a moment. "Anything in particular you want to do? I... I'm used to having things well planned." Neurotically so -- schedule was everything, and often deviating from it made him edgy.

"Oh, I don't know," Dorian told him, picking up a knife and cutting into his potato to add butter and salt. "Mary mentioned that there were some antique shops, things like that. Might be nice to see those..." /Might be nice to break into the Smithsonian and make off with the Hope Diamond.../ "You?"

"I want to go up to the shooting range and see what I can still do. And hike." A few more fries, and he looked up when the waitress came back with Dorian's ice-water, and Klaus's cup of coffee. "Would you mind?"

"I wouldn't mind at all." To be perfectly honest about things, Dorian detested guns and violence in most forms. Violence went with Klaus, however, and so he had somewhat accustomed himself to the matter. "That sounds just *marvelous*," he said, beginning to eat his salad.

"It sounds like you're lying." Klaus's voice was a little amused as he kept eating, with the same strange efficiency that he usually did. "I can go early in the morning, probably before you wake up."

"Mmmmm, no, I want to see you shoot. There's something wonderfully efficient about you when you do." /Erotic./ "I've always liked to watch you."

"I thought you hated guns." There was the fact that Dorian probably wanted to do something lewd while he was taking shots. Probably stare at his ass. Klaus had caught the man doing that a few times in the past day or so, but preferred to not say anything about it. "You'd better not be planning on trying to shoot, too!"

"Why? I wouldn't do all *that* badly, surely?" Dorian teased. Well, actually, he might well, but *still*!

"Do you remember Alaska, Dorian?" When the man had bluffed a gun at Mischa the Cub, and then panicked when Klaus had told him that it *WAS* a loaded weapon.

"Actually, I remember Alaska *very* clearly," Dorian replied, eating a bite before saying anything further. "I really don't like guns much. I'm sorry. I can't help myself. But I don't mind watching you..."

"Since it's all I can really do, you might as well." There was, at the very least, a tinge of bitterness in his voice as he said that which was odd for Dorian to hear, since Klaus had been doing such a good job since his release from the hospital and hiding any anger or resentment he had within him. None of it was directed at Dorian, but it was still... there, kept quiet.

"Klaus... you know, you can do so much more than that. If... it weren't for you, I'd be just crazy now. Completely, utterly crazy. You're worth so much to me, in so many ways. You can do more than just shoot...." That answer was almost sad, Dorian's fork dawdling in lettuce leaves.

"I can't even shoot anymore, not the way I used to." Right hand was a loss, one eye with vision a little worse than his right had been -- what good was he? /Oh, as a caretaker and protector for a thief. A faggy British lord. I'm warming his bed, keeping him calm and happy, watching over him... but at what cost? *Why*?/ He glowered into his coffee cup for a moment, before taking a long sip.

Tentatively, as if he sensed that moment in Klaus, Dorian said softly, "Are you... do you... do you regret coming? With me, I mean? I don't want you to do something that you don't want to do, all for me. I don't want you to be uncomfortable. I'm sorry..."

"It's not like there's any-fucking-thing else in my life. That wants to be in my life." Still not looking up, he drained the coffee cup almost meticulously, fairly sure that when he was done with dinner, he'd have a stomach ache. Nerves twisting with fried potatoes did that.

By that point, Dorian's dinner was abandoned, and he was no more looking at Klaus than Klaus was looking at *him*. "So. You're here because you think I'm the..." He swallowed. "The last thing. The only thing. And not because I'm a worthwhile thing.... No, you don't have to tell me it's not true. I.... I understand that I'm not worthwhile, to anyone, anymore, not just to you. I know. I suppose I just.... I just couldn't help fooling myself for a bit that it might be otherwise. My apologies. I'll be sure to keep it in mind now..." To keep it in mind and to sleep in the spare bedroom, if he could stand it. The thought that Klaus would only touch him because he was desperate for something, *anything*, even if it was a filthy pervert like himself, twisted up his belly in knots, left his breath unsteady.

"No, *dammit*," Klaus snapped, putting down his cup. He was starting to feel stomach-sick *now*... or was that his heart that leapt up and jerked painfully at Dorian's words? /Shit!/ "I want to be here with you, Dorian. I'm not here because of that. If it was *just* that, I would..." Not have bothered. If it had have reached such a point of misery in Klaus's life where Dorian was the only thing left, and he still detested the man, he would have walked over the border between east and west and let them shoot him.

"I want..." Dorian shook his head. God, a restaurant wasn't the place to be having this discussion!! "I suppose I've wanted to fool myself, to think that you're here just because you care for me. I've been fooling myself pretty well, in some regards, I suppose. There's such comfort in your arms and in f feeling as if things could be right, the way I always wished they would be...." The smile that he gave Klaus was brave, but the shimmer in those blue eyes as he looked at him was undeniable. "'m an idiot and a pervert. You don't have to tell me. I know. So..."

"Stop babbling," Klaus barked at him, a distinct unhappy *growl* in his voice. "If I didn't care for you... would I be sitting in a restaurant in goddamned *America*, listening to you try to explain me? *I* can't fucking explain myself! If I didn't care for you I would have let myself just fucking die after all that humiliation!"

Each word brought a flinch, the last ones leaving Dorian white as a sheet and trembling. "I'm sorry," he whispered numbly. "I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry..."

/Oh, *God*.../ He'd done it again. A miracle -- for all that Dorian claimed he did him good, it seemed all he did when he spoke his mind was put the Earl into a fit. "Dorian, Dorian, don't apologize..." He leaned across the table with his still-braced left hand, to try to grab one of Dorian's.

"It's just so impossible," Dorian whispered. "I love you so much and I'm trying so hard not to let you know and I don't know what to do, Klaus. I... You deserve better, you understand? You do, but I can't help it. I can't help myself, I can't help being so delighted that you're with me even though I am what I am... If YOU can't explain yourself, I can't explain either of us, because God knows we're just a wreck apart and a wreck together, aren't we? I'm so afraid I'll offend you or that the memories will all be too much and you'll leave and I'll just die...."

It was hard to catch onto any particular thought in that rush of words, but Klaus had caught Dorian's hand, and squeezed it as best he could with unsteady fingers. "I don't think anything can offend me." Dorian had seen him at his most vulnerable, bleeding, *screaming*, molested, *crying*, and hadn't lashed back at him with those things. Hadn't spoken about any of it,or said anything that was meant to hurt those unhealed wounds... "Better to be wrecks together than alone."

It gained him the shakiest of smiles, color coming back into Dorian's face. "Yes," he whispered. "Thank you...."

"If..." He started to say something more, but a *very* wary looking waitress arrived then with the steaks.

"Ummmm," the girl said, blinking at their hands and smiling. "Do... y'all want these?"

"I think you can box mine up," Dorian murmured, not looking at her. "I'm not all that hungry now." Actually, what he wanted was cherries jubilee. Badly.

Klaus looked a little green at the idea, in fact. "Ja. If you could put it all in a box, that would be good. Thank you."

With a nod, the girl moved away, and Dorian sighed with relief. "I don't think I could've eaten it. I'm sorry. What I *really* want is cherries jubilee..."

"I don't even know what that is, so don't ask me where to get it." /Or to cook it./ He wasn't a cooking person -- he was a microwave person, a toaster-oven person, a package-of-crackers, cup-of-Nescafé person. The most handy trick he knew was wetting a paper-towel and putting it over dry bread in the microwave to make it edible.

"I'll settle for cherries in any form, I think," Dorian told him, smiling wanly as the girl came back with their steak. Half of the restaurant was sneaking looks at them by then. He really hoped Klaus hadn't noticed!

Blissfully, Klaus didn't notice until he let go of Dorian's hand to stand up. Glancing momentarily away from the man, he could see, with a spy's sense of awareness, glances being taken at them, whispers and guesses at what they'd been talking about and who they were. "Fucking nosy Yanks," he growled, not under his breath so much as Dorian probably would have wanted. He picked the steaks up with his good hand, now clearly glowering at the entire area, as he waited for Dorian.

Easily, Dorian rose, following Klaus as they left the restaurant, walking through the dark. "I'm sorry I made a scene," he said sheepishly. "I'm afraid I can't help myself."

"I think I made more of a scene than you did." Klaus was firm on that as he moved towards their rented car.

"Klaus... what I said in there... I really am sorry if I offended you," Dorian offered. "I can't help that I love you. I tried not to, only it never has worked at all."

"I think if you didn't... care for me that way, you'd wouldn't be able to stand me." The doors were unlocked, and he slid the boxes into the back seat.

That drew a little chuckle from the tall blond as he slipped into the passenger seat. "Well..." he said. "You're certainly not 'my type', Klaus. No. You're in a league *all* your own... and I've never been happier, in so many ways. Just being with you has always been a long wild ride and the most wonderful thing imaginable. I'm sorry if you can't understand that."

"I can't." Hard truth for Klaus to grasp -- that he probably never would understand why Dorian wanted anything to do with a brash, hard-hearted and headed, mean, and now *useless* ex-NATO agent. "What is your type?" /Probably brilliant, artsy... like that stupid little fluff Caesar./

"Oh... fluffy, short. Willing to give in easily to my various and sundry charms. You, though, I've never quite managed to charm entirely. Maybe that's it," the other man murmured as Klaus started the car. "Maybe that's what I wanted but wasn't getting before. You can resist my demands. Though I'm glad you occasionally give in," Dorian admitted, smiling at him. "You don't let me walk all over you, and that's a wonderful commodity."

"When I give in to something, Dorian, it's because it would please me just as much as you." He buckled his seat-belt almost absently. "Do you want to drive around for a little while? Maybe we'll come across a grocery store. We need to get food anyway."

"That sounds like a marvelous idea," Dorian said with a slight sigh, smiling. "Hmm, maybe I can get something cherry there."

"Yeah. And I could use Nescafé."

"You and your instant coffee," was the chuckled response.

"Why does no one else seem to like it?" Klaus backed out of the parking spot, and then pulled out completely, back onto route 7. "It's very good."

"It's instant, darling," Dorian teased. "Very few people are fond of instant coffee."

"It's good, it's quick, and it's got caffeine in it," the German man told him, keeping the car close to the road. "Better than that fluffy stuff most people prefer to drink. If you put that much cream and sugar into it, why bother?"

"Because it's good," Dorian teased. "And I like it that way. We'll buy your Nescafé, darling. Just the way you like it!"

"We'll buy it if we can find a grocery store," Klaus corrected almost grimly. He had a feeling they'd be driving for a while, probably get lost at least once before Dorian's luck kicked in and got them there. It certainly wouldn't be his own luck kicking in, since it seemed to have kicked *off* a few years ago.

"So long as we don't run out of gas," Dorian told him with a smile. Ahh, but the notion of 'running out of gas' with Klaus... He almost sighed. /Dreamer,/ he told himself sternly.

"Keep your eyes out for a pump-station then," Klaus murmured, flicking his eyes to the tank. Half a tank -- they'd be fine.

For a while, they travelled in silence, searching steadily for a grocery store or a gas station, one. The town was mostly quiet, lights out, stores and houses mostly dark. "Hmmmm... oh!" Dorian said. "There!" 'There' was a Shop and Stop, lights on brightly, a few cars outside. It was obviously open, and Klaus pulled in, parking the car close to the front. "Marvelous," Dorian sighed. "Let's run in. I'm sure they'll have cherries!"

"Coffee, milk... eggs, bread, can you think of anything else we need?" Aside from everything. It was oddly, almost sickly domestic to be going shopping for groceries with Dorian, but it was also something to do that he didn't mind. They were... there, together, sleeping in the same bed, same room, same house, in America after having fled their troubles in Bonn.

"Things you and I can cook. Stuff that comes out of boxes like... er... macaroni and cheese or something," Dorian said, shaking his head. "Easy stuff. I'm not much of a cook, Klaus," he said apologetically. "I can scramble eggs but not much beyond that."

"I can cook. Some. Almost. Nothing fancy," Klaus shrugged, locking the door as Dorian got out of the car. Plain food-stuffs. "Maybe we can work on that while we're here."

"Sounds promising," Dorian drawled, hands shoved in his pockets as he shut his own door and walked around the car to Klaus. "Let's go in."

"Hopefully it won't be closing soon." That would have just topped off his day. As it was, he was half tempted to drag Dorian back to the car, drive him home, and drag him up to bed.

"I don't imagine it will," was the optimistic reply as they reached the door, a step on the pressure sensitive pad at the door sending it open so that they could slip inside. Once there, Dorian fetched a buggy fairly cheerfully and peered towards the vegetable area. "Let's start over there?"

"Any reason you want cherries? Or is it just a whim?" At least he was buying this whim, and not trying to walk off with it, Klaus mused to himself.

"A whim," Dorian admitted. "Don't you ever just have a taste for something in the back of your mouth? And things aren't the same 'til you eat some of it? Nothing else will do!"

"The only thing that gives me that problem is when I haven't smoked for too long." On occasion he'd gotten quite pathetic in his need to smoke -- he'd never bothered to figure out if it was the nicotine that made him need it, or the simple soothingness the actions held.

Dorian simply smiled. "I'm passionate about my cravings," he admitted. /And my worst craving is for you..../

"Until you've gotten it, or stolen it, or whatever, and then you don't care anymore," Klaus commented, wandering over to look at the lettuce.

Dorian shook his head, pausing behind Klaus. "No. No, not really. There are a few things which never fail to keep my attention and my feelings," he said solemnly. /You. You're one of those things.../

The store was oddly empty -- well, not odd if he remembered what time of night it was -- and that silence made Klaus lower his voice just a little when he replied. "Like what? Art in general?"

"You," Dorian admitted softly, beginning to lightly pick through bunches of carrots for just what he wanted.

The German man swallowed, turned, and set a head of lettuce down in the cart. "Me. Why?"

"Because I love you," Dorian answered quietly. "Because it seems like I've loved you forever, even though you can't love me back. That's all. Just because I love you."

"Dorian..." It wasn't the time for a conversation like that... but when it was a better setting, they didn't have that problem -- at least, not as often. "I can't see why you would. I've done nothing but be angry at you for so long..."

That gained him a slight smile. "Love's got no rhyme or reason. *I* have no rhyme or reason, for that matter. I just do. It just is. That's all."

"Someday, I'll understand you," Klaus sighed, moving to get behind the cart. "What else do we need?"

"Oh, this and that," Dorian said. "Bread, sandwich things, ummm.... grapes. Cherries. Fruit. Ah... maybe TV dinners, if neither of us is all that proficient at cooking, Klaus...."

"I can make soup. And we can eat out," Klaus scoffed. Though, after the fit between both of them, he didn't think Bob's Country Kitchen was an option any longer, unless they got it to go. But he would *not* eat a TV dinner.

"All right," Dorian agreed easily enough. "Let's pick up some wine and such while we're here, too. It won't be anything fancy, but it ought to be drinkable, hadn't it?"

"Yank wine?" Klaus shook his head. No, the Americans couldn't quite do something without fouling it up. "I doubt it. We'll get something decent if they sell it, though -- a little wine in the evenings could be nice."

"Or surely they have a store for such things *somewhere*..." Dorian trailed off, peering at all of the varieties of bread now before them. "Oh, dear. Well, I suppose one's about the same as another..."

French, Italian... He grabbed a thick loaf of Italian just for the simple reason that it wasn't French. Anyway, they both turned as hard as rock on the outside within days. "We'll drive more tomorrow -- and when we find that store, we'll buy something *decent* to drink."

"Mmmm," Dorian murmured in agreement as he wheeled the buggy along. "Oooo, olives! I like olives. Not as much as cherries..."

Klaus was nodded, looking around -- and then fell back a pace as he spotted the plastic boxes of fresh cherries. "This what you're looking for, Dorian?"

"Ooooooh!!!" came the almost-coo. "Yes! That's EXACTLY what I'm looking for! Thank you, Klaus!"

A moment of looking at them -- and glancing at the price -- and Klaus turned, handing two boxes to Dorian. "I hope you enjoy these."

The fact that the blond Briton was nearly PURRING over the things was a fair sign of how much he was going to appreciate them! "Ohhh, I think I'll enjoy them quite a bit. I'll even share, if you ask nicely," he teased.

"'s all right." Because Klaus grabbed a bag of oranges for himself, and seemed pleased with that as he set them in the cart. Not ever so loudly pleased as Dorian could be, but pleased nonetheless.

"All right. On to the next aisle?" Dorian asked him with a smile. The urge to kiss him was terrible, a drawing need that was nearly enough to drown him in pleasurable thought that matched the deed of kissing any other man, ever. /Oh, Klaus.../

"Macaroni and cheese doesn't seem like such a bad idea," Klaus commented as they turned down the cereal aisle. "I know I can make that without trouble. Add some meat in, too, and it's not so pre-made."

"Like that Helper stuff?" Dorian asked. "Jamesie *loves* that. He says it's economical or something..."

"No, that stuff's poison," Klaus told him, shaking his head. "Just macaroni and cheese that you add meat to. The less prepackaging the better. 's not healthy to live off of boxed food."

"Well, Jamesie never claimed it was *healthy*. Just economical. He's so utterly cheap at heart. He can't help himself, you know. It's part of his charm, really," Dorian insisted.

"It's the part of him that keeps you economically afloat," Klaus murmured in amusement, picking up a box of Cheerios after a moment's thought, and tossing it into the cart.

"That, too," came the sheepish admission as Dorian added shortbread cookies and Pop-tarts. "He's really a good man, most of the time. Just aggravating on occasion in his miserliness."

"Alaska. Rome," Klaus reminded him. Times when James had been more than just irritatingly miserly. He had been... brilliantly annoying in Rome, even when money wasn't concerned, and Klaus had delighted in spilling the man's payment by leaving the locks on the suitcase open when he'd tossed it out of the plane. Then the mess with the money plate in Alaska. But Alaska... Rome, and Alaska quick on its heels, had been when he'd realized that Dorian was a worthwhile human being -- one that he trusted. It had only grown since then, that trust...

"I'm watching how much sugar you put in the cart," he warned Dorian.

That gained him a roll of those blue eyes and a smile. "There's nothing wrong with a little sugar, Klaus!" he attempted to explain. "Really, there isn't! It's only Pop-Tarts and cookies! I promise nothing else too sweet, all right? Except maybe sorbet or something..."

"I never wonder why you Brits have horrible teeth. Present company withstanding." No, Dorian had a crisp, dazzling smile...

"*I* always felt it was a lack of dentistry skills, darling. Have you ever been to a British dentist? No?" Dorian shuddered. "Dentists... gah..."

"NATO dentistry..." Klaus shuddered. Military health care was abrupt, took a while if you weren't an officer, and... and the German man realized that he couldn't open his mouth without saying something about his now defunct job. Dorian could see his facial expression fall by degrees.

"Come on, then," Dorian said softly. "Let's go check out the bad American wine, all right?"

"Ja. And..." Klaus glanced over the cart briefly. "Meat and milk." /And liquor. Something hard. So I won't think anymore./

"Cheese and butter," Dorian added. "And eggs...."

"I'll find those things -- you see if there's anything else you can come up with," Klaus said, moments before he started towards the back of the store -- the freezer and cold section. He picked up a package of ground beef and a package of sausages, then moved to get a quarter-circle of cheddar cheese. All that was easily carried with his left hand, the eggs added to that, and then he snagged a gallon of milk with the... two barely useful fingers of his right hand. The frown on his face had grown worse by the time he met up with Dorian again.

"Are you all right?" Dorian asked him tentatively. Several things had been added to the buggy -- mostly bath items, because they hadn't bothered to pack those things since they'd known they would just shop for them when they arrived. Paper towels and paper plates had also joined the ranks of their buggy -- Dorian hated washing dishes.

"Ja." He dropped the milk in first, then used a weakened grasp to move things from his left hand to the cart. "Anything else?"

"I rather think that's it. It *looks* like enough, don't you think? Whatever else we need, we can always come back," Dorian offered. "Except for the wine..."

"Let's see what there is." And then he led the way for the aisle he'd spotted when he'd gotten the milk, boots clicking loud on the tiled floor.

The buggy wheeled along after him, Dorian pushing it and following quietly until they reached an aisle that contained both soft drinks and wine, as well as a small amount of liquors. "Well...."

"Pick the wine," Klaus instructed, moving towards the liquors. Something hard, something *decent*...

By the time he got back, Dorian had picked out a couple of bottles that didn't look like they would be *too* bad and he was still perusing the others. "No," he decided, "I think that's enough. Did you find what you wanted?"

Two bottles of whiskey, a brand that Klaus didn't recognize but hoped was all right. "Ja." Both were set in the cart, and then Klaus surveyed over it, nodding. "Let's check-out, then. By the time we get home, I think we'll be tired enough to sleep."

Obediently enough, the cart turned in the direction of the cashiers, the line of little stations with their lights mostly dark save for one or two. "I think so," Dorian agreed, reaching up with one hand and rubbing at an eye. "I could definitely sleep until tomorrow, even with our nap."

"Yeah. Well, the time-zone difference, the drive, the flight..." he shrugged as he slipped in front of Dorian and the cart, so he could pay when the tired looking cashier had rung them up.

It took only a few moments to empty everything, Dorian setting things up with a strange sort of *order*. Everything of which they'd bought more than one went together, things from the same aisle were placed out in the order from which they'd come off the shelves and, finally, the alcohol was placed behind it all. "There."

Klaus only gave that a side-long glance from the corner of his eye, pulling his wallet free again.

"Plastic bags okay?" the cashier asked, very *obviously* staring at both of them.

"Ja."

Their purchases were all neatly moved over the scanner until the woman reached the alcohol. "ID, please?"

That got her a *glare* -- as if he and Dorian were underage! Klaus had to set his wallet down to free his better hand so he could pull free the little case he kept his IDs in. "Here." His NATO military ID, the picture taken years before the ordeal that had recently ruined his eye. /I actually have to get another one... 'retired' status. Hah./

She looked at it suspiciously, but it seemed to satisfy her, because she rang the stuff up. "That'll be forty-seven eighty-three."

"I think I've got the eighty-three, Klaus," Dorian offered, digging into his pocket. They'd had money changed over as soon as they'd arrived, and he still had the change from the diner.

"Danke Schön," Klaus murmured, putting away his ID and then picking up his wallet to hand the cashier a crisp fifty while Dorian handed the woman change. /Hopefully we can get back to the house without too much trouble./

Once the woman handed Klaus the three dollars in change along with his receipt, Dorian began gathering bags and putting them back in the buggy to take outside with them. "There..."

The receipt ended up tossed into the nearest bag, and then Klaus slid both hands into his pockets, under the guise of looking for keys. "What are we going to do once this month is over, Dorian?"

"I don't know," Dorian answered honestly as they headed back outside. "I think we should make it known that we're available as contractors at the end of the month, Klaus." It was what they had already partially discussed, but... "The information community would snap both of us up in a moment, I think. You're notorious for carrying out your missions to the letter, even while being aggravated by me, and I can steal almost anything..."

But Klaus wondered, and not without reason, if they could still hold up under duty. "They'll snap you up, Dorian," Klaus murmured, sure of *that*... and nothing else. He'd been discharged -- no 'retired' -- because of what had happened to him. 'Post Traumatic Stress disorder' -- what did that mean to him? Nothing more than a fancy label placed on him and used as an excuse to be rid of him.

The British thief paused at the car as Klaus keyed open the trunk. "No," he said softly. "They'll snap *us* up. On my own, none of them would have been interested. They weren't before, and the entire intelligence community probably *knows* who I am, with the exception of those idiots at ICPO. It's you and me, together, that they'll want. I'm almost certain."

"I am a... a..." Klaus had to reach to find the word in english, as he flipped open the trunk. "A liability."

"You," Dorian said, "are the most incredible agent in existence, and NATO is full of complete fucking idiots."

/I fucked up, why can't you *see* that,/ Klaus thought in hard frustration. "I agree to the latter. I used to be the former."

"You still *are*," was the prompt reply, "and we'll show *them* and *I'LL* show *you*."

"Huh." That got him a baleful half-glare, and Klaus moved to unlock the car. "Don't bother."

Closing the trunk, Dorian moved to the passenger side and slid in as Klaus unlocked his own door. "Klaus. It's true."

"Shut up, Dorian. I don't want to hear it," Klaus snapped, slipping in and slamming the door behind him. That sentiment had been building since the restaurant, but it still wasn't right of him to take it -- even so lightly -- out on Dorian. His fuck-up wasn't Dorian's fault.

The requested silence was given him as Dorian lightly put on his seatbelt, facing front wordlessly to look out over the rest of the parking lot. /It's true,/ he thought defiantly. /It's true, and you can't make me change my mind about that!/

The car didn't pull out right away -- first Klaus pulled out a cigarette, and lit it, for the first time in days forgetting to offer one to Dorian too. "Are we going to sleep when we get back?" Klaus asked, just as he'd already done. He didn't want to talk, didn't want to think or find something else to do -- he just wanted to give in to sleep and pretend in the hazy moments before and just after slumber that everything was okay.

"If you want," was the soft answer. "We should put things away, first. Have a bath." A bath, where he would hate every moment of being alone, but where his crying wouldn't upset Klaus.

/Shower./ It would be refreshing after such a long, damnably long day... "I'll put everything away, and you can bathe." That way he'd have something to do, with not too much real time to play with. Boredom was a vicious enemy.

The suggestion gained easy enough agreement as he started the car and backed it up, heading out of the lot. "All right."

Getting back to the house was easier than finding a grocery store had been. Just find route 7 again, and then the turn-off, and everything became familiar, despite rolling down a half-mile long street that had at most two street lights. "Gut."

For a while, silence continued to rule between them, even as they slowed to turn into the house. It finally became obvious that Dorian could resist it no longer, however, and he said softly, "You're worth more than you think you are. I wish you wouldn't fight it so much."

"I've been retired from my career for *mental* problems; I'm half blind, and..." And his ruined right hand, but he didn't need to remind anyone of that. Not himself, at least. "It would be a mar on any record. I'm just as loathed in other agencies as I am in NATO."

"You aren't ever going to allow me to make anything better, are you?" Dorian asked quietly, head down even as Klaus parked the car. "I'm not even worthy of helping you, am I?"

"You're helping," Klaus told him, coasting carefully down into the darkened garage once he'd opened the door, and getting out again to close the garage door behind them and flick on the light. "You..." He waited until Dorian had at least cracked open his door before he went on. No use talking to someone who wasn't listening. "You're helping a lot."

Standing, looking at him, those deep aquamarine eyes seemed so sad. "I don't feel like I am. I think you're the most wonderful person ever to live," Dorian murmured extravagantly, "but I can't make you see that. I don't know how."

"Most wonderful person..." Klaus muttered it in echo, shaking his head as he unlocked the trunk and grabbed the bags that had the liquor. "I'm not, Dorian. I don't know where you got that idea, but I'm *not*." /I'm a failure, at everything. Everything. Battles won, war lost, doesn't matter. Failure./

"You are," Dorian answered numbly. "You are. You're *my* most wonderful person. Doesn't that count for anything at all?"

It didn't make sense to Klaus -- that there was a distinction between the actual thing and being *Dorian's*, but... "Explain."

That blond head shook slowly, curls cascading wildly around his face, even more corkscrewed than they had been before he cut it. "I love you," he said finally, softly, face exquisitely sorrowful. "I think you're the most wonderful person in the world. Nothing will ever change that, nothing that you do and nothing that anyone else thinks or says. *I* know that they're wrong. *I* know that you're more wonderful than any of them can imagine. If the rest of the world is stupid, then that's their problem, not mine. And it isn't yours, either. You're still the most wonderful person in the world... to *ME*."

What a sorry state Dorian's world was in, when he was the most wonderful person, Klaus wondered, looking at the earl with almost disbelief on his face. "Why? What have I done to... deserve that from you?

"You've never let me down," Dorian whispered. "You have always been just who you are, no matter what."

"I have let you down, though." Klaus moved past him, through the cluttered and odd-smelling basement, up creaking stairs to the door that he had to unlock to get into the house. His voice had ached oddly to tell Dorian that, and he hoped the earl hadn't noticed.

"Why... do you say that?" The response was softly hitched, but spoken nonetheless. "Why do you say that when *I* let *you* down?"

"I didn't get us out. I... I didn't protect you." He had the door unlocked, but leaned on it a moment as he said that.

"And I could have stopped us ever going in, if I'd paid attention at all to my instincts," Dorian replied in a whisper. "If you're at fault, then so am I, but even if that weren't true, you'd still be the most wonderful person to me. I can't help loving you now any more than I could in Italy, or any time since."

Italy. Rome. The mission with the Vatican, the catacombs, the Pope...

Shooting the television screen, wiping lipstick off of his hand and proving his lack of knowledge of it in general, the catacombs, Dorian so damned close he could feel him, being followed so closely, fear when Eroica was caught, then obligation to free him, lying for why he'd freed him... "Don't mention missions to me."

"Not mentioning it doesn't change anything," came the aching murmur, ignoring the fact that the statement applied even more to himself than it did to Klaus.

He finally opened the door between basement and first floor. Dorian was just... too close then. Too, too, dangerously close to too many things. "I don't want to remember."

"I still think you're wonderful."

"Fine. Think that. Go wash up; I'll put everything away." Klaus's words were just snaps of sound, unhappy and without anything behind them at all -- orders from a voice too familiar with giving them to manage much else in that mood.

In miserable silence, Dorian ascended the stairs with an exhausted obedience, leaving Klaus alone to bring things in from the car and put them away. He didn't bring up soap or shampoo, so he hoped that there was at least *something* in the bathroom to use... /Oh, Klaus,/ he thought disconsolately, eyes already welling with the sheer despondency that he felt. /I can't help that I love you. I'm sorry that I can't make you understand.../

The bathroom had *soap*, but not shampoo; well, Dorian could manage one night with just one and not the other.

Klaus took his time putting things away, and after ten or so minutes, had it all put neatly into the refrigerator. Then his monocular gaze hit the things that he'd left sitting out -- the shampoo and soap foremost.

/I'll take these up to Dorian -- he's probably been waiting,/ he told himself, mounting the stairs tiredly, and then turning left into the brief hallway, stopping at the bathroom to knock lightly despite the sound of running water. "Dorian?"

A momentary pause sounded, as if he hadn't been heard, but then a reply came over the sound of the water. "Yes?"

"I have the soap and shampoo."

The water shut off, Dorian's voice seeming a bit louder. "Oh. Come in..."

The door opened carefully and with hesitance, Klaus unsure what he might find when he strode through.

What he found was Dorian, standing in the shower, frosted glass pulled back slightly, a small towel clutched to his chest that covered him (mostly) to the tops of his thighs. "Thank you," he said meekly, looking at Klaus.

It took every ounce of Klaus's resolve to hand Dorian the shampoo and soap, wrappers still in place, through the opened glass. "You're... welcome." /Move. Back out of the room. Don't stare.../

Almost negligently, Dorian went to work on the wrappers, the towel sliding to the side before Klaus could get out of the room, revealing quite a bit more than Klaus really wanted to see, in that moment. "Damn," he muttered to himself, tugging it back up. "Sorry..."

"It's all right," Klaus murmured, backing up quickly and then closing the door behind him, more than a little abruptly. It... wasn't anything he hadn't seen already, wasn't on purpose.... but the German man still had to force down a rush of warring emotions. He could admit to his almost vicious protectiveness of Dorian, his need for the other's company; all of that was hard enough to admit to. Anything else was hazy and brought up a rush of self-loathing with it.

So why was the image of Dorian clutching that falling towel burned onto his retinas with such clear and detailed memory?

/I can either take my medications, or get something to drink. Medications, drink.../ It was such a toss-up, but his hands and the still healing muscles of his chest were starting to really kill him, and if he wanted to be able to put them to any use at all.... /Medications./ That granted a hazy bliss of its own.

A drink would just have to wait 'til the next day.

It was perhaps twenty minutes later that Dorian entered the bedroom, to find Klaus still dressed, prescription bottles on a table beside him, and a book resting in his lap, reading it absently. He was trying his best to find *something* with which to distract himself.

"Sorry I took so long," came the apology, the tall blond man already dressed in satin shorts and sleeveless pajama top in a brilliant aquamarine. "I hope you didn't have to wait long..."

"'ve been reading," Klaus dismissed, sliding the book on modern weaponry onto the bed as he stood, and grabbed his pajamas from his still mostly packed suitcase.

"Sorry," Dorian apologized again, slipping into the bed on what had become 'his' side.

How that had happened or begun, Klaus had no idea. He didn't really favor one side or the other, since he always slept dead center on his back when he was alone. Which had been always. "I didn't mean to snap at you earlier."

"I know," was the quiet answer. "I'm sorry. I can't help the way I feel about you."

And Klaus had no idea what he felt about Dorian -- no name for the emotion that could rise to his lips. "We'll just have to disagree there. How are you feeling?"

"Tired..." Lonely, sad, heartbroken, worthless, a million things, but telling that to Klaus would only make both of them feel worse!

The other man nodded, agreeing but not needing to say it. The same sentiments practically glowed out of his eyes, as he stood in the doorway for a moment, just looking at Dorian, before turning down the hall. "I'll be back soon."

"All right," came quiet agreement, Dorian shivering. /Don't leave me alone for long.../ His earlier thoughts of sleeping alone were long since gone. He never would have managed it, anyway, he knew!

Originally, Klaus had planned to take a quick shower; the plan detoured once he realized the tub was big enough to let him stretch out with moderate comfort in it. He let the water heat up again -- since Dorian had used the ready hot water in his shower -- and then ran it partway full. He slipped in carefully, wincing as he adjusted to the temperature before settling in completely, reaching a hand for the soap on the edge.

He took his time about bathing, relaxing in the water slightly once he was done, heating it up again after a while because it was cooling off a bit. He was lost in thought, truth be told, in memory and unpleasantness, and he hated it. /I should have gotten him out.../

"Klaus?" A knock on the door sounded, Dorian's voice worried. "Are you all right? You've been gone..."

"Mmn?" He lifted his head from the edge of the tub, finishing getting the last of the shampoo out of his hair. He'd spent probably too long in there, but the heat of the water had mellowed his tense frame.

"Are you all right?" Dorian fretted, a hand on the knob.

"Ja." Klaus laid his head back down, and did a brief touch-check for soap, feeling over the ripples of scarring left by the mostly healed gauges in his chest, and then... then his hand stopped before he could let it tend to something that was just a natural reaction. Was it to the water and relaxation, or Dorian's voice, though?

"Are you sure?" came the hesitant reply. "If you're sure, I'll go back to bed and wait for you..."

/Wait for me./ His mind echoed that a few times, and Klaus dragged himself sitting upright, and then shifted out of the water completely. The air in the room was a littler colder than the heat of the water, so he had to deal with the first slight chill as he grabbed a towel. "'m fine." The... problem would fade soon enough.

"All right..." Even through the door, it was obvious that Dorian was reluctant to go.

"Go to bed, Dorian," Klaus sighed, tying the towel tight around his hips, as he unzipped his shaving kit.

"...all right," Dorian said again, and then Klaus heard him moving away, leaving him to himself.

Not that Klaus had really wanted to be alone. But it was a matter of habit, of facade... A matter of trying to regain shattered dignity. He couldn't even guess why he was trying, only...

Only that it wasn't helping anything.

A moment later, Dorian's voice came again, as if he'd not gotten very far at all. "I don't want to go back by myself," he called.

"It's just down the hall," Klaus growled softly as he closed his shaving kit without even starting to shave. Tomorrow. He'd do that tomorrow morning, when he wasn't tired, and thinking of doing things with that sharp blade that he shouldn't think about. Dorian needed him, even though no one else did; at least he was still useful to someone, hmn? That had to be worth something, "I'll be out in a moment."

"Can... I wait?" came the insecure question. "I can't... I'm by myself..." And that was the truly *terrible* thing. Even being in the shower was almost too much for Dorian, because he couldn't bear those moments spent alone!

"You can wait." The tone he used softened when he said that, starting to dry himself quickly before slipping on underwear, his pajama bottoms, an undershirt and then the pajama top. His hair was still partly wet, so for a few moments Dorian heard no movement but the roar of the hair-dryer.

By the time it turned off, Dorian was more than a little antsy, pressed against the doorjamb and shivering. /No one is in the house. Klaus is in the bathroom. It's only me and Klaus. Everything is all right. Klaus will be out in just a minute.../

When the door finally opened, it was with a rush of relief -- and Klaus starting to step through, turning off the light behind him. "You should have just gone to bed," he chided quietly.

Almost before he was out, Dorian's arms were around him, his entire body pressed to Klaus. "I couldn't," he whispered, shivering. "I was alone!" Alone except for Klaus. Alone except for the fear that someone else was in the house...

"I was just right *here*," Klaus told him, slipping a hand very lightly around Dorian's waist to help calm him. "Are you cold?"

"A little. Mostly... just... I had to wait for you," came the explanation.

An explanation that sounded childish, but... But it made sense to Klaus, and that was what was disturbing to him. "Are you going to start following me into the bathroom now?" he asked, trying to tease just a little as they walked over wooden floors and into the master bedroom. He flicked off the hall light on his way past.

"Would you let me?" The scary part of *that* was that it seemed half serious. "It just took longer than usual is all, and... and it's dark..."

"Turn on a few more lights?" Klaus suggested, closing the bedroom door behind them as they entered. "I was making sure everything was healing."

Telling Klaus that every light in the house being on wouldn't work seemed incredibly childish just then. "How are they?" Dorian asked tentatively. His own stitches and sutures were doing just fine aside from a lingering tenderness and the redness of the scars on his face. He hated looking at himself in the mirror, but... "Are you doing all right?"

"Sore," he shrugged. The muscles of his upper chest often protested any movement at all, tightened and cramped, but... well, they were healing. Still healing, but it was better than not healing. "I'm going to go shooting tomorrow, though." He wanted to test his left hand, but the fracture still made him unsure of shooting with anything other than a simple pistol. Not his Magnum. Not yet.

Crawling into bed, Dorian continued to shiver. "Can I come?" he asked tentatively.

Klaus didn't get in bed, though. Instead he stretched out on the floor to start push-ups, tentative and carefully waiting to see if anything pulled. "If you want to. I thought I could go and be back before you woke up, though -- I know you sleep in."

"Don't leave me alone!" The sound of that was almost hysterical, and Dorian was clutching the covers close to him. "Please!"

"Dorian, the house is secure," Klaus told him, smoothly executing push-up number six, and then seven.

"But..."

A little tremor worked its way down Dorian's spine as he laid down, closing his eyes tightly and pressing the heels of his palms to them. /But what if it isn't?/ he wanted to say. He couldn't, though -- he couldn't. Klaus was already a paranoid man to begin with; did he really need Dorian questioning things when he thought the situation was safe?

"All right," Dorian whispered. "I... I can stay by myself..." God, he'd be crazy before Klaus ever got back!

"You can.... 20... come with me... 21... if you want." A rare offer; but Klaus *knew* Dorian got jittery around guns!

"I'll be good and quiet," came the promise, some relief flooding through Dorian and into the pit of his belly.

"I just don't want... 23... you to be nervous... twenty... four..." He completed twenty five total before he felt what was a suspicious-seeming tugging of muscle and stopped before it got any worse. Then he turned over to do sit-ups.

Watching him, Dorian could feel his erection rising at the sight of Klaus's motions, and he shivered slightly. /Down, down, down,/ he thought to himself. "I'd be more nervous here alone," he admitted softly.

Mid-way through one, Klaus stopped, looking over at Dorian. "Why?"

"I just..." The covers were still tugged close to Dorian even as he leaned to the side of the bed to watch the other man. "I just can't.... I can't... I don't want to be alone. And I can't stand it."

"But when you're alone, there's no threat." Klaus's normal reasoning, as he went back to doing sit-ups. Yes, when one was alone, there was no one there who knew one's failures, no one who could say something to remind one of everything, no one *staring* at one's eyepatch, or ruined hand...

The realization that Klaus didn't understand was there, but it was hard for Dorian to let go. "I'm just afraid," he admitted miserably. "I'm sorry to be such a coward."

"You're not... a coward." /I am./

"I am," Dorian told him firmly. "I'm afraid to be alone. I can't sleep without you with me. I don't even want to go to the bathroom without you! It's all I can do to do *that*! If that isn't cowardly, I can't imagine what is!"

Silence, as Klaus quickly finished the sit-ups, and then moved to get under the sheets. "Does it matter?"

"It does if you're disappointed in me," Dorian said, quickly shifting closer to the center of the bed and to Klaus.

The German man, with a little rustling, settled comfortably on his back, knowing Dorian would soon be pressed against him. It was a comfort, really, no matter how he started off sleeping because he always ended up moving closer before he woke up. "I'm not."

"That's all right, then," Dorian whispered, a hand lightly placed on Klaus's arm, his head nuzzled up close to the other man's shoulder. Here, close by, he was safe, even in the dark. No matter what. "So long as you aren't..."

/I'm disappointed in myself, scared, lost.../ "Good night." Klaus laid there a moment, then moved his left hand to rest atop Dorian's shoulder, pulling him closer still.

That was perfection, a deep and sorrowful perfection. Being so close to Klaus had been something Dorian had wanted, dreamed of, needed for so long and not gotten. No, it had taken... /I won't think about it./ Instead, his arms moved, one to lay across Klaus's belly, the other to curl between them as his head came to rest on Klaus's shoulder. "Good night, Klaus," he whispered, able to close his eyes, finally.

Laying there awake, with Dorian so close wasn't hard... it was trying to sleep. He'd been tired, but frustration and anger at himself had driven a great deal of it from him. Now he could concentrate on the feel of soft golden curls tucked against the side of his face, the warm frame curled against him... Even the steady damp breaths that tickled his own dark hair seemed somehow wonderful, just as the arm wrapped around Dorian's slim frame was vaguely remarkable!

/I love you, Klaus,/ Dorian thought sleepily, shifting even closer with a sigh.

Other times they'd slept together -- all other times in fact -- exhaustion, physical or emotional, had pulled him into a heavy sleep. Now, though, there were so many sensation to contend with, and nothing to keep his mind busy. Only the feel of warm arms. Dorian was the only person he'd ever slept with, the only person he'd ever let touch him that much, that way.

Why?

It was easy to think that it was what they had been through, easy to simply consider that Dorian needed him, but...

Was that the truth of the matter?

Klaus wasn't going to consider it too deeply. No matter his reasons for it, they had been through a certain type of hell that only they could understand even slightly, and Dorian *did* need him in a desperate way...

And if his easy acquiescence to Dorian's need was because he was just as sick as those Stasi men who'd hurt Dorian, what did it matter?

"Having problems sleeping?" Dorian asked softly, startling him slightly.

/He doesn't know.../ "Yeah."

"Is there anything I can do to help you?" came the next question, along with a slight shift of Dorian's body, legs coming up, hips moving slightly away from Klaus.

The movement all but made Klaus jump out of his skin. "No," came the thick murmur, eyes sliding closed tightly.

"Maybe some warm milk?" Dorian suggested.

"No, but thanks." An already rough tone roughened more, and Klaus wished Dorian would either lie back down or move away entirely. Because with him so obviously awake, too...

Well.

"All right," came the murmur, sleep not nearly so far off for Dorian, who snuggled closer again, breath becoming steady and even before very much more time had passed.

Why was it that he could better face these things when Dorian was sleeping? /I'm not a queer, I don't want to do anything with him, I'm not.../ He couldn't get out of his mind the image of Dorian trying to unwrap the shampoo bottle, or those first moments after his clothes had been cut off, when Klaus couldn't look away, and the violation that followed. /I'm not like that, I don't want to *do* that.../ It was disgusting, wrong, and so many other things. But the arousal those images conjured up when combined with Dorian pressed to his side was undeniable....

Especially when the other man sighed and shifted closer, the feel of a hip pressing to Klaus's own.

His already tense form stiffened worse, breaths all but stopping as if that would get rid of the erection that wasn't held in place by boxers and loose pajama bottoms. Dorian couldn't know, *ever*, and he had to get away from that comfortable, warm touch against him before it got any worse. It was unfortunate for him that Dorian shifted in that moment, a thigh coming up to cross his own even as the blond Briton hugged himself tightly against the German's tall, lean frame and almost audibly *purred*.

In that moment, it didn't matter if Dorian had felt Klaus's erection or not -- it was a startling movement that made Klaus jump free of the bed and that grasp, swearing under his breath.

It also woke Dorian completely, nearly scaring him half to death so that he cried out, suddenly fighting the covers. "Stop! STOP!!! Oh, GOD, No! Klaus! KLAUS!!!"

Startled still, Klaus barely edged near the bed close enough to untangle Dorian, and then back off again. "I'm here, Dorian." /Not for much longer. I need to go for a run, or... something.../

In tears, the other man reached out for him and, unable to find him, curled around himself in the center of the bed, breath hitching with fear and the desperate need for light -- light and Klaus. "Wh-wh-wh..."

A hand finally touched his shoulder, barely there but that callused touch, an odd mixture of gentleness and firmness, could have only been Klaus. "Dorian?" Had they both scared each other so much?

Tremblingly, Dorian took hold of that hand, clutching it tightly to his chest. "Klaus. Klaus. Oh, G-god, Klaus. I was a-afraid. You w-w-were gone and it was d-dark and I thought..." He had thought someone had taken Klaus out of the bed and away from him. "I th-th-thought sssomeone had t-t-taken y-you...!"

"I just... needed to get up," he said, letting Dorian clutch his right hand against his chest. He didn't want to be touching Dorian just then, but... Thank God, if there was one, for the darkness that would hide his arousal from Dorian.

"I couldn't b-bear it if sssomeone took you!" Dorian got out, grasping tightly to that hand, unwilling to let it go. The mere thought of someone hurting Klaus was horrific, unbearable! "I'd d-die..."

"No one's going to... take me," Klaus tried to assure, moving close enough to put one knee down on the mattress, other hand reaching out to stroke, despite the brace, through Dorian's hair. "I'll be right back -- I just need..." /An excuse. Any excuse, anything to get away for a moment, so I don't.../ "To go to the bathroom. All right. I'll be right back. I didn't mean to scare you."

"Okay," Dorian whispered, still shivering even as Klaus withdrew. /I'll try to stay here 'til you come back. I'll try.../

The marching pace was faster than usual, Klaus padding out of the bedroom and then down the hall to the bathroom, door closed firmly behind him. He turned the light on first, and took a moment of adjusting to the blinding glare before he could categorize things properly.

He was aroused still, and that was what was making him most nervous. Best to... tend to it, disgraceful as that was, so he could at least get in bed with Dorian again, and they could both sleep.

Silently, the tall dark-haired man leaned back against the wall, looking at himself in the mirror for a moment in disgust. /I've fallen this far. God, I'm no better than those fucking Stasi, am I?/ came the grim rumination even as he tugged at the elastic waistband of his pajama bottoms. Their swift removal to rest at the top of his thighs was quickly followed by a similar shift of white boxers, leaving his heavy erection free and in his hand.

He closed his eye so he wouldn't have to look at himself in the mirror as he committed the act, shifting his body so that his lean weight rested on his shoulders and heels. /This is sick, wrong, and that's why I'm hiding in the bathroom./ So Dorian would never associate him with the sick East German officers who'd done those things to him. It was hard to imagine that his callused, ruined grasp could be Dorian's. Three fingers instead of five, and a rough palm against aching hard flesh, starting a slow stroking.

He was trying to concentrate on the image of Dorian in the shower, towel slid temptingly to one side. It was safe, almost. There was no hint of the horror filled images that tickled at the back of his mind. No tearful blue eyes as he wrapped pink lips around a thick cock...

"Klaus...."

The whisper wasn't even remotely horrified, though it likely scared Klaus himself half to death. No, it was simply there, sad and vaguely needy, and the touch that brushed over his face....

/Shit./ Could Dorian tell what he was thinking? Could he? He had to -- had to be able to guess! He sounded so sad that it hurt... And Klaus couldn't do anything. Just froze in place at the sound of Dorian's voice, motions stopped mid-stroke. /I'm sick, this is wrong, go away, Dorian... leave me to this shame, *go* *away*!/

"Klaus..." came the whisper again, and that time, it was accompanied by the brush of lips against his mouth, half-fearful, and a hand clasping lightly over his own.

"Gott." A tight, miserable utterance, Klaus not moving -- not moving away or towards those lips or the hand over his own. /Don't. Don't, you're just doing this because you need me, I won't leave, go away, leave me alone to this.../ Now if only those thoughts could form words and leave his lips.

It never once occurred to him that Dorian was doing it because he *loved* him.

The hand that clasped over Klaus's shifted, Dorian's body moving closer to him as he kissed Klaus again, lips opening partially to press against them. /Klaus./ He didn't know what the other man might do to him, and for the moment, he didn't care. He only knew he couldn't go another moment without the dark-haired man close by him, and doing this with him, if Klaus would let him... It would be so beautiful, even if Klaus hated him afterwards, even if...

Still no motion. Klaus was caught -- mind screaming obscenities at him, orders to push Dorian away, to tell him no, and *why*, while his body wanted to push Dorian to his knees and do just what that fucking sick Stasi officer had done. He wanted to thrust into Dorian's mouth, wanted to take pleasure from the lips pressing against his own, while part of him wanted to hyperventilate, run down the hall and out of the house, to run a few hundred laps around the house.

Instead, that slim thief's hand pulled lightly at his erection, tugging, touching him, pleasuring him, and it was awful and somehow wonderful all at once, combined with those sweet, drugging kisses. There was need in Dorian, need for comfort and for pleasure, and he didn't dare to rub his own growing erection against Klaus, but oh! God, what exquisite wonder there was in pleasing him!

A single huff of gasped air left Klaus, the war of motionlessness lost to the assault of Dorian's hand wrapped firm around his heavy erection. His own hand had fallen away what seemed like long ago and that left the thief's fingers only on his aching shaft, slipping over the hooded head with pre-ejaculation slick fingers for long moments before he came, a shuddered release that was warned only with a gasp. Even as his body's sensations seemed to center into that area, a rush of relief leaving him with a lingering nausea and disgust.

"Klaus..." came that tender whisper again, accompanied by another of Dorian's kisses, so lingering and unique, something he could never have imagined feeling before that moment.

He responded a little to that kiss, even as he felt his stomach trying to claw up the back of his throat. Then he broke away, trying to speak but unable to find the words. What could he say, other than he was sorry? That Dorian couldn't understand why he was doing that, that he shouldn't have touched him, because... because it was sick, and Klaus had used him.

"I love you. I'm sorry. I love you..." Dorian said softly, trembling as he remained there, close to Klaus, the feel of the other man's slick fluid still on his palm and wrist. "I shouldn't have come in. I shouldn't have touched you. I know you'll hate me. I know you don't like me. I'm so sorry. I love you. I... I love you."

/I don't know what love is. I'm sick. I'm a failure. You *don't*, shouldn't want me.../ The grim expression Klaus wore didn't change when Dorian looked at him. It was the same shamed, disgusted look he'd had on his face when Dorian had slipped in on quiet thief's feet. "Don't." /I'll hurt you./

"I'm sorry," Dorian apologized again, backing away slowly, knowing innately that the look of revulsion was meant for him. "I can't help it. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have come in. I'm so sorry..."

The German knew, nearly instantly, that he'd hurt Dorian. Just what he'd been trying to *not* do, why he'd left the bedroom in the first place, why he couldn't let Dorian touch him... His one green-grey eye opened slowly, and Klaus wasn't looking at Dorian as he pulled his boxers and pajamas up over his groin to at least hide himself from Dorian's eyes. Though the man had seen him before, when that Stasi had molested him, hadn't he? That had hurt so much...

"I-I... I didn't want to hurt you."

"You could never hurt me," Dorian replied quietly, watching him with aching, heavy heart. "Never, Klaus. Never..."

"Yes, I could." And Dorian just couldn't see it, or didn't want to. He didn't move away from the wall, because there was nowhere to go. Dorian would follow, no matter what, so running was a waste of energy. "I don't want to hurt you. But I... do."

Helplessly, Dorian moved forward, wiping his hand frantically on his shorts before flinging himself against Klaus's chest. "No! You don't! Klaus!!"

"I do!" It was a rough bellow, reminiscent of Klaus when frustrated on a mission. But his eye had never had that look in them before. Agonized disgust that reached past anything Klaus should ever have felt in his life. "You don't know the things I want to do. You don't *know*!"

"Then tell me!" came the cry, needful, desperate, that aquamarine gaze levelled on him pleadingly. "Tell me, Klaus. Please!"

The first night in such a nice house, in a country far from their troubles in Germany, and still they couldn't relax.

/Such a fall from the pedestal he puts me on -- 'most wonderful person in the world'... that wants to hurt him. If I tell him, he'll hate me, be scared of me, and then he won't need me anymore.../ And when even Dorian turned his back on him, that final human being that wanted something to do with his life, so ruthlessly... when that final thing that he had left him... He'd probably palm his Magnum, fractured hand or not, and blow his skull open. Dorian was the only thing that made existing worth anything.

"I can't!!"

"Then come back to bed with me," came the defeated whisper. "Please, Klaus. I don't mind this. I would have done it for you before, if you'd ever wanted it. I'd do anything for you..."

/I don't deserve that, I don't *want* that..../ "I..." He still couldn't move from the wall, couldn't meet Dorian's eyes solidly yet. "I can't do this anymore, but I can't lose you, Dorian."

"P-please don't leave me," Dorian whispered, horrified to feel tears welling up again. If Klaus left him....

If Klaus left him...

He'd *die*....

"I won't, I just..." Needed to tell Dorian what was wrong, but couldn't risk it.

"Anything," came the ragged promise again. "I'll do anything, only...."

"Let's go to sleep," he said finally, tone tense and trembling. /And I can try to forget that I'm just as sick as the Stasi that hurt you./

That gained him agreement, those arms still holding tightly to him. "All right," Dorian said, lips trembling. "All right."

Klaus didn't pull away; rather, he took a back step towards the door, sliding his own stiff arms around Dorian at last. "If... I do this again, don't follow me. Please."

"....all right," came the promise, softly spoken. It was obvious that what Klaus wanted wasn't him, and he'd always known it, so why did it hurt so much to have it reiterated in such a polite way? "All right."

"I don't want to hurt you. You... wouldn't understand." /You'd be as disgusted as I am./ He turned off the light as they passed into the hallway again, towards the darkened bedroom.

"I just don't understand," Dorian told him softly, staying close to him in the dark. "I can't imagine you ever hurting me..."

Arms around the ex-intelligence officer, Dorian could feel the intake and exhale of a steadying breath. "If I tell you, don't shun me."

"I could never," Dorian replied, a hand moving soothingly down Klaus's side.

"The Stasi..." he hauled himself short of saying it as they neared the bed, before starting again, a clearly nervous hesitation. "I want to do what they did." Further description was too graphic to rise past his throat, so he went as general as he could.

For a moment, Dorian stiffened, breath caught in his throat before he could get a hold of himself. "To do what they did..." he whispered slowly, "...but not to hurt me."

Klaus finally pulled away from Dorian, moving to lay nearer the far edge of 'his' side of the bed. "It's sick, it's wrong, I..." /Want to do that. So much for your 'most wonderful person'./

"Klaus.." The sound of that voice didn't sound even *remotely* disappointed. "What... what happened...yes. That was wrong. But that's not the way it's supposed to be," Dorian explained quietly, sliding into the bed to lay close behind him. "It isn't the way things are supposed to happen. There's another way, a beautiful way, and it's tender and wonderful and so good. So good..."

"No." He wouldn't, *couldn't* believe it; Dorian was probably lying because he was scared of losing him. That was sick, too -- that Dorian would do anything, even if it disgusted him, to keep Klaus. Anything at all; he didn't deserve to have such power over someone he was supposed to be protecting. "No."

The blond man's arms slid around him, holding him tightly. "Yes," Dorian murmured sadly. "Yes. There is. You knew I was a homosexual even before this, and... and what they did was terrible. Terrible, Klaus, to both of us, but even tenderness can be perverted and made cruel! Even something so perfect can be made wrong. It isn't terrible of you to want what you want...." God knows Dorian had been hoping he would for years!!

"Yes, it is." He couldn't bellow or snap -- Dorian was too close, stiflingly so, to do that. Not when he wanted to wrap the man close and just hold him, pretend that none of it had happened. "It's a sin against God, against everything, it's wrong, and don't want to hurt you -- we..."

"You don't believe in God," Dorian told him gently. "And neither do I."

Because if God *really* existed, with all of the 'good' in him that the church insisted was there, how could things like what had happened to them *happen*? "I won't hurt you like that. You're.... you're just trying to make me not feel as sick as I am."

The blond man's breath teased at his neck, brushing past the hair there. "If I can prove to you, somehow, that it isn't sick, will you believe me?"

"It can't be proven." He closed his eye tightly, letting out a shaking breath. He was falling apart again, after having done such a good job of putting himself together after the initial incident. That had been weeks before, why start to shatter now? "Don't bother. Just... go back to sleep. I won't leave."

"Do you trust me?" Dorian asked him quietly.

"Yes."

"Then I'll find a way to prove it to you," came the whisper in his ear. "For now... for now, though... just hold me. And I'll make it better somehow. I love you, Klaus..."

"I know." And he didn't know what he felt for Dorian. A familiar road to cross, that Dorian knew too well and Klaus was tired of tripping on. Sleep would be a long time in coming, though, as his body worked through the trembling fine edge of hysterical fear that had verged into his system for a few moments there.

"Come here," Dorian invited, tugging at him to turn him over, closer to the other man. "Come lay in my arms...." /I'll make it better. I'll just have to think of how.../

Stoically, Klaus shifted a little, arms moving edgily to slide around Dorian. He was used to holding the other man, not the other way around.

"There," Dorian whispered, closing his eyes. "There. It'll all look better in the morning, darling..." And even if he *wasn't* worthy of Klaus, he wasn't going to let him suffer and think he was as sick as those bastards who'd harmed them!!

"Ja." Klaus agreed for the sake of agreeing, before the argument dragged on much longer and he just found himself dying inside worse than before. Everything Dorian said his mind countered with something new and horrifying, showing himself parts that were almost cancerous in their sickness.

The soft sound of humming came to Klaus's ears, teasing at his memory. It wasn't his own favorite, no, not what he'd hummed to make himself sleep for years, but it was something else, meant to soothe, and Dorian's arms around him tightened only slightly as the other man sighed.

Strangely relaxing, and if he simply laid still, arms around Dorian in turn, breathing the smell of the shampoo they'd both used, and that odd, slightly spicy hint that was just Dorian... Exhaustion had a chance to catch him finally, and Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach slipped in a slumber held in the comforting arms of a man he'd sworn years before to hate for all eternity.

Chapter 11 by Kat and Tzigane
Sunlight spilled through filmy curtains, highlighting blue carpet and pale cream walls, the invasion somehow warming on what had turned out to be a fairly crisp fall morning, September or no. When Klaus's green eye opened slowly, it was to two realizations. The first was that the room was more than a little cold, making him extremely grateful for the extra blanket that Dorian had put on the bed before they'd gotten into it the night before.

The second was that Dorian was wrapped inextricably around him, arms and legs twined tightly as if he would never, ever let go.

Dorian had a certain tenacity to him when he wanted to, which was often. It took Klaus a moment, though, to recall the night before and place the reason for that tenacity. He was in Dorian's arms, not the other way around... and they were both so comfortable, wadded up in the warm blankets in that drafty room. Reason told him to get up, that it was already seven, while his body kept him right where he was, gazing around before laying his head back down.

"Mmmmmmmmm," Dorian murmured, shifting slightly, moving so that he was more comfortable before sighing and settling down into sleep again. "Hmmm."

The Briton seemed happy enough in his sleep. This was something that Klaus was sure granted the blond man pleasure and comfort. The night before had driven them both to their own personal horrors, whether Dorian wanted to admit it or not. Best to enjoy what was surely enjoyable, without a question. He stayed quiet, wanting to savor it all before they were both awake and would have to start the day.

For a while, they remained there, close and warm. Dorian stayed wrapped around him, sighing only every once in a while until finally, Klaus felt it against him -- the slight nudge of growing erection, and heard soft whimpers to accompany it.

The nudge against his clothed hip started him, a sudden tenseness in his form, but he could pat himself on the back for not jumping out of the bed. He stayed where he was, just lifted up a little from Dorian. /Every man gets that sometimes./

"No..."

That was something every man *didn't* get sometimes.

"KLAUS!"

More startlement, a tense sort of bewilderment as he shifted to settle against Dorian's side, shaking him a little. "Dorian?"

With a gasp, blue eyes flew wide, and for a moment they were filled with panic, not seeing Klaus at all. When they finally did, though... Arms flung about his neck, Dorian's face buried in his shoulder, the other man holding him tightly. "Don't ever leave me!" he blurted out, shuddering. "Don't ever leave me!"

"I didn't..." He sighed, giving up -- words were sometimes useless against Dorian's outbursts, and this seemed to be one of them.

"Don't leave me," Dorian continued to whisper softly, holding him Klaus. "I love you. Don't leave me. Don't.."

"I won't." It was all he could assure Dorian of; why couldn't the blond man see that he was everything Klaus still had? "I wouldn't."

Little tremors shook their way through the thief, his fingers clutching lightly at Klaus. "I was dreaming..." he whispered. "I dreamed that you left me because..." Because he couldn't prove to Klaus that what Klaus wanted was nothing like the Stasi. "And I..." And he had slit his veins from wrist to elbow at the horror of being alone, and the phantom pain of that dream motion had wakened him. "Love you. Ohh..."

"No -- I won't leave you..." If Klaus dreamt, he never remembered them. His sleep was too heavy to allow memories to leave it. Only vague stabs of emotions and unease lingered and those could have been from the night before. "Everything is all right here. We... we're safe."

The trembling slowed to a still, finally, but Dorian didn't lift his head from Klaus or his arms from around him. Instead, he remained there, quiet, quiescent. /Oh, my darling... How can you bear me this way?/

"I was going to ask how you were this morning, but I can guess," Klaus observed with a grim sort of dryness, closing his eye again. "You don't have to worry about me leaving."

"I'm sorry," Dorian apologized quietly, clinging to him. "I know you must hate me for being so stupid and weak and *queer*, but I can't seem to help it..."

"I don't hate you." It seemed, sometimes, that was all he ever said to Dorian. He missed the back and forth, sharp comments and insults passed between the both of them... anything that would tell him they were *both* better.

"I'm sorry," came a second apology. "If I embarrassed you last night. I was afraid, by myself, and... and I didn't think. I didn't want to embarrass you."

At least it had only been embarrassing to a point. "You've seen worse," Klaus verbally shrugged.

"Maybe," Dorian said softly, nuzzling against him, unable to stop that action. "But I never want to embarrass you or hurt you. Not any more than you would want to do the same to me..." Even though Klaus had embarrassed him before, things were... different... now.

The incident where Klaus had ordered Dorian to remove his underwear had been quite the embarrassment for *both* of them -- if only because Klaus always reacted so hotly to Dorian's jabs. Or, had. "Let's... just get up, all right?" Or lay there quietly, but he didn't want to start off the day in the same rut they'd already worn thin.

"Are you going to go shooting?" Dorian asked him hesitantly, beginning to untangle himself from his tight grasp of the other man.

But Klaus wasn't letting go yet; wasn't letting go at all, it seemed, as he stroked a hand over satiny material, down the line of Dorian's upper spine. There was no reason for them to get up in a hurry -- as long as they *did* get up. "Ja."

"Can I still go?" Dorian asked him quietly, snuggling close again. /Oh, that feels so.../ So nice. It felt so marvelous...

/You'll have to come with me, because I can't leave you here alone./ The more that Klaus thought about it, the more frightened he was by his actions and Dorian's. There *was* something wrong, he knew, but... but it was funny that the doctors hadn't paid it much attention. /Or they did, and that's why they recommended what they did./ "Ja -- then we'll drive around and see what else there is in this town."

"That sounds like a good idea. Maybe we could go for a long walk this afternoon," Dorian offered, nuzzling against Klaus's shoulder.

"Through the woods? The path there..." It was narrow but it wove and then disappeared into the thick woods. He wanted to explore it out, see how far it went and where it wound so close to the edge of the lake to begin with.

With a little sigh, Dorian burrowed even closer, eyes drooping again. "Hmmmm. Mhmm..."

"You're not going back to sleep."

"No," came the sleepy agreement accompanied by a weighty sigh. "'m not..." Even though that statement was patently untrue!

Klaus finally turned his head so that he wasn't looking straight at the ceiling any longer; the new view was the pillows, and the top of Dorian's head. Near, comfortable... yes, he could finally hold Dorian like that without those surges of nervousness. For the moment at least. "This isn't so bad."

"Hmmm?" That brought him Dorian's attention, more awake than before. "How's that?"

"'s more comfortable than when we were in the tank." Holding each other. Then again, Klaus was pissed as hell for the ruin of his tank at the time, and that fluffy Caesar was between them, all but freezing.

"I've always been happy in your arms," Dorian informed him, an extravagant statement, but so true!

A snort, the noise almost a laugh, and then Klaus started to try to sit up while still keeping Dorian close. "You're an enigma."

"A puzzle within a puzzle," was the agreement, blue eyes blinking open slowly, still darkened with sleep. "Is it really time to get up, then, Klaus?"

"Nearly seven thirty," the German rumbled, shifting to fully sit up, leaving Dorian partly in his lap. At least there was no problem of a morning erection to deal with -- not after the tense night before.

/I don't want to get out of your arms./ No, if left that way, Dorian would undoubtedly remain right where he was for days on end! "D'you think we can drop by a bookstore today, too?"

"Why not? Are you looking for anything in particular?" Stretching slowly felt good, even if it did awaken now familiar pains in his body.

"I don't know..." Well, actually, he wanted to look and see if he might find something to help Klaus, or perhaps something on surviving rape, so he could understand more about what was going on with both of them, only he wasn't sure what. "Something to read while we're here. Relax with. That sort of thing...."

He wanted to offer Dorian a book of *his*, but... well, the man wouldn't want to read his familiar history tomes or weaponry books. The art book, though... "I still have that book on museums you gave me. But, yeah, we'll go to a bookstore." An excuse to have something to look for as they drove, at least!

"Really?" That sounded somehow hopeful and it gained Klaus a smile, the curve of lip and the gleam in Dorian's eyes making him shiver a bit. "I'm glad you do," he said solemnly.

Well, there was no reason that he *would* have gotten rid of it -- just like the Trivial Pursuit, and puzzle that Dorian had left him at the hospital. No one ever gave him gifts, unless he counted the few bottles of liquor the Alphabets had given him out of obligation at Christmas, most of them trying to get on his good side. /No more terrorizing my poor Alphabet soup,/ he mused, looking into Dorian's gaze for a moment before he looked away. "Gut."

A stretch came from Dorian, as well, tumbling him partially off of Klaus in a mostly pleasant way as he yawned. "Mmmmm, I suppose we should get dressed...."

With Dorian, that was always an adventure in and of itself, though less so now than it had been before. "Something comfortable," Klaus murmured, finally slipping away from Dorian as they were no longer entangled.

With a sigh, Dorian watched Klaus rise and head for his suitcase before he stretched out on the bed, eyeing his own. "I think I'll wear *blue* today." Blue had been a favorite color of his lately, much more so than red. He wasn't even sure he'd brought anything red with him at all!

It certainly made those sapphire eyes light to life; Klaus was sure that Dorian knew that and dressed with that in mind. The Briton was the sort of man to know what made him look good. Klaus on the other hand, didn't care if there was something that highlighted him or not. Warm brown trousers were chosen, crisply pressed despite having been in a suitcase, a new undershirt and underwear, socks, his boots and then finally a shirt -- plain, off-colored linen. He was trying to not still wear his suits from work.

One way or another, he was still an incredibly attractive man, and nothing could deter from that for Dorian, who rolled out of bed slowly. "You can have the bathroom first," he told Klaus, stretching again, the sound of his back popping noisily in the room.

Wincing just slightly at that noise, Klaus moved down the hall to the bathroom. A quick, *quick* shower, just to clean his body, and hopefully Dorian would be all right with him being gone for a short time. He still had to shave, and with a schedule of sorts set for the day, there wasn't too much thought in his mind to using his razor for anything but scraping the stubble from his face.

By the time he was done and out of the bathroom, Dorian was dressed, pajamas abandoned in a heap by the side of his suitcase. Dark slacks and sapphire silk shirt were accompanied by one of his many scarves, a thing of paisley with blues and greens and golds rampant amongst the various colors, setting him off despite the scars, making him as beautiful as he had ever been -- to Klaus, anyway. "Shall we get breakfast on our way there, or grab fruit from downstairs?" Dorian asked.

"Out; we can try cooking later," Klaus told him, moving to his suitcase again to pull out his shoulder holster, with the Magnum in place already, and put it on; then a second gun, a much smaller semi automatic was shoved beneath the waistband of his pants at the small of his back, safety *firmly* in place. Two extra clips were tossed into his pocket. "Do you want to try that place we went last night?"

"Not particularly," Dorian admitted, face flushing. "I get the feeling the regulars might stare us right out."

"The people from last night probably won't be there this morning. Just this morning; while we're out, I'll keep an eye out for other places." He couldn't remember anything that they'd passed in their search for a grocery store, so that would have to do.

"All right." It wasn't as if Klaus didn't have a point, after all, it was just that Dorian hated being stared at anymore. Once, he would have accepted it easily enough, but now... "At any rate, I s'pose we'd ought to go, then..."
"Do you want to drive, or will I?" Klaus was asking him, moving out the door, down the short hall and then the stairs; but when he reached the bottom he stopped and turned back around. "Forgot my arm brace." The keys were tossed deftly at Dorian as they passed at the top of the stairs. "Warm it up?"

That golden head nodded, Dorian taking them and heading downstairs. At least the sun was up -- that was most of what made it possible for him to bear going alone, and only the trip through the basement gave him any trouble. Once he was in the car with the doors locked and the motor running, though, it wasn't so bad -- he only had to wait for Klaus, after all.

The German must have run down both sets of stairs to get there as fast as he did, the arm-brace being strapped firmly in place as he waited for Dorian to unlock the doors for him, buttoning his shirt-cuff over the unyielding plastic and fabric.

"Hi, there," Dorian greeted lightly, relief flooding through him. "That didn't take long!"

"No -- I just forgot to grab it when I picked up my guns," Klaus agreed as he slid into the passenger side. Dorian driving was a good sign -- perhaps the day wouldn't go as oddly as the one before it.

"Hmmm. How do I get the garage door open?" the Briton asked, peering backwards. "Is there a magic device or something?"

The seat-belt wasn't even clicked in place, before Klaus was out of the car again. It was manual -- required unlocking, and then for Klaus to haul the thing up to a point where it would stay up. "Back out, and then I'll close it."

Carefully, Dorian obeyed, sending the car out of the garage and then waiting for Klaus to get back in it before he hurtled off towards the road. /Right side of the road,/ he told himself, tongue pressing to the back of his teeth thoughtfully. /Right side./ "Left from here?"

"Ja," Klaus told him, seatbelt *firmly* in place. The right side of the road shouldn't have been too hard for him -- continental Europe was right-sided, but Dorian always either ignored sides completely or kept that little reminder in his mind firmly. "That restaurant is on the way, actually."

"All right," came the agreement, and then they were off with a fair squeal of tires.

No matter what side of the road Dorian was on, he was on it *fast*.

Klaus drew satisfaction from Dorian's speed, as it proved some sort of improvement to him, that even emotionally crippled Dorian could function. And knowing Dorian could function gave his own continued existence hope. Now to *test* that hope, to see how well he could site with his left eye, shoot with his left hand.

"How far is it?" Dorian asked a moment later as they hurtled towards town. Hmm, it felt *good* to drive again, and to drive *fast*!

"Not much farther -- remember that the turn comes up fast." He'd nearly missed it himself the night before.

It certainly *did* come up fast, but Dorian just sent their little car whipping around it and headed on towards town obliviously. "And the shooting range is past the post office? Or did they say to the right?"

"Past it on the right." He was *praying*, too, that no one pulled them over for speeding. Wouldn't that be hard to explain?

As they came into the little town, Dorian slowed the car to a more reasonable pace so that they wouldn't knock over any old ladies or small dogs, peering about for the post office. "There's the restaurant," he noted, slowing further and turning into the parking lot. "It looks pretty quiet..."

"But open," Klaus uttered, noting that sign right away. Quiet like that was a good sign -- it was early, so if anyone recognized them from the night before, nothing would be said, would it?

Carefully, the car was parked and they got out, locking the doors behind them, Dorian glancing around in curiosity at the little town. It was a cute place, rather small, and not too busy, or so it seemed. "Ready for coffee?" he asked Klaus, knowing innately that the other man NEEDED caffeine.

Shifting his shoulders a little -- a movement that moved his holster a little forward, but also to a more comfortable spot -- Klaus nodded. "Yes. Too ready for it."

With a smile, Dorian led the way inside, stopping just at the counter to peer at the breakfast choices. "Coffee," he told the woman who looked at him expectantly. "Ah, scrambled eggs, bacon, hashbrowns..." Blue eyes glanced at Klaus, just behind him. "And you?"

"The same." It sounded good, and at least it wouldn't be *burnt*, as one of them probably would have done.

"That'll be eight-forty-three," the woman at the register told them in her nasal tone as Dorian dragged out a ten and gave it to her.

/I'll just buy his books,/ Klaus decided, letting Dorian pay for *that*, while he moved to get a table in a corner. Yes, far more empty than the night before, and the place held no faces that were familiar to him from the night before -- though a few were staring discreetly. /Fucking Yanks./

Thankfully, Dorian ducked into the corner with Klaus, lifting his hands to cradle his face in them as the waitress brought coffee. "Thanks," he said lightly, smiling at Klaus. "Not a bad start to the morning, then," he noted, nodding at the cup now in front of Klaus before he began to add sugar and creamer to his own.

A little creamer was tossed in as if to temper the heat, before Klaus took a testing sip and swallowed. "Not a bad start. We should be fine if we keep busy today."

"Well, between looking for a bookstore and the shooting range, it hadn't ought to be too bad," Dorian answered hopefully.

More coffee passed his lips, and he shifted to pull a cigarette pack out of his pants pocket, the lighter with it. "Mm. I just won't go very far from you."

"I'm sorry to be such a burden," Dorian apologized. "Maybe it'll get better, one day." Not that he wanted to ever be apart from Klaus, anyway!

"You're not a burden to me." But Klaus didn't have a way to prove that to Dorian, just as Dorian couldn't prove things to Klaus. "For something to be a burden, it would have to be hindering."

The response was dry with an odd humor. "Klaus, I have problems when you leave the room to *pee*. If that's not hindrance, I'm not sure what is!"

The edges of his mouth curled up for a moment, though he wasn't looking at Dorian. /What would you think if I told you that I worry when I'm away from you? You'd probably not believe me./ "If you knock, it wouldn't be."

Unable to help himself, Dorian laughed in response, shaking his head so that those short golden curls danced around his face. "Hmm. I'll keep that in mind, then!"

Klaus's wry expression didn't shift -- only seemed to spread a little. It was good -- no, much better than just that -- to see Dorian laugh or smile the familiar laughs that reached his eyes as well as his lips. "I do things that must hinder you. So we're even."

"Mmmmm," Dorian said on the end of a chuckle. "Oh, I think everything is just wonderful. I'm so happy..." His face fell slightly into sadness. "I haven't been so happy in a very long time, and in so many ways, that's disturbing..."

/At least you have been happy./ He could remember elation at missions done well, or smugness when Dorian stumbled or something happened to Mischa. But never quite in any form that Dorian had exhibited so often. "Before... the mission, were you?"

"Sometimes," Dorian admitted. "Often. Mostly when I was with you. That was the most wonderful thing. In a way, getting to..." His face fell further, hands hiding it momentarily. "God, I'm terrible for even thinking it. In a way, getting to be with you made up for anything that could happen. It was worth any risk. Ever."

/And this, Eroica? Was *this* worth it to you? Is it worth it to me?/ "I've never understood that. I probably won't ever."

"I hope one day that you do," Dorian replied quietly even as the waitress stepped up to the table again, plates in hand this time. "Thank you, miss."

"You're welcome. Need anything with that?" the woman asked.

"No, not at the moment." /For you to leave./ He unwrapped the utensils from the rather thin napkin, and laid it neatly in his lap.

Once the waitress was gone, Dorian smiled at Klaus again. "I suppose, in the end, it's ridiculous. That you mean so much to me, I mean. That I can't get by without you. I can't help it, though," he said quietly. "Even if I could, I wouldn't want to."

"What about your men?" Who had surely done so much more in Dorian's life than Klaus ever had.

"My pretty boys..." Dorian said softly. "Well. For now, they'll wait. I couldn't get by without them, either, but in a different sort of sense." He shrugged. "None of them are you." Even Jamesie hadn't been, his poor dark headed little miser.

He drank more coffee as he shifted his fork awkwardly into his right hand. "But I've never done anything for you." /Nothing that you would ever know *was* for you./

"Love has nothing to do with what someone does for one or what one gets out of it," Dorian noted as he began to eat. "If I want something, I can get it for myself."

"I've treated you like shit."

There wasn't any way of getting around that! "Sometimes," Dorian agreed.

"But..." It still didn't make sense. "If we... had've escaped, Dorian, we wouldn't be here."

"I know." The sound of that deep voice was soft, contemplative. "I know. I suppose, if that had been the case, I'd still be traipsing after you, all over the world," he admitted, shrugging slightly.

"This was what it took, then," Klaus murmured, looking back down to his coffee and plate. It took both of their lives to be shredded before Klaus could face that he clearly cared for Dorian. More... wasn't anything he was ready to think about. What Dorian had done the night before still scared him.

"To stop our endless cycle, our little waltz?" Dorian asked him. "Maybe. Maybe..."

"It's a romantic enough idea for you to take to," Klaus groused back at him, careful to keep from himself what *he* thought of that idea. Trapped in a cycle? An empty cycle, that he'd both loved and hated.

"I can't help myself," Dorian admitted, digging into his eggs with his fork and taking a bite. "I'm afraid that I've simply got a romantic soul!"

"Huh." Klaus fell quiet again, spearing a piece of bacon, then starting to eat in earnest. Nothing ever went right for him for long -- nothing. There was little hope that, after everything that happened, he and Dorian could continue on as they were indefinitely. No, Dorian would get better and stop needing him with the desperation he did just then; he'd realize how *far* Klaus had fallen from the man he'd first harassed those years before in the halls of Schloss Eberbach. That he didn't have anything left behind him -- the title, castle, family, and history would be taken from him once his father investigated the reasons for his dismissal. And that there wasn't anything *in* him; no hope for a future beyond the current day, no goals, only a flickering drive to carry on, as if living itself were like smoking. A habit he couldn't quit.

The silence seemed overwhelming, Dorian eating just as steadily as Klaus, until finally he could bear it no more. "What are you thinking?" he asked quietly.

"That the killer cycle isn't over yet." That his *life* was just one gigantic fucking mess and the only reason he'd managed so well was because of rules handed to him that he'd followed. Goals given to him. A future dictated to him.

It took Dorian a moment to place that thought, his head tilting to the side. "Maybe it is," he said quietly. "Maybe it will get better."

"How?" Klaus looked up at him for a moment, just brief, but in that moment Dorian saw so much... nothing. Just an aching *nothing* in Klaus's eye, a lost glaze over grey-green.

"I don't know yet," Dorian admitted. "I don't know. But time is on our side, now. Things will have the opportunity to straighten themselves out... Well. So to speak."

Klaus almost chuckled, though it wasn't a particularly happy sound. "I no longer have anything to do."

"Yes, you do. For now, we have to rest. Concentrate on now," came the quiet advice. "Tomorrow will take care of itself."

"More resting. But what are we resting *for*?" He finished the food on the plate, then picked up the mug of coffee, taking a long sip. "You still can do what you've always done." /You have no idea what my rank meant to me./

"You think?" The sound of that question was dark, worried, and gradually grew softer. "I'm not so sure. It takes nerves of steel to do what I do. I don't have those anymore..."

"When you see something you want enough, you'll be able to." Klaus sounded so sure of that fact that Dorian could almost believe just from the tone of the rich baritone.

That gained him a smile, a strange emotion flitting over Dorian's expressive countenance. "You have the strangest faith in me," he murmured, reaching for a piece of his bacon.

"You never failed to be embarrassingly persistent in your pursuit of art before, whether or not it interfered with international politics."

"And your pursuit of international politics *so* often has interrupted *my* pursuit of art," Dorian teased him gently. "Besides. Rembrandts are *much* more interesting to me."

/And they still can be, Dorian./ Eroica could continue to cross paths with various agencies, but Iron Klaus... "Perhaps it did; still, you can keep your Rembrandts."

"One day, I'll have to show everything to you," Dorian told him gently.

"What do you mean? You entire art collection?" It didn't really interest him too much -- he'd probably spend his time trying to see which ones had been recently stolen.

"Mmm. Everything," Dorian replied solemnly. "I can't seem to help myself. So often, people who have a thing don't appreciate it. *I* appreciate it."

"You've never seen the entire Eberbach art collection, have you?" Klaus asked after a moment.

"Only the Man in Purple," Dorian admitted. "D'you know, I think that I have a painting at North Downs which is remarkably similar, only of another man."

"It wouldn't surprise me -- lots of people had portraits painted out of vanity," the German shrugged, looking to Dorian's plate to see if they could leave yet.

The other man was down to his last bite of eggs and bacon, so it would only be another moment. "Well, perhaps," Dorian agreed easily. "Only I'd like for you to see it, sometime."

"Sometime." Klaus seemed to doubt it would happen, as he slid the coffee cup onto the center of the plate. "Ja, sometime."

"Mmm," Dorian murmured, taking a last swallow of coffee, himself, and dropping a couple of ones on the table. "I'm ready if you are."

"I'm ready -- time to test out my sighting skills," he uttered, rising to his feet and then starting out of the little booth in a rush of movement that was familiar for him. Only he barged right into someone just walking past, in his too-large blind spot.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" the man stuttered, shaking his head. "Wasn't looking where I was going!"

"I..." He backstepped, looking down to the man with his half-gaze. /Couldn't see him, standing right *there*./ Had his senses left him, too, for pinpointing the presences of people around him, or was it just the distraction of Dorian's conversation with him? "Sorry."

The fellow backed away quickly, heading on for the bathrooms, and Dorian smiled at Klaus. "Shall we?"

"Ja." An expression that had been wavering between vaguely pleased and flat turned grim, letting Dorian lead the way out the door, towards the car.

By the time they reached it, the keys were in Dorian's palm, and he unlocked Klaus's door first before moving to the other side and opening it to slide behind the wheel. "It's just down the street now, right?"

"Ja. Just down the street." /I'll still be able to hit the targets. No reason I shouldn't be able to.../ He was half dreading this, half fearing it -- what if he *couldn't* shoot any longer?

Silence reigned between them for a time as Dorian drove, hunting the small shooting range. It was fairly obvious when they found it, the sign proclaiming it to be exactly what it was, and so he pulled into a parking space in front of the store and cut off the engine. "Here we are," he said, the tension in the car rising steadily.

Tension that probably wouldn't abate until Klaus had shot out the ammo in his guns and the clips in his pocket. Seatbelt was undone, and Dorian's companion got out of the car, reaching to the small of his back to pull loose the pistol nestled there.

Swallowing hard, Dorian followed him. There was something incredibly *sexy* about Klaus when he had a gun in his hand, unbearably *hot*, especially considering the fact that Dorian *detested* guns. Still, even shivering slightly, he couldn't resist the other man, or the urge to follow him.

Perhaps it was that Klaus's guns were powerful, deadly, and he was masterful with them. They were an extension of already impressive strength, and they were well loved by Klaus himself. Nothing else in that man's life received such attention.

Klaus paused at the door, long enough to scan the outside of the place, and then stepped in.

The interior of the store was dark and cool, lit by fluorescent bulbs that ringed the area and buzzed slightly. Cases full of guns were highlighted carefully, each displayed by size and type, and in their own way, Dorian found their presentation a lovely thing. It was something about knowing Klaus, *loving* Klaus, that made him see the beauty in the things, even though he didn't like anything at all about them other than their gleam. The proprietor's voice caught his ear, and he looked up to see what was being said.

"These are my guns," Klaus was telling the man absently, putting his German army issued pistol and then pulling free of the shoulder holster the Magnum, to lay both on the counter in front of the man. The clips from his pocket followed, and then he dug into his pocket with his maimed hand to find his wallet and IDs.

"Got some pretty heavy firepower there, doncha," the man drawled slowly, picking the guns up to look at them. "Where'd ya get 'em?"

"Europe." An arrogant, stand-offish tone that Dorian had heard often when Klaus dealt with Mischa, or when Klaus dealt with People he didn't trust in general. "They're both mine; ah, and my ID." The only one he had, his NATO ID card.

"Mmmhmm." The man murmured, nodding his head slowly as he looked it over. "Got the right permits, I reckon. Still. Pretty heavy, 'f you ask me." Dorian could see the brown of the man's eyes as he peered up over the rims of his glasses at Klaus. "You going to be shooting left-handed, I take it."

The brace on *that* hand was suddenly too visible, but Klaus nodded as he took his ID back. "Of course." As if he could pull a trigger or grip a gun with his right hand.

"Well. I reckon it'll be fifteen dollars," came the drawl. "Stairs that'll take you down to the basement 're over in the corner. I take it your friend'll be goin', too."

The magnum was slid back into it's holster with a frightening sort of ease -- from the look in Klaus's eye, to who the ID card said he was, it was clear that people had died at the end of those guns. The pistol was picked up next, the clips slid away in his pocket again, then his wallet came out to pay the fifteen. "Yes, he will."

"You'll find earplugs and such at the bottom of the stairs. Put 'em in before you go through the door at the bottom," the man ordered, taking the money and promptly adding it to the till.

"Thank you," Dorian murmured as Klaus turned and headed towards the indicated stairwell, the slim blond following him.

At the bottom of the dimly lit stairs were earplugs and the more familiar muffling ear phones that slid on with ease. "I want you standing behind me, Dorian."

"Yes, Klaus." The agreement was meek, even as Dorian slid in plugs and slipped the ear phones over them, shivering slightly. "I won't go anywhere else," he said, though he couldn't hear himself, and Klaus probably didn't see him saying it, either. Still... it made him feel a bit better to have said it, and that was enough!

The hallway beyond that door held four corridors, widely spaced apart and brightly lit, targets set up already at the end. Klaus chose the most brightly lit one, and then unbuttoned his shirt-sleeve to take off the brace. He couldn't shoot with that on -- the gun wouldn't be held properly and there was too much risk of it pulling to one side or another.

Timidly enough, Dorian slipped up behind him, hands stuffed into h is pockets. /I won't jump,/ he promised himself as he watched Klaus lay the brace down. /I won't jump.../

He jumped.

It was just a muffled bang through the plugs and earphones, but it was satisfying for Klaus -- to pull the trigger, hear that long missed noise. The first bullet, that tore clean through the little bulb of clay set up on the top row, far left, that was a bullet he wanted to put through Mischa. The next was for that Stasi officer, the next his chief, and that sneering redhead, the fucking psychiatrists in the hospital...

He didn't notice he'd emptied all eight shots until he realized the muffled bang wasn't there anymore.

Behind him, Dorian cringed, hands up over the ear phones, eyes trained on those exploding bits of clay. There was no question about it -- Klaus was just as good as ever, and he still hated guns with a passion!

The first clip was flicked removed, and he jammed another in with speed, picking up where he'd been. Eight more shots, as accurate and angry as the first eight, and then he put the gun out of habit, still hot, against the small of his back after reloading it and putting the safety back on. It burned some, but only enough to redden through his shirt, not to actually hurt. He'd done that before, too. The magnum came next, and he realized he'd have to get a new holster so it would settle properly on his right side.

Gnawing his lip, Dorian let out a shaky breath. Now... it was time to see what Klaus could still do.

He'd brought an extra clip for it so it wouldn't be left unloaded when he was finished, even if he could no longer use it. Hesitance, Klaus knew, would be his enemy, so he brought the weapon up, safety off, sighted carefully and quickly at a clay bulb to the right, before pulling the trigger.

It shattered.

Seven more times, with the same elating result.

He still had it. He was *still* Iron Klaus, even if he wasn't Major Eberbach any longer.

When all the shots were fired, he just lowered the gun, standing there, not yet willing to take it out of his hand. He had to get a new holster, a box of bullets for each weapon. He wasn't completely useless, apparently. Perhaps he could do sharp-shooting for someone, or...

Or.

The feel of Dorian touching him caught his attention, the other man's trembling hand holding tightly to him for a moment, almost fearful. The need for Klaus was desperate, and the sudden fear that perhaps the other man had discovered he was still who he had been before and would no longer be willing to put up with him was terrible!

Klaus took off the head-phones first, not having bothered with ear plugs; then he slid an arm around Dorian's waist, keeping him close. "I'm still Iron Klaus."

There was no response from Dorian; his ear plugs and headphones were still firmly in place. Instead, there was only the tight grasp of arms wrapped about him, holding him close, and the feel of the blond man trembling against him. /What if.../

If it was fear of the guns that made Dorian tremble, or something else, Klaus couldn't tell. But he just held the man, finally pulling off the headphones, letting them drop to the floor. "Dorian."

The green foam earplugs didn't muffle the sound of his name, quite, so blue eyes came up to look at Klaus, Dorian's arms still tight around him. "Yes?" he whispered unsteadily.

Klaus was smiling as he looked at Dorian -- an expression that reached his eyes. Still terribly, hopelessly lost, but not so achingly empty. There was at least something left to him that Klaus could personally be proud of. The incident with the Stasi hadn't shattered him completely. "Are you all right?" Klaus asked, smile that same victorious baring of teeth as he'd seen a few times before.

"Yes," was the answer, quietly spoken, arms coming up to wrap around Klaus's neck. "I told you," he whispered. "I told you..."

"I need to let my left hand finish healing; and then I'm going to fine tune it." He still needed to work on speed. But accuracy... just as perfect as before. "I can do *this*."

"You can do *anything*," Dorian told him worshipfully as the door from the stairs opened slowly.

"'S everything all... Holy Jesus!" the man from upstairs declared, eyes wide. "Well. I reckon nobody's dead..." he muttered to himself.

"Everything is fine." Klaus' tone was sure, sharp and heavily accented as he shifted away from Dorian enough space to slide his gun back into the holster. "Is there any place around here where I can buy more bullets? And a new holster." The one he wore was obviously for right-handed, which he also obviously wasn't anymore.

"Got some things upstairs y'might like," the man drawled, dark eyes still wide. "Might want to look at 'em before you go."

"Gut." He finally did pull away to pick up the brace for his left hand, watching Dorian absently as the blond man removed his ear-plugs.

"All done, then." That was said with more than a little relief, and Dorian smiled at him.

"Yes. I think I'll come here a few times once my arm is healed more, then I can just go out and shoot in the woods." He buttoned the cuff in place, not even bothering to suppress his smile. "I knew I could sight with the left if I had to, I'd just never checked to see if it was as good..."

"I never had any doubts," Dorian told him solemnly, nodding. "Never."

/I did./ But there wasn't a need for them. He could still *shoot*, still kill... "When we go back to Europe, Dorian, shall we vacation in east germany for a few days?"

"You want to go back?" was the startled reply before Dorian saw the decided *gleam* in that green-grey eye. "Yes," he said slowly, nodding. "Yes. I think so..."

"Once everything has healed." And with that, Klaus started up the steps, waiting a moment for Dorian to follow.

Klaus had a new goal to work towards.

That, of course, meant time, planning and a lack of moping, which was an entirely good thing! Unless, of course, time, planning and a lack of moping meant that there would be less of Klaus near him, in which case, it wouldn't be good at all. /He'll get tired of me now that he knows he can be himself again. It won't be long. I should just face up to it and work on it before he goes away.../

"We need to get a map while we're out," Klaus started to tell him, as they reached the top, "And I need to make a few calls. Do you want to help me on this, Dorian?"

"I want to be beside you every step of the way." It was the only answer Dorian *could* give, and it was one he meant most firmly.

"[Best back-up I've ever had, Dorian.]" He nodded to the shop-owner. "You said you had holsters?"

By that point, the man was just a little wary of *both* of them, particularly at the swell of pride that appeared on the other man's face when the first spoke those foreign words. They didn't seem too sane, if anybody had asked him! /Buggers at NATO are probably *all* crazy.../ "Yep," he drawled slowly. "Right over in the corner there. Look all y'like."

Klaus not only looked at the shelf, but he picked them up, tested the leather's strength, and the sizes of them. When he'd narrowed it to two he realized one was set on the right. One choice less, so he carefully slid off his old holster, and handed it to Dorian. "If the Magnum fits in this one, I'll get it," he informed the shop-owner.

"All right, then," the man agreed, still watching both of them as if they were rattlers across from him.

First he put it on, adjusting it with all of the familiarity of a man who was a professional about such things. If felt awkward, but fit properly. He'd just have to get used to being left handed when it came to his weapons. Then the test -- would his Magnum... Yes. "This, then, and a box of bullets for each gun."

Wordlessly, the man behind the counter fetched the things Klaus wanted and rang them up. "Sixty-three-seventeen."

Paid for in cash -- more suspiciousness from the pair. Cash was damn hard to trace...

Klaus had taken his old holster from Dorian, looking at it almost fondly. "I should send it to Z."

"He'd appreciate it," Dorian agreed quietly. "Z worships you, you know."

"Worships?" Klaus asked, taking the bag from the shop-owner and turning smoothly towards the door.

"The very ground you walk on," Dorian informed him. "You've never noticed?"

"Not really," Klaus said truthfully. "He was always a loyal agent..." A good man that he missed not working with anymore. "He was respectful."

That brought a smile to the blond thief's face, thoughtful, his brow knitting. "Most of your men tried very hard to be."

"Huh." Well, there wasn't anything he could do about that fact *now*; he wasn't an agent any longer, wasn't anything. But the line between Dorian's brows... "What's wrong?" he asked, moving to the driver's side to unlock the doors of the car with the keys Dorian had given him.

"Now that you know you can...can do what you did before..." Dorian gnawed at his lower lip. "I suppose I'm just wondering how long it will be before you get tired of pandering to me," he whispered.

Quiet, and Klaus leaned against the top of the car's roof. "I've been wondering how long it would take you to realize that's all I am and leave."

Startled, Dorian looked across at him, eyes going wide. "I wouldn't. I couldn't. Ever. Good God, Klaus! You... You mean so much to me. I would *die* for you. I would die *without* you. I couldn't... CAN'T... Ever..."

"It's only a matter of days more before my father disowns me; I don't have a rank any longer, a job, a family, or a point in life," Klaus rattled off, the confidence to *tell* Dorian everything coming only from the fact that he could still shoot well.

"None of that," Dorian told him firmly, "has *EVER* mattered to me. I love you. I can't live without you. If I could, d'you think I'd have followed you all over the world and back for the last ten years? On my thirtieth birthday, we were holed up in a slum getting shot at, and I never once thought about where I *could* be because I was with you and nothing could *ever* have been better than that. Do you think any of that could ever matter to me?"

"I'm nothing," he murmured, sliding into the driver's seat, waiting for Dorian to get into the car too. He didn't speak until the passenger door was open. "There's nothing *to* me, Dorian. You have... fascinating aspects to you."

"There's *everything* to you," Dorian disagreed as he shut the door and slid on his seatbelt. "There's your sense of humor and rare smiles, there's the way you're so damned protective and your sense of ultimate justice. There are so many things, and I see more and more of them every day! There's *everything* to you, Klaus!"

Klaus just couldn't see any of it -- only that he had Dorian's companionship and the added bonus of still being able to shoot well. "I keep thinking you'll see you're wrong."

"I know that I'm right," came the firm words in return. "And somehow, I'll figure out how to let you see it, too."

/Just like he'll prove that I'm not as sick as the Stasi./ "Fine. Do you want to go find a bookstore?"

"Please," Dorian replied solemnly. "Klaus?"

"Ja?"

"I will never get tired of you. And I will *never* leave you."

Klaus didn't look over at him as he pulled out of the driving range's parking lot. Didn't care to -- but from his profile, the side with the plain black patch over his eye, Dorian could see a hundred things flit over his expression. /You can't leave me. Ever./ "All right."

With a sigh that sounded audibly of relief, Dorian leaned back and closed his eyes. "I just... needed you to know," he murmured. "Even if *you* leave *me*. I won't ever willingly go away from you..." /Not until you leave me, and then, I'll die.../

Common sense was telling Klaus they needed to get help -- that this was sick, and unhealthy. But help from whom? A doctor? Klaus's common sense could also, Klaus consciously noted, get fucked. "Neither of us is leaving the other. Okay. Do you want me to help you look for anything at the bookstore?"

"I was thinking of looking up some things on r..." He stuttered on the word. "You know. And maybe something fun to read, too."

"I don't know. 'r'?" Klaus asked seriously. If English was his native tongue, perhaps he'd have known.

"Rape." The word seemed to shiver off of Dorian's tongue, his face paling slightly and then flushing heatedly. "I thought, maybe..." His voice trailed off into silence.

"Maybe?" /Why would you want to *read* about it, Dorian?/

"Maybe there would be something that would... I don't know. Something that would make it.... easier to comprehend. Easier to live with. Less something to..." He didn't know.

"Oh." Dorian was wanting to think about it, wanting to... try to get help, in his own way. Klaus wasn't about to stop that -- he wanted to help Dorian, but he *also* wanted to forget as best he could that anything had ever happened to *him*. It was hard to watch over Dorian and be aware that they'd both been hurt. "I'll help you look, if you want."

"I'd appreciate that," the tall blond said quietly.

"If..." Klaus stated to try to say something, but it faltered and he just drove for a minute or so in silence. "If I can do anything, Dorian..."

"Thank you." The scenery outside was moving past, and Dorian was fairly well missing out on most of it. Even if they'd passed a bookstore, he wouldn't have known. "You've been wonderful for me, Klaus."

/I'm not, though./ "Just tell me what I can do." The town was still thin, though things seemed to appear more frequently as they passed from Lanesborough to Pittsfeild.

"Hold me," Dorian answered quietly. "Stay close to me. And don't let me go..."

"I wouldn't want to." He turned onto Main Street when it appeared, and they found themselves on the outskirts of a small downtown.

"I think I see one," came the murmured remark, Dorian pointing to the right side of the street. "There."

Klaus eyed the shop-front that was fast approaching, and then pulled into one of the many parking spots along the street. "Do you have change for the meter?" He knew he did, but trying to find it in his pockets...

"Yeah," Dorian agreed quietly, digging in his own pocket to tug out quarters. "I do."

"Shouldn't take us more than... an hour?" Klaus questioned, waiting until a car driving by has passed before he got out, locked the door,and then walked around to the front of the vehicle where he was safe from being hit.

"I don't think so..." After all, it didn't look like it was too big. He wasn't sure he'd find anything he wanted in there!

Klaus wasn't sure anything Dorian was looking for even existed, but he wasn't going to say that. "Fifty cents, then," he said, walking towards it to see if it was *normal* or not. It was then that Dorian realized the pistol was still clearly tucked in place against the small of Klaus's back, the handle and part of the trigger jutting above Klaus's waist-band.

"Um... Klaus..." he said tentatively, change in hand. "Are you sure that you should take that inside?"

"Take what inside?"

"The gun," Dorian said softly, nodding towards him.

"The..." Klaus realized then that he was still armed to his teeth. A moment spent to backtrack, opening the passenger side door, and putting his empty clips and the pistol under the seat. But the shoulder holster stayed in place. "I didn't notice."

Dorian only smiled at him, though, tilting his head to the side slightly. "I just didn't think they'd let us in, or they'd call the police or something."

"Yanks," Klaus sighed, shaking his head as he re-locked the car, watching Dorian put the money into the meter. Hopefully they wouldn't even spend that long in the bookstore.

Hands once again in his pockets, Dorian strolled towards the store and pushed open the door, stepping inside. It was actually a large store, though it was crammed to brimming with used books, to the point where he *felt* small.

"Hello there -- can I help you?"

"Umm..." Pale skin flushed, turning Dorian's scars livid even as he felt Klaus come up behind him. "Could you direct me to..." To what? /To your section on rape and abuse? Ha.../ "To your help section? For trauma and the like?" he murmured.

The *look* the man was getting from Klaus, daring the book-seller to say a *thing*... He shivered, trying to smile at them both. "We don't really have much of a help section, sir," he said, trying to not stare at either man too much. "But if you want to look at it, just follow me..."

"Thank you," Dorian said, becoming less tense as he followed along behind the man. /Well... at the very least, he might know if there's another bookstore in town.../

"What kind of help books are you looking for? The first aid/Trauma section is right here...." It was on a base at the back of the room, the lower shelf of a set of dust-covered shelves.

"Ah...." The mere THOUGHT of trying to express what had happened to them broke Dorian out in a cold sweat. "Um... well... I don't know..."

"Books on... psychological help," Klaus said for Dorian. "For Trauma."

"Yes," Dorian agreed quickly. "That."

The bookstore owner looked back at both of them for a moment, taking in the two of them. One looked wispy, and had that warm deep British accent that MUST have dragged women to him... but from the way he was dressed and the long hair, he was gay. And the man behind him, frightening with the patch over his eye, the grim expression, military build and shoulder holster...

"I really don't know what you mean -- I'm sorry."

"Oh, well, maybe we can just look a bit?" Dorian suggested, a hand coming up to cup a cheek, hide his face.

It was a little late, though, since the man had already been trying to not stare. "Well. If you two need anything, just shout, okay?" And then he moved around them, headed towards the front of the store again.

It was a relief for the man to be gone, but Dorian knew he wouldn't be able to look at a thing, much less *buy* anything about what he wanted. "Maybe there's another store in town..." he suggested, biting his lower lip.

"We can ask," Klaus murmured, crouching down to look at the shelf that had been pointed out to them, and then the shelves above them. Help with sex lives, love lives, first aid, self esteem...

Nothing on rape or violent sexual trauma, nothing on torture of any sort. Nothing that looked even remotely helpful, in fact, resided on those shelves, which made Dorian sigh. "Maybe there's something in fiction we can pick up," he suggested, shaking his head and then sneezing. "Oh, God, at the dust!"

Klaus rubbed at his nose, backing up. "What kind of fiction do you read?"

"Ohh... this and that," Dorian answered. "Whatever sounds good to me at the time. I like mystery novels..." He was also rather fond of Gothic novels, as well, and he supposed he'd like romance novels if only there weren't women in them!!

"We can ask where those are," Klaus murmured, rising to his feet and nearly backing into a shelf behind him. "Then I'll find out where another store is."

"All right." That was said with a grateful sigh, Dorian brushing at his slacks. "Goodness. I've got dust all over me now," he fretted, frowning. "I don't know if I WANT to find anything else..."

"Maybe we can look in the other store if there is one." Everything there was used, anyway -- pages missing probably, spines already broken in. "We'll... look for those books first."

"All right," Dorian agreed with a sigh, shivering. "There're probably spiders in here, God knows, and if I don't HAVE to deal with them, I'd just as soon not."

"Funny the KGB never seemed to scare you, but spiders..." Klaus smiled for a moment, until they neared the store's owner again. "Are there any other bookstores in this area?"

"Uhm..." the man looked at them again, and nodded. "Yeah. Yeah, try 'Either Or' bookstore. There's a building a block down, and it's inside on the second floor. The bank's there, too."

"Thank you," Dorian said, promptly heading for the front door -- he wanted to get out before any MORE dust attacked him!

And Klaus followed as if... almost like a body guard would. How odd.

"We can walk down there, ja?"

"Why not?" came the question by way of agreement, Dorian smiling at him. "That sounds like a marvelous idea."

"Mm." And he wanted to get a map, too -- that stayed in the back of his mind, along with maybe getting a novel to read. "Big building..." A look up the street, and then down it revealed one such building, framed in black steel, on their side of the street, down it. "There. Let's go."

Keeping up with Klaus proved to be its usual interesting pace. Even with legs just as long as the other man's, Dorian somehow always felt that he was scurrying, and the sudden imagine of poor short little James running away from him (or trying to!) came to mind. /Hmmm, running from Klaus. Bad idea,/ he decided, amused as they came to the door of the building. "Second floor?"

But it wasn't hard to figure that out, as opening the darkly tinted door took them right away into a warmly lit space, with tinted skylights and trees growing indoors. A sealed in court-yard of sorts, with shops off of it, and a metal stair-case winding up to the visible store-front of Either Or. "Seems so."

"Marvelous," Dorian said with a sigh. "This looks like at least we won't get dirty searching through things!"

"This town is such an odd mixture of old and new," the German murmured, walking forwards towards that twisting staircase.

"At least it'll make it interesting to explore," came the suggestion, Dorian heading right behind him as Klaus began to take the steps at what would have been a run to most people. "So we'll have plenty to do!"

Klaus very much doubted that he'd be *able* to feel boredom with Dorian there with him. "True. If we do run out of things to do, we can always keep ourselves busy." He stopped in front of the glass door, looking at the tightly packed, but neatly organized and clean store.

"Oh! They have little signs to tell you where everything is!" The relief coming off of the British thief was nearly palpable at the thought of *not* having to ask anyone where something was. "Marvelous!"

"Gut." Stepping in, Klaus was nearly at once accosted by a smiling young girl.

"Hello -- may I help you?"

"Ach, no, we're looking," he startled, forging in through the doorway only because the girl reminded him of G.

"Everything looks like it'll be easy to find," Dorian said with a nod, smiling and stepping closer to Klaus. Women really gave him the creeps, most of the time!

"Ja." Klaus started towards the fiction section at first, before looking at Dorian for verification of that.

That seemed to be fine with the other man because Dorian was close behind him, eyes already locked on the little signs directing them where to go. "Ohh, there are the mysteries, but let's check the new fiction first?" he almost asked, smiling.

"All right." He wasn't partial either way -- just keeping his eye open for anything that would catch his interest even a little. He looked to the woman on shift as if he were just along for the ride.

It gained him a smile from her and a nod as she went back to sorting books at the front desk, occasionally answering questions as patrons wandered up front looking for something or to check out. Her non-threatening demeanor meant that Klaus could relax somewhat, which meant in turn that Dorian could, as well, his eyes glancing along the rows of books thoughtfully. "Ohhh. That looks good," Dorian murmured, reaching out to pick up a novel off of the shelf -- _Windmills of the Gods_.

"Huh." Noncommittal, Klaus letting his eyes scan the shelves for a moment. No, nothing in particular caught his gaze. "I'm going to walk around a little and see if I find something."

"All right," Dorian agreed, holding his book and smiling. "Just... I'll probably find you shortly." Because he couldn't stand for Klaus to be gone long!

Klaus wandered off through the aisles, and once he was gone another sales girl came near Dorian, smiling. "Have you read anything else by Sidney Sheldon?"

"Not really," Dorian admitted with a smile. "But I like mysteries, and thrillers, so I think perhaps it won't be too bad. Do you have any other suggestions?"

"Do you like bloody mysteries, or the more... plot-ish character based ones?" she asked him politely.

"Plot-ish," Dorian decided with a nod, "though blood really doesn't bother me much." After ten years with Klaus, blood had *better* not bother him much!

"There's one that's... it's good, and I can't remember the writer off the top of my head..." She started to lead him towards the mysteries. "There's a murderer on the loose who's raping and killing young women. Very intense."

At the mention of rape, Dorian shuddered. "Actually, I'd just as soon avoid anything violent of a sexual nature," he said in a low voice, humming with tension. "I'm afraid that doesn't suit me at all..." A shiver crept down his spine and he peered about for Klaus.

Klaus was nowhere in sight, though he'd be easy enough to find when Dorian went looking. "Hmn... well, how about something by P.G Wodehouse? They're funny suspense and mystery," she recommended, tapping the spines of a few. "Wooster and Jeeves -- it's a very good read."

"That sounds *marvelous*," Dorian sighed. It also sounded as if there were no women in it, or at least, not the sort who would be aggravating main characters, and *that* pleased him. "And do you have any books on trauma? Er, loss of limb, that sort of thing? Violence? Ah, in the help section, perhaps?" It was so much easier to ask someone who wasn't looking at him as if there was something wrong with him!

That question, when paired with his reaction to her first recommendation, made a swell of sense to her. "Actually, I believe I might..."

"I would so appreciate your help," he replied calmly, trying not to feel completely and utterly *pathetic* for having to look for such a thing at all! "Thank you."

"There's a small section over here," she murmured, taking him to a discreet corner of the 'self help/humanities' section -- books of all sorts, some on trauma, rape, torture and its effects on the human mind. "Not many, but occasionally we have someone come in here looking for something."

"Thank you *so* much*," Dorian said gratefully, face flaming with color. "I appreciate it." And if she'd just go away, he'd appreciate it even more!

"You're welcome," she told him with a short nod, and then started to leave -- for a moment. "The, ah... dark haired man with the patch is... with you? He's wandered over into the uhm... younger section of the store, if you're looking for him." With an armful of deep, dry military history books, which probably disturbed her more than the patch.

"Thank you," he said again, looking around for Klaus. "That will help me find him later!" Klaus's affinity for children's books was sweet, and it made him smile. /I've made good choices in giving things to him,/ he decided.

He wasn't in view of that quick glance around, so Dorian was left to finish going through that little section. A few books caught is eyes, and given how little they knew apart from the actual physical injuries, anything would do! /Hm... _The Second Assault_.../ Well, that was one he would choose for himself. For Klaus.... /_The Body in Pain_. Ohh, that looks interesting. I wonder if he would read it?/ Carefully, he seated himself on the floor to go through them further. /_Rape Crisis Intervention_... _Images of Trauma_..../

Anything that could help either of them; he didn't want to talk about, or even think about what had happened to him, and Klaus was still denying anything was wrong. But it was in his dreams, clear and sharply stabbing at him, and if he didn't do *something*...

"Dorian?"

"Hm? Klaus!" The sound of that voice made his face light up, the books stacked around him gathered quickly. "I found lots of things," he said, looking up at the other man. "What did you find?"

"A few things. Some non-fiction, a couple of fiction." Three books about Prussia's wars of conquest, _The Magician's Nephew_ and _The Dragon and the George_. "You?"

"These," Dorian said, holding them out spine up so that Klaus could look at them. "I wasn't sure. They all seemed applicable!"

The titles of all four made Klaus wince inwardly. "I guess they are."

"Do you think it's all right?" came the tentative question, as if Dorian sensed that internal discomfort. "I mean, I can not get all of them at once, we could come back later, or..."

"Get them," he shrugged. "We'll look at them; we have a month here. Did you get anything to read for... enjoyment?"

"Oh, yes! There was the Sheldon novel I picked up when we came in and the salesgirl gave me a couple of books about some Jeeves," Dorian replied. "It sounded like it would be quite good..."

"Then we'll go check out -- I'm paying for them all. Come on." He wouldn't pay in cash this time, but travelers check -- that way he'd end up with change back. The longer he could avoid a bank, the longer he could remain ignorant as to if his father had disowned him. Two accounts would become one and that would be that.

Agreement was easily gained as Dorian stood, books gathered in his arms, and followed after Klaus to the end of the aisle and up to the front counter. "Here," he said calmly, putting his books next to Klaus's as they were placed on the counter.

It was the girl who'd first jumped them when they came in, giving them both a quizzical look -- first them, then the *odd* assortment of books there. Books on rape and trauma, paired with mystery books, history books, a science fiction novel and a children's book. "Is... that all, sirs?"

"Yes," Dorian answered with a firm nod. "It is."

"Okay." She smiled again, nervously, and started to ring in the books. While she did that, Klaus was pulling out a hundred dollar traveller's cheque, signing the back of it; he was fairly sure that their books would go over it, but best to only sign on one to start with.

Nervously, Dorian glanced around as she worked on the books, eyes roaming over the store. /I wish.../ He wished that people didn't stare at them. That was what he wished, he decided, sighing slightly as he saw a small child not far away looking at them with wide eyes. /Damn./

They made quite a pair -- the symmetrical marks on his beautiful face were striking, and Klaus's cold sternness was only highlighted by his maimed hand and missing eye. Once, Dorian had loved to have people stare at him, because they were admiring his beauty. Now...

Now, it was a distinctly horrible feeling, one that shamed him to the core of his bones. /I just wish no one would *look* at me.../

"That'll be $117.94," the girl said timidly.

The cheque was handed to her, and then Klaus pulled a twenty from his pocket. "We'll have to go to a bank after this, Dorian."

"All right. I think there's one just downstairs, isn't there...?" he asked the girl behind the desk.

"Yes, sir!" she answered, nodding as she made change for Klaus. "Just down the stairs. I'm sure you'll see it once you're down there!"

"Gut. Thank you." Klaus took the two sturdy paper-handled bags from the girl, then realized he didn't have the grip to hold one in his right.

It didn't matter, though, because Dorian took it lightly without being obvious, his hand momentarily pressed to Klaus's before the bag could drop to the floor. "I can tote something," he protested lightly.

The look Klaus gave him as they left the store was a slightly grateful one, right hand slipping into his pocket where it could at least be useless and inconspicuous. "I'm going to change more Deustchmarks to American dollars, when we're in the bank."

"That sounds like a marvelous idea," Dorian said lightly. "I suspect James will be sending money shortly, but he'll let me know when he does, so."

"It isn't a problem if he doesn't." Klaus had more than enough, from years of living inexpensively -- except for his weapons -- and having saved most of his pay. Which was a blessing, since he would soon be cut from his money through the family.

"All right," Dorian told him simply. He knew that Klaus was worried about what his family would do and believed that he'd be disowned shortly.... /Well. He knows them better than I do,/ he thought with a little sigh. It wasn't as if Dorian wasn't familiar with disapproving families... After all, his own mother had abandoned him and taken his sisters with her!

The bank was actually a branch bank, where Klaus changed his money for a small charge. Quickly, glaring at the teller who was trying to not stare at he and Dorian. Not even a curt 'thank you' left him as he left the teller, headed towards the exit. "Anywhere else, Dorian?"

"Oh, I don't know.... What time is it? We could always get something to eat to take back to the house, or we could try cooking..." 'Try' being the operative word.

"Hmn..." He glanced to his wrist-watch, and realized it was *still* before noon. "We can get lunch here -- let's take the books back to the car, and I'll put more money in the meter."

Acquiescence came in the form of Dorian following him out of the room and towards the car, the other man quiet behind him. "I..." He sighed, shaking his head as they walked down the street. "I don't think I'll want to come out very often," he decided. "I really don't like being stared at..." Even though he'd loved it, before....

"You could..." Klaus slowed his pace a little, out of consideration, so Dorian could walk beside him. "Makeup. It would cover easily, I think."

That gained him a slight smile, Dorian shifting closer to him. "Maybe," he said, though he wasn't sure he intended to try. It was one thing when in disguise as a woman, but... as a man??

"You shouldn't be... embarrassed, Dorian," Klaus told him, pulling car-keys free to unlock the trunk and put the bags there.

A sigh drifted from the blond man as he leaned a hip against the car, slipping his bag into the trunk once it had been opened. "I just don't...." He paused, shrugging. "I used to want attention, I suppose. To be looked at, admired. Now... it's just so different. Now, it makes me uncomfortable. I'm not sure makeup of any sort would change that..."

"The marks make you look... more distinctive than ever." /Gained in the service of a country and cause you don't even believe in; you took that job... why? To be with me? Near me?/ Klaus stood there, hands atop the trunk long moments after he'd closed and re-locked it. "Why would it make you uncomfortable?"

"Because they aren't looking at *me*," Dorian explained quietly. "They're looking at what's happened to me, and maybe they're judging me or pitying me because of it, and I hate that."

/You're marked like that because of me./ "If you covered them, no one would even notice." A shift, left hand still atop the trunk, right disappearing into his pocket as he stood in front of Dorian, almost casual. "I don't want us to live in a bubble."

"Yes, Klaus." After all, what else could he say? He knew that Klaus was right... just... He sighed. A morning in public was just not making him happy, he supposed. "Let's go find somewhere to eat?"

"Sure. There has to be some place..." He turned slowly, eyes taking in what he could, and finally seeing on the other side of the street, the corner where another cut into Main, a sign and awnings. "'Friendly's'?" Dorian was asked, as if Klaus expected him to be more knowledgeable of American restaurants than he was.

A shrug was the answer, Dorian shaking his head. "Might as well. With any luck, it'll live up to its name, hm??"

"Ja." Klaus was trying, now, to cheer Dorian up. His own mood was often quickly dismissed in favor of tending to Dorian's. "Come on -- is there anything you want to eat?" /Something with cherries, perhaps... and when we get back to the house.../ He wasn't going to go tromping through the woods. Tomorrow for that; today he'd see what they could manage in the way of keeping eachother busy. Read some, burn dinner perhaps.

"Let's see what they have," Dorian murmured, smiling at him slightly. /And Klaus doesn't understand why I think he's so wonderful.../

The german lead the way to the cross-walk, waited for the light to turn red on the way they were crossing, and then strode across it with Dorian beside him. Traffic was light, even for lunch-time in a small 'downtown' area. "What do you want to do when we get back to the house?" /Anything./

"I don't know," was the admission. "Maybe we could read for a while, or go for a walk. Whatever makes you happy." A nap wouldn't be misplaced, either -- Dorian could have slept at least another hour that morning!

"Reading for a while would be good for me." His pace down the street was slower now, an almost leisurely pace that helped relax both himself and Dorian. "'Whatever makes me happy' isn't an acceptable answer, though."

"Why not?" Dorian asked. "You try to make me happy, don't you? Why can't it be?"

"Because I don't know what that would be." He told Dorian that with far less struggle than he'd expected to have with himself to admit that. What made him *happy* was an impossibility, NATO far from his reach, the missions that went with it... duty, service, the satisfaction of a good mission, success, victory... and beyond that, his guns, watching the news, reading the paper, exercising. Very dull.

"Then we'll have to find out," Dorian decided. "Maybe we can play the game I got you when we go home. That could be fun..."

"And burn supper." If supper really failed, they had cold steaks from the night before that they could still eat. From his pocket Klaus procured his lighter and a cigarette, offering it to Dorian. "We won't come back out again, I don't think; not today."

/That's a relief,/ Dorian thought, taking it from him and drawing in a deep lungful of smoke. Hmmm, he was only an occasional smoker, but sometimes... sometimes, that was *just* what one needed!! "Sounds like a plan," he agreed, stopping outside of the restaurant.

Klaus was a hellacious smoker on the other hand, and quickly drew one for himself from that pack, and lit it between cupped hands before he opened the restaurant's door.

Within was a clean-feeling, brightly lit place that was *chill*, and had ice cream freezers on either side of the entrance.

"Hello -- welcome to Friendly's!" an older woman greeted with a smile. "I'm your server today, and my name is Belle -- two for smoking?"

"Yes, thanks," Dorian told her, and they were quickly shown to a table on the other side of the restaurant, where a slight haze of smoke existed. /Klaus should like this!/

It wasn't a table so much as a two-seater booth, the padding comfortable to sit on, stuck in a corner. There were other people there, eating their meals, chatting amiably. Belle slid a menu in front of each of them. "Do you want to order something to drink?"

"Ahh.... Water, please? And coffee?" Dorian requested, uncertain about American drinks on the whole. He had no desire for a soft drink, and anything else was just iffy!

Klaus nodded in agreement to that, picking up the gaily colored menu and starting to read over it. It seemed all rather senseless -- desserts and the like, a lot of ice-cream -- until he realized he was reading the wrong side.

"Hmmmm. I wonder what's good?" Dorian said thoughtfully, peering at his own menu.

There were a lot of different kinds of sandwiches, burgers and odd names for seemingly normal foods. /Stupid Yanks./ Klaus looked over it a few times before he decided he'd get a basket of chicken strips, and set down his menu. Dorian was still looking at his, so it gave the German a chance to look at the Earl's face.

The lines weren't so bad as they could have been. Flat, straight traces of red and paler skin. It was the deliberateness of their placing that probably drew the stares...

But when Klaus looked at him, it wasn't staring. It was a study, of blond hair, the remarkable blue eyes that were down-cast just then, and Dorian's beautiful face.

"Klaus?" It was questioning, soft, Dorian smiling at him. He'd been caught looking at the other man, and now Dorian was surely wondering why! He didn't ask, though, only said, "Do you know what you'd like?"

"Ja; I'm getting chicken," he replied, looking away after having been caught. "You?"

"I think I agree with you," was the answer, the menu placed lightly on the table. "Chicken it is!"

"You just didn't want to decide!" Klaus accused, though his tone was light, almost chuckled.

"Caught!" Dorian declared, winking at him almost flirtatiously -- one of the first times in forever Dorian had seemed *himself*, and each of those moments Klaus carefully tucked away for remembering later. "I confess, but to no more than that!"

"The next time we go to a restaurant should I order something you won't like, so you'll have to decide?" Klaus asked him dryly, his own mood seeming to lift in response to seeing Dorian smile the way he *used* to.

"I might try it just to see if my tastes have changed," teased the response, Dorian tucking loose curls back behind an ear and sighing slightly. It was a happy sound, mostly, as if being there alone with Klaus was making him feel better already.

"So you like chicken?" Klaus asked his, looking up as the waitress arrived again, water and coffee in hand for each of them. It didn't give the German much time to contemplate the fact that he didn't seem to know much about Dorian at all.

"Would you two like to order now?"

"We'll have the chicken, here," Dorian told her with a smile. "With fried potatoes." He wasn't about to call them chips or french fries -- Klaus seemed offended by that!!

"Two baskets of chicken, fries... will you be having dessert?"

"Let me think about it," was the reply, because he knew that Klaus wouldn't want any. Still... he should ask. "Klaus?"

"None. But if you want something..."

"No," was the decision. "There are cherries at home."

"None then," Klaus told the waitress, watching her nod, smile and then leave.

Answering Klaus's question of before once the waitress was gone, Dorian looked at him. "I like chicken." /But most of all,/ he thought, /I like you./

Chapter 12 by Kat and Tzigane
The day had been spent reading -- not any of the 'help' books that Dorian had bought, but alternating between The Magician's Nephew and flipping through the history tomes. Klaus could face that he wasn't yet ready to think about things in *any* perspective other than an 'I've been trained on what happens, I'm okay' perspective. That was a complete fucking lie, but he could at least use it as a comfortable shield.

Dinner had gone well -- for re-heated steak and potatoes -- and then he'd eaten cherries with Dorian. Fruit wasn't really a dessert, and he wanted an excuse to watch the stain of it build slightly on Dorian's lips. When half of a carton was done, Klaus had insisted they'd had enough -- then asked Dorian, "What now?"

"The news is on," Dorian offered. "And there's the liquor we bought last night...."

"Wine, or the liquor?" Klaus asked, moving to carry their plates to the sink so he could rinse them quickly.

"The liquor," Dorian decided, fetching tumblers from the cabinet full of glasses. "Would you like ice, or d'you prefer it neat?" he asked, holding them in his hands and tilting his head thoughtfully to the side. The flavor of the cherries was still on his mouth, and he lightly darted out his tongue to taste his lower lip. The fruit had been sheer heaven, *exactly* what he wanted, and he was absolutely sated with it.

"No ice." The sprayer was pulled free of the sink, and Klaus quickly rinsed the plates they had eaten from rather than making use of the paper ones. It was odd in a way, how such a military man would do such a thing -- and *well* -- but then, Klaus was also deathly neat. More than once since he and Klaus had started to live with each other, Dorian had found his happily tossed clothing, or book, or paper, or whatever, put neatly away where he couldn't find it.

Luckily for Klaus, Dorian found that charming. /Almost cute, in fact!/ "All right," he said, looking for the bottle and finding it neatly placed beside the wine rack next to the refrigerator. "I'm ready when you are," he announced. "Do we want to take the rest of the cherries?"

"We've had enough cherries, Dorian," Klaus chided, looking over to him as he picked up a towel to dry the plates with. "How well do you handle liquor?"

"Fairly well," Dorian decided. He wouldn't get drunk right off, but he *was* likely to get tipsy quickly. He wasn't very fond of being drunk, in and of itself. Getting drunk often meant getting *sick*, and he definitely didn't like that! "You?"

"You've seen me drunk before, Dorian -- it takes a lot," Klaus said, lips wearing that odd smile that was a little vicious and a little proud. He'd have to keep his eye on Dorian as they drank, to make sure the Briton was okay still.

"All of that German heritage?" came the teasing response. "I should warn you. Pirates' blood flows in these veins!" That thought rather amused Dorian, who laughed softly. "Hm. Well, I s'pose I had to get it *somewhere*..."

"Get what?" Plates were neatly stacked on the counter, and then Klaus walked past Dorian, snagging the bottle of whiskey. Then he led the way to the living room. There was one big chair there, but the sofa faced the television, too...

And he and Dorian could easily fit in either together. /Get your fucking filthy mind clean, Klaus./

"My urge for thievery," Dorian teased further, settling onto the couch and looking up at Klaus almost *expectantly*. "Is this all right, then? If we sit together, we won't chance dropping the bottle..."

/We already share a bed, and.../ And Dorian had jerked him off the night before. How could Dorian even *ask* that, Klaus wondered as he sat down beside the thief after he'd grabbed the remote control. "It's fine. What channels here show news?"

"Dunno," was the answer. "Just flip through a few and we'll undoubtedly find one eventually. I mean, it's about the time for news, so surely most of them will be playing it, right?" Dorian asked, reaching for the bottle that Klaus had tucked between his legs to twist off the top.

"What're you--!" Klaus cut himself off as he nearly jumped to have Dorian doing that. The set cut on, and Klaus flipped to three before he dropped the remote quickly, and just *handed* Dorian the bottle. "A warning would be good."

"For the news?" Dorian asked him blankly before realizing that Klaus had meant the bottle, now in his hands. His face flushed heatedly, mouth turning down. "Oh! I'm sorry, Klaus, I didn't think...." Didn't think that something so simple would upset him or remind him of what had happened. /Dorian, you idiot./

Klaus was now as tense as a wire-rope pulled so taut it was near snapping -- even as he rested his back against the cushion behind him, frowning firmly as he watched the CBS news begin. No, there wasn't really a reply he could give Dorian -- not one that wouldn't just embarrass him worse, or make Dorian unhappy. Silence was better, even if it was strained.

"Here," Dorian said, offering him the first glass poured as a way of making peace. "Now we can sit and make fun of the rest of the world, all right?"

"Make fun of...?" Klaus wasn't quite following that, as he swirled the glass a little, watching the gentle sloshing.

"Sure. Politicians are all idiots at heart, darling," the British man declared. "Half the fun is in realizing that they're idiots!"

"Incompetent, often," Klaus agreed, as the show cut right away to a commercial break. THAT figured, but it gave him an excuse to re-settle himself, one ankle resting atop the opposite knee. His old sitting position with long legs spread haphazardly made him uncomfortable now, so he'd gone back to the older habits of crossing them or stretching them out in front of him.

With a sigh, Dorian leaned back and slightly towards Klaus, pulling his own legs up underneath him slightly as they watched little cartoon characters dancing across the screen trying to sell something. "Mmmhmmm," he agreed, taking a swallow of his own drink. It was rather strong, and he didn't think he had ought to drink much of it, or he'd be too drunk to walk to bed! /So much for my tolerance. This stuff's deadly!/

Klaus's first sip was with little reaction at all, only an appreciative noise, and another sip. As long as Dorian was unobtrusive and familiar at his side... /No. It's not even an 'as' anymore... I want him here, I want more, but it's sick. He's been hurt and he'd do anything for me./ It was a trust that couldn't be abused.

When the news came back on, it was with dreadfully serious faces and blathering about some American politician who'd apparently confessed to cheating on his wife weeks before. "Good God. Doesn't *every* politician cheat on his wife?" Dorian asked. "I thought it was some sort of private perk of politics. 'Here's your office, here's your desk, here's your new mistress... er, pardon me, *intern*'," he said lightly, shaking his head.

"Not all politicians, Dorian, are like that," Klaus murmured, taking another sip from his glass. "Maybe it's just you Brits and Americans."

"Hm. I think it's a universal failing, personally," came the reply over some babble about a football strike. "I thought strikes came in baseball??"

"Americans and their sports," Klaus sighed, finishing his glass before he turned to Dorian for more to be added. "'Soccer' is a much better sport."

"Mmmmm," Dorian agreed amicably, pouring for Klaus before topping off his own glass. His cheeks were a little flushed, but drinking of any sort always made him warm, and he wasn't tipsy yet. "It's rather ridiculous of them to call it football, anyway. The only thing to do with feet is when they kick it, and they only do that twice or so in a game. It's all running about and trying to squish one another into the mud, isn't it?"

"No mud. I watched a game once. There isn't any mud. Rugby has mud." Another shift, Klaus's stiff posture seeming to loosen a little. They were talking over the news, but he didn't care too much. It was serving as comfortable background noise, and if there was something important, it would catch his eye fast enough.

"Rugby has a great *deal* of mud," Dorian agreed dreamily, sipping at his own glass. "I haven't played in years...."

"You used to play that?" He couldn't really see it. Dorian, little, had to have been more of a fairy than Dorian the adult!

The blond man nodded. "Poorly. Very poorly. I'm afraid I spent more time *in* the mud than I spent running, but I've always been quick, so there were times I got ahead of the rest of them and didn't do too badly. You?"

"Never. I played soccer, though, all through boarding school." A little at the military school, as well, but those had been informal games. Memories like that were safe to take out, touch, look over and let Dorian see a little of; safer than missions... Klaus took a long swallow from his glass, then took the bottle from Dorian to top it off. They'd come a long way from him making Dorian drink out of his hands.

"I'll bet you were cute," Dorian said with a little sigh. "Little soccer shorts, and so *intense*!!" As if Klaus could ever be anything *but* intense!

"Is there something wrong with the shorts?" Sometimes, *somehow*, Klaus could miss things like that, little innuendo or things that amused Dorian in that way. "Intense... I was captain of the team. Suppose that counts."

With a sigh, the British thief laid his head over on Klaus's shoulder, the thought of it somehow deliciously romantic. "Ohhh, I knew you would be, and so *cute*! There's nothing wrong with the shorts. I'll bet you were adorable in them..." Adorable wasn't exactly the word, but if he'd said sexy, Klaus might have killed him!

"I'm not adorable and never have been," Klaus denied. The glass was moved from his right hand to his left, and then Klaus slid his right arm around Dorian as if it belonged there. And maybe it just did. "Cute. Huh."

Pleased with himself, Dorian sighed again and finished off his drink, nuzzling against Klaus. "Mmmhmmmm. Very cute," he agreed, working the top off of the bottle again. "You're very cute now."

"I'm cute? I demand you tell me how." Klaus watched Dorian get the top off, pouring *full* glasses for both of them. Dorian seemed to be getting a little tipsy, but... not drunk. /Hell, I'm getting tipsy. Too long without drinking./

"You have the most *adorable* smile," Dorian purred, taking a long swallow of his drink. /Hmmm. Bravery in a bottle./ "And the way you laugh. And how sweet you are. And how gorgeous you are..." He was babbling and he knew it!

Flushing pink, Klaus tried to find distraction in the news, but found only a deodorant ad on. So, attention back to Dorian, Klaus had nothing to do but look at the head pillowed against his shoulder. "Don't say things like that." /Especially that last one, Dorian, because it's such a lie./

"They're true!" Dorian protested, drinking again. His cheeks were flushed, his lips curved up in a smile, and it was *so* damned tempting! "All of it's true. And now you look like a beautiful pirate, and I'm very fond of pirates," he declared almost happily. There was just something about being tipsy that was *too* delicious!

"Pirate..." Klaus echoed that, letting it sink in before the embarrassed burn of his cheeks turned to humiliation. A PIRATE?! "I'm no fucking pirate, Dorian," he snapped.

"But you *are* beautiful," Dorian sighed, lifting his face up slightly to smile at Klaus, gaze brushing over the other man's luscious lips.

Lips that soon quickly drained the glass, long swallows that must have burned on the way down. "You haven't seen the eyepatch off, have you?" He'd been very careful about keeping it placed neatly over the mess.

"No," Dorian admitted softly. "But it wouldn't make me think any differently about the way you look. You're a beautiful man... I appreciate beauty. I appreciate you."

"Can't see why," Klaus sighed, taking the bottle from Dorian to fill his glass again. There was just a little left in it in case Dorian wanted some, but... But Klaus would appreciate the liquor more, probably, once the numbness set in. "Pirate. Hah."

"It's a little romantic," Dorian admitted, sipping at the remainder of his glass. By the end of it, he knew he'd be in purely maudlin shape -- maudlin or horny, and which was worse, he couldn't say. "But it's still very nice..."

"It's a mess under it. 's not aesthetic at all," Klaus sighed, nursing the drink a little, his other arm still loosely around Dorian. That he hadn't pulled back was a very good sign, despite the calm, *definitely* maudlin mod settling over him.

"I dun care," Dorian declared. "Not a whit. Not even a bit. I love you madly, so it doesn't matter at all."

"Nothing matters, does it?" That, too, was depressing. "It doesn't matter to you that I'm as sick as those Stasi?"

"You aren't." That reply was firm, even if Dorian himself was tipsy. "You dun want t'hurt me. 'S not so bad, 'f you dun want t'hurt me, you know. 'S actually quite nice. Especially if you kiss me. I like it when you let me kiss you," Dorian whispered, looking at Klaus yearningly.

"I haven't kissed you." The night before didn't count. that had been a panicked reaction, not a kiss...

"Could you kiss me now?" Dorian asked, mouth parting slightly by way of invitation.

Dorian wanted him, to, was *asking*....

/He's been drinking./ "You're probably drunk, Dorian." /Just kiss him. I want to. I want to do so much.../ But Dorian was still lying when he said it wasn't sick.

"Probably," Dorian agreed. "But I've wanted you to kiss me even when I was sober, so 's not something I dun want..."

Those stumbled words were quickly taken from him, by the careful buss of Klaus's lips against his, warm, damp from drinking. Unlike the night before, Klaus could concentrate on what it felt like, first one press, then another, then a third where he let his lips part a little, pressing without pulling back.

He could feel Dorian's mouth part for him, the other man bringing up his free hand to lightly touch Klaus's shoulder as he accepted the kiss, sighing quietly into it. Being kissed by Klaus was even better than kissing him had been the night before, and Dorian was willing to let him go as far as he would like before either of them stopped. The mere realization that they *would* stop was there, an automatic assumption, and so he wouldn't be disappointed when they reached that moment. Instead, he was going to enjoy every second of the kiss for all he was worth!

Klaus finally drew back, pausing just a bit back from Dorian's lips. Then he pulled back, setting his half-finished glass aside before settling with Dorian near him again. "Did you like that?" His voice came out so very husky, slow and deliberate.

"Very much," Dorian agreed a little breathlessly, mouth tingling from the last of that delicious kiss. "Oh, so much. Klaus, if I ask you to again..." The blond man was having a hard time fighting back need, and in more ways than one. He knew he wasn't ready for more than kisses, knew that nothing was going to be easy for them, but he wanted Klaus so much...!

"Just..." One wall defeated, it seemed, only the broken cobbles left behind to stumble on. "Just kisses," Klaus whispered, leaning back in just a little bit to take another from Dorian, just as slow and exploring as the first. It was amateur compared to some of Dorian's lovers from the past, but there was *something* behind it, and a tenderness that made up for any imperfections.

"Yes," Dorian whispered, trembling, his arms sneaking around Klaus's neck, glass tilted upright and still clasped in one hand. "Oh, yes, Klaus, please..."

Sweet, slow melding, and Klaus flickered his tongue briefly between Dorian's lips, a barely made motion, and then he drew back again. "'s nice."

"I could kiss you forever," Dorian said by way of agreement, mouth trembling slightly. "Oh, Klaus..." His arms tightened slightly, body half laying across Klaus's chest.

Klaus's left hand -- freed of the brace since before supper -- plucked Dorian's glass from his fingers and slid it onto the table. "Just kisses." Anything else... was too tempting and too much. He couldn't tell if, without the haze drifting into his mind, he'd even be able to do that again in the morning.

"All right." That was the second agreement he'd gotten from Dorian even as the blond thief shifted slightly, moving so that he was more comfortable against Klaus, face lifting again. This time, his lips snuck the first kiss, pressing softly against Klaus's before stealing that luscious lower lip to suck at lightly for just a moment. "Mmmmmm...!"

"Uhmm..." The soft noise that left Klaus was hard to place, but it wasn't a protest. "'s that a kiss?"

"Mmmmhmmmmm," was the answer even as Dorian's tongue lightly darted out to brush at Klaus's upper lip and along the line of white teeth.

"Don'..." the protest or question aborted, and Klaus pulled Dorian nearer to him, kissing back, making a slight mimicry of the tantalizing suckle at his lower lip.

The little sound of pleasure that gained him was *definitely* a good thing, Dorian's arms tightening around him, pulling them closer together. He'd never wanted anything so much as he had wanted to kiss Klaus, and it felt better than any dream or fantasy he'd ever had! Carefully, he slipped his tongue deeper into the other man's mouth, teasing, reaching gently for the tip of Klaus's tongue and finding it, rubbing it lightly with his own before drawing back to fairly simple kissing for a moment.

That simpler version was needed to keep Klaus's mind together, to keep him from scattering to pieces -- or, so Klaus felt when he finally broke the tender lock of mouth against mouth. "'s go upstairs...?"

"Please," Dorian murmured huskily, nodding, heart framming violently against his ribs. "Yes...."

"We... aren't going to do anything, but..." Lay there close, closer and more comfortable than they could manage on the couch, kiss, hold...

"Right," Dorian agreed, head spinning just a bit with rising passion and no small amount of alcohol. "Right...."

He was moved to fully sitting with Klaus's careful guidance, and then pulled to standing. "kay?"

"Never been better!" Dorian assured huskily, his tongue darting out to touch his own mouth. "Mmmm... one more kiss before we go upstairs?" he asked softly.

The earl was leaning on Klaus more than he was standing, to begin with, so it wasn't much of a shift to move him just a little closer, meeting those lips cautiously.

/Ohhh, Klaus,/ Dorian thought deliriously, shivering slightly with the innate tenderness of the other man's touch, something most people would have assumed to be an impossibility. /Anything was worth this moment.../

Well.

Almost anything...

"'s the stairs now?" Klaus asked, knowing he was probably incoherent from the haze of the liquor settling over him like a heavy blanket, and the shock of trying to process that he was kissing Dorian.

"Sounds like a good idea," Dorian agreed, wobbling a bit as he made a move in that direction. "'f we can get that far..."

The German's pace, though, was steady as he crossed the carpeted floor to the stairs. "Jus' hold onto me."

"Holding on," Dorian agreed, chuckling as he wobbled again and ended up leaning on Klaus. "Holdin' tight. I didn't mean to get so drunk. Oh, dear. It was awf'lly strong stuff, wasn't it?"

"'s been a while since I drank like that..." Klaus smiled for a flicker of a moment as he started up the stairs, slowly, one hand around Dorian's waist and the other on the hand-rail. "'m not going to be taking my medications tonight."

"'s it good for you not to take 'em?" Dorian questioned, hiccoughing slightly. "Ohh..."

"I c'n skip once," Klaus shrugged, forging his way up the stairs. Stopping could be a chance to lose balance, and he didn't plan to let go of Dorian until they were in the bedroom.

"Aa~aall... right," Dorian said by way of agreement, chuckling quietly again. "Ohhh, Klaus," he sighed. "You give the best kisses. I always knew your mouth was so soft..."

"'s it?" That was chuckled as much as it was questioned, as he set foot in the hallway, glad to no-longer navigate the stairs.

"Mmmmhmmmmmm...!" That was fairly hummed, Dorian taking a deep breath and letting it out once more. "Will you kiss me 'gain?" he asked, smiling.

"'n the bedroom." Oh, if his men could see him just then... Klaus pushed open the bedroom door, moving towards the large bed.

"'s a good place for kisses," Dorian agreed as he tumbled into the bed, laughing softly again. Ohhh, being drunk felt very good when Klaus was being so marvelous to him! "I'd like to be kissed here, with you in my arms. Would be *beautiful*," he sighed, reaching up and placing a hand over his heart.

"Mmm, why?" Klaus asked, putting a knee down on the bed beside Dorian, and then tumbling after him to simply stretch out across the bed on his stomach.

"'Cause I've wanted it for so long," the dreamy answer came. "Wanted you to hold me and kiss me and..." /And love me.../ Even if Klaus didn't. Even if he wasn't worthy of that emotion from his beautiful German Major...

Who wasn't quite beautiful anymore, or a major. "How long?" Klaus pushed himself up on an elbow to move closer to Dorian, to hold him close and warmly.

"Since you held me in th'tank," Dorian answered, smiling up at him. "I think, since then. I wanted you t'do it again, an' I hated you, an' you were so frustrating an' so *marvelous*. An' I wanted you t'do it again."

"'re completely drunk," Klaus told him, tone as solemn as he could manage while verging on the same himself. "Get over here."

"Yep," Dorian agreed with a sigh, scooching over to Klaus's side and draping himself over the other man. "That's strong stuff you got. 's impaired all kinds of things. Dun know. You gonna kiss me again?" he asked.

"You really like that," Klaus sighed softly, a contented musing as he shifted nearer Dorian to take another kiss. "We should prob'ly change clothes..." So they could be more comfortable when they indulged in kisses, tentative but wanted by both parties.

"Mmmmmmmmmm," was the sound of Dorian's agreement, muffled by the kisses he was giving Klaus's jaw. "Bath would be nice, but 'm a bit too drunk to bathe." If he tried, he'd probably only manage to hurt himself!!

"We could... in the morning, 'stead," Klaus uttered, shifting Dorian so he could kiss the Briton's soft mouth a little. Maybe getting changed was a bad idea, too. He could sleep comfortably enough as he was, and Dorian probably could too. "'d prob'ly fall."

"Mmmhmmmmm...." Dorian answered. "Gotta change, though. Gonna get wrinkled..." Not as if they already weren't, but in some bizarre way, that logic made sense to him.

"'ll right," Klaus murmured, letting his companion free with reluctance. He *liked* holding Dorian close, but if the man said he needed to change clothes, well, then he did.

With some effort, the slim blond worked his way out of the bed ass first, thinking that would help him keep his balance. He was at least partially right -- he didn't fall over until he reached his suitcase. "Ooooops!"

"'n okay?" Klaus sat up more, chuckling a little at the sight before him. Dorian sprawled on the floor, hair in his eyes, pose one that was so pretty it had to have been calculated, perhaps years before and practiced. That sight urged Klaus to sit on the edge of the bed, and then stand, walking slowly over to Dorian to sit down cross-legged beside him.

"Ooops," Dorian declared again, smiling at him in that brilliantly Dorian way that Klaus loved so much. "I think I c'n get things out better down here, dun you think so, too?"

"Yeh." Smiling back a little as he leaned forwards to help Dorian sit up a little *neater*, Klaus decided in a hazy manner that he was happy. In that moment, sitting there with Dorian, he was happy. "C'n I help you find things?" he offered, knowing he was still a good bit steadier than Dorian.

"My blue pajamas 're dirty," Dorian told him earnestly. "Gotta have something else. What color d'you like?" he asked, poking at his suitcase and smiling at Klaus again.

"Anything," the german shrugged, trying to figure out why Dorian's pajamas were dirty. He'd only worn them once, the night before, and... oh. Klaus's face flushed a little more than it had been already. /It didn't just disappear, so 'course it was on his pajamas.../ "'ll do washing tomorrow."

The blond man nodded with solemn mien, as washing clothes somehow was the answer to life, the universe and everything. "Okay. I like the blue. 've got purple. D'you like purple? You *dun* like red..." Dorian, it seemed, was a remarkably *happy* drunk, and one with very little sense!!

"Purple's fine." Red... He didn't like to see red on Dorian -- in general it was a fine color, but on Dorian... "Red looks like too much blood. 'minds me of you hurt; 's not a good thing."

"Ohhhhh," Dorian replied, looking at him worshipfully. "'ll throw it all out, then! Woosh! Gone!"

"'s other colours you look 's nice in," Klaus told him, peering into the suitcase's jumble of clothing. There wasn't *one* suitcase, either -- there were four total, all *big* things, and Dorian's hefty carry on, and a duffle. Klaus's own things were in one suitcase and a duffle, and he suspected *himself* of having brought too many clothes! "Blue, green, white... 're pretty in white."

"Oooohhh!!!" That seemed to be the word of choice for the evening! "White... white, white, 've got white, it's... AH-HA!" And, indeed, he did have white, in pajamas that were much like his blue ones. The only difference was that the legs of the things were actually long pajama bottoms as opposed to short. "'s this good?" he asked, looking to Klaus for his opinion.

Drapey, and very Eroica in style, with a thin draw-string that Dorian probably wouldn't bother to tie. Klaus nodded approval, smiling again. "'s good. 's very good." Now, to get off the floor, and get his *own* pajamas...

"Kiss me again," Dorian breathed, leaning forward slightly and almost tipping over. "Then, we'll change. 'kay?"

"Right." Klaus's hands came up to steady Dorian, resting at the tops of his hips as he leaned up to receive the gift of Dorian's kiss. He realized that come morning he could blame liquor, or insanity, or... but he wouldn't. It wouldn't do either of them any good -- the truth helped, even when it was hard to say, in any little bit he could say it.

The soft sound that Dorian gave as Klaus kissed him was utterly delicious; there wasn't a doubt in his mind about that, even as Dorian's lips parted, granting him entrance and giving him that enticing swipe of tongue again, teasing at his own lower lip and seeking out the edge of his teeth. It was good, beyond good, and he wished it wouldn't ever, ever stop...

"One more?" Klaus breathed when it broke, tugging at Dorian's hips a little. A motion that brought the tipsy thief down atop him with a thud.

"One more," Dorian agreed breathlessly, sprawled out over him. /This is some sort of drunken hallucination, and I'm going to enjoy every minute of it,/ he decided, closing his eyes and pressing his lips lightly to Klaus's before parting them.

What followed was another slow sparring of lips, swipe of tongue against tongue before melding closer for a moment to a delicious twining; then Klaus broke it. "Hmmhm," the German smiled up at him, hands moving to lift Dorian to his feet again. It hurt the still healing muscles of his chest a little, aggravated earlier by his shooting testing, but the feel of Dorian's lean body, even if it was through a filmy sort of shirt... wonderful. "'ve got to get my clothes..."

The urge to suggest going naked made Dorian shiver and then laugh at himself. "Hmmmkay," he agreed, beginning to strip absentmindedly so that he could change. "I'll try an' not fall over again..."

"Mm." Klaus stood unsteadily, using the floor to push himself up, back-end reaching 'up' first, before he straightened. And then tried to cross the floor in a fair facsimile of his usual walk. Tried.

"Oh, Klaus! The room is weaving around you! How remarkable!"

"Was?" Klaus asked, pivoting quickly and finding himself, remarkably, on the floor, still looking at Dorian.

THAT prompted yet more amusement from the blond man, who promptly swayed his way towards Klaus. "Ohhhh, the room made *you* drunk, too. Up... we go," he declared, holding out a hand for Klaus.

Klaus declined, though, shifting to push himself up again. "Oh, no, 'm not going to end up w' you fallin' again..."

"D'you think I'm drunker'n you are?" Dorian asked him suspiciously, clutching his pajamas to his half-naked form.

"Mm, ja," Klaus said decisively, deciding to simply crawl over to his suitcase once he was up to his knees.

"You're pretty drunk," Dorian decided, pulling on his pajama shirt before unbuttoning his slacks and letting them fall. "I must be 'n pretty bad shape..."

"Think so..." Klaus sat down beside his own suitcase, looking over his shoulder at Dorian and openly staring at the sight that met his eye. The hem of Dorian's shirt just skirted the tops of his hips, and without the slacks, and the underwear he wore being pulled down already... there was a lot for Klaus to look at. Just like the night before, when Dorian had been showering, it was arousing in ways that the events of the Stasi *hadn't* been.

A momentary fumbling hid all of that from view, but then Dorian's bottom met with the floor again and he somehow managed to get his pajama bottoms partially on, tugging at them. They rolled up, and he frowned, trying to untangle them. "Uh-oh..."

"Need... need help?" Klaus offered, throat suddenly just *parched* for water, air, anything...

"I broke them," Dorian said sadly, though that *wasn't* the problem. If Klaus could just get them unrolled, the thin silk would be just fine. The problem lay in that word, though -- IF. "They don't work anymore! And you wanted the white..."

"I'll help," Klaus told him, trying to figure out just *how* Dorian could have broken them. He moved, still fully dressed, across the floor, on hands and knees all the way, over to where Dorian sat, pants caught about his knees. "No, 're just twisted."

"Ohhh," came the sound of understanding, Dorian smiling at him again. "Can you fix them??" he asked, blinking at Klaus almost audibly.

"Ja. Lift... your hips little," he told Dorian, moving a bit over Dorian, as he started to unroll the sides carefully.

The flood of emotion that brought spilling through the British man's veins was undeniable, a shiver working down his spine as he gave a soft little sound, pleading, wanting... even though he didn't think he wanted anything at all!! "Klaus...."

"Ja...?" Klaus's tone was a careful, but still fuzzy one, as he kept shifting the fabric over Dorian's legs, hands stopped with it just over Dorian's bottom and groin.

"That's... very nice!" Dorian told him breathily, squirming and trying *not* to show his very obvious reaction.

It seemed to confuse Klaus some, until he decided to finish fixing Dorian's pants for him, and *found* the obvious reaction. "Ohhhh."

"I'm sorry," Dorian murmured, shivering and biting his lower lip, turning his face away slightly. "Oh... I'm.... I can't help it..."

"...why...?" Somehow, Klaus found the breath to ask that, as he drew his hands a little away from Dorian's hips. Why was the earl hard -- *him*?

"B'cause it's you," Dorian explained, face flaming with color as he shivered. "B'cause I know you won't hurt me. B'cause...." Because he'd *always* wanted Klaus...

Looking down again, in the dim light of a room lit only by what the un curtained windows let in, Klaus could see the earl's cock in better detail than he ever had before. Perhaps it was the angle, or how humiliated and vulnerable the Briton looked, but Klaus was struck by how very similar that felt to the moments Dorian had been deposited in his lap. Quietly, he shifted a bit closer to Dorian, one hand slipping from the aborted movements of pulling up Dorian's pants to touching bare skin.

A soft release of breath sounded, Dorian's tongue darting out to moisten lips gone dry, legs coming together slightly at that touch. "Klaus..." There was something about his name being spoken that way that was utterly and completely decadent, wonderful, intense. It sounded so good, and Dorian's hands were reaching for him, the other man moaning quietly as he drew Klaus into another kiss, shivering. "Mmnn..."

Dorian would probably want to see the back of him in the morning, Klaus realized fleetingly. He tugged those silky pants back down a few inches before he let his right hand rest atop Dorian's bare thigh, weight resting on his better left hand as he lazily kissed Dorian back. He was touching Dorian, and the man's skin didn't feel as if anyone else had ever touched him, ever hurt him. Pure bliss.

"Klaus..." came the whisper again as they broke apart momentarily. Even in the light coming through the window, the expression of dazed and exquisite pleasure on Dorian's face was more than obvious. "D'you wanna do this on th'bed?" he murmured, a hand stroking slowly down Klaus's left arm.

"D'n want t' move," Klaus murmured, his maimed hand moving very slowly against the skin of Dorian's leg, the juncture of thigh and hip, over lean muscle. If they moved, he'd lose his nerve.

"Kay," Dorian agreed, shivering and leaning to kiss him again, body rocking slightly towards him. "Mmmm..." Oh, God, it had to be a dream or some sort of fantasy! There was no way the warm feel of Klaus's touch against his flat belly could be real!!

That hand moved, from over Dorian's stomach to just down, his two fingers brushing nervously at the edge of golden blond curls of hair. /I shouldn't do this... It's wrong to do this, it's wrong to *want* this.../

A darting tongue teased at his lower lip in that moment, Dorian yielding to him gloriously. Hands came up to lightly pull at his shoulders, tugging him closer, and the slim thief shivered, obviously wanting more of him. "Please, Klaus..." he managed to get out in a whisper. "'s okay. 's what I want, f'r the longest time... *please*..."

/He's going to hate me.../ Slowly, that hand wrapped around the base of Dorian's cock, giving it a slow stroke. Heat, hard and slicked just a little, *Eroica's* cock in his hand... Klaus kissed Dorian all the harder in that moment, as if to keep himself from fully realizing his actions.

The little sound that Dorian uttered against his mouth said it all -- said that he wanted it, that it was pleasurable, almost unbearably so. His hands, roaming over Klaus's chest, paused to tug at him, get him close, even as his hips rocked up to the wreck of Klaus's hand. The way he trembled was sweet, the way he kissed Klaus in return unbearable, and he was so *hot*!! He seemed to be throwing off pure sparks of heat as he writhed beneath Klaus's touch, begging wordlessly for him.

But a hand on his erection and heated kisses were all he was going to get from the man. All that Klaus could manage to give as he finally stopped all thought in his mind and tried to concentrate, hazily, on Dorian's bucking beneath him. The Stasi had never taken that from Dorian, had they? No, no proof of pleasure given then, and this writhing seemed so different than that other.

"Please," Dorian begged prettily, panting breaths escaping him as he rocked to meet Klaus's hand, moaning. Golden curls scattered around him, head shaking slowly from side to side. "PLEASE, Klaus... wan' *MORE*..."

"Can't." It was all that Klaus could answer, too, even as he pumped Dorian's hardness, thumb rubbing over the uncut head. Slick, and Klaus realized that he had another man's secretions on his hand. /'s Dorian. Just Dorian.../ So with that thought steadying him, he kept the touch going, a touch that made Dorian cry out and wrap his arms tightly about Klaus's neck, whimpering with the sheer pleasure of it.

"Love you," the blond man gasped out, shuddering as he kissed Klaus deeply. "'ve always loved you!"

Always, it seemed -- always, always the man who was a complete opposite from him; shining light while he was all but a dark night in the middle of a blackout; on the other side of the law, while he was an stalwart, upstanding officer; a raging homosexual, while he was stern and straight... But no straight man could be, drunk or not, reacting so heatedly to Dorian's kisses, touching his cock, and wanting more.

With a cry, Dorian came, stiffening with pleasure and biting his lower lip hard when he did, the tingle of it spreading from groin to every nerve he had, concentrated so intently upon the spot where Klaus's hand worked that it was almost enough to send him spinning dizzily into unconsciousness. Instead, he simply kissed Klaus again, barely able to think or move or do anything except *be*, head swimming with drunkenness and orgasm. "Ooohhh!!!"

After that kiss, Klaus simply settled against Dorian; left hand still planted firmly on the floor, leaning on it, his right lifted to slide around Dorian's chest after he'd wiped it on his own trousers. Then he slumped a little, eye closed as he rested his head against the earl's shoulder.

The sound of his name was a prayer on Dorian's lips, dazed and softly spoken. "Klaus... oh, Klaus, my Klaus...." the man murmured dazedly, the glowing aftereffects of pleasure still glazing him deliciously. "My Klaus..."

"'re not angry?" came the slow, accent heavy question from beneath his chin.

"Hmm-mmm," was the sleepy negative answer. "Dun know why I would be," Dorian whispered, shivering. "'s wonderful, when you touch me..." Beyond wonderful, actually. "'ve always wan'ed you to..."

The German fell quiet again, holding himself still, very still, as he held onto Dorian. But when he spoke again, it wasn't pressing any issue or asking any questions. "Bed?"

"Mmmhmmmm," Dorian told him, yawning and shifting slightly to feel Klaus's erection against his thigh. "Ohh, you're still...." He smiled, pushing his leg with a bit more force to rub against Klaus's crotch.

"Uhhn..." The sound was an almost crippling one, of too much sensation at once through too much fabric; But the discomfort helped almost, eased guilt over what he'd just done, as he moved counterpoint to Dorian's leg.

"Darling..." came the whisper from Dorian's lips. "Klaus..." He was kissing the German man again, then, a hand moving to strive at the catch of Klaus's trousers to work gently inside of them.

"*No*..." He was firm on that, as he batted Dorian's hand away with his right. Even though he had to let go of the man to do that, lift his head minutely. "Just..." The pressure of Dorian's leg was enough, and he couldn't think of a way to convince Dorian that he didn't deserve the comfort of Dorian's hand then.

"Please," Dorian murmured, kissing him again, even though he let Klaus take his hand away. "Nn..." Instead, he went back to pressing against Klaus with his thigh, shuddering slightly as he rocked towards the other man. /This... *THIS* is what pleasure is. This is what it should be, between me and Klaus, wonderful and tender and not.../ He wouldn't think about that just at the moment. Everything felt too good for him to even contemplate *that*!

"Ohhh..." Klaus's completion came fast, a draining rush that left him with a low groan and a tight shudder that felt like it would never end. Still a good release, better than anything his own hands had given him, and it was just from rubbing against Dorian...

He could have slept right there, so tired and fuzzy-headed he felt, and he clung to Dorian a little once more, his body feeling wonderfully boneless. But they had to get to the *bed* or else there'd be a whole range of stiffnesses to deal with come morning.

"'m shleepy," Dorian mumbled, kissing him again tenderly. "'sh very nishe, Klaush..." He was already drunk, and the aftereffects of orgasm were leaving him even less coherent than he'd been before. "'sh wunnerful..."

Somehow, the German managed to gather himself enough to jerk upright, Dorian coming with him. They made it to the bed, slumping into it shortly after reaching the edge. It took only a moment to pull Dorian's pants up the rest of the way, to pull the sheets down, and then for both of them to slide beneath the soft percale. With a sigh, Dorian shifted against him, curling up with his arms around Klaus and a leg pressed lightly to him, head nestled on the other man's shoulder.

"Do love you," he mumbled sleepily, rubbing his cheek against Klaus tenderly. "Ver' mush."

"Mm-hm." Tired agreement, in the moments it took Klaus to slide into heavy unconsciousness that felt as good as sleep, Dorian held safe in his arms.

Chapter 13 by Kat and Tzigane
/My head is going to explode,/ Dorian thought miserably, shuddering. Sunlight was pouring into the bedroom and he knew he was going to die if it actually hit him full in the face. /Oh, GOD.../

To top it all off, he was almost *too* warm, and could swear to God there were button-imprints on the side of his jaw from Klaus's shirt. The man was beneath him, sleeping like a dead rock, still completely dressed as he'd been when they'd come up the stairs.

/To wake him or not to wake him.../ Well, if Klaus was going to feel as shitty as *he* was feeling just at the moment, it was probably best to let him sleep, Dorian decided, shifting his face slightly to at least move himself off of the buttons. /Maybe if I sleep a little longer, I'll feel better once I wake up again.../

Although how many times before had *that* worked for a hangover?

The shift of his head stirred Klaus a little, but it was only to get an unpleasant growling noise, and Klaus turned his head on the pillow. Somehow a rough night's sleep had dislodged his eyepatch; now Dorian could see the rippling scar where the knife had done its work, the still lingering swelling, and how the eyelid and lashes that covered it seemed to be a little sunken in.

It didn't change Dorian's opinion of him as being an incredibly handsome man in the least. Of course, he supposed that Klaus would have to be gone from the Earth entirely for him to *not* love the man and think he was wonderful and handsome and brave, so it was just as well!

Klaus didn't seem to notice Dorian's physical imperfections, so why would Dorian notice Klaus's? It didn't mean the person was any different... even though they were both, in light of their pasts, drastically different now from how they once were.

And 'once' wasn't so long ago.

With a slight sigh and a wince, Dorian closed his eyes, stomach clenching slightly. /I'm never ever drinking like that again,/ he promised himself once again, shuddering. /Yuck./

"Zrrrh." Klaus was making 'trying to wake up' noises, shifting to curl up on one side and finding himself hindered both by Dorian still curled against him and his own clothes.

It was NOT the way he wanted to wake up!

Dorian on his side was more and more normal -- but the odd feeling of clothes twisted around his body, a little sticky, uncomfortable around his groin, and a *throbbing* headache... that was what he wasn't used to. "Nn, dor'an..."

"Go back to sleep," Dorian whispered, even that sound impossibly loud in his head. "'ve got a hangover. You too, prob'ly."

"[Need smth'n to drink,]" Klaus mumbled, lifting his head blearily to look around.

"Hmm?" Oh, he was in too much pain to muddle through any language other than English,and he wasn't even sure he could muddle through THAT!!

"'m wasser?" Klaus asked again, squirming himself a little upright. Ugh, completely dressed, and he could faintly remember why his pants were clinging to him in such a disgusting manner.

"You're Darth Vader? What?" Dorian asked, confusion setting in for the moment.

"Nnn." Dorian's voice was just a tad too loud in that confused moment for Klaus's comfort. "Drink, ah... Whater?"

"Oh." That was a whisper of sound, Dorian sighing slightly. He'd made his *own* head ache worse, so he might as well go search out some tylenol.... "'s not in here. I'll go get you some from the bathroom..."

"Mmmhn." That was a protest, Klaus shifting fully sitting with a miserable sounding noise. "'ll 'et 't."

"I want some, too," Dorian told him. He wanted to brush his teeth, and he wanted *pain killers*! "Wanna brush my teeth. You want anything else?" he whispered.

A shower, he was sure. "'m be back," Klaus said quietly, shifting to sit at the edge of the bed for a moment before he lurched to his feet and grabbed the pajamas he hadn't put on the night before.

The mere fact that they weren't so close together was actually good for Dorian, cool air rushing in to replace the heat of Klaus's body and relieving some of the nausea that had been steadily growing since he'd wakened. "I *hate* being drunk," he mumbled.

Klaus nodded in bleary agreement for a moment, before he tromped off unsteadily down the hallway to the bathroom. Short moments later, Dorian could hear the water in the shower blasting at full power.

"Go back to sleep," Dorian muttered to himself, clutching his aching head. "It'll get better if you go back to sleep..."

Fuck sleeping. He wanted to brush his teeth!! Klaus was in the shower, though, and he remembered the last time he'd walked in... well. While the thought was nice, it had upset Klaus terribly, he knew, so that was out for the time being. /I can wait.../

The night before had been nice, though, hadn't it? That was a thought to turn over and over as he laid there, waiting to hear the water shut off. It had been more than nice, really. It had been... *perfect*. Almost. So much of what he'd dreamed about, wished for, wanted. He wondered what Klaus was thinking this morning. He wondered if Klaus remembered... He really hoped that he did! /Ohhh, maybe the hangover is worth that.../

Hopefully Klaus wouldn't do what he'd done the last time -- never mentioned it directly, as if it had never happened. What would it take to strip Klaus's mind of years of teaching, and the traumatic experience with the Stasi, just enough to let him see that not everything was horrible? Dorian didn't know. Still, whatever it took, he supposed he'd have to go slowly with it. He wanted Klaus to know pleasure, and not fear or shame. He had felt enough of that, now, for both of them, and he certainly didn't intend to inflict anything worse on Klaus than he'd already suffered!! /My poor darling.../

But he'd heard an admittance he thought he'd never hear -- Klaus saying he *wanted* him. Even scarred and not *quite* the same, Klaus wanted him; pathetically needy, and Klaus still wanted him.

Another ten minutes passed, and Klaus returned -- damp from the shower, dressed in his pajamas, a glass of water and a box of tylenol in hand, both of which were handed silently to Dorian as he moved to pull the blinds.

"THANK you," Dorian murmured, taking the lid off and promptly swallowing four of the little capsules, shuddering as he polished off the water. "My head's going to explode," he decided with a sigh. "You're clean. I should go bathe, too..." Except that he really didn't want to get out of bed at all!

"Ja." Though, Klaus wasn't going to press that, as he moved to lay beneath the sheets again, laying down tiredly. He'd had to clean seepage around his eye -- something that was unexplainably disgusting for him -- and had put the patch firmly back in place over it again. And now, after a freezing cold shower and a couple of glasses of water he felt better.

"Mmmm," Dorian sighed sleepily. "'s going to get better. 'd you take some?" he asked.

"Ja. Dr-- three." Softly uttered, Klaus closing his eyes as he shifted miserably to lay on his side, hoping that it would help his head in *some* manner.

For a while, they laid there silently, about a foot apart, and Dorian finally drifted back to sleep. It was fairly difficult, considering the pounding of his head, but he *knew* he'd feel better if he could just *sleep* for a while!! Which left Klaus to watch Dorian once some of the throb had abated from simply laying there quietly, not moving. He was turned towards Dorian, too, so when he finally cracked open his eye, it was took no movement to look at the earl's sleeping face.

The red lines of scars in no way detracted from the countenance upon which he gazed; indeed, he really didn't see them. Instead, he saw golden lashes brushing pale cheeks, lovely pale lips parted in steady breaths, a straight nose, a firm jaw. He saw beauty in that face, just as it had ever held, and nothing, ever, could convince him otherwise. Only now he could admit to seeing that beauty, torn between shoving it away and keeping it close to him. He had to keep Dorian safe, because he'd failed once. He was a failure at everything else, it seemed, but Dorian wanted him there still, so he had to try to keep him safe, to make him better.

It never once occurred to him that what he saw looking at Dorian was what Dorian saw when he looked back at him. Dorian himself had just realized that they shared views of each other.

Klaus closed his eyes again, shifting his left hand to rest it on Dorian's chest as if it had moved there in his sleep.

"Mmmm..." It was only a sleep sound, and Dorian shifted, moving closer to him. The room was quite chilly, and now that they had both cooled off, it seemed that he wanted to be close to Klaus once again. It was something Klaus wanted to oblige Dorian in, though for the moment he didn't move his slightly fisted hand from where it was curled at the center of Dorian's narrow chest. Hopefully that would keep the nightmares away.

The other man's arms moved around him, Dorian nestling close, and his head found its home against Klaus's chest despite the fist between them. The man sighed softly, blue eyes fluttering open slightly. He was reassured by the sight of Klaus there and smiled before closing them again, nestling close in his sleep.

There was something disturbingly comforting in knowing and feeling Dorian move consciously closer to him when he thought Klaus to be asleep. He'd have to analyze that when he was more awake...


Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach had never thought that *denim* could be flamboyant.

Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach was *wrong*.

Perhaps it was the fact that the jeans Dorian had slid over lean hips were almost the same shade of blue as the Briton's aquamarine gaze. Perhaps it was the fact that the t-shirt the man had on was spattered with paints in shades of that same color accompanied by purples and greens and even magenta. Perhaps -- just perhaps, mind you -- it had something to do with the scarf tied about Dorian's waist in equally complimentary colors.

Dorian was *definitely* feeling better than either one of them had felt the day before!

"Ohhhh!" the man declared, stretching until his back popped. "I'm glad we spent all day yesterday in bed! I feel up to the climb now!"

Klaus glanced over to the stout mountain they were going to hike, and shifted on the gravel of the parking lot as he locked the car. "Yesterday neither of us felt up to more than staying in bed." Except to get water, go to the bathroom, or, finally around eight, get food. It had been a waste of a day, but it had also been a little enjoyable for Klaus; lots of opportunities offered for him to become more comfortable than he already was around Dorian.

His own jeans, in his opinion, were thankfully not flamboyant, and neither was his comfortable leather jacket and the work-quality olive shirt he wore under it.

"That's true," Dorian admitted with a smile, hands shoved into his pockets as he smiled at Klaus. "Today's glorious, though. Shall we start up? I wonder what the view from the top is like..."

How Dorian could get his hands *into* those pockets seemed to be the most prominent thought on his mind as he nodded briskly and started towards the trail. "The trees are pretty here, with all the leaves turned."

"Red and gold and green and umber," Dorian agreed, sighing with pleasure as he followed after the other man. /Klaus has the cutest *bottom*,/ he thought wistfully to himself. "It should be a *glorious* sort of day, darling!" That word was coming more and more into his vocabulary in the last day or so; he was unable to help himself.

It seemed a good thing, to Klaus; that Dorian was returning to himself, in flamboyance and speech. He could still shoot perfectly, Dorian was still the foppish man who'd both pissed him off and drawn him in without explanation. "There's no risk of rain -- the view from the top is supposed to be really good."

"Come on," Dorian encouraged, reaching for his hand. It would be all right if Klaus rejected him -- he wouldn't mind it too badly -- but he hoped that the other man would not.

The excuse Klaus used was that the trail was supposed to be steep in parts, and that he wouldn't want Dorian to fall. Also, holding Dorian's hand like that, his right hand clasped in Dorian's left, Klaus taking the outside of the path, helped to hide his maimed fingers and too familiar bandages over the knuckles of fore and pinkie fingers.

"Look!" Dorian murmured, pointing ahead of them and to the right. "There's a brook over there. Looks promising for a stop on the way back down, don't you think?"

"Stop for what?" Klaus asked, looking at his companion a bit curiously.

"Oh, just because," Dorian answered, grip lightly caressing as they walked further up the trail.

"Just because... you live by such whims," Klaus managed to smile. Each step was well placed, guiding Dorian over the dips and rises of leaves and twigs, any possible point where an ankle could be twisted or foot caught. It was a natural action for him to be that sort of careful, so it left a lot of his mind free to look at the trees that, for the moment, were on either side of them.

"It's beautiful," Dorian whispered, the sound a sigh of pure pleasure. "Oh, Klaus..." For a moment, he hugged himself against the other man's arm, then sighed again. "I'm so glad we came here."

"Hiking, or to America?" Klaus asked with a quirk of his lips.

"Both!" came the happy decision, Dorian sighing again.

"Will you be able to enjoy yourself so much when we go back to Europe?" he asked seriously. And where in Europe -- London, or Bonn?

That seemed to require serious thought, for Dorian shook his head. "I don't know," he said finally. "I really don't know. There are things to DO in Europe, things..." Things that might take Klaus away from him, somehow. "Things that might separate us, one way or another. I don't know."

"What things?"

"I don't know," Dorian said softly, shrugging. "My thievery, your feelings of devotion towards your family... I don't know..."

"I thought we were going to work together," Klaus almost reminded -- hoping inside, with a desperate sense, that Dorian hadn't decided against that. If he had, where would that leave Klaus?

Dorian paused, smiling at him. "I want to desperately. I just have this fear you'll get tired of me... That's all."

"Don't bother being scared of that," Klaus told him, squeezing Dorian's hand as he looked up at the trail ahead of them, and then the trees again. "I won't. I couldn't."

"I'm glad." So softly that was spoken, it almost went unheard, but the clasp of Dorian's hand in his did not change.

For a while, they continued in silence, walking steadily up the trail. Every now and then, they would pause, but for the most part, it was a steady journey until Dorian spoke again. "Almost there!"

"The steepest part," Klaus agreed; they'd been hiking the path for perhaps two or so hours now, a walk that he took easily, his body glad for a return to old habits.

A slightly dreamy smile crossed Dorian's face -- flitting fantasies of falling and being rescued dancing through his brain, even though such a thing was utterly unlikely. He wasn't the sort of man to do that! "Let's go!"

"A race to the top?" Klaus asked, letting go of Dorian's hand to observe the stretch, a long curve that disappeared as it reached the top.

"Why not?" Dorian laughed, and promptly took off before Klaus could even think of running!

Klaus had sheer stamina, but not Dorian's playful speed -- and no already building reserve of adrenaline to power him along. He started just seconds after Dorian, but couldn't beat him to the top, where the path burst from well-tracked dirt and leaves into a well groomed lawn and cement path.

"I WIN!" Dorian whooped, turning slightly and coming to a halt, flinging his arms around Klaus as he slowed down, as well. "YES!"

"You cheated, you thief!" Klaus laughed, still moving forwards with Dorian caught in his arms for a moment. There were few people there at the time, only the employees of the park and a small smattering of people; and Klaus didn't care -- it was a joy to see Dorian show his old jubilance. "Hey... I'll race you to the tower!"

And then he took off at full speed towards the monument the moment he let go of Dorian.

"KLAUS!" Oh, it was a delight to hear that yell from behind him, the other man racing to keep up and not quite making it for the laughter that he couldn't hold back.

Dorian couldn't remember when he'd last enjoyed himself so much! It was a delight, and more than a delight, and he loved every last minute of it, even when they stopped at the base of the monument. "Oh, DARLING!"

Laughing wolfishly, Klaus pulled open the wooden door of the tall tower, and held it open for Dorian to come into the stone structure with him.

"You win!" Dorian conceded, panting slightly. "Ohhh!!"

"Come along, Dorian -- we've got the stairs ahead of us, so you can see the view!" Klaus told him firmly, offering his right hand out to Dorian.

Hand in hand, Dorian moved up the stairs beside him, feet hurrying along the way. "I'll bet it's *gorgeous*!" the blond said enthusiastically. What a wonderful day it had been so far!

"It's supposed to be!" Klaus agreed, as they took the winding flight all the way up to the platform at the top, with its viewing windows. Beyond the windows they could see more than just the mountain -- sectioned off pieces of land, splashes of color, bright and crisp from the turning trees, the scatterings of houses and the little town they were staying in, far in the distance.

"Ohhhhh," Dorian let out a little gasp, eyes going wide. "It's BEAUTIFUL! It's worth the entire trip!!"

/Hiking with you and seeing your face just now was worth the entire trip. Hearing you laugh.../ Klaus's gaze drifted between the view, and Dorian's awe struck face, before he looked out the window again, and down.

Below, a familiar figure moved, coat tucked closely about him, envelope in hand, and it caught his eye. It was not a flamboyant figure; not a terribly attractive one, either. No, it was that of a fairly large man, hat upon his bald head, sunglasses on.

Mischa.

Klaus instantly slipped into a mood Dorian thought he would never see again -- sharply observant and strictly calm; he didn't stop watching the Soviet.

"What's wrong?" His voice was not a whisper; instead, it was a low murmur, British drawl gone crisp, his own eyes following Klaus's gaze and widening upon seeing the person below. "Hm."

"Ja," Klaus drawled, watching as another -- a casually dressed Tank -- approached Mischa.

What were the fucking chances of THAT happening, with them there, so far from Europe!

"Well," Dorian said softly, watching the two move to exchange information. "THAT certainly puts an interesting question to mind..."

"Which one?" Klaus asked in a low-toned rumble.

"First off, what they're doing. Second, can we steal it? Third, is it worth the effort? Fourth, how on earth did we manage to come here at just the right time?" Dorian paused. "There are others, but those are my main questions, just now."

"Five, how the fuck can we avoid it? It's just the damned Yanks, Dorian," Klaus growled. Mischa, too, though, and that was rivalry that had gone back before Dorian had ever known Klaus was alive.

The response that Dorian gave was slow, serious. "Maybe," he said finally. "But I think we should keep an eye out, all the same."

"Yes; we'll stay up here until they've left," Klaus decided; he wanted to see where each one went, to be stored away in his mind.

"Hmmmm." With a sigh, Dorian shook his head and smiled, eyes sparkling slightly. "I love you when you're like this, Klaus! So serious, so beautiful..."

"Dorian..." In earlier days, he would have snapped, bellowing and perhaps given away their location. Now, though, there was only a whisper of, "Not now."

"Yes... Klaus..." The sound of it was almost disappointed, but Dorian didn't move away from him. Instead, he simply shifted a bit closer, and continued to watch, as well.

They watched papers trade hands, and then watched the two agents part, shaking hands briskly before heading in opposite directions. "One of them hiked, the other drove." Mischa was *not* the hiker, he knew... Dorian's hand was grabbed, and Klaus started quickly down the stairs. "We're going to get the license number of whatever vehicle he came in!"

From there, it was a pell mell run down the stairs, Dorian right behind him, and they only stopped once they were in the parking lot. A tan sedan pulled past them -- a rental car, Lincoln Continental.

Mischa was in it, and he'd seen them just as well as they'd seen him.

"ABT-269. ABT-269 -- Dorian, remember that," Klaus said, still mouthing it to himself as he watched the car roll down the rocky drive.

"ABT-269," Dorian repeated obediently enough. "A, B and T are agents. 2 plus 6 is 8 plus one more number is 9...."

"Let's hike back down," Klaus sighed, rolling the plate's tags around in his mind. "It'll take us a while, anyway -- 't'll be suppertime by then. 's already too late to call over to Bonn."

"First thing in the morning," Dorian promised him, still holding his hand. "D'you want to take the easy way down, or hike the trail again?"

"We can take the trail." Klaus was already turning back the way they'd come. "You wanted to stop by that pond..."

"Brook," Dorian reminded gently.

"Yeah." Klaus kept a hold of Dorian's hand as they crossed where cement became dirt again. More things to crowd his mind, seeing Mischa there, thoughts of the Stasi rising up, inadequacy, being unable to protect Dorian properly.

A few moments' silence led Dorian to softly ask, "Are you all right?"

One booted foot crunched down in a pile of leaves, and he could see Klaus tense before he realized it was his own. "Ja."

"It will be all right," Dorian promised him quietly. "It will be, darling..."

"Look at our luck, Dorian, and tell me that!"

"Our luck will get better!" Dorian declared. "It will!"

"Yours might; mine never has." /And it's not safe for you, Dorian... I can't put you at risk.../ Couldn't pursue this any further than passing the information on to Bonn, if they'd take it from him.

If.

The set of his jaw should have told Dorian of the familiar steadfast determination that was setting into Klaus.

"All right, darling," Dorian agreed calmly. "Whatever you say."

"You don't believe me." /Of course he doesn't; you're lying, after all.../ The crisp breeze seemed, just then, to be taunting him more than just blowing.

"It's not that," Dorian denied. "I just... It's just worrying," he admitted quietly. "Our little calm world's intruded upon now."

"I'd almost think someone's setting us up," Klaus said, barely under his breath, as he grasped Dorian's hand a little tighter. "We're going to play this carefully; I won't have you hurt."

"I'm a grown man," Dorian told him, moving close to him. "I'll be careful, Klaus... we'll do things the way you want them done."

"No doing anything behind my back, all right?"

It hurt, a little, that Klaus thought he would, but he supposed it was deserved. He'd certainly done just that often enough in the past... "All right."

The hand that held his squeezed once more, Klaus's expression a tense one as he continued down the path, finally stopping at a little niche in the trees, dragging Dorian with him.

"Klaus?" he asked softly, surprised.

"I want to put a delay between us reaching the bottom and any chance of Mischa waiting there for us," he explained.

"...oh...." That sounded a little disappointed as Dorian looked up at him from beneath that heavy fringe of gold lashes, eyes darkened slightly from a sudden want. "Hm."

They moved a little deeper into the niche before Klaus was satisfied, sitting down on a felled tree and pulling Dorian with him. The area certainly looked well used, for purposes Klaus didn't want to guess yet.

"A kissing spot," Dorian said faintly, smiling at Klaus just a bit weakly. At first, he'd thought that was what Klaus intended to use it for...

"A what?" Klaus asked, too attuned to listening to sounds of the trail to have been paying Dorian too much attention; the words had passed him right by.

"A kissing spot," Dorian told him solemnly. "You know. A place in the trail where people stop for kissing, and... that sort of thing."

/Of course he would notice something like that./ Somehow having that explained to him only made him nervous now, already on edge -- was Dorian expecting something of him...? "Oh."

For a while, silence continued, Dorian sitting beside him, staring out at the trail on which they *weren't* hiking and along which no one was coming. /I wish.../ Well, he wished Klaus would kiss him was what, but that was too much to ask for in the light of day, he supposed, and particularly *sober*.

"I think it's safe," Klaus murmured after another moment, looking over to Dorian. "Do you want to go?"

"...sure," Dorian agreed, attention caught as he looked over at Klaus and smiled. "Let's go now." Even though he really wished Klaus had kissed him....

"Is... there something wrong?" Klaus asked after a moment, stopping short of leaving the little area -- something seemed off about Dorian, though it was nothing he could pinpoint.

"Oh... nothing in particular," Dorian said. "Just feeling a bit wistful, I suppose..." After all, who wouldn't? The little side grotto into which they'd stepped was beautiful and obviously meant for romance. That was as much Dorian's nature as it was anything else....

"Wistful," Klaus repeated; he couldn't understand it -- wistful after spotting KGB agents in their vacation spot in America... "Let's go, Dorian." His right hand was held out, offered to the blonde man to keep him safe and close.

"All right..." His hand was taken, and Dorian moved close to him, smiling slightly. That yearning expression was still on his face, though, as if nothing could wipe it away from there.

Klaus wanted to ask 'why' Dorian looked that way, but then were soon making their way down the trail again. He found himself lingering at times, caught up in the wonder of such beautiful nature.

"It's gorgeous, isn't it?" Dorian whispered to him as he paused at a bend in the trail where sunlight spilled down and struck a vein of quartz in the mountainside. It turned to pure molten gold on the way to the ground, almost enough to fool the eye into believing that it was real. The whisper reflected almost exactly what Klaus was thinking, that blond head settling momentarily on his shoulder.

"Ja," Klaus sighed, tone so very quiet as he looked at that. "Ja... Dorian, I want to keep relaxing here a while more. I'm not sure... I'm well enough to go back yet to doing things."

"It's all right, Klaus. That's why we're on vacation, isn't it?" Dorian asked him, nodding. "So that we can recuperate before we go into business...."

But seeing Mischa had boosted his *duty* into readiness; not the rest of his mind or all of his body. "I'll call Bonn tomorrow, give them the plate number and tell them what I saw, and then that's it," he said, tone odd -- as if he were convincing himself of it.

"All right," Dorian agreed somberly. "It's all right, darling. That's what we'll do, then."

"This isn't normal for me," Klaus finally said, tone uneasy as they continued to take the trail down. "I've never..." Been so unsure.

"It will get better, darling," came the promise. "I know it will. We.... we're not ready to go back to being who or what we were, are we?" the Briton questioned, uncertain. "Or... like we were?" Oh, he wouldn't be able to bear it, if Klaus went back to the way things were before!!

"I don't think... we'll go back to the way we were," Klaus spoke, tone a tentative one, but he at least said it. "No, we're not ready to work again yet. But at least I can still shoot."

"Oh." The sound in that voice was one that was purely relief, Dorian moving closer to him. "I don't think I can bear it if we go back to that," he whispered, laying his head on Klaus's shoulder as they continued down the trail. "Really, I just don't think I could..."

"I... I wouldn't want to. Even if you do enter the bathroom without knocking," the German whispered, slipping his hand free of Dorian's grasp to slid it around the man's waist. God, Dorian had corrupted him completely, to get such word and actions from him in public... but it helped both of them. And felt good; anything that felt good, that could drives away old memories...

With a smile, Dorian sighed slightly. "I'm glad," he said simply. "I'm so glad, Klaus."

Klaus was silent for the last downward leg of the hike, a little tired but in a good way, as he moved to slip behind the steering wheel. Until that moment, though, he hadn't let go of Dorian's comfortable form. "Where should we eat dinner tonight?"

"Hmmm... we could try Bob's again," Dorian suggested. "Even cold, the steak was awfully good. Maybe I'll even try something *exotic*..." Well, while he was sure nothing on the menu was TRULY exotic, some of it had sounded a little *odd* to him. Why not?

"Clam chowder, you mean?" Klaus asked, putting the key in the ignition. "All right, then -- I'll get us there. Did you like the hike?"

"Oh, yes! It was gorgeous!" the other man said, nodding. "Thank you, Klaus. That was a marvelous thing to do today." /I only wish I'd had the nerve to kiss you when we stopped.../ "We should do it again sometime..."

/And maybe put that 'kissing place' to a little use,/ Klaus mused, quickly pushing that thought down before it reached more of his conscious mind or made him feel sick. No, his nerves were wound tight enough as is. "Tomorrow we can hike outside the house. And I want to try to swim..."

"Darling, I believe I'll lay on the dock and *watch* you," Dorian informed him. "That water's going to be *awfully* cold..."

"I might not do anything more than sit on those steps that go into it and put my feet in," Klaus shrugged, truthful at least, about that. "I've been in colder water than anything this place would pull up." Alaska, in fact... /Don't think of that, don't think of missions.../

"I believe a cold shower's almost more than I can bear," Dorian admitted wryly. "I don't think I'd really care to try my luck with the water of that lake!!"

"Then you can sit and watch, or fish me out when I turn into ice," Klaus said as he backed out of the gravel parking lot and took off down the road. "But I'm still going to try."

At that, Dorian laughed. "Mmmm, well, I'll watch you closely and save you from hypothermia," he declared, stopping to yawn. "Ohhh. That was delicious. I'm sure we'll sleep quite well tonight, or I will, anyway." He always did in Klaus's arms, but he'd be tired from their hike tonight, and that would be good.

"Would you be willing to go running with me, Dorian?" Klaus asked, glancing over at his companion. If they did everything together, why not at least expand their range...?

"ONLY if I get to wear those fun little silky running shorts," Dorian teased. "Then, I'll do anything you like!"

"You have a pair of those with you?" /No, what am I saying...? Just... just that I want him at my side all the time./ And if he had Dorian at his side while he ran, it would probably cancel out part of his reason for running.

"Mmmm, no, but I could buy some, don't you think?" the other man asked. "In blue. You like blue, don't you? Or green. Green might be better..." Anything but red. Klaus didn't like red at all, even though it looked TERRIBLY good on Dorian! So, no red.

"Whatever color you want; tomorrow we'll go find out where more stores are, anyway," Klaus said, taking a turn smoothly. "After, that is, you've thawed me out."

That made Dorian laugh, which in turn made Klaus a bit proud of himself. The fact that Dorian *could* laugh again, could smile, could... could just be *Dorian* every now and then... it meant so much to him, even though he never would have thought that it could. "No problem, darling. I'm excellent at thawing."

"Which reminds me... next time we drink together, just one shot each, right?" best to keep the light, comfortable banter going, since it seemed to be working.

"Oh, GOD, yes," Dorian agreed. "I hate hangovers. They're awful..." Even though he had deeply enjoyed every last moment of the moments they'd spent together while drunk, touching, kissing...

"And being drunk just makes everything fuzzy." Like the details of how his pants had become a sticky mess, and why he'd slept in them. But nothing had been mentioned about that interlude, so perhaps...

"Beautifully so," Dorian sighed dreamily. "But I'm awfully sure that I find the morning after abhorrent..."

"You like everything fuzzy?"

That gained him a smile. "Sometimes. If I'm fuzzy with you."

The smile made his mood lift, but the words... the words struck him almost sharply, even though Dorian hadn't meant them the way Klaus took them. "Would... it be all right if you weren't fuzzy?" /Or is that the only way you can stand to have me touching you?/

"It would be even better, then," Dorian said softly. "Only I can't imagine you wanting to... well... with me.... if you weren't..."

Subject breached, and the wall couldn't just be patted closed. /Talk with him./ "It... brings up things I don't want to deal with, but..." /I want it; it feels good./

"But?" Dorian asked him quietly.

"I want... you, only, if you *knew* what I wanted, if... you wouldn't want me too," Klaus said, tone edged with unease.

The next question was asked solemnly, Dorian's face quite serious. "Why?"

"Because it's sick." Tense words from Klaus, as he tried to not think of what he was saying to Dorian.

"Because of what you saw?" The questioning was almost gentle, both of them watching the road ahead of them more than one another. "What you saw wasn't right. That's true..."

"But it's..." What he wanted to do. He wanted to take Dorian, make him cry out from the feeling of it, wanted to feel a warm mouth around his cock, but... but all of that hurt Dorian, and he couldn't *hurt* Dorian. It was already bad enough that it was against everything he'd declared for years of his existence.

"What you saw was... rape, Klaus. Plain and simple." God, he hated that word, hated knowing someone had done it to him, couldn't bear the thought of it, but... "What would happen between us would be nothing like that. Nothing...."

"God-dammit, I *know* what happened," Klaus snapped in a low tone. "I can't be sure I wouldn't hurt you. I... I just can't."

"Would you..." Dorian swallowed hard. "Would you be upset if I showed you?" he whispered.

"S-showed?" Klaus's eyes widened a little, still looking at the road. "No, Dorian. We're not... I mean... There's no need for either of us to be... any more humiliated."

"It wouldn't humiliate me!" That golden head shook slightly, a negative motion. "I've... Klaus, it's not as though what we're talking about isn't something I've never done before..." He bit his lower lip nervously. "It's... it's wonderful, really, when someone..." Loves you, he wanted to say. "When someone is tender with you and kind. It's magnificent..."

"We're talking about something *I've* never done before." Klaus chanced a glance over at Dorian's face, wondering if the conversation brought the same blush to Dorian's face that he could feel burning on his own cheeks.

"I know. That's why I volunteered to show you. You... you can just watch. If you want," Dorian finished hurriedly.

"No, I don't want to... watch anything," he told Dorian, knowing that it would only bring up memories of being unable to *not* watch Dorian. "I know... that we need to figure this out before we go back to Europe, before we... live together for real, work together..."

"If you want me, Klaus..." Dorian drew in a deep breath and sighed. "I'm yours. You know that. I've always wanted you. And now, you're so tender and so good to me..." Klaus wouldn't hurt him, wouldn't pinch or twist or force too much into him or make him do anything that he didn't want to do!

"[I can't deal with this.]" A miserable utterance made under his breath, focusing his eyes on the winding road they were driving along. "I don't know."

For a moment, Dorian had to think about what Klaus had said. "All right. We don't have to talk about it now," he said solemnly. "It's all right, Klaus..."

The hands on the steering wheel, one still bearing the brace from when he'd fractured it against the wall, the other more permanently maimed, were white knuckled in their grasp on the leather covered metal. "We keep putting it off -- *I* keep putting it off, so it only comes up again."

"Klaus, you want to, and you're afraid to," Dorian replied. "That's more than understandable! I don't mind that we talk about it and put it off. If it makes you so uncomfortable..."

"I don't like having things hanging over my head," he told the other man seriously. "And this... hangs over my head every night."

The thief nodded, closing his eyes and laying his head back against the seat before saying quietly, "Klaus. Whenever you want to try something, tell me. Whatever you want to do, you don't have to be ashamed to say it. I..." Dorian turned his head, opened his eyes to look at him. "I don't feel that I'm worthy of your affection, you know. I don't. But I would never, *ever* be appalled at you or shocked or hate you for anything. Even after... after everything, I still love you. I do. Nothing could stop that. Nothing could make me ashamed of *you*, even if I'm ashamed of myself. You understand? Do you see? I love you. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry..."

"Dorian, there... there's nothing to be sorry for. Nothing." This was what had been so wrong since it had happened -- they ran in ruts, caught in trains of thought that apparently they could only pretend to leave. That realization brought a stabbing glimpse of themselves to Klaus, two ruined people together. "Please don't do this, Dorian."

"Don't love you?" Dorian asked. "I can't help it. Truly. I..." His brows knit. "I didn't used to be ashamed of myself for it. I don't know if I am now or if I just feel... that I should apologize to you for it. You never asked for me to love you or wanted me to, only I can't help it. I just do. I just have. It's *just* *there*. Even though it always made you ashamed and humiliated you and I suppose it's that I'm sorry for..."

"No," he broke in, before Dorian could go on. He'd been keeping an eye out for a point where they could pull off safely, and here the shoulder on the road was more than generous enough to stop the car. "No, I mean... we... we get *caught* in things, Dorian. It... my English isn't good enough for this. We keep repeating ourselves."

"....oh...." Dorian paused. "You mean... my apologizing to you..."

"Ja! We've been doing it for weeks now!" Klaus told him, expression now drawn taut in concern for *both* of them.

"Well... you know, what happened was awfully traumatic, Klaus," Dorian said, gnawing at his lower lip. "It was. And I think maybe we just need time. A little time, and it will get better, I'm sure of it! And if we're aware of it, then maybe we can change it!"

"If we keep aware of it. So, stop apologizing and... if you're going to tell me you love me, do it like you used to -- neither of us need it explained." Klaus turned more in his seat, unbuckling the seatbelt for a moment as he watched Dorian.

"Do you mind, now?" the blond man asked. "That I love you?"

"No, I can't; not when I think..." /That maybe what I feel for you is the 'love' you've spoken of so floweringly. But it doesn't make my heart sing, or any of your romantic mush. It makes me want to keep you close and safe./ "That I might, too. I don't know. 'm not sure."

"Oh, Klaus!" Dorian's hands were fumbling for his own safety belt, and once it was undone, he nearly flung himself against the other man, arms wrapping tightly around his shoulders. "Do you mean it?" he whispered. "Do you think... oh, *KLAUS*!" If Klaus loved him, *nothing* in the world could be so terrible that he couldn't live through it!

Klaus had wanted to pull Dorian into his arms when the man had started his too familiar apologies. Now he just let Dorian get close to him, slipped his own arms tightly around the blond's torso. "I... I don't know what it is. But I don't want to ever let you leave, or see you hurt again."

"Oh, Klaus," Dorian whispered again, face pressed to Klaus's throat. "I won't ever go away from you. I won't. I swear it. Never..."

"'s good," Klaus sighed, closing his eyes as he felt his body give in to relaxation at last. It was something that, oddly enough, he could only find in such a strong form when in Dorian's arms. Only then... "I don't want to not have you."

"You won't ever have to, darling," Dorian whispered, almost drunk on Klaus's words. "Ever. Ever. I'll be with you always!" So extravagant of him to say, but so true!

"As long as... we're both sure of that," the German murmured, pressing Dorian a little closer. "Everything else... should just be easier."

"All right," Dorian agreed simply, still holding Klaus closely. He could feel his heart pounding, veins almost surging with the sheer intensity of joy. "That sounds wonderful."

"And if I start... repeating myself, stop me," he uttered, words a sighed breath against Dorian's hair. "Let's go eat. Then we can go back to the house and watch the news." Sit close, talk about nothing, laugh at the stupid Yanks...

With a little sigh that drifted over Klaus's throat, Dorian pulled back slightly, practically *glowing*. "Sounds like a marvelous plan, darling," he whispered, daring to press a kiss lightly to the other man's lips.

A kiss Klaus let happen, unchallenged -- and when Dorian drew back, grey-green eyes weren't averted. He was looking at Dorian -- still so confused and lost looking, but at least now he had something other than himself to use as an anchor. "All right."

With a little sigh that was purely happiness, Dorian settled back into his seat and put his seatbelt on again. "Oh, God, I'm happy," he said softly, shaking his head. "I feel almost surreal, as if I shouldn't exist but somehow *do*..."

"Why's that?" Klaus asked him, moving back to sit straight in his seat, buckling the belt before he started the car again.

"Because I never thought you'd ever feel anything but anger for me after all these years," Dorian said lightly. "And the fact that you do... I could just burst."

"How much I hated you at first... that was the worst of it," Klaus said, pulling back onto the mostly empty road.

That gained a sudden little chuckle and a confession. "I still have your tank, you know. It's in *marvelous* condition."

"You do..? I'll have to see it sometime." And make sure it was still a functioning vehicle; but there was no reason to take it away from Dorian, not the way things are now. "I thought... at first that you might have sold it to the Soviets."

"Oh, *heavens*, no!" Dorian told him, a little appalled. "I've kept it and had it repaired and it's quite a beautiful thing. You said that you loved it," the man sighed wistfully, "because steel was beautiful to you. I couldn't bear to part with it after that."

"You kept it out of... sentiment?" Romantic mush, but... but it made him smile for a faint moment. "Hmh."

"Well... you *liked* it," Dorian told him sheepishly. "Jamesie bitched awfully about the upkeep of the thing, but I told him I was going to have it and that was that."

"You... you're still going to work with your men, aren't you?"

Blue eyes darted over to look at him. "...yes. Does that bother you? It's who I am, you know, and who they are. And how could I do without them? They're my family..." All he had, really, since his mother had taken his sisters and abandoned him to remain with his father, calling them both 'unnatural'.

"Bonham and Jones are all right fellows," he said after thinking for a moment. "But your money-bug and I have never gotten along; still, I don't want you to lose your family. I'll just adjust."

"Thank you," Dorian told him, smiling helplessly. Now, THAT was love, even if Klaus hadn't put that name to it. "I do adore Jamesie, and he *is* awfully good to me sometimes.... and he *does* keep me from overspending terribly..."

"I can help you watch that, too." He could also subsidize the household a little with his pension; not quite how he'd expected to be living once he retired, but then, nothing was quite as he expected.

"It isn't that there's no money, darling, and God knows I can just sell a few things if we need any, but if left to my own devices, I can't balance a cheque book to save my life," came the sheepish admission.

"I've been taught how to do that and manage an estate for when..." /If./ "...it's my turn to see to that duty."

"Wonderful!" Dorian could already see the number of thundering arguments Klaus and James would have, probably resulting in the little accountant running off to hide somewhere. Well... they'd figure something out. "Oh, there's the restaurant!" Dorian sighed. "I'm starving!"

"If you get sick from something odd you try here, I'll drive back," he said, tossing Dorian the keys one he'd rolled into the lot and parked it.

Dorian's agreement was cheerful enough as they headed through the parking lot and into the restaurant. "I believe I'll just try their special or something," he said as he opened the door and stepped in. "What about you?"

"Oh, I'll stick with the steak," he began to say, though his gaze *snapped* to one corner of the room as they entered.

"Major Eberbach?!" A exclaimed first, and that brought Z's head up from the little stack of papers he was studying.

"Oh!" Dorian said, blinking visibly. "Ah... darling," he whispered, "I think this puts a bit of a twist on things." So much for vacation!

As if Klaus needed to be told it put a twist on things! He moved forwards, towards the table where the men who were once his Alphabet Soup sat, an odd mixture of military and strained civilian style clothing. "Why are all of you here?" Though he no longer had the authority, he could certainly *ask* why his old life was so violently intruding on his new one!

"Er... well, sir," A began a bit nervously before looking to Z for an explanation. What to tell the Major!? For surely he was still the Major to *all* of them...

"We're here on duty... sir," Z said, meeting the Major's one-eyed, and still very stern gaze. "There's activity in the area..."

"ABT-269," Klaus uttered, "is the license plate of the car Mischa got into."

"He saw us about the same time that *we* saw him," Dorian admitted.

"He was at Mt. Greylock with an American... Z, you'd better not tell me you're basing the mission out of here," Klaus growled.

"No, sir," Z said. "I won't tell you that." Well... it was true, but he wasn't going to *tell* the Major that!!!

"You know," Dorian said, glancing at Klaus, "there's the basement..."

Old life, intruding so closely on new again... "Dorian, order dinner -- to go; men, get out to your cars, I'll give you directions," Klaus murmured almost reluctantly. /If I can't serve directly, I can serve indirectly./

"They can follow us," Dorian suggested. "It won't take long..."

Klaus gave the men a dubious look -- if they were idiotic enough to be setting up camp in a *restaurant*, could they truly be smart enough to follow them...?

"Fine," he assented after a moment's thought. "But get dinner."

"Yes, Klaus!" was the cheerful reply, all of the Alphabet watching them with shock as Dorian hurried over to the cashier and placed an order -- one for two of everything in the place, and could they get it delivered, or did they need to wait?

The lady agreed, stunned, that she could get someone to deliver all of it if he would give them the address. He cheerfully did before trotting back to Klaus, smiling. "We can go now. Dinner'll be coming after us. If the Alphabet's already eaten, we'll just stuff it all somewhere to be warmed up tomorrow!"

That hadn't been Klaus's exact idea, but... well, Dorian would always be extravagant, and sometimes he could bear it. "All right -- Z, follow my car," he said, reaching for the keys that he'd earlier tossed to Dorian, as they all headed out into the parking lot.

"Yes, sir!" Z replied promptly, all of the Alphabet standing up at his prompting to follow after the thief and their Major.

"Darling, I think your Alphabet is happy to see us," Dorian whispered noisily, glancing back at all of those grinning faces.

"Hmm." So much for a vacation, or even the hopes he'd had for a quiet evening. "The first person who breaks anything in the house gets killed -- we're renting it," he growled over his shoulder as a warning as he unlocked the doors of the rental car, and then slid in. Klaus waited until Dorian was in, buckled up, and until most of the Alphabets who were there were in their cars, before pulling out and onto Route Seven.

"Don't you think killing them would be a little extreme, darling?" Dorian teased, smiling at him. "We could just send them out swimming in that freezing cold water, instead. That's almost as good as Alaska!"

"I don't think it's that cold out," Klaus said, keeping a track of them in his rear view as he took the road steadily. "Where will be put them up? Idiots seemed to have just gotten into a plane without too much plan laid out; ten of them. The other sixteen must be on assignment or desk work."

"Or, God forbid, on their way," Dorian pointed out. "I haven't seen anything resembling a hotel. I suppose they could sleep on the floor..." Though what would they say when Dorian and Klaus went to bed together?? What if Klaus wouldn't go to bed with him since they were there? How could he sleep!? /Maybe this was a very bad idea.../

"Two in the spare bedroom, two in the attic, two in the office-craft room, four in the living room," Klaus murmured, working through the spaces of the house in his mind. "They'll manage."

And THAT meant Klaus would still be sleeping with him, which made him sigh with relief. "You're brilliant, Klaus!"

"Don't say that," he sighed, shaking his head. No, if he was brilliant they wouldn't even *be* in America... /Stop that. Don't think that way, Eberbach./ "We'll help how we can on this, but otherwise we're just giving them a place to stay."

"Yes, Klaus!" Dorian agreed cheerfully, glancing in the rear view mirror at the cars following behind them. "I'm glad to offer your Alphabet some help. They're good men, really."

It was hard to forget the outward crying of some that day he'd left. "I know." He'd always known, even if he did keep them in line with threats -- it was for their own sake, anyway.

With a pleased sigh, Dorian settled back in his seat, happy to simply stay where he was for the moment. "I'm sure we'll have our supper soon, darling. We can watch the news while the Alphabets putter a bit, perhaps?"

"Get themselves sorted out down in the basement," Klaus agreed. that would be hard, to not do a thing when there was his old job calling to him, so fucking close by!

"Sounds like a plan," the tall blond murmured as they pulled into the driveway.

They stopped right in front of the garage door, and Klaus got out to pull it up, before pulling the rental in. There was enough room for one more car, and then the rest would have to park in the driveway and scrape pine-tar off their vehicles come morning. "This isn't going to change anything?" he asked, shutting the car off, before he opened the car door.

"I hope not," Dorian said softly. "I wouldn't want you to be uncomfortable, but I don't want anything to change, either. If it would make you feel better, I... I'll try not to cling so that everyone can see me do it..." That was the best he could offer!

"I don't care; we.... are the way we are. If it bothers them, too fucking bad. I don't work for NATO anymore," he told Dorian, before he did open the door, to find A, B, K, H and Z getting out of the car that had pulled into the garage beside them. "You can use this basement for whatever you want. Dinner will probably arrive soon. There's enough space for all of you to sleep upstairs."

"Thank you, sir!" Z told him with an expression that was almost purely worshipful... too sweet, Dorian thought. "We appreciate this very much!"

"Darling." Dorian nudged Klaus slightly. "The holster? Is it upstairs?"

The holster... "Later," Klaus murmured, turning to go upstairs; he fully expected the Alphabets to set up for themselves, and figure out what they were doing without him there. And he would give Z his old holster, only not with so many others there.

"See you later," Dorian told them with a wave as the rest of the Alphabet filed into the garage through a side door. After that, he followed Klaus through the musty smelling basement and up the stairs towards the kitchen.

The door between the first floor and the basement was closed, but not locked as it had been the night before. Now they were alone again, but with nothing to do, and the Alphabets so close... "I'll turn on the television -- do you want to make tea or something?"

"All right," Dorian agreed, moving to the kitchen sink to fill the kettle. "That sounds marvelous. I think we've probably got something to snack on somewhere -- I bought those shortbread cookies, and I'm starving, darling. How about you?"

"I'll have one," he shrugged, turning the channel to the news that was already showing -- a glance at his clock showed it was already later than he'd thought. "News is on."

"Be right there!" Dorian called, putting the kettle on the stove and scrounging up the cookies before heading in to sit down beside Klaus, curled against his side. "Here," he offered, smiling at him for a moment. There was something bothering Klaus, and he knew what it was, but... "Are you okay?" he asked seriously, nudging the other man slightly.

"Almost," Klaus murmured, taking the offered shortbread and chewing it in as he shifted a little closer to Dorian as he took in the information that the American news was covering. More about their football strike -- most of their news was domestic centralized, just like the paper that was delivered daily.

"Do you know, American news is the most deadly dull thing in the world?" Dorian declared. "It's no wonder they think they're the center of the universe. No one else ever tells them anything's out there past their borders!"

"Sodding Idiot Yanks -- do you ever notice that we never have to call their fucking FBI or CIA over to help *us*, but they're always asking us for help in their internal problems. They're idiots. I'm sure of it," Klaus sighed. "None of the channels here have real news."

The suggestion that they could always go downstairs and *ask* for real news died on Dorian's tongue as the kettle went off. "Tell you what. Let's take our tea and sit out on the parch, shall we? Or, better yet... kiss me," he asked prettily enough, ignoring the shrill shriek for the moment.

Klaus still hadn't worked through things enough to reply playfully and then do it; no, he had to pause a moment, before he leaned over and pressed his mouth against Dorian's soft, warm lips, a gentle kiss taken carefully. "We can watch the lake from the porch," Klaus murmured, standing up when Dorian did, as he broke the kiss.

"That sounds wonderful," Dorian agreed, almost dreamy as he sighed and smiled at the other man. Ohh, life was beyond good, he decided even as he headed towards the kitchen to pour up tea for both of them.

Klaus lingered a moment by the door between basement and kitchen, listening to the sounds of his men talking and writing things down. Hopefully they'd put what he'd told them to good use. Then he joined Dorian in the kitchen, watching the other man make the tea. "Well... we can't ruin making that," he pointed out with the edge of a smile on his lips.

"I'm very good at *this*," Dorian told him teasingly, lightly handing him the first cup and saucer before fixing his own and adding sugar to the brew even before it was done. "Shall we go outside? Isn't there a swing or something there?"

"No swing, but there's a bench right up against the railing," Klaus told him, waiting until Dorian was done before he moved through the dining room and the great room to the sliding glass door. a door which found itself pushed open in short order. From there, it was a short enough trip to the bench Klaus had mentioned, a cushioned affair that was actually fairly comfortable and which would allow them to lean against the railing and look out over the lake.

The sun was almost beneath the horizon, now, and the sky was stained pink and purple in love shades of almost-amethyst, and Dorian sighed. "Oh, incomparable..."

It was hard to believe that the peace of the place was being threatened by the men down in the basement, whose voices Klaus voice vaguely hear just then. But he focussed his eyes hard on the lake beyond them, the faint colored ripples that caught the reflection of the setting sun and the sky before it. He took a long draught of the tea, and then slid his right hand around Dorian's waist. "It is."

"I love you, Klaus," Dorian said quietly, laying his head on the other man's shoulders, cup and saucer lightly clasped in both careful hands. "I've never been happier than this moment with you, I think."

"You say that every time we're alone together, Dorian." Klaus' voice held a little amusement, and no chiding at all -- somehow, it pleased him to know he was making Dorian happy like that, and soothing himself at the same time.

"Maybe," Dorian agreed. "But it's true. Each time just gets better."

"I think you're just happy that... we're still... still," he sighed, though smiling. Still there, still touching, still comfortable with each other. "I still wish that mission hadn't been such a botch, but I don't regret anything since."

"I'm glad." He was, desperately, madly, *insanely* glad. It almost made up for all of the horror in some ways, especially since Klaus didn't... *LOOK* at him and see scars or a frightened man. No, he saw Dorian as *Dorian*, and that was a perfectly splendorous thing! "I've never regretted anything that had to do with me and you."

"I know you wouldn't," Klaus replied ruefully, pulling Dorian possessively closer to him, as close as he could without risking spilled tea.

At that moment, the sound of tires on gravel came to them; dinner had most *definitely* arrived! "Ohh, good! I'm *starving*, darling," Dorian said, smiling up at him. "Shall we go and fetch things or see if the Alphabet does?"

"Both, I suppose," Klaus murmured, holding Dorian close for a moment until he heard the garage door beneath them start to roll up. Then he rose, wallet ready to cover the costs if need be. "I'll go help -- you can stay here."

"I ordered it all, darling, I really ought to pay for it," Dorian protested, rising with him. "We'll both go, all right?"

A slightly incredulous sound, but Klaus wasn't going to protest too much -- he'd paid for all of the books they were still reading, so... "All right." Then he led the way down the wooden steps that took them beneath a pine-tree, and then across the grass to the driveway.

The woman who'd brought the food had been their waitress the morning that they'd stopped for breakfast and she was all smiles as she handed out vast amounts of food to waiting men and accepted money and tip from Dorian. "Hope you folks have a good time," she offered cheerfully, tucking the money away in a little naugahyde bag with the name of a bank on the front.

"I'm sure we will," Dorian replied cheerfully as the Alphabet trooped back into the house. "Have a nice night!"

Klaus was the one who lingered to make sure she was out of the drive before he closed the garage door again. "If anything needs to be heated up, just come into the kitchen," he told them, before heading back up the interior steps with Dorian, their own dinner finally sorted out from everyone else's and the extra.

"I'll fetch sheets and pillows and such later," Dorian offered, waving as they headed out of the basement. "And show you the bathrooms, if you need them!"

Klaus, though, was showing a definite want to *not* linger amongst them -- because he was completely torn between wanting to help more directly, and remembering that NATO didn't want him doing anything anymore. Knowing this was a familiarity, and the awkwardness of no longer being in command of those men...

"Sir?" Z asked quietly, all of the Alphabet looking up at him. "Ah... thank you. And thank you, Lord Gloria..."

"You're welcome," was the soft reply from the man who had once been their Major, their brilliant superior officer -- it was a sad tone, as Klaus pivoted sharply to walk quickly up the stairs.

With a slight wave, Dorian headed up after him, dinner balanced on a palm. /Poor Klaus. My poor darling Klaus. They'd be glad for you to help them, direct them, if only you would, and you still aren't ready for that yet, are you?/

And if he was ever ready to lead them again, what did it matter? He *wasn't* the Major anymore, couldn't give them orders...

Klaus sighed as he set the box down on the kitchen table, darted into the kitchen to get forks and knives, and then sat down again. "Did you close the door, Dorian?"

"Yes, darling," Dorian told him solemnly, poking at the 'clam chowdah'. "It's funny looking stuff. I'm not sure I really want to chance it..."

"You wanted something exotic," Klaus reminded him with a half-forced smile. "But it can't be worse than British food."

"Darling, it practically *jiggles* when I touch it," was the fascinated reply, a spoon poking at the stuff. "Kippers don't *jiggle*..."

"No -- kippers could be used to reinforce a wall. No one would ever accuse those of jiggling..."

The husky laughter that gained him helped to make him feel a bit better. "Mmm, well, you know, I suppose that's quite true, darling," Dorian chuckled, smiling at him. "I might brave a bite if you will."

"If I take a try, will you eat it?" Klaus asked, knowing at least that his *steak* was edible.

"I'll TRY to eat it," Dorian promised. If it was inedible, he'd go downstairs and steal something from the Alphabets!

"All I can expect," Klaus shrugged, darting his fork into the styrofoam bowl and taking a what clung to it.

"That just looks disgusting," came the declaration. "Really. Truly..."

The bite was swallowed, and Klaus wiped his fork neatly on the napkin. "Go get something from the extras downstairs," Dorian was told solemnly.

With a quiet chuckle, Dorian leaned across the table and kissed him as he stood, a press of lips that, thankfully, didn't gain him any of the taste of the jiggling stuff. "I'll be right back," he said lightly as he headed for the door.

Klaus nodded to that, cutting a quick piece of steak and chewing it promptly -- motions that cleaned his mouth of that odd taste, making it safe to enjoy his meal as best he could.

Downstairs, the Alphabet seemed *firmly* embroiled in something that was giving them fits, so Dorian simply placed the 'chowdah' with the other boxes and began peeking through them until he found a sandwich that looked edible. That done, he peeked over to see what they were doing. Mostly, they seemed to be hunched around papers, and so he simply shrugged and headed back up the stairs, sandwich box in hand.

Klaus had worked steadily through his steak by then, about half done before he switched to eating fried potatoes, looking over to see if Dorian had come up yet every so often.

"I found something edible, darling. It's got bacon and lettuce and all sorts of other goodies in it, and it smells MARVELOUS. And nothing jiggles," the man announced as he shut the door behind him.

"Sandwiches usually don't jiggle, Dorian," Klaus told him, taking a sip of the tea he'd retrieved from the back porch.

That gained him a smile as Dorian began to eat, shaking his head slightly. "That's very true," he agreed. "Klaus?"

"Ja?" came the lazy question, Klaus looking up from finishing the tea.

"Want to go to bed a little early?" Dorian asked. "We can take the cherries up with us..."

That got him a contemplative moment of silence, and Klaus looking at him querulously before replying, "I'd like to, but we have to show the Alphabets where to stay, and get out the blankets..."

"We can do all of that in just a moment. Show one of them, and the rest'll know where to go."

"We'll show Z, then," Klaus murmured, rising to his feet. /And I'll give him my old holster. And hopefully their mission will end quickly, and I'll be able to pretend that I don't want to be down there helping./

Dorian smiled at him, taking one more bite before laying his sandwich down for the moment and standing, as well. /Poor Klaus./ The dark-haired man's thoughts were almost visible on his face and it made Dorian feel... not sorry for him, not pity, but it did make him sad. /He ought to be able to do what he loves to do. Damn NATO./ "Come on. The linen closet's next to the bathroom. We ought to tell one of them to go fetch sleeping bags or something. I think the couch folds out, but there's a shortage of beds..."

"They can fold blankets and sleep on the floor," Klaus told Dorian; it wasn't as if the men hadn't done it before, and it was certainly better than trying to sleep in their cars. There really was nothing else in the world that could foul one's back up as much as sleeping in a car overnight... or maybe Klaus was just getting old. /One more thought not to think; that's just idiocy./ "You get blankets out, I'll show Z where the others can sleep." And with that, he turned to head down into the basement.

"Yes, Klaus!" Dorian's voice drifted down after him, followed by footsteps leading out of the kitchen.

In the basement, things were straightened and the Alphabets had set up several tables which were, by then, covered with papers and a variety of devices. A and C seemed to be completely caught up in something or other, and M was tracing out something on a map. "Sir?" Z asked, noting his presence and looking at him with a smile.

"Lord Gloria and I are going to retire for the evening -- let me show you where everything is upstairs so when all of you go to go to bed you won't be stumbling around," Klaus said slightly gruffly, with a nod as he stood at the base of the stairs.

"Yes, sir," Z answered promptly, nodding to L, who took over the work that they had been doing together. "We'll try to be quiet later tonight, then, and not disturb you any more than necessary. It was a surprise to see you here," he admitted as he followed Klaus up the stairs to the kitchen. "But not an unwelcome one."

"Lord Gloria and I didn't expect to run into any missions or operations when we came here," Klaus told Z, moving through the kitchen's side door to the next set of stairs and the living room. The implication was there that they'd chosen such an obscure place as Lanesborough to *be* away from it. "The couch there folds out, someone can sleep in the chair, and there's room on the floor for two more."

"Yes, sir," Z answered promptly, nodding. The Major was, without a doubt, someone he respected greatly. "We'll do our best not to bother you when we come up..." He supposed they could sleep in shifts, if that's all there was to be had....

The appearance of Lord Gloria caught the attention of both Germans as he hurried down the steps, sheets and blankets in hand. "There weren't really any extra pillows, much, but maybe you can make do with what's on the couch. I'm so sorry, Z..." He sounded as if the whole thing was some sort of sleep-over! That was Dorian, though, and most particularly Dorian-trying-to-set-Klaus-at ease.

And Klaus didn't even bat an eye at it. "There's more room, though -- I'll show you," he told Z, starting up the steps. "The spare rooms here both have a bed in them, so you could probably manage two in a room, and there's a room in the attic that can hold two. The bathroom is at the end of the hall here."

Z smiled at Lord Gloria as he hurried after them, sheets and blankets dumped willy nilly in a chair at the bottom of the stairs. "And we'll warn you, it might get a bit drafty, so I'll add extra blankets in those rooms. It's a nice house, but they really need to insulate the thing."

A nod of agreement from Klaus, and then he proceeded to point out each room to Z -- every room except the one near the attic's steps, which could easily be presumed to be shared by both Lord Gloria and Klaus. "And, Z... I want you to have my old holster. Hold on a moment and I'll get it."

"Yes, sir," Z answered, eyes shining in a manner that Dorian found disturbingly Klaus-like -- full of determination, glittering with a certain excitement, a certain danger. There was, however, an expression in that gaze which one did not often encounter with Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach: a deep and abiding respect.

Klaus had turned away, though, before he saw that expression in Z's eyes; strode down the hallway and into the master bedroom, to return a few moments later with his old holster. "I don't have a use for it any longer, so..." He handed it to Z with a shrug.

"So, he thought you might like it," Dorian added, watching Z take the leather contraption with near-reverent hands.

"Thank you, Major," Z said, looking at him once again the same way he had before Klaus had moved away. "Thank you." More than that was lost to him; Klaus had always been his mentor, in many ways, and he looked up to the man quite a bit. It just seemed somehow *perfect*, that unexpected gift, and had he been anyone or anything other than the German man he was, he might have teared up at that moment.

It felt, to Klaus, almost like a passing of the torch; a final signal to himself that The Major was gone from his grasp. "Enjoy it. I know you're right handed and can use it." His mouth quirked from a fairly neutral expression to a faintly sad smile.

To have said that he would treasure it would, perhaps, have seemed mocking, and so Z did not. Instead, he simply nodded, fingers lightly tracing the supple, comfortable leather of the thing. "I appreciate this, Major. Truly."

"You're welcome," was the gruff reply, one-eyed gaze watching Z touch it for a moment before he turned to go back into the bedroom.

"Good night, Z," Dorian told him gently. "Make sure you all get your rest. You really do need it, you know," he finished, heading after Klaus.

Klaus was stretching out atop the sheets, still fully dressed, hands folded behind his head. A cigarette was being smoked already, contemplatively. "Close the door," he reminded Dorian.

Quietly, Dorian obeyed, kicking his shoes off by the door and moving towards the bed. "What are you thinking about?" he asked solemnly, laying down next to Klaus for a moment. It wouldn't hurt to wait a few moments before showering and changing into pajamas.

"Hmm, not too much," Klaus murmured, flicking ash into the ashtray beside the bed, before he fit it in his lips again. "Not too much."

"How much is too much?" Dorian teased, laying a hand lightly on his belly.

"Right now, anything is," he sighed, taking a deep draw from the cigarette, still looking up at the ceiling. "Fate hates us."

Frowning slightly, the British man moved closer, wrapping his arm about Klaus's belly. "Is it really so bad, then, darling?"

"Is what so bad?" he sighed, tapping a little ash again, not moving away from Dorian's familiar-feeling touch.

"The Alphabet being here," Dorian said softly. /Being out of the loop. They'd love to have you down there working with them. Each and every one of them lit up at the sight of you. I wish you could see that.../

"I'm glad to help them," he groused, closing his eyes when he drew another breath. "I just wish I could do more than let them stay here. But I'm incompetent to lead them anymore."

"The day you're incompetent will be the day that *I'm* a bad thief," Dorian told him firmly. "You're not incompetent, Klaus. You're still capable of anything and everything you did before."

"Not in any official capacity." He turned his head a little, opening that one eye to look at Dorian for a moment -- nothing there except an odd wondering that seemed baseless.

The question that came next was solemn, serious, and very obviously important. "Is official capacity that important to you, then?"

Was it...? Was it so important...? "Yes." That ached to admit, that he wanted the very thing he was denied of. But he wanted to work on the right side of the law.

The depth of sorrow growing in those blue eyes was almost a physical pain to see, Dorian taking in a deep breath. "Then you can never be happy, contracting out, doing... doing the things we've been talking about... can you?"

"I'd rather do that than do nothing at all," Klaus said just as serious -- oh, if he could take back the truth so he wouldn't see the hurt in Dorian's eyes!

"Ahh." Keeping firmly in mind Klaus's remarks about going in circles, Dorian kept quiet instead of saying anything more, simply burying his face against Klaus's arm for a moment. /He says he might love me. I can hold onto that, can't I?/ He thought that he could, anyway...

"Maybe... the British army would take me," he murmured quietly after a moment thought, moving to lay his head on the pillow; one hand free to use for smoking, his right to pull Dorian closer to him.

/I don't want you to go back into the army, any sort of army,/ Dorian though miserably, eyes squeezed tightly shut. "Mmm." /I just want you to be with me, and that's so terribly selfish of me, isn't it? And I'm so useless to you.../

"You don't like that idea, do you?" Klaus asked in a sigh, closing his eye just as tightly as Dorian closed his. "I... I could join the tank corp..."

"I won't like you doing anything that's away from me, Klaus," was the frank reply, barely a whisper. "I'll try not to be selfish if you want to do those things, but..." But he wasn't accustomed to denying himself. He wasn't accustomed to not getting exactly what he wanted...

But was he *worthy* of getting what he wanted? Did he actually *deserve* Klaus?

"I just don't know if this idea will work," Klaus sighed, finally snubbing out his cigarette in the ash-tray, shifting a little closer to Dorian.

Unable to help himself, the blond man trembled, tears rising to spill wildly over the edges of tightly closed lids. He couldn't stop them! /I want it to work. I want it to work so badly. I can't make you happy, can I, Klaus? Oh, God. Oh, *God*.../

"Dorian...?" Klaus's voice reached him, soft with concern, before the man pulled him close again; tears that leaked free were soaked up by the material of Klaus's shirt. "I just mean the contracting, not... not *this*."

"I just..." Dorian shuddered. "I just.... I don't know. If you do those things, I don't know. I c-can't bear to be apart from you, now. I don't know..."

"We'll find something we can both do, then," Klaus told him, not letting go. "ICPO, maybe...?"

At that, Dorian gave a watery chuckle. "They'll let just anybody work for *them*, darling. Are you sure you want to brave it?"

"Are you aware most of the Alphabets were diplomatic appointments?" Klaus's voice held all of the sneer that Dorian couldn't see. "Anyone can be yelled into shape."

"Would you yell *me* into shape?" That question was really more a teasing one than serious. Klaus had done quite a lot of yelling over the course of the past decade, and Dorian had yet to be even remotely changed by any of that. It washed over him effortlessly and he went right on being Dorian -- Eroica.

"You don't count," Klaus said, tone fond, "because if you did, you'd be my one failure in that."

Dorian was smiling again, face still damp as he shifted to press his lips to Klaus's, arms wrapping tightly around him. "I love you awfully," he whispered, laying his head next to Klaus's. "Can't help myself. Must be something spectacular about you, you know."

"Don't apologize for it anymore." Because Klaus appreciated it. that someone did, that Dorian did, and that it wasn't just a game any more. No, it wasn't a game any longer, it was a desperate, painful reality that had replaced Dorian's games.

"I won't," came the quiet promise, arms hugging him closely for a moment. "Ever. You know, if I stay here like this much longer, 'm going to fall asleep here against you without benefit of bath, toothbrush, pajamas or anything," Klaus was informed via sleepy drawl. "Think I'll drag myself up and go shower quickly."

"I should let you get up then." Klaus's arms released Dorian with an aching reluctance. "And... maybe next week I'll look into applying to ICPO."

A kiss lightly settled on his lips. "Promise you won't arrest me?" he teased, cool damp lashes brushing over Klaus's cheek.

"You're applying, too," was the serious return, though Klaus was fully smiling now.

"Think they'll have me?" Dorian asked, kissing him again, that terribly ethereal caress almost not even there.

"Think of what you could do for their art recovery network in identifying things?" Klaus suggested, starting to sit up.

"I'd rather steal them for myself," was the rueful admission even as Dorian kissed him again. "I'd best go bathe now, or I'll never manage to leave you here all alone..."

"Hm-mm." The German man finally sat up, reaching for his C.S. Lewis book. "We'll both try to be quick, so we beat the Alphabet to using it."

"And get all the hot water," Dorian agreed, snatching up soft pajamas bottoms -- blue plaid of some sort, something Klaus never would have thought Dorian would own -- and a white t-shirt. "I'll be back shortly."

It would probably make, too, for a more comfortable night's sleep for both of them. For Dorian's sake, he'd dig up a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt to wear -- more comfortable than too-thin pajamas, and thick enough that middle of the-night erections might go unnoticed by both parties.

Fat chance of that with Dorian in the bed!

It didn't take the man long -- Klaus had always thought Dorian a dreadful sybarite, most likely to spend forever in the bath, probably because he once did. Fifteen minutes later, however, he was back, hair still slightly damp from not enough time spent with the hair dryer. "Done," the man declared, dropping onto the bed with a sigh.

His own clothes were at the ready -- a pair of grey sweats and a short-sleeved undershirt, since he hadn't bothered to bring any long-sleeved ones. "I won't be long." Part of the reason, Klaus guessed, for Dorian taking so little time now was because it meant separation.

"All right... Oh. I've left my book downstairs," Dorian said with a frown.

"Your book?" /Which book -- we have a lot of them... and I hope if it's one of *those* books, the Alphabets aren't in the living room yet.../

"Oh... Yes. The mystery one. I think I left it on the kitchen counter..." And he hadn't finished his sandwich, either, but he'd eaten enough of it so that he wasn't hungry...

"I'll get it after I wash up, then," Klaus said, expression relaxing instantly. That was *very* good to know, that it wasn't one of those books that Dorian was reading, that he couldn't yet bring himself to read.

His shower, too, was fast, and he dressed and then shaved before brushing his teeth, blowdrying his hair mostly dry before he stepped into the hallway, then padded down the stairs to retrieve Dorian's book.

Agent A was in the kitchen when he got downstairs, putting away the remains of the food that Dorian had ordered -- enough to feed them all through the next day, in truth -- when Klaus arrived. He jumped slightly with surprise when he looked up to see him there and then smiled. "Major!"

"Mr. A," Klaus nodded, padding barefoot over the smooth tiled floor to retrieve the book Dorian had left atop the counter. "Are the men doing all right?"

"They're fine," A informed him, nodding. "Miserable without you, sir. There was a new Major for a while, but..." The man shrugged. "He didn't last. Z and I are sort of giving directions now, but it's not the same without you. G cried for almost a week!"

"There isn't anything I can do about it," he said truthfully, glancing around the small kitchen before he finally settled his eye on A. "You're not as organized as you should be -- I'd thought I'd taught you better than to move in on a mission so ill organized."

A flushed slightly, looking a bit sheepish. "The Chief more or less tossed us on the plane. Goosed G on the way." He sighed. "I like him less and less as the weeks go by."

"That's the side of him I used to see." Klaus hook his head in disgust. "Sick fag."

That gained a single quick glance at the ceiling and a sheepish smile from A, who didn't quite know what to make of that. "Well, yes. More or less, sir. G's been pitiful lately. Not a single skirt or dress in sight!"

"Really?" He'd tried for a long time to get G to stop cross-dressing... and now, apparently, the man had stopped it in his absence. "Why?"

A shrugged. "He says it's just not as much fun without you there, sir."

Klaus gave a derisive snort, a sound gone unheard in the office for too long. "I knew he did that just to piss me off. Figures."

"More like once he'd gotten used to you talking to him about it, it just sort of made his day, I'd think. You know," A murmured, "I think... we're all very fond of you, Major. G always liked to see the newer recruits jump when you yelled... once he got over jumping himself..."

/'Fond' of me?!/ He wanted to be outraged, but... couldn't. Only tapped Dorian's novel against his hip a few times, lips thinning a little unhappily. "Well. There... isn't anything I can do to be reinstated, given the circumstances of my... retirement."

A nodded unhappily. "We had hoped that, maybe..." He paused, gnawing at his lower lip. "Well. That maybe you'd be a contractor. Like Lord Gloria..." It helped that he'd spoken a bit with Bonham, actually, when he'd run into the man in Bonn a few weeks back.

"We only contracted Lord Gloria three times, maybe four," Klaus reminded A. "He became involved more often out of chance, and we sometimes paid him for his trouble. I don't think NATO would need to contract someone who is just a commander. They have enough of those within the ranks." But from his tone of voice, it seemed he hoped desperately that they would have a use for him.

"They've got *no one* like you, Major," A disagreed. "To be honest, I think they're having problems without you -- and without us being quite as smoothly functioning as usual." He shrugged. "It's not that we CAN'T, and we're still loyal to NATO, but... we're loyal to *you*, Major. Most of us aren't very happy just now. P even resigned to go into some kind of software business."

"Hmn. I've been out of the loop since... that mission. What would you suggest as the best way to... bring up the possibility of my being a contractor?" That question, though, was phrased like a familiar order.

THAT brought a veritable grin to A's face, the man's posture visibly straightening. "Well, sir, we could use a little help just now. Say... starting in the morning? Everyone's worn out from the past several days. We were going to sleep in shifts, but..." A's exuberant baring of teeth turned into a smile. "If you're going to be there in the morning..." The words 'we should all get some sleep' hung in the air between them.

"All of you, get to sleep. You're disorganized and muddled. I'll be down there at seven tomorrow morning and I expect all of you to be awake," Klaus told him, an echoing serious grin on his own lips, before he pivoted and headed back up the stairs. He wasn't going to question the sanity of this -- not yet.

"Yes, SIR!" he heard behind him, and then A was gone, rushing down to the basement, leaving only his voice behind.

When Klaus re-entered the bedroom, it was shaking his head and chuckling softly to himself, far far too pleased with himself than was probably healthy for him. "The Alphabets could use help," he told Dorian as he moved towards the bed, book held out for the blond man. He perched on the edge of the bed, and set the alarm clock for six thirty. "So I'm getting up to be ready at seven."

"Mmmmm..." Dorian stretched, snagging his book and promptly depositing it on the nightstand. "Does that mean I get to come, too?" he asked almost mischievously, heart suddenly lightening.

"I think... we come as a set now," Klaus uttered as he pulled back the sheets on 'his' side of the bed, sliding under them; they felt different against the sweat pants and undershirt than it had against two layers of clothing. Once he was under, he promptly found Dorian pressed against him, and realized that his sweat pants were damned near the *only* thing between the two of them. Dorian's own pajama bottoms were so thin he could practically feel his skin through them as one hand shifting the covers touched the other man's knee.

"Good," the Briton said simply, snuggling himself tightly closer. "That's the way I want for it to be."

"I know," he was told with no small amount of consideration entering Klaus's voice. Well, if the Alphabets missed him, they'd certainly always very outwardly liked Dorian. "Everyone will just have to know that we come as a set now."

A little sigh that sounded like absolute happiness sounded, Dorian shifting to the point at which he was nearly laying atop the other man to kiss him. "Hmmm..."

Perhaps he should have worn both layers of pajamas, because the feel of Dorian atop him, as their mouths met slowly, the tentative explorations that followed, made him want things he knew he had no right to want. Even if Dorian said it was all right.

"I love you, Klaus," he whispered against the other man's lips, sliding so that he was almost completely over him, one knee lightly pressed against one of Klaus's, the other pressed against the right side of his leg. "Oh, I do. I do..."

"Repeating," Klaus whispered tensely, though he felt the urge to tell Dorian, over and over if need be, that he didn't have to keep trying to convince Klaus of it. That he *knew*. "I know." and Dorian was so close, warm atop him... He wrapped both arms around Dorian, eye closed lightly. "Go to sleep, Dorian."

"I'd rather kiss you a while, first," Dorian whispered, brushing his lips over Klaus's cheeks, along his jawline.

"Uhhh... that... that isn't kissing," came the shivered breath of protest, though Klaus did nothing to stop Dorian. Couldn't stop him, because it felt so innocently enjoyable.

"It's a kind of kissing," was the sighed response, a nuzzle at an earlobe teasing him, almost tickling and sending *distinct* shivers all the way down to his toes. "Sort of. More or less..."

None of the Stasi had done anything like that to Dorian, and it felt impossibly good, especially the whisper of words so close against his ear that had made every nerve in his body lurch awake. "We should sleep..." /Don't stop./

"Just a little more," Dorian whispered, hands lightly touching Klaus's sides as he moved to kiss the throbbing point of his pulse, to rub his nose against the underside of his chin, so freshly shaved. "Mmmm..."

Klaus's hands stayed mostly unmoving against his back, limp with sheer sensation. Dorian's touch there wasn't an invasion, didn't hurt... /This... must be why people want each other,/ he realized, as another kiss against his pulse point made his sigh sharply.

"Do you like that?" Dorian whispered, tongue lightly stroking over the point he'd just kissed. "I like that very much, Klaus..."

"How... uhhn..." How could Dorian like it? Or was it the same sort of pleasure Klaus had taken from touching Dorian two nights earlier -- of knowing that the other person was reacting because of you?

"Because it feels good to you," came the low, throaty murmur. "Because I know that you like it. Because I want for you to feel good, and when you do..." Dorian sighed. "It makes my heart race with wonder, Klaus."

"Huh..." That was a tightly controlled exhalation, the fingers of his left hand stroking against the material of Dorian's t-shirt. "It does... feel good."

"This..." Dorian told him softly, kissing the hollow of his throat, lightly following the winging touch of collar bone just beneath soft material with his nose. "This is what loving someone, touching someone, should be like..."

"Ja...? I've never... touched like this... [with anyone. Just you, and...]" And that Stasi who'd had no right to lay a finger on either of them.

"Shhh," Dorian whispered tenderly, moving up to kiss his lips again sweetly. "Only me," he whispered, knowing what Klaus was going to say almost be sheer intuition. "There will only be me, now. For always. And I will never do anything that feels any less wonderful than this."

Dorian's kisses were a comfort Klaus could hold as closely as Dorian himself, and the Briton found himself held still for the moment, while Klaus kissed him a little more firmly. "I trust you on that."

"I know." That trust was so sweet, so *good*, and it made his veins burn for the other man in so many ways. "I know."

"And you wouldn't ever... betray me." No question of that -- he'd done everything but that in their years as sometimes associates, often vague adversaries. even called the KGB on him once... but then, he'd called the ICPO, so that had made it even.

"No," Dorian agreed quietly. "I would never do that." His hands, now, rested lightly on Klaus's hips, eyes heavy-lidded and almost closed. The intensity of his desire was unreal, erection pressed lightly against a matching one, and he sighed when he kissed Klaus once again. "I love you too much to do that."

At least the touch of a matching desire against his made it somehow less of an evil thing for Klaus. "Dorian... the Alphabet..." Were just next door, just upstairs, just *beneath* them. A poorly insulated house would surely not hide sounds.

"I can be quiet if you can," came the whisper, along with a slight shift against him. "If you're uncomfortable, though, we can stop..." *IF* he could go to sleep this way...

Klaus, he knew, could be *dangerously* silent when he came, as he'd learned that first night when he'd caught him unawares. "Could you sleep if we stopped?" Klaus asked in a low whisper. He knew he couldn't. "We... need a... towel, or..."

Casting about for something to use, Dorian smiled wryly. "I'll run fetch one," he whispered, kissing Klaus quickly. "It'll only take a moment."

A moment in which any member of the ten Alphabets could be in the bathroom... "Ja." It was one risk or another, and he'd like to see what it felt like to wake up after that without a desperate need to *wash*.

"Be right back," Dorian whispered with one more kiss before sliding rapidly out of the bed and heading down the hall towards the bathroom. He thought, for a moment, that he'd manage to escape with a towel unscathed, but then he realized that someone was stepping out of the shower and he nearly yelled. It was only A, though, so he held it back, panting slightly as he came down off of fear, clutching his chest almost protectively. /God, if I'd yelled, Klaus would've killed him before he even knew it was A!/ he thought.

Whether that was a comforting thought, or a *dis*-comforting one... "Lord Gloria...?" A asked, peeking out of shower that he's jumped back into when he'd been startled.

"Sorry!!" Dorian declared, shaking his head. "Sorry! I hadn't heard anyone in here and I didn't think, so I just came in! I, ah, spilled some water and needed to fetch a towel..." One that he rapidly found and turned to go. "Sorry, A!"

Spilled water...? A watched Dorian go, *not* wanting to know anything. Not even if the man had spilled water!

Klaus was still laying in bed, nearly as Dorian had left him when he'd gone to get the towel. "I thought I heard something," He said, a little tense sounding.

"A was in the shower," Dorian replied, face flushed heatedly for some reason. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen naked men before in his life, God knew! Just... well... never any naked *ALPHABETS*, with Klaus waiting for him to fetch a towel!! "He nearly scared the life out of me!!"

He was getting a quizzical look for his trouble, Klaus pulling the sheets back for him. "You're fine; come back to bed?"

"Yes," Dorian agreed, rapidly obeying that request and slipping on top of Klaus again, towel clutched carefully. "Push up your shirt," he whispered, pressing his lips to the other man's. The kiss made it seem much less like the order it had been, and Klaus pulled his shirt up, out of the waist-band of his sweat-pants; at the same time, with his other hand, he drew the sheets back over Dorian. From there, it was a simple matter of settling the towel and going back to kissing, Dorian's own shirt tugged up as well before his hands moved back to lightly ply at Klaus's hips. "I'm going to pull these away, now," he whispered, lightly tugging at the jogging pants and getting some help -- a lift of Klaus's body, even with his own on top, that made it easier to tug them down.

Klaus remembered, just then, stories that the boys at boarding school had told of illicit sexual encounters, taken half-dressed. rather like what he and Dorian were doing, only... only there was no fear of 'being caught', only an unwillingness on his part to take it anyway other than creepingly slowly. The sudden feel of Dorian's hands against the bare skin of his hips was a shocking one, intimate in ways that a hand against his groin hadn't been. "Hhn."

"I love you, Klaus," Dorian whispered, kissing him lightly even as he tugged his own pajama bottoms out of the way, bringing them in contact, skin to skin, with a shift of his hips. "Love you so..."

Familiar words that Klaus muffled with a kiss; his hands slid down what was bared of Dorian's back, bringing their bodies closer still. /I think I do, too... if this is what it is, then I do. Need you, trust you.../ The searching kiss served, too, to muffle his own need to gasp, and the tiny whimpers Dorian couldn't help but make. Cock touched to cock was like being caressed by heated velvet, the lazy shift and press of Dorian's hips gaining a steady rhythm as he let out a shaky little breath against Klaus's lips.

"Ohhh...." he whispered.

Even with Dorian atop him, neither was in control of the situation -- just two bodies intimately close, straining towards release that was spurred on by the touch of the other. His own hips flexed up against Dorian's over and over, a needy rhythm that was hard to keep in an even pace. He wanted oblivion and to pleasure Dorian, both at once...

The soft little pants of breath and barely audible whimpers that the blond man gave certainly weren't helping him to hold back! Instead, they drove him, the sounds themselves soft and helplessly erotic in some desperate and intimate way that made him want to hold Dorian all the closer, kiss him even harder, keep him simply forever.

Maybe even that, with all of its prepared and careful show of tenderness, was as sick as the things the Stasi had done -- but it spurred him on towards want just as much, and didn't hurt Dorian. He could, even if only with that, share pleasure with Dorian in a way that didn't hurt either of them... He wouldn't hurt Dorian. He'd enjoy and savor those noises of pleasure, uncaring of his own soft sounds, memorize the feel of Dorian's body against his, soak up every second of it all just so that if it ever ended...

Ah, but it wouldn't, and Dorian gave a breathless little cry that was muffled against Klaus's shoulder, coming despite himself, shudders working their way through him at the sharp pleasure he felt, the intensity of it almost too much and yet not quite enough!

There was still a feeling of hiding to it, secrecy in the way both of them muffled thorough sounds of pleasure; Dorian against Klaus's shoulder, Klaus against bitten lips as he jerked Dorian closer to him. It wasn't the shameful thing it had been before, just pleasure at Dorian's intimate touch that left him feeling drained. "Hmnn." A muzzy musing of noise, his head lolling to rest against Dorian's on his shoulder.

"Klaus, Klaus, Klaus..." It was a breathless prayer on those lips, a litany that fairly sang of emotion. "Oh, Klaus..."

"We should..." /Put the towel to use, then go to sleep. Just like this./ Klaus shifted, one hand creeping between them.

"Hmmm?" Dorian murmured sleepily as Klaus began cleaning their bellies, their softening erections. "Ohhh..." That felt awfully good, but he was so sleepy!

The towel was dropped onto the wooden floor, and then Klaus carefully pulled up both of their pants, before he wrapped his arms around Dorian again. Their shirts were still pushed up... "Pull the bottom blanket, Dorian," Klaus instructed softly, shifting to just pull off his undershirt.

"Hmmmmm," Dorian sighed in agreement, opening heavy-lidded eyes long enough to obey. The temptation of being skin-to-skin with Klaus was too delicious and so he stripped off his own shirt before moving against the other man, sighing softly over the feel of it. /So good./ "Love you."

Another too new feeling for Klaus to process, that of skin against skin; Dorian was warmer now than he'd been with a shirt on, and that warmth made sleep a more tempting thing... "G'night," he murmured, already dropping off into comfortable slumber.

Chapter 14 by Kat and Tzigane
Morning dawned bright, early, and with a scad of beaming faces that peered up at the Major and the thief as they headed down into the basement. "We've got eggs," Dorian offered. "And Pop-Tarts!"

"Breakfast can come later," Klaus growled over his shoulder, no malice at all in his voice.

He looked, unlike the day before, like the Major -- crisp trousers and shirt sleeves, his treasured gun now holstered on the correct side. "Let's start by telling me what's going on."

"Well, sir," Z spoke up. "The Americans have reported an information leak of some sort. The Russians have been outmaneuvering them a lot lately, and so they called us for help. We've not been able to find the leak yet -- it seems to be fairly high up and there's more than one agent involved. We've managed to trace several agents who vacation in this area, though... we just need to find out when and where the next drop is. G and S have been tailing the agent we found late yesterday afternoon -- *after* the drop that you saw. C and M have gone to spell them."

That explained why he hadn't seen G yet. "What are the chances it's the same agent? Show me where they found him," he said brusquely, moving towards the map that was still laid out. "What equipment did you bring with you? Contact equipment...?" If things truly *were* as half-assed as he guessed they were...

"The usual," Z replied calmly, moving to show him. "There's a possibility that it's the same agent, but we suspect that there are at least two of them and someone else is behind the matter."

"Of course -- agents seldom do so well on their own in these matters... but the radio equipment -- G and S should have those parts *with* them so they can contact us. C and M didn't take it with them, either... A, K, go see that C and M are outfitted properly. If the man goes to make another drop, or to meet with Mischa, it would be good if they could *contact* us," he growled, looking back over the map. "First thing, we need to find where the Soviets are."

"YES, SIR!" *That* was the sound of several voices speaking simultaneously and Dorian almost laughed with sheer joy! /And Klaus thinks no one loves him! Hm!/

"We'll get right on it, sir!" A promised, everything in his hands already as he headed for the small door leading out to the garage.

"Why not fetch some breakfast while you're out?" Dorian called after K, eyes bright with mischief.

Klaus though, beyond the Alphabet's agreement to work, was paying the extra noises little attention; he was leaning over the map, looking at the remainder of the men there. "Mt. Greylock is here -- where else have there been drops made, or do we not know of any more?"

"It's the first we've found out about, sir," Z replied. "We hope surveillance will net us more information. We sent Q and R to D.C. to ferret about there."

"Idiot yanks." And with that, it was *assured* that Iron Klaus had returned to them. He snatched a pen out of D's shirt pocket, and circled Mt. Greylock, with notations as to what was seen. "Tourists -- the Yanks are passing themselves off as belonging there... Dorian, do you remember what the man was wearing?"

"Jeans. Black t-shirt, nothing descriptive on it that could be seen, but also a denim jacket. Shag haircut, very late seventies, but most of it was covered with a ballcap that said 'New York Yankees'," Dorian said firmly. "Glasses, but they were cheap off the rack things, nothing real. Oh, and some of those running shoes that they all like so... I couldn't tell what kind from where we were."

The pen was tossed back to D. "Write that down," he was instructed. "We can't pinpoint where the drops will be -- not yet; so we have to find the Soviets... Dorian, Z, come with me -- D, you're in charge. We're going to go to every hotel in the area and look around for the car with the license plate ABT-269."

Again came the rousing replies of, "Yes, SIR!" and the Alphabet went to work as the other three headed for the garage.

/Well, my Major, I think everyone is happy with this turn of events. Me, most of all,/ Dorian thought to himself with a smile as Klaus unlocked the doors.

"Dorian, run upstairs and get both phone-books," Klaus instructed after a moment's thought, already half in the driver's seat. "We'll start that way."

"Be right back," he assured, and then he was gone, leaving Z and Klaus to climb into the car together.

"Do you think we'll run into them this way, sir?" Z asked, putting on his seatbelt.

"Not really, but it's the only thing we have to go on at the moment," Klaus replied seriously, closing the door and buckling up. Then he lit a cigarette, drawing in a smoky breath. "At the moment."

Z nodded, watching for Dorian to come back as they sat there together in companionable silence. It only took the promised few moments before the other blond returned, climbing into the back seat quickly. "Got them. There're about ten hotels and motels and there seems to be an absolute bevy of bed and breakfast sorts of places..."

"Mischa wouldn't," Klaus said instantly, looking back over his shoulder at Dorian. He looked terribly pretty that morning, happy, smiling; early on Klaus had been worried that the scars themselves would interfere with that movement, but they hadn't. "We're off route 7 now -- tell me the location of the nearest hotel or motel, or whatever."

"Ahh... There's one that says it's on *this* road. From the number, I'm guessing it's probably a good eight miles, easily, since everything's so far apart through this stretch..." Dorian replied.

"There first, then," Klaus said, putting the car into reverse out the winding drive, and then pulling out onto the street, where he turned around and started off towards the main route.

The drive was quiet, all three men silent as they drove, Dorian looking out the windows at the scenery that passed. Everything was gold and crimson and even still green, a little, and he was glad they'd come. The weather was cool, everything was beautiful, and Klaus...

Klaus loved him.

Even if he wasn't sure, even if he didn't know, Dorian did, and nothing could have made the world more right than that. Nothing. /It makes up for... everything.../

Even if their lives had been turned upside down, even if Dorian had been left horribly shaken by it -- even, even if they both weren't quite right in their minds. It was worth it.

The Alphabets' arrival had lifted a desperate sadness from Klaus, too -- even if this went terribly and NATO flat out told them both that they couldn't be used as contractors, Dorian would have set in his memory the sight of Klaus so happy when he was happy, too.

He had been right, the night before. Nothing could get better than this.

"The hotel's up ahead," Z said softly, blue eyes already glancing through the cars closest to them. It was nothing fancy, nothing but outside parking available, and they could see all of the vehicles there as Klaus slowed down to turn and pulled into the lot, as alert as the other two were. All of their alertness didn't matter, though -- the plate wasn't there.

"We have to be careful -- he saw us, too, Dorian; He's probably expecting us to be coming... what's the next address?" he asked, before he pulled out of that lot.

"There's an inn on 1055 South Street," Dorian told him, a last lingering glance at the parking lot given -- just in case.

But there was nothing.

That seemed to be de facto for the day -- nothing. Three more places, and they'd looped back into Lanesbourgh on route 7 again to go to the next one.

They passed by an old cemetery on a hill, yellow grass growing high all around it. There were school children out, and teachers from the nearby elementary, making rubbings of the names on the old stones.

In the group of people there, one could almost miss the sight of the man with the baseball cap and the shaggy looking bowl-cut.

"WAIT!" Dorian cried. "It's him! He's in the cemetery!"

"And there's Mischa's car!" Z confirmed, eyeing the tag of the vehicle parked almost between two stones and nearly out of sight.

"I see," Klaus uttered, driving distinctly past it, not changing his speed until they were out of sight -- then he pulled into the driveway of a house that was for rent -- blessedly vacant -- and opened the car door. "Let's go -- we'll watch from the fringe of trees opposite where they were; we won't confront with children there."

Wordlessly, the other two got out with him, following behind 'til they reached the edge of the property and the line of gleaming oaks and aspens that resided there. In the cemetery, near a gleaming marble cross, the two men stood close to one another. Words were exchanged quickly, a packet in return for a small bag. The man took a look inside, quickly dumped the contents out into his hand and peered at them carefully.

Of course it wouldn't be cash -- jewels, little sparks, some colored, visible even from where they were standing.

The cache of children finally moved away, trotting up a well-worn path that would take them back to the school. Klaus watched carefully, until they were safely out of sight, before he stepped out of the tree-line, a shift loosening his holster's position to just where it belonged. "Hand over that packet, Mischa."

"How remarkable!" the Russian declared, smiling with what was almost joviality. "We had heard that Iron Klaus was... how do you say? Ah. Yes. *Crazy*. Discharged for instability. What a surprise to see you here, and your little pet thief... and the boy."

The fact that Mischa was so cheerful was a clue in and of itself that things weren't quite right. "Klaus..." Dorian said, voice low.

Probably a trap of some sort, but at that point, there was no way to escape it; the edgy American looked even more nervous, quickly spilling his jewels back into their little bag.

Klaus pinned Mischa with his one-eyed gaze, and the most calm smile in his repertoire. "What a surprise to see you here, in the wilds of America -- you should go back to your beloved CCCP."

"Why, when I am making such lovely progress here?" Mischa asked him, his own smile never faltering. "I even have you, your thief, and your replacement now in my hands. Don't I, boys?" he chuckled, shaking his head as several Russian agents moved in, some from behind tombstones, some from the tree line. "I will go back to Russia soon enough. You..." His smile never wavered. "You may never go anywhere again unless you give in peacefully. After all. We would not want to frighten the children still so close by, hm?"

"I should have just dropped a rock on your head at Mt. Greylock," Klaus growled, moving towards Mischa; his gun still wasn't drawn, though -- he was armed only with a familiar arrogance. /Fall back, Dorian -- god-dammit, Z, get him out of here!/ But he could only think it, as he smiled grimly at the American -- it was worth the danger to get a good look at the man's face, recognizing him clearly as CIA. "What's the matter, Yank -- your own government doesn't pay you enough?"

"Aren't you going to do something about him!?" the double agent demanded, taking a step back and scowling at Mischa.

The Soviet man shrugged lightly, stepping forward. "You will come with us, or we will shoot your pretty thief. Has he bedded you yet, hm?" Mischa asked, chuckling. He enjoyed the opportunity to mortify Klaus, truly. Only this time, Klaus didn't even seem to be mortified as he would have usually -- just an eerie silence from the German as he stared at Mischa.

"You haven't changed any, Mischa -- just like old times..." and the smile on Klaus's face turned vicious for a moment as, just like old times, he lashed out at the Soviet. The blow was different from others -- the strength was still behind it, a powerhouse punch that staggered Mischa, but it cut differently than it had other times, just the two knuckles of Klaus's right hand meeting jawbone.

Knocked back, the man reached up and rubbed his jaw. "Eh... you're missing fingers?" he asked, frowning. "Where'd they go?"

"You ought to know, you damned miserable communist," Dorian spat, no longer silent. Instead, he was furious, and insanely worried. Klaus shouldn't be abusing his hand that way! "The whole lot of you and your tormentors and *especially* those bastards from East Germany!"

"Don't pretend you haven't heard and laughed over it yet, Mischa," Klaus uttered, rubbing those two knuckles with his whole left hand. "Innocence doesn't do any good on your face. Would you like another punch? It's as good with two fingers as four."

The Russian man was scowling by then, though, and a motion of his hand brought his men closer to gather the Klaus, Dorian and Z together. "For the time being," he said, "you will be coming with me."

"Will your new Yank dog be coming with us?" Klaus asked him, still not backing down yet.

"Oh, no," Mischa replied. "I think not. No need for him, you see," he replied as his men led Z and Dorian towards a car, Klaus following along beside Mischa. "Just a pawn, really," he murmured, the CIA agent far enough away to miss it. "Little more."

"Useful pawn," Klaus said crisply enough *for* the agent to hear him. "Going to try to take us back to 'Mother Russia' with you, Mischa?" /Calm. Get him to relax, and then we'll break free./

"We will see. The last time, you stole a plane. My people were *very* unhappy with you about that," the other man noted.

The sound of Dorian's voice came from up ahead, slightly panicked. "Don't touch me!"

That got Klaus's attention immediately, for he broke away from his pace beside Mischa and rushed forwards, punching the Soviet who'd *dared* to touch Dorian. It happened in quick seconds, and Klaus didn't realize he'd done it until he was standing beside Dorian, making an almost growling noise in the back of his throat.

"Well," Mischa said slowly, holding up a hand to keep the others from moving in on them. "Things *are* strange, here. Get in the car peacefully, and no one will touch you," he murmured sternly.

Klaus gave a nod to Z, even as he moved towards the car with Dorian. It wasn't particularly expected when the younger agent broke away; the Soviets were still staring at Iron Klaus and Eroica when he sprinted quickly off into the tree line, disappearing.

"Go after him, idiots!" Mischa yelled, shaking his head as the men with him simply stood around looking stupid. Half of them broke away, heading after Z, but Klaus knew that they were too late. Z would be gone already. The Soviet sighed, shook his head. "Get in the car!"

Klaus stayed silent as the car door was opened; none of the agents dared to press either of them into it. They all watched as Klaus put a hand on Dorian's back, moving him in first, then Klaus ducked in, sitting beside the thief. It was hard to get past the scars on the famed Eroica's face, or the missing fingers and eye patch on Iron Klaus.

"Make the appropriate calls," Mischa murmured to one of his men once the car door was shut, moving towards the passenger side himself. "I want *all* of the details of this. Find them out for me."

"Details of what, sir?" the nearest man asked, looking nervously as his leader.

"Of what happened to Iron Klaus and the thief, you idiot!" the bald man growled. He wondered, for a moment, if Eberbach had to deal with the same kinds of idiots *he* had to deal with. God help them both, it was probably so! "Now, get on it!"

"Yes, sir!"

The heavy silence still held once he was inside the car; Klaus had stopped making threatening noises, but it didn't make him any less dangerous, sitting behind Mischa as he was, unrestrained.

"It is only a short ride," Mischa said lightly. "I do not want to shoot either of you, so do not tempt me to do so."

Dorian's hand, by then, had snuck over to Klaus's, clutching slightly at his fingers. It went unseen, but it was a relief just to touch him, especially after the other man had laid hands on him. /God.../ He'd never been so disgusted or disturbed by anything in his life!

"Are you afraid I'll steal your car, too?" Klaus asked in a casual drawl, squeezing Dorian's fingers lightly before pulling his hand away to light a cigarette -- which he offered first to the thief.

The shake of Dorian's head was obvious in the rear view mirror, the exchange only forcing Mischa's eyebrows up farther. "I would not be surprised," he said simply, watching them.

Klaus kept the cigarette to himself once Dorian had refused it, putting his lighter back in his pocket before, once more, letting Dorian catch his hand, out of sight. "Don't expect NATO to barter for either of us -- I'm civilian."

"Yet you were with NATO, and the boy who replaced you is doing as you tell him to do. We will see."

"You know damn well I'm civilian now, Mischa," Klaus growled, knowing he was repeating himself a little, but not caring. "If you weren't plodding around in America, I wouldn't even be involved."

The Soviet chuckled. "Still, it amuses me to have you, so I will keep you for a while. I might be able to use you -- or to use your thief, even, for something that I need."

"I don't work for NATO anymore and I won't work for you," Dorian said simply.

"We will see."

Those were the words that the Stasi had used, and now Mischa had said them twice. The sheer thrill of *fear* dancing down Dorian's spine was almost unbearable, and his hold on Klaus tightened.

"We will not be seeing," Klaus snarled in a low tone, shifting -- and infinitely glad of his leather jacket that hid so well his holster. They hadn't seen it on the left side because it just wasn't *there* anymore. When the time permitted... "Eroica and I will not aid Soviets."

Nothing came in answer, only the vaguest hint of a smile from Mischa. "Hmmm."

Klaus glared at Mischa with his monocular gaze through the rear-view mirror -- he was all too aware that the Bear Cub was watching them. "How do you like the weather here in the Berkshires, Bear Cub?"

"Pleasant," Mischa answered him. "It is not yet cool enough to be entirely comfortable, but one makes do with these things. It is necessary, and therefore, this is where we are."

"Been in this area for long?" Klaus asked. "It's nice -- minus passing CIA and KGB agents."

"Long enough. Any period of time, however, is TOO long. You sound like a tourist, Iron Klaus," Mischa snorted.

Dorian's reply was drawled. "That'd be because we *are*," he informed the man. "We just had the bad luck of running into *you* lot."

"The hike up Mt. Greylock would have been better if I hadn't seen your bald head," Klaus snorted in agreement.

"Infinitely," Dorian agreed as the Bear Cub remained silent.

Klaus, too, fell silent, appraising the other man's facial expressions until they pulled into the hotel's lot -- a hotel in North Adams, the last they'd had on their list to check. "Hmn -- I'm amazed the Soviet empire would pay for such lavish capitalism."

"It makes no sense, does it?" Mischa asked lightly. "But then, it is the last place you would have looked for me, eh?"

"This is the last place we would have expected to run into anyone from any agency," Klaus growled flatly.

"Then you have obviously come to the wrong place!" he was told. "It would seem that the hills are crawling with agents, hm? You even had one with you."

"We were *vacationing*," Dorian sighed. "Can't we vacation? Don't you?"

"Soviets don't vacation, Eroica -- their idea of fun is kidnapping civilians." Casually drawled again, while the car pulled to a halt in the parking lot. "Isn't that right, Mischa?"

"And eating them for supper, yes, yes, with mushrooms," Mischa growled. "Out of the car and behave. If you do not behave, you will not like what will happen. I will shoot Eroica first, Iron Klaus," the man said, taking a chance. "You will not misbehave."

"Fags move fast," Klaus shrugged, trying to drudge up with little success old venom as first Dorian, then he, were let out on the driver's side of the car. "You will have to shoot fast."

Dorian hated those words from Klaus, but he understood and he tossed golden hair back slightly, shrugging. "If you shoot me, it won't matter. The lot of you already ruined my face. One more scar won't make a difference, so long as I get away."

"Planning on marching us through the lobby at gunpoint, or just walking us over to the trees and shooting us?"

Mischa simply looked at them with flat expression and gestured ahead of him. Two guards already stood ready to walk slightly before them and there were several others gathering there -- perhaps as many as eight in all. At least that many more had chased Z. "Don't be stupid."

"I've lost my faith in any semblance of honor about you fucking Soviets," Klaus uttered, tossing the butt of his lazily smoked cigarette onto the parking lot gravel as they started to move.

"There are Soviets and then there are madmen," Mischa answered darkly. "Do not so disregard me or mine."

"NATO has madmen -- the KGB cannot be exceptional and claim that they don't have madmen, too," Klaus said coolly. "Polar Bear not working this mission with you?"

"Do you see him?" came the sigh. "You are very different now, Iron Klaus. Even Eroica is -- harder, if you will. Interesting..."

"Harder?" Klaus asked, still straining for casual when it was obvious he wanted to break for it. "It has only been a few months since our last clash."

The burly Russian shrugged his shoulders, accepted papers from one of his agents as they headed through the lobby and towards the elevators. "Many things can happen in the course of a few months, hm?"

"Many things." As they neared the elevators, Klaus was aware of the strategic sanity of splitting into two groups, each prisoner in a different car; to at least make it more awkward to do, he moved closer to Dorian, putting a hand on his shoulder to whisper. The tone was so low, and so quiet that the Russians couldn't hear, probably making them far more suspicious. "Trust me to get us out of this." /Even if I don't trust myself./

The expression in Dorian's eyes spoke explicitly of conviction, even when they *did* tuck them into separate elevators, Mischa stepping in behind Klaus. "So," he said as the doors closed before them. "Who messed up your pretty's face? And yours, for that matter?"

"A Soviet dog," Klaus said bluntly, standing there with his familiar arrogant posture, despite the other Russians in the elevator. "Don't pretend you don't know."

"If I knew, would I be asking?" Mischa snapped back at him, scowling. Their own attempts at finding out anything of the matter had been useless, even though there had only been a ten minute period in which to seek information. All files regarding Iron Klaus had been locked down tighter than anything he'd seen in a long while, and that bothered Mischa. /Someone somewhere isn't telling everything they know./

"You know that I've been retired," Klaus said simply enough -- it wasn't as if it were classified information. It was probably well known in the community by now, and well celebrated already. "One of your fucking Stasi men."

THAT brought both of the Bear Cub's eyebrows up, though it was hard to tell behind his sunglasses. "No, " he admitted. "We had only heard that you'd been declared unstable. No one knew the Stasi had... done anything to you. The eye, your fingers? Eroica's face?"

"Stasi dog. Go on, gloat, Bear Cub -- I can still knock you senseless with my right hand." The words weren't even a challenge, or the tone of someone trying to convince -- flatly, tiredly said, with an assurity behind them.

"No, no need for that," Mischa assured him, frowning as they came to their floor, the doors opening out into a small area which faced two others. At the same moment, the elevator beside them opened, and a rough push sent Dorian tripping out of it.

"[Don't touch him! Do you fucking understand me? Touch him again and I will pound the fucking shit out of you!]" Klaus snarled at the Soviets as he started out of the elevator.

Blue eyes turned on him, welling slightly with relief as Dorian stood up straight, frowning at the Soviet agents as Mischa growled a few quick words that he didn't understand. /We're going to have to remember to *never* get caught again,/ Dorian decided. He didn't like being apart from Klaus, and even that push had panicked him, angered the other man. It would be ill-advised to get caught again.

Klaus was still standing close to Dorian, protectively -- there were too many to draw a gun just then, but when there were less of them... /I should have in the car. I hesitated; I shouldn't have let us get this far.../

That was useless speculation, though, because they were being prompted along the hallway, a card slid into a slot in a door so that they could enter ahead of the others. The room behind it was a suite, though not a large one -- simply a business-like arrangement of chairs and coffee tables, a door leading into a bedroom. "Have a seat," Mischa ordered them. "The three of you, look into Stasi incidents recently. You four, do something about finding that NATO agent if the others haven't already. You," he finished, pointing at the last of them. "Stay here with me and watch these two." He pulled off his sunglasses to frown at Klaus. "[I'm going to get to the bottom of this for you. Such tactics should not be used, on either side.]"

There had been more done than the maiming, but there was no way that the 'else' would be mentioned; the games played on them; the way Dorian had been raped; the way he'd been petted over. Klaus was quiet for a moment, taking a chair next to the one Dorian sat in. He no longer sat in the 'manly' way that he used to -- once carelessly spread legs were now crossed arrogantly. "[Don't bother; I'll take care of it myself when we return to Europe.]"

"[But perhaps you would like a name to attach to a face, hm?]" Mischa asked him heavily. "[I will say nothing to them about it. I will find out. I will give you this. You understand? This...]" A wave of his hand encompassed Klaus and Dorian, the Russian's frown deepening. "[This is not fitting.]"

"[He was an officer -- medium height, blond, blue eyes; sick in the head,]" Klaus rattled off. "[You're right -- it isn't fitting. But we manage.]"

"[I will get his name for you," came the promise again. "This alone. You will stay until then.]"

That was certainly a way to keep them both in their place -- promise of a name to track down; even retired, Klaus had connections, could ask for things done, favors owed, to pinpoint this bastard, and then find him. At home, preferably, and kill him. Messily. "[Thank you,]" Klaus pronounced in crisp Russian.

It seemed to almost embarrass Mischa, the man frowning at him. "[It is the right thing to do,]" he declared, glancing back and forth between the two of them. Dorian was seated terribly close to Klaus, who was making no overt signs of seeking to escape him. "[I see the thief has finally managed to somehow capture you... so to speak?]"

"You know," Dorian said tiredly, "that's as impolite as whispering."

"That is none of your concern," Klaus said bluntly -- but the sheer fact that he wasn't in a sputtering rage was verification enough. "I've had enough of Soviets fucking around in my life."

"Hmm." Mischa nodded. "My apologies, on the behalf of my country, Iron Klaus. These Stasi, they do things differently than we. In some ways, they are as fanatical as the neo-Nazis, and more."

Klaus nodded, muttering something about dynamite, and then fell into a flat silence as he continued to look at Mischa occasionally, at the room. Then, finally breaking the quiet of the room, "You know, at least your men know if they're captured they'll be bartered back. NATO has too much red-tape to do anything else."

That brought something resembling a chuckle from the Soviet, the man shaking his head. "I work with idiots. I often wonder if you do, as well."

Klaus had to think for a moment -- he'd wanted to reply 'twenty-six of them', only... it wasn't official, and this 'mission' seemed to be a bomb... to a point. They knew who the CIA agent was, had witnessed the trade; once they were away, they'd be able to turn the man in. The Americans could debrief and break their own man to find out who the others were. "Not any more."

Mischa grunted and silence reigned again for a while before he nodded. "[The thief is sleeping. Obviously, we don't worry him. Is he always that way?]"

"[Always what way?]" Apparently, nothing immediately struck Klaus as wrong about Dorian's behavior.

"[Trusting.]" After all, it wasn't *every* day that Mischa had a prisoner go to sleep on him! Even with his other agent still in the room, working at a small desk in the corner, Eroica's head had nodded to the side slightly as if seeking out a support for itself.

"[No.]" In fact, Dorian was usually anything but -- Klaus put it down to his own presence there, his assurance to Dorian that they would make it out all right, unlike the last time. It probably helped that it was Mischa, to whom they were already at least partially accustomed, and that neither of them had been cuffed or chained. If they had been, Klaus would have made no promises on not hurting anyone as a result.

"Hm." The Bear Cub eyed them thoughtfully, finally shaking his head. "[It makes no sense, but so long as you seem to understand it, I suppose that's all right.]"

"[I don't understand it,]" Klaus said with a shrug, turning to look Dorian over protectively. "[We came to America to vacation; we hadn't expected to become a part of this. I was relieved of my post, I don't care what NATO does any longer.]"

"[You are like me. It will be in your blood until you die,]" he was informed quietly.

"[I've been close enough; one more run in with the Stasi, and it will certainly be out of my blood.]" They both knew he'd never defect, never ignore the cause he'd fought for, even if NATO had betrayed him through a dismissal due to harm that occurred on duty.

"[I..]" Mischa began only to be interrupted by an opened door, words quickly spoken.

"[Sir, I think we've found the record, if you would come look, quickly,]" the man said, looking nervously at Klaus and the dozing Dorian.

Klaus just met the man's eyes with a fairly emotionless gaze, wondering just *what* was in the record the man had. "We won't try to escape -- I want that name."

A nod from Mischa, and he rose, a bit stiffly. He had not been young when the game between himself and Iron Klaus had started, and he was certainly getting no younger! "[I'll be back momentarily,]" he replied, and followed the younger man who'd come to get him out into the hallway, which was thankfully empty.

"[Sir, do you want to read it to yourself, or... should I... give you the highlights?]"

"[I'll read it myself,"] Mischa answered grimly.

It was with an equally grim expression that the agent handed over the folder that bore the quickly printed out pages. "[This is the statement by the officer who interrogated Iron Klaus and Eroica.]"

Eyes scanned the pages quickly, widening every now and then, the Soviet man visibly paling despite himself. /Rape... torture... fuck.../ "[I want you to destroy this. Destroy all record of this ever happening. I don't care how you do it, but do it.]" He had the names, now, and the first page where they were listed was taken from the top. "[All of this, as well. Go.]"

"[Yes, sir!]" The first thing to be destroyed would be the lavish retelling of the gruesome events -- then the original file, the hard copies... It would take work, but it could be done. The younger agent nodded once, and then headed off down the hall.

Stepping back into the hotel suite, Mischa moved to stand before Klaus. "[These are the names.]"

Klaus's Cyrillic was good enough to interpret the page held out to him, and he reached to take it from Mischa. "[Can I keep that?]"

"[It's the only copy. It's yours,]" the Bear Cub answered grimly.

/Only copy..../ Klaus's eyebrows rose, one above a grey-green eye glittering with sudden understanding, the other above a neatly placed eye-patch. "[Thank you,]" he uttered, not for the paper, but for what he perceived that Mischa was going to do.

"[With the apologies of my state,]" Mischa said grimly. "[This should not have happened.]"

"[I'd thought this would have been well known by now,]" Klaus murmured as he slipped the piece of paper, twice folded, inside of his coat. Left handed, into the interior right pocket; Mischa got a glimpse of a shoulder holster, left untouched.

"[They were undoubtedly not stupid enough to tell the rest of the world what they had done. You and I are adversaries, but we are not dishonorable men... much,]" Mischa added, nodding to Dorian. "[Wake him, and I will escort you to the lobby.]"

"D..." The start of a real name, but he caught himself, as he leaned to shake Dorian gently awake. It was odd to see that gentleness from Klaus towards a man he'd sworn to hate, but then Mischa had stumbled across similar odd gestures before. Once, the thief had gotten himself smashingly drunk, half stripped, and Klaus had followed him to the bathroom to see if he was all right. "Eroica -- wake up."

"Mmmh?" Blond lashes lifted from sleep-fuzzed blue eyes, the thief looking at him momentarily and smiling as if his eyes had caught the face of a god.

/I see why Iron Klaus can be smitten,/ Mischa thought. Scars or no.

"We're going down to the lobby," he murmured, starting to rise to his feet, hands still on Dorian's shoulders. "No more napping."

"Are they going to shoot us now?" Dorian asked idly, yawning behind a hand before he stood again. He knew it couldn't be true, or Klaus wouldn't be so relaxed, so he smiled at him again.

"Nein." Klaus stepped back, watched Dorian for a moment more, and then turned to Mischa with a nod -- a sort of 'carry on', as he waited for the Russian to lead the way.

The trip down to the lobby was quiet, Mischa pausing at the revolving door at the bottom with the two of them. "Stay out of the way, Iron Klaus. And be careful."

It was almost a childish warning, but Klaus took it at face value -- Mischa was wishing them well. "We will be. See you around, Mischa."

With a wave of a hand, the Russian was gone.

"Well, that was easier than it should've been!" Dorian declared, blinking slightly in the afternoon sunlight. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"

"Yes -- and we're in fucking North Adams -- we might as well start walking," Klaus said a little grimly, moving to start across the parking lot.

"Maybe there's a taxi," Dorian suggested, moving after Klaus with easy, limber motions. "Or maybe there's an Alphabet somewhere about."

"Hope for the Alphabet; otherwise, we're walking." Still, to have gotten away so easily, with so *much* information left him in an oddly good mood, even if they did have a good six hours of walking ahead of them. Only once they were walking on the shoulder of the road did he speak again. "I have the names now."

"There was more than one spy?" Dorian asked him, confused. He'd been bored and slightly tired since they'd had no breakfast, so he'd fallen asleep on the couch. Mischa, at least, was more likely to punch than to cut or... or worse.

"The Stasi -- he gave me the names."

"So we're going to go after them once this is wrapped up?" Dorian asked him.

"I am," Klaus confirmed, looking over to Dorian, who was easily keeping pace today. That was always good to see. "Do you... want to?"

"Yes." The answer was grimly given and grimly meant. "I want to see it all through to the end." Even though he hated violence, even though he had never before wanted to hurt any living thing. He had to be there, him and Klaus, and it had to be together. It was just the way things *were*.

"I'm going to remove his head, put it in a box, and leave it at NATO headquarters with his papers," Klaus said with an odd dark smile.

The little sound that Dorian gave could have been horror, but it wasn't. It was just the result of the little tingle that passed down his spine at those words. "All right. Can we leave his cock, too? Cut that off, first," he said, just as viciously.

"We're going to do a number on him," Klaus agreed, the vicious smile turning to a more light of heart expression. He *knew* that to hear such things from *Dorian*, from *himself*, meant there was something still wrong. Especially from Dorian. Perhaps... in time they could get proper help. Until then, they had each other, and their small pleasures... and revenge was going to be a good pleasure. "Do you want to jog for a little bit?"

"That sounds just marvelous," Dorian agreed, smiling back at him.

"If we jog in parts, it should only take us five hours," Klaus said happily enough, as they started off.

Chapter 15 by Kat and Tzigane
G sighed and shifted in the car. "No sign of anything. Z said they were all driving black cars. No black cars here."

"That," S admitted, "was the first thing I noticed." They were back on surveillance duty, but *this* go round, it meant checking all of the local hotels that Z, Dorian and Klaus hadn't gotten to in an attempt to locate the two missing men.

"Wait!" G gasped, pointing. "Look! Over there!"

'Over there' were two men, approaching at the pace of a leisurely walk. Not approaching, though -- just walking on the side of the road, talking casually. Klaus and Dorian, striding on the grass that ran along side the narrow road, apparently oblivious to the search.

"SIR!!" G realized that his window wasn't open and rapidly went about letting it down. "MAJOR!! LORD GLORIA!"

Klaus's head twitched up first, and he stopped walking, glancing across the street; a hand on Dorian's arm stopped the Briton from going any further. "I think that's G screaming at us!"

"I do believe you're right," Dorian agreed, one blond brow rising. "I guess that cuts short our little walk. Sorry, darling."

"You don't sound sorry," Klaus told him in an amused tone. He looked for traffic going either way, and with none in sight, started to cross to the parking lot where G sat. "You're hungry, anyway."

"The truth," Dorian admitted, "is the truth. I'm starving. I didn't get any breakfast and I didn't finish supper last night, either. I think I require sustenance, love."

A quick glance to his watch confirmed it. "It's nearly supper time, anyway -- G will drive us back to the house, and there's food left over. I'll tell Z everything, he can handle the CIA; the Bear Cub's had more than enough time to get away."

"THAT means we can finish our vacation in peace and then take care of business," Dorian finished with a sigh. Hm, that was a pleasant thought! "You know, I feel a little better for our foray, Klaus."

"I do, too," he said, starting up the sloped driveway towards G and S's car. "But we need more time to rest."

"And you haven't gotten to go swimming, yet," Dorian added.

"YOOHOO! Major!" G cried, stepping out of the car. He was dressed, heaven help him, in a suit, but it was *pink*. "Lord Gloria!! Oh, we're so glad to see you!"

"G," Klaus sighed with a nod to the approaching... man.

"Are you all right?" G said simultaneously with S's, "We'll take you back to the house!!"

"Take me where there's *FOOD*," Dorian prompted, smiling and brushing past them to climb into the back of the car.

"We're fine -- but we've been walking for a few hours now, so..." 'So let us in the car, shut up, and drive' was implied.

"Yes, Major!" G cried, slipping back into the car even as Klaus climbed into it. "We haven't found anyone yet, but C and M are out, too. The others... Z has already called the CIA to let them know what was discovered, and so everything should be taken care of by the time we're back!"

"There's more -- I can give a name to that agent, and the hotel where the KGB was staying should be investigated; the owners are at least sympathizers," the German muttered, as Dorian got into the car and sat beside him.

"For now, though, *feed* me. I don't care if we have to drive through somewhere or something," Dorian said, reaching for Klaus's hand. "THEN we can go back to espionage."

"Hmn, we're not too far, driving, from the house now," Klaus uttered, rubbing his fingers against the back of Dorian's hand. "Drive, S."

"Yes, sir!" the agent replied promptly, sending the car out of the hotel parking lot.

Once they were on their way, it wasn't so bad, and Dorian couldn't help but keep smiling. /We have names. Klaus will be able to close this off, and so will I./ He'd never wanted to hurt anyone before. He really didn't want to hurt anyone *now*, but killing the man would prevent anyone else from ever suffering at his hands the way that they had, and that was what was important to Dorian. /Good.../

"Which agents are still out?" Klaus suspected that they'd probably gone out scurrying aimlessly again, though hopefully not in a drove. "When we get back, I want them recalled. The KGB is pulling out now, or is already in the process of doing so; we've put them on edge already, and we don't need fatalities."

"Just C and M, sir. The others are still back at the house. Z said he didn't want us all scrambling around like idiots trying to get ourselves killed when what we needed to do was find you, Major!" G announced with some cheer.

THAT made Dorian chuckle. "Hm. Z. Eberbach in the making," he teased.

"A kinder one, perhaps," Klaus granted with a shrug -- he was glad that some of his better senses had worn off on the younger agent, just as they'd done on A. "Good -- now, what's this I hear about you've finally stopped wearing dresses, G?"

Agent G smiled back at him, face lighting up at the question. "It's just not as much fun without you, sir!" he said, nodding. "Besides. Without you there, the Chief feels me up."

Everyone in the car heard a muttering in response to that, and Dorian was quite sure it was both nasty, and uttered in Russian. "Tell him to keep his nasty hands off of you -- because I'm not planning on staying in America for much more than a couple more weeks."

"Yes, *SIR*!!" Oh, the Alphabets were so rigorous in their replies sometimes! S and G both had spoken that phrase and they were beaming fit to be tied! "So you're coming home to Germany soon?" G asked, unable to help himself.

"When the month is over," Klaus told them, shifting a little the clasp of Dorian's hand within his. He wanted to pull the other man close and apologize for getting them caught because of his rash quickness, but that would wait.

"After all," Dorian said, "I'd just as soon not work with the Americans. They're a strange lot, and it'd be better to work in Europe..." And there were better museums to rob in Europe, too!

"Idiot yanks couldn't even solve their own mole problems," Klaus growled, shaking his head. That was the last thing said, as the car began to roll over familiar ground -- turned left onto Bull Hill, and then another left onto Sunrise Street, all the way down to the end, and over the gravel driveway.

"Now you can have food, Dorian."

"Oh, *thank* you!" Dorian told him effusively, smiling. It was a little bit of fun-making, but it wasn't meant badly.

It was agreeing with Klaus's good mood, though, and he took it the right way, opening the door for Dorian to run him out of the car first. "Come on! Get out, you idiot!!"

The man folded up out of the car, long legs stretching, arms reaching upward. "Mmmmm, that feels good!" he declared even as his stomach rumbled hungrily and G giggled.

Klaus pushed at Dorian, a hand on either side of his waist as he laughed wolfishly. "Walk. Up the steps, into the house."

THAT was a delight, and Dorian sighed with pleasure as he headed in the indicated direction, shivering slightly. G and S, on the other hand... Both mouths were wide open as they watched their Major, their *Major*, laughing with *Eroica*.

S shivered violently. "All's not right with the world," he whispered hoarsely to G once they were out of range.

"What... do you think is going on?" G asked in a tense breath. Lord, maybe Klaus had been rightfully dismissed for insanity!!

"I think," S gulped, "that Eroica must have *finally* gotten *laid*!"

"No!" G said in shock, starting to go in through the garage. "No that couldn't... I mean, it's the *MAJOR*!!"

"Did you see him SMILING!?" S hissed, stopping almost dead as he saw that the Major and Eroica had paused to talk with Z. "Really!" he whispered. "I mean... YOU know..."

"I... guess..."

"The hotel is in North Adams -- the 'Towne' Inn or some such foppery. It was crawling with Soviets. Mischa was... kind enough to let us just leave," Klaus was telling Z just then.

Z's blue eyes widened, all of the Alphabets looking at one another. "He... just let you go?" he asked, blinking almost audibly.

"He just let us go," Klaus confirmed. No need to tell Z about what had passed, or the information given to them. "Who knows his reasoning -- I won't question it. We walked here from North Adams, though -- until G and S spotted us. He's had enough time that he's gone, with the information he got from the Yank -- but I know that Yank's name, and the CIA can find him on their own." Of course, he and Dorian would have to talk to the CIA when they arrived, but probably not be for several hours yet.

"Yes, sir," Z answered, nodding, a smile settling on his face. "It only took you a day, Major. I think that ought to be enough to convince anyone you're a marvelous contractor!"

That got a slightly brighter smile from Klaus than the steady, casual one he was already wearing. "Old experience shouldn't be let waste -- keep the CIA from getting near Lord Gloria and I for a bit. I don't want to be debriefed yet." Which meant that something, some conversation had happened with Mischa, and they needed to collaborate on what had happened. "Come on, Dorian -- let's head into the house."

"And if I don't get something to eat soon, my stomach will gnaw through my backbone," Dorian said by way of agreement, waving as the two of them took off up the stairs, Klaus's hand at the small of his back along the way.

Behind them, silence reigned for a few long moments as the Alphabets stared after them, the lot of them shocked as much by the smile as the touch. Finally, S swallowed hard and said just loudly enough for the rest of them to hear, "Oh, yeah. Eroica finally got laid..."

"Shhhh!" A almost startled, shaking his head. "I... I don't know about that, so don't...!"

"NO idle gossip!" Z said firmly. "We don't know and it's none of our business, so!"

"We all want the Major back, don't we?" A asked the gathered agents. A chorus of affirmative answers came back to him, a fair babble of them. "Then don't start gossip," he finished. "It's none of our business whatever they do."

"Well," S said solemnly, "it's not so much gossip as..." He groped momentarily for the right words. "Wanting to see him remain this *happy*," he finally said decisively. Generally, the Major was scary, and if he ever caught them having THIS conversation, it'd be straight to Alaska with them all! Still, they wanted him to be happy. Everyone was terrified of the Major, true, but they were also very fond of him. If Eroica made him happy, all the better. They liked Eroica, too, even if he WAS trouble from the word go!

"I think he'd be happier if he didn't hear us talking about this," was Z's observation. "Now, start the reports so there'll be less to do when the CIA comes around..."

"Yes, sir," several of them answered at once, and then they went to work.


Upstairs, Dorian was delving firmly into the refrigerator. He'd found another of the sandwiches he'd been munching on last night and several other good things and with a satisfied sigh, he placed them all on the table. "There!" he nearly purred. "Ohh, I'm *starving*!"

"Then stop fussing, and start eating," Klaus said, grabbing the loaf of italian bread they'd bought a few days before; he broke off a piece and started to munch on that.

"I got out enough for you," he was informed around Dorian's mouthful of sandwich. "Mmmmmmmm!"

"It's been a good day," Klaus sighed, moving to sit down. God, how his body ached, the stumps of his fingers, still healing muscles of his chest; but it was a good ache, long missed. "Better relax now."

"Hmmm?" That sound was a questioning one, Dorian's mouth still full.

"We're on American soil, Dorian -- which means a CIA debrief once they get here. We'll be hauled to the nearest facility and questioned thoroughly," Klaus shrugged, not looking *happy* about it, but tolerant of the idea. "You going to be okay with that?"

The blond thief swallowed, shrugged slightly. "So long as they don't touch me," he decided. "If one of them touches me, I might hit them, but other than that." He wouldn't like going without Klaus, but there wasn't much to be done about that!

"Each of us will be done separately, so... so don't tell them the details of what's on the paper, why, or any of that. Save us both trouble," Klaus smiled.

"I'll tell them I slept through most of it," Dorian said. "It's true, so it's not like I actually saw anything, anyway."

"Good." Klaus finished the heel of thick crunchy bread, and then went back to get a drink of water. "Do you want a nap...? Otherwise we won't be able to sleep for another day."

That gained him a nod as Dorian finished off the first half of his sandwich and started on the second. "In that case, yes." Yes because he wasn't about to give up the opportunity to lay down with Klaus, CIA or no CIA!!

Klaus also wanted a moment to relax with Dorian, make sure he really was okay, that they were both still... "All right". He finished his drink of water and then sat down to watch the elegant thief eat in a fast, inelegant way.

"Done," Dorian declared, wiping his mouth quickly. "C'mon."

It didn't take the two of them long to head up to the next floor, and close the door behind them. Klaus finally took off his leather jacket, the piece of paper tucked carefully into his suitcase. Then he toed off his shoes. "Stay mostly dressed," he ordered, though he undid his shirt-cuffs, and unbuttoned his collar a few buttons.

The British man followed suit, only kicking off his shoes before climbing into the bed still wearing his clothes, watching as Klaus came closer. "I love you," he said almost helplessly, smiling at the other man.

"I know," Klaus granted, expression still a pleased one as he laid down on the bed, lean form stretched out on it -- and Dorian was soon pressed against him. "Hmn. We did well today."

"We'll do better next time," was the answer. Dorian wasn't particularly sleepy, but he enjoyed laying there next to Klaus. It was marvelous.

Klaus, however, fully understood the sense of sleeping before the CIA arrived. Allies' agencies were nearly as brutal as the enemies, sometimes. /Never as bad as... mmm./ "Ja." Klaus was already closing his eye, and Dorian soon felt him nod off.

For a while, Dorian laid there awake, hand lightly stroking over Klaus's shoulder, his head cradled on the one opposite it. Finally, sleep took him, as well, and rest was a very good idea.


It was perhaps five hours later when the CIA van rolled up, and Lt. Col Bernard stepped out of the vehicle, marched up the steps of the sleepy-seeming house, and rang the doorbell. It was answered by a tall blond man, obviously German, who eyed them solemnly. "Come in," he said quietly, nodding his hello. "The contractors are asleep. They and I will require debriefing."

"Wake the both of them up, then -- we have a van to take you to the facility in," Bernard said, showing his ID clearly to the German as he stepped into the front hall. "You are...?"

"Z," was the clear answer. "A, go fetch Eroica and the Major."

Agent A moved out of the great room with a nod to the Lt. Col, and moved up the stairs to awake the two by knocking heavily on the door.

"Major?" Bernard asked in curiosity. "I was told they were both civilians."

"Eberbach was formerly of NATO," Z informed him. "The other was one of our contractors." Now, they both were, but there was no reason to talk about that yet.

"Eberbach... hmn. Name's familiar," Bernard shrugged, thinking for a moment. "Oh, yes -- the NATO man who fronted the intelligence agencies when our president and the Prime minster were nearly assassinated?"

"Right. The contractor's the one that helped him get the code and get the device out on time." That was a little bit of a stretch of the truth, but not TOO much.

"Then they must be a tight team," Bernard approved, while he heard footsteps coming down the stairs.

"They're the best," Z said simply, turning his head to watch as Eroica and the Major made their way down. The blond man was yawning and stretching, shoes in his hand, Klaus and A right behind him. Dorian wore neat, if close-fitting, tan slacks, and a brilliant pale blue poet's shirt, sandals for shoes; while Klaus looked semi-professional in crisp brown trousers and a white button down shirt, of which he was buttoning the cuffs, no tie. A plain leather jacket was tossed over one arm. They seemed normal enough, until Bernard got a look at their faces. The blond's scars struck him as particularly revolting, and the half-recognizable face of Iron Klaus was drastically altered by the patch over his eye.

"Get your coat, Eroica," Klaus told Dorian pleasantly enough

"'ll be right back," Dorian promised, moving to the kitchen to fetch it.

"Major," Bernard greeted with a nod.

A glance at the man's suit told Klaus nothing, so he just nodded in turn -- not recognizing this Yank. "Retired; do you foresee any hitches in this debriefing...?" He let that dangle, wanting to also be supplied with the man's name.

"Bernard." It was given him and the CIA agent shook his head. "We're curious as to why the KGB let you go so easily. It's the only foreseeable hitch."

"It's understandable, though the explanation of 'why' is very simple," Klaus told him, drawing back his right hand, and pocketing it almost immediately -- the shake had been brief, and *odd* feeling, too quick to register why. "I will request now that Eroica be treated carefully."

That brought a raise of eyebrows, the American looking at him. "Why?" he asked simply, needing the answer.

"Due to unfortunate circumstances of trauma he doesn't react well to strangers touching or threatening him in even the vaguest of manners," Klaus warned in a crisp, detached tone.

"We'll keep that in mind." That was the closest thing Klaus would get to a promise, and Dorian was coming back now, jacket on, so it was time to be quiet about the matter.

"Ready," the thief said promptly, slipping hands into his pockets.

Klaus looked to Z for a moment, nodded, and then started out ahead of Bernard, slipping on and zipping up his leather jacket.

It was a two hour drive ahead of them, at least.


Nervously, Dorian shifted upon the chair in which he sat. The room was lit by a single lamp. The pool of light didn't spill very far because of the shade over it despite its fluorescent bulb. The thing had a bad tendency to flicker, the sound of it buzzing. It was enough to drive him crazy, but the chair in which he sat was uncomfortable, to boot, and the battered gray table upon which his elbows rested was grimy. /Disgusting,/ he thought, trying not to sigh or shift nervously.

"Let's start by you telling us how you got involved in this?" The investigator, Agent Williams, began -- though Bernard was sitting in on it, note-pad ready. Dorian could hear, too, the hum of a running tape recorder.

"We've been on holiday," Dorian said. "So we went hiking up Mt. Greylock. It'd been a beautiful day, and the weather was nice, so the hike wasn't bad. We got to the top without seeing anyone else and headed up the observation tower to look out, because the view's incredible. Klaus -- Major Eberbach -- happened to look down and see someone we recognized. Mischa the Bear Cub was exchanging information with a man in jeans and black t-shirt. I couldn't see anything descriptive on it, but he also had a denim jacket and a shaggy haircut, very late seventies, but most of it was covered with a 'New York Yankees' ballcap," Dorian told them, repeating what he'd told the Alphabet. "Cheap off the rack glasses and running shoes. They made the exchange and the man headed down the trail while Mischa went towards a parked car. From there, we ran down and caught the license plate. He saw us, but we hoped that it wouldn't matter. From there, we hiked back down, not seeing the agent, and went to dinner at a local diner, where we ran into the NATO agents who were here."

"How did you recognize the Soviet was 'Mischa'?" Williams requested of him, "And why, if you're on vacation, did you run to get that plate number?"

"Habit," Dorian replied. "Old ones die hard, and when Klaus ran out, I followed. It's pure habit. We recognized Mischa because we've run into him several times before -- it's one of the hazards of working for NATO, I think."

"Why has Major Eberbach stepped down from his position, only to do contractor work for the same place he left? Pardon me asking, but it seems a bit suspicious to *me*," the yank drawled. "And just why do you work for NATO?"

Dorian's mouth trembling slightly. "I work for NATO because Major Eberbach works for NATO," he said simply. "We were captured by the East Germans and tortured. Pardon me for saying so," he turned the man's words back on him, "but it was a highly unpleasant experience and I'd just as soon not tell you about it as it has no bearing on this matter."

"All right, all right," Williams said, putting his hands up into the air in a sort of 'surrender' position, though it seemed more flippant than truthful. "Tell me what happened at the restaurant, right up to when Major Eberbach reassumed control of his ex-unit?"

"When we ran into the agents, they'd just stopped for a quick bite before finding somewhere to stay, I'd assume. We offered to allow them to use the house at which we were staying and gave them the tag number of Mischa's car, they accepted and followed us home. After some amount of conversation that evening for which I was not present, the offer to contract the Major's services in helping find Mischa and the other KGB agents was made and accepted. After that, everyone got a good night's sleep to start the next morning fresh. Eberbach can be a demon of a slave driver when he wants to be." Oh, that was deliciously true sometimes, too!

"Why weren't you present for the conversation, and when were you told of the decision?"

"I'd already showered and dressed for bed. I'd left my book downstairs, and I asked the Major to fetch it for me, as he was still dressed. The conversation passed at that point, and I was informed when he brought the book upstairs to me."

Williams gave him a questioning look at that. "Does he inform you of everything, you think?"

"Yes." There was no hesitation in that, no pause. "I believe he does."

"So I can take it that you trust each other's ideas. All right. What happened the next day?"

Dorian wished for a cigarette. He wasn't as much of a smoker as Klaus, but it might help settle his nerves a bit. "We got up and checked on the surveillance teams before going out with Z to search the local inns and hotels to see if we could find Mischa's car. We had checked several of them and it was nearing lunch, I think, when we spotted Mischa himself by luck in a cemetery. He was making an exchange with the man of before, so we pulled into a driveway farther down and made our way to see what we could see. Once we'd seen enough -- the packet in exchange for jewels -- Klaus stepped forward to try and get the documents back from him. That was when they caught us."

"And after that?" Williams prompted of him, sitting on the edge of the table near Dorian, just perched there lightly. "The Soviets caught you, but why were you so easily released?"

"I can't say for certain," Dorian replied, "but I think that Mischa discovered what had been done in East Germany and felt... guilty."

"You were released from the Soviets out of... guilt?" Williams asked with heavy incredulism in his voice. "I can't believe that."

A shrug came in reply. "You asked me, I told you what I thought. Mischa didn't *say*, 'Golly, gentlemen, I certainly feel bad for you! I do believe I'll let you go!'. He just *did*. There wasn't an explanation. That's why *I* think he did it, but he could just as well have done it to give them an opportunity to get away. They're a bit nervous about us. We've been known to steal planes, art and anything else we can get from them. Maybe they didn't feel like having anything stolen this week."

"How long were you held, and then what happened once you were released?"

"Maybe as long as four or five hours. I fell asleep where they were keeping us, and when I woke, Mischa was saying they were going to let us go. He walked us down to the lobby and set us to walking, which we did for nearly three hours before we ran into two of the NATO agents who picked us up and returned us home."

"And what then?" Williams, it seemed, was intent on squeezing him dry of information, even when he had so little to take from him.

"And then Z called you while we ate and we had a nap before you came," Dorian answered primly.

"A nap? You sleep an awful lot," he observed. "Why did you have a nap, if you already slept when the KGB had you?"

"Because I was tired," the interrogator was informed. "Have YOU ever been tortured for information? It doesn't exactly leave you in the best state of being, physically. The Major and I are both still recovering. We sleep when we can." Which was together and often, much more so than ever before.

"All right -- you might be brought back again. Don't go anywhere until we're done with all of you -- tell the retired major to come in when you get into the hall," Williams uttered, moving back from the table to flip through Bernard's notes.

With a sigh, Dorian gladly stood and abandoned the room, heading out to the hallway again. "They're ready for you," Dorian told him, giving him a faintly relieved smile.

Klaus flicked his cigarette into the ashtray, rising to his feet. "That was quick."

"They seemed happy with a synopsis," Dorian told him, shrugging. "I don't know how they'll be with you, though. You weren't sleeping, and I was."

"Ignorance is bliss," Klaus sighed, handing Dorian what was left of his cigarette pack, and the lighter. "Otherwise I'll just get ash everywhere." And then he entered the little room. It was gray, dingy, lit by a single lamp -- about what he had expected.

"Have a seat, Major Eberbach," the interrogator said. "I'm Williams. I'll be conducting this debriefing."

"I hope this will be short, Agent Williams; I've missed two doses of medication, and don't care to miss a third," he said seriously, moving abruptly to sit down in the empty chair. Iron Klaus was not the sort of man to be scared by a dingy trick with a cheap light.

"I doubt it should take too long. There are only a few things we need to go over. I'd like you to begin by telling me how you first became involved in this matter." It was more or less the same question first asked to Dorian.

"Eroica and I had hiked Mt. Greylock that day, and we'd entered the observation tower to see the view; I happened to look down and see the Bear Cub being given an envelope by a yank dressed up as a bad tourist," Klaus replied simply. The briefer the better, so he could get home sooner. "When I realized who it was, in *America*, consorting with a Yank, I went down the stairs -- and caught sight of his license plate number. After that, Eroica and I hiked back down, and decided to get dinner."

"Did the Russian see you?"

"Yes; the hike back down was a wary one. I was aware Mischa could have circled back and ambushed us then."

"What happened when you finished hiking down?"

"We got into the rental car and I drove us to a restaurant," Klaus said, just as crisply as everything else -- omitting completely the revelation he'd had when they'd *been* driving, the way he'd pulled off to the side of the road for a moment or five.

"And when you got there?"

"Ten members of the Alphabet were there, hunched over a map. the imbecile of a Chief sent them over here without accommodations set up, so I offered the spare rooms and basement to them, and Eroica ordered food to be sent to the house. Once we were there, Eroica and I kept away from the Alphabet and let them set up in the basement without interference."

"Tell me what happened from then until you were captured," Williams asked him. The steady scritch of Bernard's pencil continued to sound, though he remained silent.

"When I went downstairs that evening to get Eroica's book, I met agent A -- A told me how the men missed me, and how they needed help to better organize themselves. He asked, and I agreed to aid them -- told them all to go to sleep, and that in the morning I would head their investigation. In the morning, Eroica, Z and I went out, after I was filled in on the mission, with a phone book. Hotel to hotel to find the car with he tag we'd seen; we passed a cemetery on the way, spotted Mischa and his man. There were children there, though, so we drove past, and then doubled back on foot. The three of us waited in the bushes until the schoolchildren were gone, and then I moved in. Not long after that, we were captured."

"Why?"

"Why were we captured?"

"Yes."

Klaus finally made a movement -- a shift, recrossing long legs. "I failed to notice the KGB agents in the opposite tree-line. We were outnumbered, and I didn't want to risk either of my allies being shot. On the way to being walked into the Bear Cub's car, Eroica inadvertently provided a distraction, which I aided in -- during that, I gave the signal to Z and he ran for the car."

"What did the KGB do then?"

"I had... snarled at them, I suppose, after one of them pushed Eroica; they just herded us into the car carefully, and then Mischa watched us the entire drive to the hotel."

"So there was no use of overt force?"

"No, unless you count the obvious unspoken firearm as overt force."

"What happened when you reached the hotel?"

"We were told to get out of the car. Mischa told me that if I ran, Eroica would be shot; after that order, I assumed all guns were trained on him, so I didn't make any stray moves. In the hotel, we split into two groups at the elevator, and went up; Mischa questioned me about my... missing fingers -- oh, I'd punched him with my right hand at the cemetery. I forgot to mention that."

"Why did you punch him?" was the next question, skipping back to that action.

"He mentioned why I was dismissed from my position -- not dismissed. 'Retired'." Klaus made another shift, folding his arms in a manner that shielded that right hand.

"And why was that?"

"It doesn't apply to these circumstances," was the cold response.

"It does as the Bear Cub saw them," the interrogator said firmly.

"Mental instability." It stung his pride to admit that to the *fucking* idiotic Yanks, but he managed.

"What happened when you got out of the elevator?"

"One of the Soviets pushed Eroica out of the elevator. I saw him trip, and... yelled at them. I told them I'd kill every one of them if he was touched again. After that, they just herded us to a suite, where Mischa told us to sit down. He ordered half of his men to do something I can't remember, the other half to look through any recent Stasi reports for mention of myself or Eroica. We talked a little until the report arrived, he stepped into the hall, and Eroica fell asleep in there somewhere. When the Bear Cub came back in, he told me to wake Eroica up, and that he was going to escort us to the lobby."

"Why did he do that?"

"He felt he owed us for prior treatment committed in the name of the communist cause."

"So you believe he let you go out of some form of guilt." That sounded sarcastically spoken, and not at all as if he'd been believed.

"Not guilt -- honor, which right now I'd believe you idiots Yanks don't know shit about," Klaus uttered in a low tone of disgust.

"Why do you say that, Mr. Eberbach?" Mister, and not Major.

"It doesn't pertain to this mission, Agent Williams." That was flat, amused a little, and Klaus wished he hadn't given his cigarettes to Dorian.

"Let's go over what Mischa might have said to you while you were captured..."

"What do you mean?" Klaus asked, glaring at the agent. "'Go over' how?"

"What did he say to you while you were at the hotel?"

"We talked about the run-in with the Stasi -- how hard it is to learn how to shoot left handed after so many years of doing it the other way; how Eroica could fall asleep at the drop of hat; honor; the Geneva Convention, and then he left the room. Then he came back, he told me the report was going to be removed from KGB records, because it was a mark of shame for the Soviets." Some of it was added in to save himself embarrassment, some paraphrased, and some left out. The paper... /Too important to let the Yanks know about./

"And then he just let you go."

"Then he just let us leave, yes; It wasn't as stupid of him as it seemed. He knew I had a weapons on me and that I could use it before he could get it away from me. By releasing us and having us walk back, he bought himself hours of time to leave," Klaus drawled.

THAT made more sense than their being let go out of guilt, so the interrogator nodded. "And after that?"

"We walked and jogged some back towards Pittsfield; then we ran into G and S -- they drove us back to the house."

"And the rest of it? Until we arrived."

"We told Z what happened, I told him to contact your agency, and then Eroica and I left the Alphabet in the basement and went to rest for a while, until you arrived." Which clearly gave them time to collaborate on their stories, if they weren't supposedly resting. Klaus nearly winced as he realized that.

The CIA agent snorted. "There's a lot of resting going on in this story. I wonder why that is?"

"Because both of us have injuries that are still healing," Klaus snapped at the man. Very similar to what Dorian had said, so it could have been another collaboration... it was an explanation that could be checked on, though so the interrogator went forward.

"Let's go back to the conversation with the Bear Cub..."

Chapter 16 by Kat and Tzigane
When they finally let Klaus go, he walked back into the hallway to find Dorian curled in a chair, half leaning against the back of it, one leg sprawled under him as he listed to the left, head lolling against the back of the chair beside him.

Klaus sat down in the chair Dorian was listing into, waking him gently, with a careful shake. "We can't go yet, but you should wake up."

"Mmmm," Dorian answered, sighing and laying his head on Klaus's shoulder, eyes still closed. "When?" When could they go, he meant, though he wasn't quite capable of more coherent questioning. It had been a busy few days and there had been nothing to do but sit and be bored while waiting for Klaus, so he had slept, again.

"Once they've verified our stories as best they can," Klaus murmured, shifting his aching body closer to Dorian's. "Hopefully soon; I need to take my medications..." Dorian's questioning had lasted half of an hour, if that -- Klaus's had stretched to four straight, his voice aided by lukewarm soda. They'd kept trying to find out every last thing Mischa had said to him, and believed at last that they had.

Believed.

"Mmmm." That still sounded sleepy, Dorian's head cradled on his shoulder. "Took a long time," he noted. "I thought they weren't ever going to let you out. Missed you."

"Yeah. But we did a good job today," Klaus told him, moving his arm to snag Dorian's leanly muscled body closer to him. "Enjoy the rest of this vacation, then take care of business, and..." He shrugged, but it as a calm, easy gesture. "We'll manage. You just keep resting here, and I'll wake you up when it's time to go."

"Hmm." Still, now that Klaus was back, he was a bit more awake. "And then after that, we can see what we might like to do," he said almost dreamily. "I think contracting will be good for us, Klaus..."

"It will for me... would you be happy with that?" Now they had a foot in the door through this mission, and Agents A-Z could convince the chief to get them for missions that would suit them -- less work than he faced before, but God, it was something!

"Yes." That was said as if there was no other way for it to be, nothing else more perfect. "Once you're happy and I can stay with you, always... yes."

"You'd live with me at the Schloss?" /If I can still live there.../

"Wherever you are," Dorian answered him, eyes still closed. "I don't want to be away from you." /I can't bear to be apart.../

"Where do *you* want to live, though?" Klaus pressed. "I don't want to make all the decisions..."

That golden head lifted off of his shoulder, clear aquamarine gaze looking at him solemnly. "If you left it up to me, we'd travel all over Europe. I actually think that'd be much nicer than staying in one place all the time. I wouldn't mind living with you at the schloss, though, Klaus. That and the castle at North Downs... it's always right to have somewhere to call home."

"All over, then," Klaus uttered -- he liked that idea, since he was so used to moving constantly, place to place. "Hmnn, we'll decide more when we get back to the house."

"I'll get James to send a listing of the houses I've got. They're *dreadfully* expensive and he complains awfully when I want to open one of them up, but there's more than one," Dorian told him, smiling slightly. "All over."

"Just remember that I have a pension we can use," Klaus told him, settling closer to Dorian. A chance glance down the hall brought him back to himself, as he saw Agent Williams approaching -- probably with more questions to ask. Klaus didn't bother to pull back from Dorian, keeping his arm around the thief's narrow, muscular waist.

It was something that brought the CIA agent's eyebrows to rise, seeking his hairline as he stepped forward, clearing his throat. "Ah... Major. Eroica..."

"Yes?" Dorian drawled, one of his own eyebrows rising in response to the man's expression.

"I want each of you to make a written statement of the events, and then you'll be driven back, along with Agent Z," Williams told them.

The thief shrugged slightly. "Not a problem, I don't think," he said, glancing at Klaus to be sure that was so.

"I'll have to dictate mine," Klaus told the agent, without bothering to explain why.

A glance at the man's ruined right hand was enough to convince the man that it would be necessary, though his lips thinned slightly, a sigh held back just barely. "I'll get someone to do it," he simply said. "Both of you, come with me. I'll settle you in a room so you can write."

Klaus rose to his feet, tugging at Dorian only a little since the thief was to his feet just as quickly; then Klaus let his grasp loosen, to a hold at Dorian's elbow with his better left hand. "And this will be the last time we have to tell this?"

"For now," Williams said simply. "There might be more questions later, if anything doesn't check out, but quite possibly."

"Of course," Klaus murmured, nodding. "You have the number to contact us at for the remainder of our stay in America; beyond that, NATO can find me." /Because I don't know where I'm going to be living./

With a nod, the agent turned to head back in the direction of the interrogation room, and Klaus and Dorian followed him. Dorian stretched as they walked, back popping slightly with the motion. They were soon settled in a room with a table and two chairs, Williams pausing as he watched them. "I'll bring in someone," he said, giving Dorian a pen and a notebook. "You go ahead and start writing."

The urge to snap out a quick affirmative 'yes, sir!' was difficult to resist, but Dorian managed, only poking out his tongue at the man's back in disgust as Williams turned around to walk out of the room.

"Don't do that," Klaus chided him, as he sat down at the other chair and relaxed into it, knocking a cigarette free of his pack. Last one -- a pity. He'd have to do without until they could get to the store the next day. /I'll manage./ "We'll have to run a load of laundry once the Alphabet leave."

"Towels," Dorian agreed, beginning to scrawl out the details he'd already given the interrogator. "There're probably not any left. Besides," he noted, looking across the table at Klaus. "He deserved it!"

"You only had him asking you idiotic question for half an hour -- if must have asked me what Mischa told me forty times!" Another sigh, as he watched Dorian write. "I'm glad we've finally started to figure things out between us. I know this isn't the place at all to talk like this, but I don't give a fuck. Idiot Yanks."

That gained him a smile, a tilt of Dorian's head as his fingers paused momentarily in their writing. "I'm glad," he said simply, eyes conveying so much that words did not. "And he deserved it from both of us, since I had to sit alone without you while he asked you forty times what Mischa told you!"

"'s why I don't like Yanks," Klaus sighed, looking to the door. He'd have to tell it all over again, and his voice would go! He *knew* it!

"Well," Dorian told him, scrawling out a few more lines, "if it makes you feel at all better, I think most of 'em are scared clean to death of you, darling. I mean, I heard two of them as they passed in the hall speaking in glowing terms of sheer terror. You'd have been proud."

"Sheer terror?" Klaus asked in an amused term. "Why -- I haven't yelled but so much today."

"*Reputation*," he was informed with a nod as the door opened and a mousy secretary peeked around it. The woman looked nervous as a long tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs and she was clutching her steno pad to her chest, dark curly hair frizzed slightly, brown eyes wide.

"Erm," she began timidly. "Major Eberbach?"

"Ja -- let's begin," he told her, and then began to tell his story for what had to be at least one time too many.


"We'll see you when you arrive back in Europe, sir," Z said firmly, nodding at them both as he offered his hand first to Klaus and then to Dorian. "Thank you for your help. Lord Gloria, I'm sure your accountant will be sending an itemized statement...?"

"Of course," Dorian replied, more than a little amused. "Knowing Jamesie, he'll manage to recoup the cost of the house and all sorts of things!"

"The chief will be the one he has to deal with," A told him with no small amount of glee in his voice. "Sir... Major, we'll be looking forward to you coming back and helping NATO whenever possible."

"Thank you, Mr. A -- I'm looking forward to that, too," Klaus told the small agent as they shook hands.

"We'll see you soon," Z said again, and then the two Alphabets headed into the yard to slip into the last of the cars remaining.

Dorian smiled up at Klaus, slightly relieved. "Well. It's just you and me again, darling."

"It's still morning -- the sun is out, and after sleeping the past day.." And evening, but that had been lounging in bed a lot. He felt tired and lazy for having done *that*, so... "Let me go put on my trunks and then you can watch me freeze to death in the lake."

THAT gained him what was almost a wicked smirk, and the other man wrapped his arms about Klaus's neck, pushing him slightly to make him go into the house. "I'll pull you out when you turn to ice, so long as you aren't *too* far out. I wouldn't want to turn to ice with you," he teased, prodding.

"You know, it's hard to go up these steps with your arms around my neck like this," Klaus murmured, back-stepping up the last of the cement steps, and then from the platform into the house itself, dragging Dorian with him. "I won't go far. And if I haven't turned to ice that needs to be thawed out, we're going to hike around in the woods here -- the trees are beautiful..."

"And I'll have you all to myself," came the appropriately appreciative murmur, Dorian pressing his lips to Klaus's lightly.

A kiss carefully returned; Klaus was still adjusting to their more intimate touches, still accustoming himself to their feel and his comfort, to his personal control. Holding, hugging, touching was more familiar and more harmless, too, than some of the kisses that Dorian gave him. "Yes -- just you and I for the rest of this month."

"I can't wait," was the whisper, one that brushed his ear as Dorian momentarily held him close, hugging him tightly.

Warm arms around his neck, Dorian's now familiar body pressed close to his... Klaus sighed warmly, chest tightening as he ducked his head forward to rest on Dorian's shoulder. "I'd thought everything was over for both of us when I woke up in the hospital."

"Never." The sound of that was softly spoken, but it was uncompromising. There was no doubt in Dorian at that moment. "It will never be over for us."

"Hmn, I hope you're right." Klaus's voice was a thick murmur as he gave Dorian's torso a squeeze of pressure, not wanting to let go. "Those first days you were..."

"So sorry," Dorian said softly. "I couldn't sleep. I kept seeing everything in my dreams and when I looked at you, all I could see was... that it was all my fault."

"You don't still think that, do you?"

"...sometimes," Dorian admitted quietly. "Mostly, I think it was neither of our faults. It's not that I feel as if I'm responsible. It's more that I feel... guilty. Even if it's not my fault."

"Guilty... I feel that sometimes," Klaus murmured, starting to pull back -- but it was only to guide Dorian upstairs with him, crossing through the kitchen to mount the stairs. "We... couldn't do anything, it's just..."

"It's just that the human mind wants to come up with a reason for things that happen to a person. If something terrible happened, then there must be a reason why, and it must be with you, somehow," Dorian reasoned.

"Well it wasn't *you*, so..." Klaus shrugged as he entered the bedroom with Dorian, and moved to the suitcase to pull out a pair of swim trunks. Bonham packing for him was as bad as his butler packing for him. "I'm just glad we're better than we were before. I... couldn't have managed if you didn't ever get better."

Dorian's voice was soft when he answered. "I'm sorry to have been such a burden on you. I hope I won't be again."

"You weren't a burden, Dorian," Klaus told him, shaking the black, elastic waist-banded things out. "I was just as bad. You needed me to sit by your bed, and I wouldn't be anywhere else." Even now, they did the same, though it was less awkward now that they just outwardly *slept* with each other... and possibly more.

"Mmmm," came the murmured agreement, Dorian dropping onto the bed to watch him begin to undress. Klaus was still shy, but... there wasn't so much point in it, now. "Things will stay better," he said solemnly.

Still, point or no, Klaus wasn't going to be blatant like Dorian was. He ducked behind the little screen that separated the currently vacant computer desk from the rest of the room, and slid off his trousers, and on his trunks, behind it. "I really hope they do."

"They will," Dorian said again. "We have two more weeks here, Klaus. What do you think we had ought to do with them? And where should we go when we're ready to do so?"

"With the rest of our time here, I want to relax -- this area has a beautiful countryside, and I think we can both enjoy it... and I want to go into the downtown again and look at a few of those odd shops. I think I saw one that had antiques and things like you like."

"And you're willing to suffer through them for me?" came the teasing response as Klaus came back towards the bed. "Now that's..." Love, he would have said, but he wasn't sure he wanted to push that envelope just yet. "...truly magnificent of you!"

"If I go with you, you might decide to buy something, instead of just tracking it down for a later theft," Klaus told him good naturedly, striding towards Dorian; he wasn't conscious of the way he looked so much as he was of Dorian watching him. "I need to put a bandage over my eye so the spacer will stay in; I'll be back in a moment." What Dorian could see, in the clear light of day, was the dancing line-work of scars the Stasi officer had left on his chest and upper stomach; the symmetrical cuts that had gone through his pectorals and were still healing; each nipple sliced clean through and scarred that way.

/My poor, darling Klaus,/ he thought to himself, desperately sad for a moment. It hurt him, not because Klaus wasn't beautiful; after all, to him, Klaus would have been beautiful even had he been scarred much worse than he was! No, it hurt him because no one should ever have been allowed to hurt Klaus that way -- or to hurt *him*. /I'll find a way to make it up with you. When we go, when we find that man.../ Violence made him sick, but to make this up to Klaus...

He could live with it.

"All right, darling. Then, you can go and try the water. It's cool out today. I hope you don't get frost nipped toes!"

"If I do, I can just have you sit on them to warm them up," Klaus said in parting, as he moved down to the bathroom to tend to his eye. That was something, too, he didn't want to do with Dorian around -- it was a bit disgusting, having to blot up tears and secretions from the corners, clean there, and then tape a simple gauze square tightly in place all around the eye. It would get wet, but this way it couldn't fall out. That done, he stepped back into the hall and called, "Let's go!"

"Coming, Klaus!" THAT brought a few images to mind which were probably best not contemplated as Dorian smiled at him, moving close. "Let's go, then!"

/I have a sick, sick mind,/ Klaus thought mournfully as he started down the stairs ahead of Dorian, and then out the front hall. He knew he probably wouldn't get more than a few strokes in before he deemed the water too cold, but he wanted to give it a shot!

The walk to the pier was fairly brisk beneath the clouding-over sky, Dorian chuckling as he watched a few chill bumps raise up on Klaus's flesh. "Darling, I hope the water's warmer than the air," he said with what was almost enjoyment. "Truly, I do!"

"We'll see," Klaus said bravely, standing at the end of the pier and looking down into the lake's beauty. Oh, he was going to freeze... A moment of brief hesitation, and he dove in.

It was *just* as cold as he had thought it was going to be and maybe even colder! Out of pride alone, he didn't burst to the surface right away -- instead, he started to swim, down along the cement wall's line, towards the set of steps that lead into the water, a few hundred feet down.

"Is it cold?" Dorian called mischievously from the pier, seated on one of the pilings near the shore to watch him.

"Fuck... Yes!" Klaus called back between gasped breaths of air, still swimming, further and further, until the water was shallow and he stood, walking towards the steps. "No worse than when you dropped me in the lake in Alaska!"

"You had on more clothes, then!" came the amused yell, Dorian laughing softly. "I've got a towel for you!" He had one and it was waved about madly, the smile on his face one of pure delight.

"Good." Klaus didn't bother shouting -- just shivered that word, as he mounted the rough cement steps back onto the lawn again, nearly into the woods. Then he began to walk, shivering with every step, back towards Dorian and the house.

"That was an exercise in futility."

He was met halfway, and the other man smiled at those words. "Well, at least you got into the water. Maybe from here we can go somewhere warm, Greece or someplace, and then you can swim all you like," Dorian offered.

"Yes... we can do that -- after here." It meant more resting, of course, but he was getting accustomed to that idea, to Dorian still... "And after that we can go back to Europe." No harm in delaying the inevitable!

"Thank you, darling." And that was meant from the bottom of Dorian's heart, how his face lifted, almost begging for a kiss!

Klaus was wrapping the towel around his shoulders just then, though he was looking clearly at Dorian. "Want to help warm me up?"

"I'd love to," was the soft answer, Dorian's lips parting just the way Klaus loved for them to!

His sweater got wet from Klaus's dripping hair and from his still water chilled body when Klaus pulled him close to steal a kiss. "Inside the house," he shivered, "so I won't be cold anymore."

"I'll start a fire while you get dry," Dorian whispered against his lips, nose rubbing lightly at one high, cold cheekbone. "We can change into pajamas and lounge in front of it for the evening. You think?"

"I think I need to keep you away from romance novels," Klaus sighed, but nodded. Even the worst cliches sometimes made for good real-life moments, he decided as they started across the near part of the line, and then the driveway, to the steps.

The objection that gained him was light, only teasing. "Romance novels occasionally have fine notions," was the protest. "The only way that could be better were if we were both naked in front of the fire, Klaus, and I didn't suggest *that*, you know." He rather figured Klaus would have a massive internal hemorrhage and die of a nose bleed if he'd actually MEANT a suggestion like that, regardless of what went on between the two of them late at night!!

Somehow what they did under the covers was so greatly different from what they did out from under them. "I'm glad you didn't," Klaus uttered. /Because if you did, I might take you up on it, and then... then we could both end up hurt. I don't know./ He was glad Dorian seemed to understand his limits now, even if he teased at them.

"I love you," was the solemn answer as they slipped into the warmth of the house. "I wouldn't want to make you unhappy. Go upstairs and shower. I'll slip into the living room and check the wood box."

"I'll bring some of what's behind the house in tomorrow," the German told him, heading up the stairs. The towel around his shoulder could only absorb -- it didn't help with warmth much.

"Go get warm!" Dorian told him again, parting ways and heading for the other room to make the promised fire.

It was twenty minutes later that Klaus returned, already dressed in warm pajamas that helped to add to his chilled body's warmth. The shower had helped, but not *quite* enough -- somehow the lake's chill had seeped into his bones, it felt. Still, there was hope that Dorian's fire would help to finish thawing him out, and if not, Dorian himself would.

There was only a single lamp on in the living room, but that was typical of Dorian, somehow. It helped to instill that sense of romance that the other man liked, and Klaus wasn't going to yell at him about it. How could he, when he was laying on a blanket in front of the fireplace in the white silk pajamas that absolutely made his heart flutter with a tray of sandwiches and coffee next to him? *Waiting* for Klaus to be beside him.

"Hi."

"You're not cold in that?" Klaus asked him as he padded across the wooden floor, onto the living-room rug. Coffee? Dorian could be painfully thoughtful at times, though Klaus suspected Dorian did things like this as much for his own comfort as for Klaus's. He sat down beside the earl, and patted the reclining man's stomach with a smile. "Hello. Been waiting long?"

"Forever." It was said teasingly, but the double meaning was unmistakable even as Dorian smiled at him. "I was hungry, and I figured coffee and sandwiches wouldn't be a bad idea. Watched the weather. They say it's going to rain..."

"If I thought you could control the weather, I'd suspect you've orchestrated it all from the cold water to the rain," Klaus murmured as he picked up a cup of the coffee -- the one that was nearly black, assuming the pale brown colored cup was Dorian's, half cream, half coffee.

Those blue eyes became wide, innocent, remarkably, startlingly gorgeous. "Would I do a thing like that?" Dorian murmured.

"Maybe -- if it rains, there would be no way to even bother doing anything else today but sit here," Klaus said, as if Dorian needed reminding of that wonderful fact. "The Alphabet have been gone long enough that we won't have to worry about them turning around for any reason."

The smile that gained him was positively wanton as Dorian laid back, gaze gleaming up at him from beneath golden lashes. "Mmmhmmmmmm..." Klaus's hand was still on his belly and he felt almost as if he should be purring in response.

Klaus seemed only half aware of his touching Dorian there, as he took a sip of the coffee, letting it settle warmly into his system. "Have... you read any of those books?"

"Started some of them," Dorian admitted. "I haven't learned anything I didn't know already, but I've only just started..." He'd begun with the rape trauma books, and those were things both of them had already been dealing with since they'd left Germany. Guilt wasn't new, the feelings of just being disgusting and dirty that had been contended with... nothing new, really. But apparently it was normal, and there was something vaguely reassuring about that.

"Hmn. If you learn anything interesting, tell me," Klaus mused.

"I will." It was a promise, spoken solemnly, Dorian looking at him with serious expression. "Klaus. Are you pleased to be here, this way, now? With me?" It was a question meant solely for reassurance for both of them, and in some ways it was meant as an overture.

"You mean here in American with you... like this?" 'This' being the way they were about everything and about each other. "I... yeah. I am."

"I'm glad." The way those words parted his lips, the look of them as they curved upward, the expression of cat-that-ate-the-canary on Dorian's face... "Kiss me, Klaus." It was a whisper, an invitation, a need.

A kiss wasn't so hard for him to grant, though he first moved the coffee cups aside, and the plate Dorian had made up. Then he leaned in and over Dorian, pressing his mouth against the earl's inviting lips.

"Klaus..." It was a prayer barely heard and mostly felt as Dorian yielded to him beautifully, back arching slightly to press them together, his hands moving to lightly tug the German man closer. It was a delicious touch, the way his arms wrapped around broad shoulders, caresses stealing down Klaus's spine. "Mmmm..."

"I won't ever hurt you again, Dorian," Klaus murmured when he pulled back from the kiss. His body was fairly screaming at him to do more than just kiss the blond man, while his mind was screaming at him to stop. "You... you're beautiful, and I swear I won't ever hurt you again..."

"I love you." Those words were meant as much as they had ever been, Dorian's fingers lightly caressing over him. "I know. You... wouldn't hurt me by touching me, Klaus. I promise. If you could, I'd tell you..."

"Tell me what?" Klaus pressed softly, leaning down again to take another kiss.

"If you were... ohhhhh...." That was little more than a sigh, Dorian shifting to squirm slightly beneath him, fingers working up into Klaus's hair. "If you were hurting me," he managed to say, shivering. "I would tell you if you were hurting me..."

"I don't want to know -- I mean, I wouldn't want to find out if I were, I don't want to even get that close..." Klaus shuddered as he shifted closer to Dorian.

"I want you to touch me," Dorian told him tenderly, hands stroking down his side. "I want... I want to feel you against me, close, hot... I love you so..."

Klaus was terribly glad for warm pajamas just then, shivering at the touch for a moment. /'You see, it begins this way. It is always best to show a little of what you may do, do you not think, Eroica?'... No, no, he's not Stasi, he's Dorian, he's.../ Perhaps it was too blatantly sexual for Klaus just then, not as secure as their shared bed -- but for whatever reason, Klaus was assailed with thoughts and flickers of the humiliations pressed onto them.

The shiver went unnoticed, Dorian offering himself up to Klaus's hands, his kisses. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you. I love you..."

What to do? To... to give into memories of things that Dorian had told him were wrong, that shouldn't be the way they had been, or to give in to Dorian...? "I know," he whispered, seeing in his mind's eye the fear and pain that had been on Dorian's face when they were cutting his fingers off. With another shudder he just closed his eye and settled against Dorian, grasp a crushing one.

"...Klaus?" The sound of his name was questioning, worried. Dorian was still touching him, but the feel of those hands were now simply rubbing his back, slowly, carefully. "Are... you all right?"

"I..." God, Dorian had just been touching him, and now... "I'll be fine," he said quietly, a denial of what was wrong. "Just... wait..."

"Are you sure?" That sounded hesitant, and he hated to hear Dorian sounding that way!

"No." Harder still to say that *back* in the face of Dorian's hesitance; but Klaus at least wasn't letting him go, even as he shook again. "'m not sure of anything, just... you wouldn't hurt me like that, would you?"

The little hiccoughing gasp of breath that he heard accompanied by the slight stiffening of Dorian's body was inevitable. "Never." It was a defeated little sound, Dorian's grasp on him loosening, the feel of him withdrawing almost physical as he lay beneath Klaus, eyes shut tightly in an attempt to keep a sudden wash of tears from flooding over, escaping. "Never. Never. Never. Never..."

"Dorian, I didn't mean that you would! I meant... I don't know what hurts or not, if it's supposed to, or..." He was still unsteady as he pulled back enough to press a kiss to Dorian's mouth, a gentle brush of lips. "I'm sorry, I'm so fucking sorry, Dorian..."

"I would die before I'd hurt you, and be glad of it," Dorian told him, brow remaining tightly knit, eyes closed. "Just die. I couldn't bear it if I knew I'd hurt you..."

"I wasn't thinking -- I'm sorry. I just remembered..." Remembered what the Stasi had said, and just asked to be *sure*. "I need you -- you wouldn't hurt me, and I wouldn't hurt you..."

"I'd die first," Dorian whispered to him again, damp eyes opening to look up at him. "You do believe me, don't you?"

"I believe you," Klaus said tightly, taking another brushing buss of a kiss. /You wouldn't hurt me willingly... / "It's just so hard to believe it wouldn't hurt... but I know you wouldn't."

"It doesn't, you know." Dorian's hands were on his face, lightly tracing his features. The conversation was absurd, speaking of sex as 'it', as if they couldn't say that word between them. "At least, not that way. It..." How could he make Klaus understood that it hurt in a *good* way? He didn't think he could. "It's just different. It's not like that."

"Sometime... we will," Klaus murmured, still not sure of *that*, as he finally started to relax again. "Sometime. But for now... what we do is all right." The awkwardness, Klaus knew, probably stemmed from himself more than Dorian -- but at least he sensed it and knew it wasn't normal to skirt the topic the way he did.

The whisper that responded was soft, quietly spoken. "I know. I'm sorry if you thought I was pushing you, Klaus..."

"I didn't just... sometimes I remember things." It was lame to say that, Klaus knew, but it was the truth, given sincerely as he laid down beside Dorian completely.

"What happened," Dorian said, turning on his side slightly and reaching for his coffee cup. "We... I don't want to think about it or talk about it or deal with it but I know that we have to, at least with one another..."

"I know... I know," Klaus sighed shakily, watching Dorian's movements. "Just... I don't know what we need to do, or how..."

A finger lightly traced his jawline. "Talk about it. Just... I don't know, either. In your arms, it might not be as terrible. It will never be good."

"Never...?" Klaus was tracking Dorian's face and expressions with his careful gaze, frowning intensely. "I don't... want something if you wouldn't enjoy it."

Blue eyes widened slightly. "I'm sorry, darling. I meant that talking about what had happened would never be good. Not... *that*." The slight flush on his face and his sheepish expression said it all. "No, I think *that*, with you, would have to be absolutely miraculous," he finished in a whisper. "Nothing at all like the other."

"I don't think I could ever do... that unless I... had things figured out more..." Which he obviously still didn't.

"Would you like... for me to tell you about it?" Dorian murmured, looking at him thoughtfully.

"I..." That thought made him more on edge, more nervous, but he nodded, sitting up on his elbows to look at the screened in fireplace. "Just.... yes."

Laying back, Dorian watched him, head turned to the side. "Mmm. How to start?" he murmured to himself, expression thoughtful. "D'you know, I think I was only fourteen the first time I did it. Just a boy, really. I didn't know what you were supposed to do then, and that hurt, but not...." His voice trailed off momentarily into silence. "Not like what you saw. Even that was more of just a discomfort, of not knowing, not of consciously trying to hurt someone..." He paused, looking at Klaus. "Touching a man is so different from touching a woman, or so I'm told. You don't have to worry about a man breaking, somehow. I've never worried about that, one way and another. It starts the way we start, the way we touch, the way we kiss. It goes on from there, an infinite number of ways..."

"It could go wrong an infinite number of ways," Klaus said almost mournfully. "Will everything we do feel as good as what... we already do?" Naive, idiotic questions to ask, but Dorian wouldn't laugh at him -- he knew Klaus well enough to know the wondering was true and *real*, not just a game of some sort. Klaus simply didn't know.

"Sometimes," Dorian told him truthfully. "Everything feels different from one person to the next, so something I like that feels good to me may feel uncomfortable to you, and you might not want to do that. So, you would do whatever it was to me, if you wanted, but I would do something different, something you liked better, for you. Making love is a lot of learning, give and take. Experiment."

"Experiment," Klaus murmured to himself. "We... should experiment, as far as we can get, before..." Before one of them just couldn't anymore.

That gained him a smile, Dorian looking at him solemnly. "Whenever you're ready. I enjoy being touched, when it isn't meant to be a cruelty..."

"Touched like... you liked the last time we were upstairs?" He meant when they were in bed together, doing things, not the last time they slept... though that was enjoyable in its own way. Safety and a feeling of protecting, being protected, needed and needing.

"Yes," the other man replied simply.

"That did feel good," Klaus agreed, turning to his side, weight on his better left arm, so he was facing Dorian. "Do we do that... the way it's normal to?"

Dorian smiled at him, nodding his head in its nest of curls. "We did it the way it felt good. That's always the right way."

"It... it's morally wrong, what we do," Klaus said -- his last, wavering line of defense... that he shot down himself. "But we've never fit in, have we?"

"No." It was said gently, easily, Dorian's head shaking at him slightly as the other man smiled up at him. "But we aren't hurting anyone. How wrong can that be?"

"We're... helping each other." Klaus's took Dorian's thought a step further -- a necessary step to be taken. "It... helps you, doesn't it?" /It helps me./

"Yes."

"Then it doesn't matter what anyone else thinks," Klaus murmured, leaning slowly towards Dorian -- he wanted to touch the other man, but didn't want to disturb his drinking the coffee.

The way that Dorian's lips curled upward, inviting him, made it impossible to resist the draw. Coffee was abandoned in favor of tasting that mouth, warm and pliant, tasting of coffee and cream. "Mmm..."

"'s good," Klaus breathed against Dorian's hum of air, putting his right hand down on the other side of Dorian as he settled in to 'explore' properly. Dorian's mouth was a warm cavern that invited him in, clean-tasting and heatedly slick, and the other man was infinitely willing when it came to Klaus touching him. It was easy, then, to kiss him, taste him, to contemplate touching him and the possibility that he would enjoy it immensely.

And maybe after a little exploring of Dorian, he could get himself to relax enough and let Dorian do the same to him. The thief would *never* turn on him, or hurt him... Klaus pulled back from the kiss to meet Dorian's gaze with his own half-gaze, hands going to pull up the tunic of Dorian's pajamas. "Can I?"

The answer was husky, blue eyes half-lidded in the growing gloom of the evening, a little smile chasing the Briton's mouth. "Yes."

It was pulled up easily, with Dorian's help, and Klaus set it aside; and then moved the coffee further out of reach. No spills of breaks were needed. "You're beautiful."

Dorian had never thought that two words such as that would ever be anything that he would do more than take for granted. He trembled slightly, a hand stroking up his belly to run lightly across puckered nipples, teasing at them for Klaus's enjoyment. "Thank you," he whispered, tongue darting out to moisten lips gone dry.

"Why thank me?" Klaus asked him, setting his hand atop Dorian's, shifting to simply be closer.

Lightly, his fingers were taken in the other man's hand, cupped to brush them over tiny hard bits of flesh, drawing a little sound of pure pleasure from Dorian. "B...because... I'm glad you... Oh, Klaus, I'm glad you think so!"

Klaus let himself be guided so, finally moving his maimed hand of its own volition to rub those two fingers with a careful tenderness over Dorian's nipples. First one, then the other, and then he circled them a bit -- they perked up even more, if it was possible. "You are."

"I love you." The words seemed so important for Dorian to say, and they just seemed to come out of him completely naturally. His eyes were closed by then, body writhing up beneath Klaus's touch as he sighed softly. "Oh, God, that feels so good..."

He remembered some of the things the Stasi had done to Dorian, and instantly decided to not do more than just rub those nubs; at least, until the thought struck to lean down and kiss the nearest one lightly. "Feels good?"

The reaction that gained him was a cry, given quietly, and a rock of Dorian's body. "Yes!" he moaned, shivering. "Oh, yes! Klaus!!!" He was so sensitive. He always had been, but now it seemed somehow even worse, perhaps because Klaus was touching him and it felt so good and was so very different from some of what had been done to him. Another kiss like that followed, and then over on the other one, two slow, lingering kisses, before Klaus began to trace up. Over collarbone and the dip of Dorian's neck, he moved slowly, exploring relentlessly. "Please, Klaus..." It was prettily said and just as prettily meant. "Please, Klaus, *please*..."

"Please what?" Klaus asked, lifting his head from the warm skin of Dorian's neck.

"Kiss me," Dorian sighed. "Touch me... *more*..."

"More... Dorian, I don't know..." How to do *more* or what was okay yet.... His voice trailed off in a bewildered tone until he pressed a little closer and felt Dorian's erection against his thigh. /More./

"Anywhere," Dorian told him, leaning to steal Klaus's lips, to kiss him ravenously. "You can touch me anywhere. I'm..." He sighed, shivering. "Very sensitive today. Anywhere will feel good to me, Klaus..."

"Just pleasure?" he pressed, tone minutely worried as he shifted to kiss Dorian again, hand creeping slowly down Dorian's lean belly, to the inside of his waistband. The sound of Dorian whimpering, the feel of a nod, was enough to reassure him when accompanied by the hand that moved to lightly touch his elbow, seeming to direct him to go farther.

He did, hand meeting slick flesh. Dorian was hard, a little slick, and wanting... He let his hand slip down more to stroke the length once, at the same time he kissed Dorian's nipple. That gained him a cry, an arching of Dorian's body, one that was distinctly pleasure, completely and totally enjoyable. "KLAUS! OH! God, *yes*!!"

It was an assailing of pleasure that didn't let up. Klaus stroked again, and then wrapped his hand around Dorian's cock, pumping his awkward grasp over it the best he could. /He feels good. So damn good... and he's enjoying it as much as I am -- this can work, we can *make* this work..../

"Please, Klaus... please, Klaus, please, Klaus, *please*, *please*!!" The pleading was sweet to him, Dorian's arms reaching for him, caressing over chest and shoulders, upper arms, the blond man's moans and rocking motions unbearably erotic. "Yes...!" answering Dorian's cries, Klaus picked up the pace of the stroking, rubbing his thumb of the slick head as he kissed more at Dorian's chest. He *wanted* so badly to bring Dorian to pleasure...

It seemed almost too easy, the steady rock and thrust of hips shifting up to his touch sending his slim lover closer to the edge with every motion, and when Dorian's arms wrapped around him, face pressed tightly to his neck, he knew it was close. It didn't stop him in the least; except, he wanted to see Dorian's face in that pleasure again, not to have it hidden against his neck, where he could barely feel it and not see it at all. /Another time... not... not now.../ Positioned like that, he couldn't do more than kiss at Dorian's temple and stroke still, barely a thought spared to him having to add those pajamas to the wash of the next day.

The sound of Dorian's breath hitching, little mewls of absolute bliss coming from him, were almost enough for Klaus. Seconds later, the other man came, hips rocking wildly to that two-fingered touch, hands clutching him closely. "U...unh!!"

It took perhaps another few minutes for Klaus to pull his hand free, the semen drying on his fingers wiped on the edge of their shared blanket. "That felt good."

"Mmmmm," Dorian managed to get out in agreement, smiling at him drowsily. "Shall I do it for you? See if you like it...?"

"Yeah," Klaus agreed, but he didn't pull back to lay down until he took another kiss from Dorian with almost desperate force. It didn't seem to bother the other man, though; Dorian only yielded to him before moving closer to him, fingers lightly plucking at the buttons of his pajama top.

"May I?" he asked politely, just to be certain.

"Please." Klaus laid on his back, hands holding Dorian's waist lightly. Just to give them something to do, he supposed, and to take comfort from a little sense of control.

"I want to kiss you everywhere," Dorian murmured, nuzzling the buttons open slightly, following words with action, smatterings of kisses following his fingers. "I want to taste your skin. I want to please you..."

"Ohhh... if it doesn't hurt, then it's good... you're so good," Klaus sighed, arching a little against those sweet touches.

"Love you..." Those words always came to Klaus, always, and the steady nuzzle of Dorian searching across his scarred pectorals was somehow delicious in conjunction with them.

"'s good, too." A sigh of air, and he let his eye close in relaxation as he let out a pleasured huff of breath. His better hand slid up from Dorian's waist to press at the back of his shoulder.

"Darling..." Mouth latched onto those scarred bits of nipples, the reaction there not as prominent as Dorian's, but no less a sign of pleasure as he nuzzled, suckling slightly at the first of them. "Mmm.."

"Ahh, yes... feels odd, but..." But he arched again, pressing Dorian closer -- but it felt perfect, sending an odd spark from the spot, down to his groin. THAT gained the blond man a little noise, one he recognized as approval, and he nearly purred, fingers plucking at the waistband of Klaus's pajamas even as he kissed lightly at the other man's diaphragm.

/Oh, Klaus.../

He could feel the sharp breath Klaus drew, and then feel it let out by slow degrees. "Ah, God... Dorian, you don't have to if you don't... "

"Shhh," Dorian soothed him, fingers already at work on the buttons. "Tell me if I do something that makes you uncomfortable or hurts you..." That was the last thing he said, mouth leaving a warm, damp trail behind, the caress of tongue and lips infinitely delicious as they made their way down to his navel and just below it.

"What're you..." He slitted open his eye, and lifted his head a little, and then closed his eye, putting his head back down just as quickly as he'd peeked at the earl. Lips there tickled slickly, close to... No, Dorian didn't mean to do that, did he?!

The slow tug to remove underwear and pajama bottoms seemed to indicate that he *did*, though, and when those lips trailed down to the pubic hair cradling his heavy erection, it was almost enough to send Klaus into a paroxysm of nervousness. "It's all right," Dorian told him soothingly, feeling him tense slightly. "You'll like this, darling," he whispered, lightly kissing the shaft.

Like it?! Klaus drew a sharp breath, gasping loudly from the intensity of feeling that shot through him from that simple kiss. "Oh, God, ohhh, Christ..."

The feel of that soft mouth taking him in, heated, wet, was nearly enough to kill him, much less the image of it in his mind. Pink lips, soft, suckling at him, and it felt so damned *good*... *SO* good, incredible, and trying to remain still was simply impossible, especially given the soft sounds of pleasure that were spilling from Dorian. Those, accompanied by the resumption of the erection so lately tended to, said much about his lover's own enjoyment.

This was just what the Stasi officer had felt when he'd been in Dorian's mouth -- had to be, such a dragging heat and tender suckling... but it wasn't hurting Dorian like the Stasi had. Was there so much difference...? Klaus didn't think on it long -- just let the thought flick through his mind, in and back out again, as he tried hard to not move his hips up to the tight pleasure. All the while, he bit back at his own sounds of pleasure, but there was enough to hear that Dorian knew it was right. The feel of Dorian's hand moved up his side, seeking out his own and twining them together even as his left took up stroking behind the dampness of his mouth, and that somehow made things even better, more difficult to resist.

Hand clutched in hand let Klaus free some of his body's tension in a clenching tight grasp, lips parting as he quietly choked back noises of need until he couldn't manage it anymore. Halfway through a tentative rocking up to Dorian's lips, he felt the tightening of his groin that told him he was done for, and an increase in suction seemed to be timed perfectly to meet that need. He came in a wash of exhilaration, unable to stop himself, and Dorian swallowed most of it, lapping up the few drops that had spilled a moment later before shifting to cradle himself against Klaus's side.

"Not so bad?" he whispered.

"It felt so good," he shuddered, turning minutely to curl against Dorian in turn, only absently pulling his pajama bottoms back in place. "You... didn't have to do that... But... thank you." /And I didn't hurt you, did I?/

Fingers caressed over Klaus's face, those blue eyes watching him warmly. "You taste delicious," he whispered, breathing in deeply. "I've always wanted to do that, with you. It was... perfect."

"It wasn't as bad as I'd thought it would be," Klaus murmured, moving nearer to kiss Dorian properly for such sheer pleasure.

The taste of what they'd just done was on the other man's lips, but it never occurred to Dorian *not* to kiss Klaus in return. It was salty, slightly musky, and strangely mixed with the taste that was purely Dorian and coffee, somehow a good thing. "Mmmm..." THAT Noise was definitely a good one!

Tasting Dorian and coffee with it somehow diluted it; Klaus knew he wasn't ready to taste *just* that. Not yet. For a few lazy moments, he let his mouth twine warmly with Dorian's, before breaking the kiss. "I suppose we'll be lazy and lay here all day."

"Might be nice if we ate our sandwiches," Dorian told him, obviously satisfied with himself. "I can heat up our coffee. We can lay here and just... play. Talk. Whatever."

"Talk. We... we should talk more; it helps," Klaus said, half-reminding him of that reality -- that the talking helped a little more every time. Even if it wasn't about what had happened, just *talking* often cleared things up.

"What should we talk about?" Dorian asked him, propping himself up on an elbow. "Where should we start?" It was an opportunity purely to see what Klaus would say, and curiosity was certainly there.

"That's the problem. I don't know where." Dorian could *feel* Klaus's sigh, even if he couldn't hear it. "Do you?"

"Do you...think we can talk about what happened? Yet?" came the hesitant suggestion.

"I... could." Klaus was contemplative as he murmured that quietly after a moment's hesitation. "I just... don't know where to start."

A little release of breath, not quite a laugh, spilled from Dorian. "Yeah. That's the trouble, isn't it? Where to start. D'you know..." He tried to pick any one moment. "I really thought we were going to die when that door shut and the gas came on, though. I did. And I had to tell you, then, that I loved you. I knew we weren't getting out of there somehow."

"I kept shooting at the window until I passed out," Klaus murmured -- perhaps Dorian hadn't know it. "I didn't even think that we were... going to die; I just couldn't get us out."

"Maybe it was scarier to think that we *wouldn't* die than that we would," the other man said softly, looking into the flickering of the fire. "There wasn't any way to get out, once we were in. That was nobody's fault. They'd planned very well."

"Hmn, I know," Klaus sighed, "which makes me question the orders I was given to carry out the strikes in such a... traceable manner. I'd almost think... someone higher up wanted us to get burned in this."

Blue eyes looked at him seriously. "You think we were set up."

The German man shifted to lay back, nodding. "I thought the orders were idiotic from the start; if one facility gets broken into, won't the others up their security? Each night we were closer and closer to getting caught... I should have aborted it before we reached the point we did."

"I suppose there are lots of things we *should* have done," Dorian said quietly. "We didn't, though. We did just what we're known for -- charged right in with full intentions of finishing it all and damn the consequences."

"And now the consequences are damning us." He hadn't meant to say it aloud -- only meant to think it, but the words left him anyway, much to his chagrin. "But 's all right. We manage."

The slight tremor of Dorian's lips said much about his reaction to those words. "Yes."

A shift, and Klaus pulled Dorian against him, sitting up a little more. There was always comfort in the other's warmth, the feel of skin against skin. "So it isn't either of our faults that we got caught."

"Do you really think we're damned?" Dorian asked him softly, uncertainly. "We're neither one of us anything but atheists. We'd be damned for that alone if we could be, so what would this matter?"

"I didn't mean it literally," Klaus murmured, stroking a hand along Dorian's side. "I just meant that for once the consequences actually amounted to something."

"Mmm." That was true, and Dorian smiled at him slightly. "I'm glad." He glanced up at the ceiling, hidden now in shadows. "I don't think I've ever felt anything that hurt so much. You?"

"Never." Nothing had ever hurt more than his fingers being removed, the humiliation of being touched in such a way by a stranger and enemy, and the pain of his eye being ruined, which had passed him right out. "I never thought something could hurt so much."

Carefully, Dorian shifted himself more firmly into Klaus's grasp, pressed tightly to him. "I used to think about it sometimes. About what it would be like to be... not hurt, but to be *forced*. Held down and... and..." He shuddered, hard, clinging. "I never really thought it would happen. I didn't really ever want it. But I thought about it. And sometimes, I wonder, if thinking about it was why it happened. If I made it happen..."

"That's not why things happen." Klaus kept his voice even as he said those words, even though he closed his eye. Against the high half-window a few feet away, he could hear the reverberation of rain bouncing.

"I know." It was barely whispered, but he could feel Dorian against him, trembling. "I know. It's one of those things I can't help but think, though... that maybe it all really *is* my fault. I know it isn't, intellectually, but..." He sighed, nuzzling against Klaus. "Knowing it isn't and feeling as if it *is*... that's hard."

"Ja." He understood that just as well as Dorian did, the need/urge to put all the blame on yourself. "I just keep thinking... I... *we* did what we were supposed to, but..." But it hadn't gotten him anything but discharged for it. All that suffering to protect NATO, and nothing in return but a kick in the balls. "You didn't know anything to tell them."

Dorian gave a little sound, soft. "I wouldn't have told them anything even if I had..."

"I know you wouldn't have -- but it... it wasn't even your fight," Klaus decided at last -- yes, that was why it bothered him so much. "You were a civilian."

"A contractor," Dorian corrected gently. "*Your* contractor. And they knew it."

"You shouldn't have come with me -- if you hadn't come with me..." Then it would only be *him* suffering the risks of his job.

"You couldn't have gone without me." He felt more than saw the smile that Dorian gave him; a brave one, really, against his throat. "I would've chased after you, anyway. Besides, if I hadn't..." If he hadn't been there, they might have done to Klaus what they'd done to *him*, and he wasn't sure he could've borne that terrible knowledge. It would have been his fault if that had happened, simply for *not* being there.

Or they simply might have killed Klaus -- and no one would have been wiser, because no thieves would have been there to alert the Alphabet.

"I know. But then you... you'd be fine," Klaus told him.

"Not without you," Dorian replied almost sadly. "I'd never be fine without you."

"It isn't... like anything can be changed. I'm not going to leave you, you wouldn't leave me, not now." He turned his head a little, brushing his lips against Dorian's soft curls. "I'm much warmer now." /Than I was before everything happened./ But if Dorian wanted to reference back to the lake, that was all right, too.

"I still love you," Dorian told him softly. "I love you even more now than I did before. I really didn't think that was possible."

"Why more?"

How to explain it? "Because now, you're... you care for me. You don't revile me or not want me. It makes it better," he murmured quietly.

Perhaps it was a skirting explanation, but it seemed to work for Klaus. "I'm glad you do. It's helped a lot."

"Klaus..." His voice was deliciously deep, almost rumbling against Klaus's throat. "When we go after him... what will we do?"

"Sneak into his house, catch him and tie him up," Klaus replied slowly, pleased thoroughly by that idea. "And then take care of him."

The sound of that was ominous, but it didn't make Dorian so much as flinch. "I want to go in first. He won't be expecting you now that you aren't NATO. He doesn't know we're going to be contracting together..."

"Go in first...? What do you mean?"

Dorian shifted, moving his head away from Klaus to look him in the eye. "I'll go in before you and distract him. That way, you can come in a different way and surprise him."

"I don't want you alone with that sicko for even a minute!" Klaus's voice rose in level as he held Dorian still, expression bewildered. "No!"

"It would be easier for you then," Dorian told him, his own face earnest. "He wouldn't be expecting you, would he? If I was there and he thought I was alone. Klaus. I trust you to keep me safe..."

"Dorian, I don't want you in that kind of risk!" How could he get the Englishman to understand *that*, the urge to protect as much as possible. "I want you to come with me, but what if something goes wrong? We shouldn't separate when doing something like that..."

"I trust you," Dorian told him again quietly, holding Klaus's right hand with his left, pressed against his heart. "Nothing will go wrong. No one will be expecting us now. *HE* won't be expecting us now...."

Klaus's expression was miserable when he finally nodded to that. "Fine. We'll do it that way. but we won't charge into this one -- I'll get detailed layouts, we'll stake out his activities for a few nights..."

"It will work," Dorian told him softly. "I know it will."

"We'll do it, then." Klaus pulled Dorian closer again, and laid back down on the blanket. "Let's just... go back to relaxing."

A deep sigh sounded, acquiescent. "I feel a little better, I think," Dorian decided.

"You do?" Klaus wanted to be sure he hadn't just riled things up -- that Dorian truly did feel better for the talk.

"Yeah." A deep sigh came from him. "I guess because I was worried, because I'd thought about it and it had happened..."

"I never thought about having my fingers cut off," Klaus mused grimly, holding Dorian close. "Or what it would be like to be interrogated by the Stasi."

"...I know," Dorian said, head cradled against Klaus's shoulder. "I know. It will get better. It has to. It already *has*, some, mostly because of you. When you touch me, I don't have to think... about the other."

"Don't think about that -- not... I'm just worried that what we do isn't really so different from what happened." Klaus peered at the fire, resting his cheek atop Dorian's curls. "Hmn. I think I need to add wood to the fire... and maybe put a record on? We can rifle through the records that're in the cabinet and see if there's anything worth playing."

A deep sigh sounded. "That would be lovely," Dorian told him a little sleepily. "You know, what we do's nothing at all like that. Not in the remotest. You wouldn't ever hurt me. I know. I have faith in you." It didn't matter that Klaus had done so before; that didn't come into the situation anymore, and it wouldn't ever again.

"Faith... I've never had faith in someone as much as I have in you," Klaus breathed as he started to pull away to tend to the fire. "Never. Even... when we were at odds, I trusted that you'd come through."

That gained him a chuckle. "And I always knew just what you'd say when we were done, too. I never really believed you meant any of it, though."

"I got angry," Klaus shrugged. He *still* did, but now it was more often at himself. "So, what did we decide we were doing next?"

"A record," Dorian answered him teasingly. "But from here, we're going to Greece, darling."

"Mm -- I should book our flight, then," Klaus told him as he got up to his knees and moved to tend the fire. "And figure out a place to stay there."

"Tell you what. Why not take a boat? I can have James make the reservations when he figures out what to do in Greece. I'm sure he'll get the best price. You know how he is," Dorian said.

"Not someone I want to deal with," Klaus agreed as he put a new log carefully atop the already burning ones, keeping it just so that air could circle through. "Why a boat, though?"

A shrug and a smile answered him. "It's romantic, relaxing. Knowing James, we'll end up taking one from here down to Florida and then across to Greece. I'd imagine it's cheaper that way," Dorian said contemplatively.

"The more connections, the cheaper it is," Klaus agreed with a curling smile that Dorian couldn't see. He checked that the flue was open with a set of the prongs, and then closed the metal screen. "I think I'm actually happy. I mean really contented and happy."

"I'm glad that I make you that way," Dorian drawled, smiling up at him even as he sat up to reach for a sandwich half. "I'll go warm up our coffee while you look through the records..."

"Sounds perfect. The way the rain's falling, I wouldn't be surprised if the lake rose up and ate the garage," Klaus uttered, standing fully. Only then was he really aware of the fact that his pajama top was open, parted still from when Dorian had kissed him so. /Want. This... this is what everyone says is so great about sex./

"Hmmm..." His lover rose with him, kissing his collarbone lightly before gathering their cups. "Be right back."

That teasing kiss more than made him shudder -- Klaus was desperately glad that *he* wasn't the one with the cups. /Music. Find music..../ Klaus walked towards the cabinet he'd been told about, and opened the two doors. Record player, and... a cardboard box of records to dig through. By the time Dorian had gotten back, Klaus had been through most of them and picked out a pile. "What's hiding there, love?" he asked lightly, kneeling down with coffee in both hands.

"Not a lot -- some classical -- Vivaldi's four seasons, Beethoven's ninth, 'Jethro Tull' and a lot of Burl Ives. I pulled out the better classical and Jethro Tull." Four records total, shown to Dorian. 'Songs of the Woods' was at top, a smallish man with a flute on the front.

"Take your pick, then. I'm familiar enough with the classical stuff..."

It shouldn't have been too hard to guess what he'd put on, given the record that was on the top. "All right. Do you want me to bring a couple of books down...? We could fold out the sofa and lay there..."

"That sounds marvelous. I'll pull it out while you get the books, then," Dorian said firmly.

/If the Alphabet ever knew that *I* had suggested something so decadent as laying around for the day.../ The record was already playing, though, so he started up the stairs, and snagged a book for each of them. The Dragon and the George for himself, and the thriller novel for Dorian. By the time he got back downstairs, the bed was out, blanket on it, and Dorian was finishing off the sandwich half he'd started on before, drinking his coffee and still seated before the fire.

"Oh, thank you!" he said, smiling. "That was just the book I wanted!"

"I think you would have said that if I'd brought you a dictionary!" Klaus chuckled softly, holding the book out to Dorian as he moved to pick up his own coffee.

"Probably, but that'd just mean that *I* got to nap while *you* read," Dorian pointed out to him.

"Hmn -- perhaps you're right. Then again... perhaps I wouldn't mind, cat-man," Klaus teased as he moved to stretch out his long legs on the pulled out sofa bed.

Laughing, Dorian moved to join him, flicking on a second lamp before curling up on his side near Klaus, enjoying the feel of being close to him. "This is perfect," he sighed. "Just perfect."

"Ja."

God help him, it was perfect -- a joy, and sickeningly domestic to lay there with Dorian, reading and warmed by both burning logs and his companion's presence.

It was a comfortable road that he thought he'd never come across in his life.

Chapter 17 by Kat and Tzigane
"It's BEAUTIFUL," Dorian declared in a rush, peeking out of the porthole in their cabin. James, God love him, had been glad about their taking a boat back until he'd realized that Dorian hadn't meant stowing away on one. Then, he'd gone to work finding the best accommodations for the cheapest price. THAT meant quite a few stops down the Eastern seaboard and in the tropics before heading towards Greece, but that was all right. It just meant more time spent with Klaus!!

"*And* you can't steal it," Klaus observed smugly as he moved to pull Dorian away from the porthole. "Let's go up on the deck? You say the same thing every time you look out the porthole."

"Well," Dorian laughed. "Every time I look out the porthole, there's something beautiful there!"

"You nearly blew out my eardrum when you saw the dolphin," Klaus agreed, tugging at his shoulders. "You can see more up *top*."

"Coming, Klaus," Dorian said with mocking obedience, teasing at him. Being on board ship had been marvelous fun. There was something about travelling on water that leant to excellent sleep, and he had enjoyed that!

His hand was snatched up in Klaus's, and the German led him out of their comfortable cabin. It wasn't one of the best, but it was still *FAR* better than Klaus had expected of James -- perhaps he was still concerned for Dorian's mental health. The best part of being led out of the cabin by Klaus was the other man's shorts. Hot weather made them a necessity, and Klaus was actually wearing shorts and a t-shirt. "You know," Dorian told him conversationally, "you're AWFULLY cute that way."

"Cute what way?" Klaus asked, looking over his shoulder a tiny bit to Dorian.

"In those shorts," was the nearly besotted reply. "You've got the cutest bu..."

"Dorian!!" But he still ended up with what he'd wanted -- Klaus's cheeks glowing to life, and a scowl.

"It's *true*," came the amused response. "Very cute."

"I don't see how that can be *cute*," the German scowled pridefully, even as he started up the narrow stairwell, then thought twice of it -- and let Dorian go up first.

"Trust me," Dorian told him, heading up in front of him, his own khaki shorts clinging just *so*. "I know cute when I see it, and *that's* definitely *cute*."

"Since I can't see it, I can't agree with you," Klaus told him, following close behind. Dorian's bottom wasn't cute -- it was sultry, begging for touch... which meant it wasn't cute.

Once they got to the top, Dorian paused, *smiling* rather wickedly at him. "Maybe we'll have to show you sometime then. I'm sure we can find a mirror that'll make it easy, darling..."

It was hard to tell if he was serious about it or not, so Klaus only thinned his lips and spared Dorian a shrug as they moved onto the deck. "Maybe sometime."

"Maybe soon?" Dorian teased, glancing back at him.

"You're terrible," he chuckled, picking up his pace to drag Dorian towards the back of the ship to look out over the rail.

"I know." It was purely agreement, amusement, in fact. Dorian loved being terrible and he loved being terrible when Klaus least expected it. That had always been one of his favorite hobbies. "I'm glad we're almost to the last port. I can't wait to get to Greece!"

"You'd better not be heading there just to steal something," Klaus scowled as he leaned against the railing. Dorian was kept neatly at his side as Klaus let go of the earl's hand and slid his arm around Dorian's waist.

"Would I do that to you, darling?" came the arch response, Dorian pleasantly surprised as always by Klaus's lack of fear over public touch. He loved it, it made him disgustingly happy. /Life can't get better than this.../

"If the painting caught your interest or the sculpture was rare enough, yes," Klaus reminded him agreeably. It didn't bother him so much as it did before -- stealing was just a part of Dorian. If he wanted the man's company, he had to deal with the man's stealing, just as Dorian dealt with Klaus's personality flaws.

"Sorry, Klaus," came the sheepish yet not *truly* apologetic reply. "You're right. I confess!"

"I hate to say it, but I never thought I wouldn't be right about that." Getting Dorian to stop stealing would be like stopping the sun from rising. It just wasn't worth the effort, in the end, because why bother when all you'd end up with was darkness?

"Mmmmm," was what passed for agreement, Dorian leaning forward against the railing. "It's beautiful today," he sighed, grateful for the fact that they were mostly alone where they were. No one to look at them or point or anything like that...

"It's calm out," Klaus agreed, smiling just a little as he peered around over the boat's wake. "Hopefully we won't end up hijacked somehow. It hasn't been a bad trip so far."

That brought one of Dorian's blond brows up sharply, his smile at Klaus brilliant. "Don't say things like that, darling, you'll jinx us. Knock on wood or something when you do!"

"I don't think we have to worry, Dorian," Klaus drawled, "Because with our luck, we're already jinxed."

"Thank you for that bright outlook," Dorian replied dryly, shaking his head. "Who knows? It could get better!

"The Pope could become a Satanist, the Americans could become intelligent, the Soviets could decide to become capitalists..."

"That concludes our lesson in optimism for today!" Dorian chuckled, shaking his head. "Really, Klaus..."

"Am I wrong?" the German demanded, while still smiling. "Tell me I'm wrong, and be truthful, and I'll be optimistic for you."

"You're not wrong," the thief admitted, tossing his head slightly. "I'm still going to be optimistic, though!"

"If you started to see the world the way I do, Dorian, I would be deeply worried," Klaus murmured, stroking his hand against Dorian's side. "Hmn, this was a very good idea. Very relaxing after that mess with the CIA."

"Mmmmmmm," Dorian said by way of agreement. "I love the way you touch me," he said softly. "Seems like a miracle, some days."

"Why's that?"

Dorian shrugged. "I never really thought you would," he said softly. "I hoped. But I didn't think you would."

"We've talked about this before," Klaus reminded him, gently -- it was the tone he used to warn Dorian when they were starting to repeat things. "I like doing it; it helps me know that you're there, and everything is as it should be."

"Let's go back, Klaus." He wanted to kiss the other man; kiss him, hold him naked against his own skin... "I want..." /You./

"Want...?" Klaus *always* made sure he wasn't taking something the wrong way, so Dorian nearly always got asked that.

"You," Dorian whispered, leaning close to him. "I want *you*." They were docking, but that didn't matter. Dorian had no urge to rush off the ship and buy things at the little shops that always seemed clustered in the port for just such things. He'd much rather feel Klaus, naked and sweaty against him....

"We'll head back down to our room, then, until the docking's over." He didn't have any wish to see the bustle of people get on, or the insane little shoppers. A day there, departure later that evening, and then, to Greece!

"And you'll let me..." Dorian was looking at him through those thick golden lashes, the corners of his lips tilting upward in what was a distinctly sensuous expression. "Please?"

Klaus lifted his other hand to brush Dorian's cheek, nodding; moments like that, he was glad of how things had turned out... "We just got up here, but yeah."

"Wonderful," Dorian whispered, smiling at him so brilliantly it was damned near enough to blind him.

Only a moment more like that, and Klaus nodded, moving his hand to grasp Dorian's. Then the German led them both below deck. "We'll lock the door and no one will bother us..." Though they always locked the door. Always.

Silently, they moved through crowds heading off of the boat, down to their own cabin. Inside, safely locked away, Dorian wrapped his arms around Klaus's neck, tilting his head to the side to kiss him.

Whether it was spontaneous or insane, Klaus couldn't tell -- but the need Dorian blossomed inside of him when he made those movements was undeniable. So he caught the earl's mouth in his, trying to guide the other man into a slow, exploring kiss. It worked, and well, for Dorian gave into him so easily, just the way he'd always secretly imagined that he would. The strength in those arms, that body, was undeniable, and it was his, all his, always...

"Making up for lost time...?" Klaus asked in a husky half-teasing accusation as he pulled back from Dorian's soft lips. The feeling of pressure against his mouth lingered, and he knew he'd be taking another kiss as soon as possible.

"You could touch me forever and I'd never want it to stop," was the reply, one barely managed before Dorian was kissing him again, all soft mouth and tongue and touch.

"Won't ever stop," he shivered. With careful prodding, he backed Dorian towards the ship's bed even while he pulled the blond's lean body closer to his own. The nearly two month hiatus they were taking from the realities of their world hadn't effected the thief's ability to squirm against him in the most alluring manners, or his ability to wriggle *out* of his clothing on a moment's notice!

"Love you..." It was a whisper, a frantic sort of breath, deeply meant, impossibly needy. "Klaus..."

When Klaus had become able to admit physical needs at times other than the dark of night, he didn't know. There was more than simple comfort to be found in the light of day, when it was convenient, though there were certain boundaries of privacy and limits kept solidly in mind. "Hmm-mm." His hands crept up beneath Dorian's shirt, up along his back, while the thief took off his t-shirt for him.

The feel of those warm palms against the small of his back, lightly pressing against the waistband of white pants, made Dorian shiver. He gave a moan of encouragement to let Klaus know that he liked it, pulling away only long enough to get that shirt over Klaus's shoulders and head and then to slip himself back into the other man's arms. Somehow, the skin seemed so much hotter, then, touches nearly flaming with sheer pleasure...

Being with Dorian, alone and comfortable, made Klaus feel like the proverbial teenager who just couldn't get enough to satisfy. He wanted, and wanted... A thought skittered through his mind, flickers of less comfortable, but not less intense, feelings shoved down quickly where they couldn't harm he or Dorian.

Dorian's shirt soon followed his, pants starting to be tugged off of the blond. "Need you."

There was no question of his belonging to Klaus, even as the other man moved him backwards towards the bed. "Yes," he whispered, hands going to quickly work at belt buckle, button, zipper, stripping Klaus clean of them and his underwear with them, pushing them to the floor even as they tumbled backwards. "Yes, Klaus..."

A need that wouldn't be denied, personified and eager, all for him. Klaus had wondered, back at the house, if Dorian had been so eager for his other lovers, so... But he never let himself wonder for too long. It would simply be pointless jealousy, and why waste energy on that, when he had Dorian, warm and nude, in his arms? "Slower, Dorian..."

Once they were naked together, it was easier, somehow, to go slow. He had all of that delicious, warm skin to worship, and a tangle of mouths and hands and erections to explore between the two of them. "Nnnn..."

There were ways, he was learning, that it would be bad to touch Klaus -- things that drew too much of a reaction, or memories. But Klaus was careful to hide those things, sometimes, so if in their need something was triggered, he wouldn't always say. A hand drifting too far, or a kiss too hard... "Nmm?" It was good then, though, and the boat-ride had been nothing but *good* -- so Klaus's mimicry of Dorian's noise was pleasant, chuckled.

"Mmnn*hmmmn*," came the sound of agreement, Dorian bringing his knees up to lightly clasp Klaus's hips with them, shifting upward.

"I don't think I've ever seen you so happy as this trip has made you," Klaus murmured, levering back a bit to better look at the length of Dorian's beautiful body, that was every bit as useful as his own frame.

Curls feathered across Dorian's face as he canted his head to the side, blue eyes gleaming up at Klaus. "I love being with you. I love feeling this way -- like everything is going to be right in the world if I can just keep hold of you and me. There's something spectacular about everything lately, Klaus..."

"Ja." He couldn't do anything but agree -- they'd reached an enjoyable crossroads where, if they could just *stay* there, safe, without pushing in any directions, they'd be okay... "You're beautiful..." And then, slowly, Klaus lowered his head to kiss Dorian's chest.

"Yesss..." It was nearly hissed, a sign of Dorian's pleasure, just as the upward rock of his hips was. "Ye~ess, Klaus..."

Klaus had only managed once to take Dorian in his mouth, and only for a brief moment; it wasn't the taste that bothered him, it had just been him pushing himself too far, too fast. He'd probably only tease the earl a little, before letting his hands take care of it lovingly. "Yes?"

"Feels so good when you do that," Dorian managed, whining slightly. "Ohhh..."

"Everything feels good?" he murmured against Dorian's diaphragm and the soft, ticklish skin just below it.

The sound of laughter was rich, delicious in his ears, and obviously full of immense enjoyment. "Everything," came the velvety groan, hands tracing over his shoulders, lightly stroking through his hair. "*Everything*..."

Klaus nipped gently at taut skin, then kissed over top of it, smiling to himself. "'m glad to hear it..."

A little gasp came in response to that, the steady shift and writhe of Dorian's body beneath him intensely erotic. "Klaus," he whispered, the name magical on his lips. "Klaus, Klaus, Klaus..."

His lover slid down carefully, tracing the line of lean muscles that led him right down the middle of Dorian's body towards his center. /I can do this... just for a moment.../ Bolstered by that thought, Klaus lowered his head just enough to brush lips along the side of Dorian's erection, silken strands of hair dragging over it with perhaps more pressure.

The whimper that gained him was almost silent, Dorian's hands barely feathering over his head, tangling lightly in black strands of hair. "Klaus... oh, yes, Klaus, you don't have to if you don't want to, but oh, I..." He wanted it, without a doubt, and that was always a good thing to let Klaus know.

Being sure -- completely and without a doubt sure -- of Dorian's want was something Klaus needed before he could even continue, let alone progress any. Another brush, a slight suckle against the soft skin of the underside, and then Klaus brushed his mouth over the hooded head, tasting salty-slick fluid when he darted his tongue out for a moment. /This is his taste, just his taste.../

Oh, and it was *good*, somehow just what he would have expected Dorian to taste like if he'd truly had any expectations at all! The hands that clung so lightly to his skull said as much as the pants of breath escaping the tall, slim blond beneath him. "Unhh... God... *YES*..."

It wasn't anything near the deep, knowledgeable sucking that Dorian had shown him a few times, but Klaus was tender and more than eager. When Dorian felt pleasure, there was pleasure to be found in it for him, just from giving. careful to just keep it a shallow play of lips and tongue, Klaus clasped a hand around it, thumb pulling down on the sensitive foreskin. /Only I will ever touch him like this.../

"Klaus..." It was a shaky sound, the way he was trembling contributing to it. "Oh, Klaus..." Just the way he said the other man's name was a benediction, a litany urging him onward as he rocked upward slightly. One hand left Klaus's head to come up and cover his own eyes as if he could enjoy it better without the sunlight spilling into the room to distract him from the feel of those lips *there*, kissing him *there*, Klaus touching him *there*... "Klaus...!"

That husky English voice, moaning his name like that, drew a soft shuddery sound from Klaus as he kept up his careful ministrations. It kept him grounded in the sensation, in the pressure of his hips canting against the end of the mattress, in the reality of the two of them safe on a boat with no Stasi in sight to hurt them. Just pleasure, and Eroica...

*His* Eroica...

The sound of Dorian whining softly to himself in pleasure, the way his thighs shifted together and then apart as his cock fairly shook with the force of the blood pumping through it, these were signs that he wanted it, and wanted it from *Klaus*. Heated, wanton little noises were more than enough reassurance, and when Dorian cried out in a rough moan, Klaus knew that what he was doing was right. Maybe not right in the eyes of God and society, but for them, it was *right*. It was everything Klaus needed, to know that Eroica wanted and needed him, to know he could make the man happy again, to know that beautiful body responded just for him...

If he thought too hard on it, it sounded like sick possession. So Klaus didn't think anymore -- he just sucked, taking a bit more into his mouth.

"Klaus, please...!" The sound of it broke, Dorian's hips rocking helplessly. "Please, *please*, it feels so good!"

Please...? The German knew he couldn't manage any *more* than what he was already doing -- couldn't take in any more, not without scraping his teeth along that beautiful skin, or gagging. Only... only, he could add his other hand... It was a half-completed thought, at best, that urged him to take his maimed hand and palm soft balls that were coated in fine golden curls.

"AHHH!!!" Oh, that sound said so much, good as announcing the immense amount of pleasure Klaus was giving to him. He whined, shaking his head from side to side, second hand moving to clutch at Klaus's shoulder. "Oh, oh, I'm... going... to...!"

He couldn't help his first reaction of jerking back when he tasted the first short pulse against his tongue; it left Dorian's cock, released, to spill over his belly, while Klaus laid his head Dorian's thigh, rubbing his hips against the side of the bed as he watched Dorian.

The sounds of Dorian's gratification continued for several seconds as he lay limp upon the bed, the reverberation of residual bliss spilling through him. "Oh, God," he whispered, finally beginning to pull himself together. "That was so..." He shivered. "Oh, Klaus."

Movements slowly stopped once release was gained short moments after Dorian had spoken. Then Klaus kissed against the inside of Dorian's thigh before moving silently up onto the bed with him. Arms slid around him, Dorian's nose brushing at his face as he moved close to him. They were slightly sticky, definitely in need of a bath, but everything seemed so *perfect* in that moment, particularly when Dorian kissed him tenderly.

Especially when Dorian kissed him that way.

Skin to skin, Klaus let Dorian hold him -- or was he holding Dorian? -- locked in a sensual assault of mouth to mouth with the other man. "That was perfect," Dorian whispered. "Felt so good, Klaus. You make me feel..." Wonderful, exquisite, *alive*, treasured...

"Wasn't half so bad... as I thought it had to be." He gave Dorian another kiss, lazy, relaxed, and shifted to pillow his head on Dorian's shoulder. Sleep... no, he shouldn't give in to being drowsy, but if they slept *then*, he and Dorian would be wide awake to walk the deck later that night, when it was mostly empty, and look at the stars. /Romantic gibberish. It's infective./

"Mmmm," Dorian agreed lazily. "I love to do it to you. I love for you to touch me, and me to touch you, and everything between us," he whispered, stroking a hand down Klaus's spine. "I'll keep you close, always, and safe..."

"We'll keep each other safe. Always." Tiredly mumbled against his shoulder, as he closed one green-grey eye and relaxed atop Dorian, not really caring that they weren't covered. When he got a little energy in a few minutes, he'd pull a blanket up, and perhaps in an hour or so take a shower...

"Always," Dorian whispered, kissing the top of his head. "Forever."

Chapter 18 by Kat and Tzigane
He was now living the decadent sort of life-style that he'd shunned for all of his life. Only it didn't *feel* disgustingly decadent; it felt relaxing to rest with Dorian, to concentrate on holding the man. It let him assure himself, over and over, that Dorian was better, that they were fine, that they'd manage...

Klaus guessed, since he spent so much effort on that, that he probably wasn't okay. Not really, but the alternatives to the way he tended to Dorian and cared for him were simply unthinkable. Better to lov...

"Are you done dressing?" Klaus asked with a sigh in his voice, as he rested his elbows atop his knees, a bit restlessly as he worked at a fresh cigarette.

"Done!" Dorian agreed, stepping out of the bathroom. Since they'd left the hospital, he'd kept almost solely to dark, plain clothes, so seeing him in a black catsuit like the one he used for thievery with a bright blue silky shawl tossed back over his shoulders was almost enough to send Klaus into shock. "Do I look all right?" he asked worriedly. He fretted more about the scars on his face during the day, but during the dimly lit nights as they walked on the decks, it didn't bother him as much. He could be himself again, and not think about people staring at him for any reason other than his sheer exuberance and -- yes -- beauty.

"Perfect." Klaus stood to take his arm, to guide him towards the door. "I think the ship will be just pulling out now, so we'll get to see the back of whatever cheap port we've pulled into."

"And on to Greece!" came the excited laugh in return. "I can't wait, darling. Greece is beautiful this time of year, really."

"I'll be glad as long as I don't have to flip any skirts while we're there," he snorted mildly, taking a draw of smoke and letting it dissipate. "More resting planned?"

"And museums," Dorian informed him. "I want to show you some of the things that I so love, and show you why."

"'Why' is going to be hard," Klaus mused as they went up the stairs. "Though, I did read that book you gave me."

That got him a glance and a distinct smile. "Did you like it?"

"Well, I was convalesced, and I read it." That was half-dismissive, but Dorian knew better -- if it had been read at all, it said a lot.

"Then it won't be as hard as you think," Dorian murmured. "That's a start."

"I'm aware it was a *children's* book, Dorian." Which meant it was made for short attention spans and low interest.

"That's how *I* got started," he was informed, sparkling blue eyes peering at him once they reached the upper deck. "And you see where I am today."

"Then you mean it's not too late to reform how you think about guns?" Klaus asked him in a light tease, as he, too, took a brief glance around for a moment, then led Dorian towards an uncrowded part of the railing that was nearly on the other side.

"Darling," Dorian said firmly, "I sincerely doubt *that* will ever change. There's something utterly horrid about the things once they're in my hands, somehow," he murmured wryly.

"Same with art and me," Klaus murmured. "Other things are just more useful."

"Well, darling..." That was shortly interrupted by familiar voices, speaking in another language.

"[Are you sure this is a good idea?]" Mischa drawled, leaning against the deck wall. "[I am not so sure about that.]"

"[Through the Mediterranean it will be easier to get these documents back to headquarters...]"

Polar Bear, Klaus recognized easily enough.

"Klaus," Dorian whispered almost silently, tugging his shawl up over his bright golden tresses. "What do we do?"

"When they get closer, walk away. Evasive maneuvers." Klaus's voice was barely a whisper as he turned more towards Dorian, tightening the gap between their bodies to make them seem all the more natural for wanting privacy on the deck.

With care, Dorian obeyed, half-listening to the conversation despite the fact that he didn't understand it.

"[We have already run into Iron Klaus here in the land of capitalists. I have no desire to run into anyone else like that while we are here, and going so slowly makes it risky,]" Mischa growled, obviously unhappy with the matter.

"[You've run into Iron Klaus? *Here*? What was that capitalist bastard doing in the Northern Americas?]" Polar Bear demanded to know.

"[Vacationing with the queer thief. NATO retired him,]" Mischa answered grimly, "[after the Stasi tortured them both.]"

"[Retired?]" Polar Bear laughed roughly at that thought. "[With Eroica...? I would have expected him to kill himself before he let himself be retired.]"

The reply was almost bleak. "[He's missing two fingers and an eye,]" Mischa said. "[It wasn't honorable in the least. The thief's been raped and had his face cut up.]"

"[Hmn... a pity, but there are risks when coming against the Stasi,]" Polar Bear dismissed. "[Did he interfere with your mission?]"

"[NATO was also there,]" Mischa answered dismissively, shrugging. "[I captured Iron Klaus and the thief for a while, but they were on the level, so.]"

"['On the level'?]"

"[Honestly there for the reason they claimed,]" Mischa muttered, resisting the urge to shake his head. "[It's a euphemism.]"

"[You need to spend less time in the west, Mischa,]" Polar Bear scowled, starting to walk towards Klaus and Dorian. Klaus heard approaching footsteps, and leaned closer to Dorian, still listening to the pair's conversation, even as he pressed his face against Dorian's neck to kiss gently above the collar of the catsuit Dorian wore. "[Iron Klaus, vacationing -- I still think it's a crock.]"

"[It's truth. I saw the eye for myself and we hacked NATO's databases,]" Mischa drawled. "[They discharged him.]"

"[Hmn... idiots. You should have captured him, Mischa -- the man is still a walking database, even discharged. He knows more classified things than we know exist. A few weeks of working him over, and our cause would be furthered greatly.]"

"[Cause or no cause, I will not do it.]" That was a flat refusal. "[There should be some courtesies, even among spies. He would give you no information, anyway. The Stasi got none from either of them.]"

Dorian shivered, tucking his head against Klaus's. /I want to go.../

"[None? I'm amazed...]" Their voices faded slowly as they moved past, turning a corner.

"Back to the room," Klaus whispered, lifting his head a little.

Grateful, Dorian moved with Klaus as they slipped to the stairs and hurried down them and into their room. The moment the door closed, the blond thief was in his arms and clutching him tight, shivering violently. "Oh, *God*!"

"Dorian... Dorian, we're *fine*," Klaus murmured near his ear, holding the earl tightly. "All right? We're fine."

"But what if..." he began.

"No." He pulled back just enough to look Dorian in the eye. "No -- we won't do that."

Tears welled up in those brilliant blue eyes, Dorian's forehead dropping to rest on his chin. "I love you, Klaus. I'm sorry for panicking so..."

"We did okay... No one panicked," Klaus sighed, holding Dorian still and close for the comfort. A few beats of silence passed, and Klaus let his own body relax back against the bulkhead. "Okay?"

"Yes," Dorian whispered, wrapping his arms tightly about Klaus's neck. "I'll be okay. You?"

/Even years from now, the KGB will still want me, for what I know.../ They'd never *really* be safe, even if they decided not to do contract work. They could go live in a cave somewhere, completely reclusive, and the KGB would still want to pick his mind... "Ja," he lied. "Let's read for a while. I'm sorry we couldn't stay above deck..." /You look so beautiful, and I want you to feel relaxed about that again.../

"Maybe tomorrow," Dorian whispered. "I'll cover my hair, wear glasses..."

"Mischa will recognize me," Klaus murmured with a shrug. "But, tomorrow. We'll be all right. The boat-trip isn't so long..." Only a week and a half.

"We'll think of something?" Dorian suggested, reaching up to kiss him on the mouth, a motion meant for comfort, to feel better.

Light, the familiar bus of lips to lips that drew a sigh from Klaus. "Ja. Something. But not right now. For now... we'll read." The way they'd done once before, after a bad nightmare that *he* had been struck with -- Dorian had grabbed the Wooster and Jeeves book, and read a chapter aloud to him. Perhaps, time to return the favor.

"That sounds not so bad," the other man agreed quietly. "Change into pajamas and read a little..." He liked to sleep naked, but it was better not to upset or shock Klaus that way any more than he had to do so.

There seemed to be, clearly laid out in Klaus's mind, a difference between falling into a doze after making love, and *sleeping*. One required a modicum of clothing, though some nights Klaus forswore shirts. "Yes; to get breakfast tomorrow, one of us will go up disguised; past that, I'm still thinking."

"I'll do it," Dorian told him, beginning to undress, the white satin pajama shorts and sleeveless shirt dropped on the bed. "They won't recognize me, I don't think. I can use make-up..." To cover the scars...

"Only if you want to." Klaus never pressed the issue very far. If he ever did, Dorian might think he cared about those scars; and he did, but only how they affected the way Dorian felt in public. He didn't care if they were there, weren't there, whatever. Dorian was his, drew up emotions from him that nothing else could, was beautiful and wanted him. Everything he could want in a partner.

Everything...

"I don't mind," Dorian said simply, smiling at him even as he slipped into his pajamas. "I'm accustomed to pretending to be someone other than who I am." He was also VERY good at disguises, and so it shouldn't be too difficult to slip into the dining room and fetch breakfast... "We could always just have room service, darling..."

"With the luck I have," Klaus murmured as he moved around the partition that kept the bathroom separate, pajamas in hand, "Mischa will be parading as room service."

A snort left Dorian, not quite amusement. "No. With our luck, the *other* one will be."

"Polar Bear." Mischa, he respected; his co-agent, a man with a personality to match Klaus's own, without the same honor and bit of childishness behind it... "I would rather tangle with the Cub."

"He's less likely to run off with us to do..." THOSE sorts of things to them. Dorian shivered, crawling under the sheets of their bed. "Me, too."

"At least if Mischa takes it into his head to kill someone, he does just that." Which would be far preferable to being tortured, captured in any form... Klaus came back out dressed in an undershirt and sweat pants, set his clothes in the suitcase, and then he, too, slid under the covers. Nowhere near tired, but it would be good to feel Dorian close.

The moment he was in the bed, Dorian was snuggled up against him, arm across his chest, knee drawn up over his thighs. "Maybe it'll be all right," he suggested. "Not as much fun as we'd hoped it would be, but..."

Dorian's position left Klaus how he most liked to lay -- on his back, and able to curl an arm up behind Dorian, to keep him close. "Do you want to read?" /I'll see you relax if I have to push them both overboard./

"Why don't you read to me?" Dorian asked, closing his eyes, cheek resting against Klaus's shoulder. "I'd like that..."

"Which book?" he asked.

"What you're reading is fine," Dorian answered quietly, hand lightly rubbing over Klaus's flat stomach.

That movement got him a pleased sigh, and Klaus half-heartedly batted at that hand as he leaned away for a moment to snag _The Dragon and the George_. "It won't make sense."

"Doesn't matter," he was reassured, Dorian sighing quietly. "Just read to me."

That was because Dorian didn't want to *hear* the story... he just wanted to hear Klaus's voice, and to be reassured by it. "All right," he murmured, and then began to read.


Sun was spilling in through the porthole come morning, nothing but bright blue water all around the boat and bouncing that dazzling light directly at him. Dorian, miraculously, was still asleep when Klaus woke -- asleep and firmly, uncomfortably, pressed against the German man. The blond thief shifted, sighing in his sleep as he pushed his rear into the cradle of Klaus's hips, rubbing at the morning erection that was found there with a motion that was nearly enough to send Klaus screaming from the bed. If he hadn't heard a wanton little sound coming from his beautiful companion, even asleep, he probably would have.

Not that it was unenjoyable -- but it shot white-hot pokers of fear through him that *more* than overshot the heaviness of a morning hardon. Damn the silky white material and damn his sweat pants, both! The two materials, conspiring against him, let the sway of their bodies drive his erection right up along the cleft formed by two firm globes.

It took everything in his power to start to untangle himself slowly.

"Mmmmnnn, Klaus..." It was said sleepily, Dorian squirming closer to him again, whining softly as he pressed himself back against that hardness. "Ohhh..."

/Is he doing this consciously?/ Klaus wondered, shuddering when his own hips canted forwards against Dorian's firmly muscled bottom. Felt so good... /No, no, no, no, nonono.../ He did jerk back, stumbling back out of the bed and taking the covers with him.

That made Dorian jerk awake, blue eyes going wide. "Klaus!? Did..." As he looked at the dark-haired man on the floor, his mouth curled up at the edges. It was difficult to fight off amusement in that moment, even as his hand came up to cover his mouth and (with little hope) stifle the sound of his laughter. "Oh, Klaus..."

"'s not funny," Klaus growled, still breathing hard, shaking a little. Dorian had been asleep, or had he been faking it...?

"Of course not." The chuckles were cut off automatically, Dorian's face going serious. "How'd you end up on the floor? I've never woke up to *that* before..."

/Woke up to someone probably half a minute from just ripping both our pants and fucking you then and there, or me on the floor...?/ "I just panicked. 'S nothing." He started, slowly, to stand up, blankets wadded up in one hand and still partly wrapped around him; it well hid his still throbbing erection. /I'm an idiot and an asshole./

"...panicked?" Dorian asked, frowning. "Did you have a bad dream or something?"

"Ja, something," he drawled, cheeks flushing a little as he moved back to the bed and tossed the blankets back atop Dorian, before he moved to start morning pushups.

Dorian smiled at him, leaning over the edge of the bed. "You know, I love to watch you do that," he sighed, watching Klaus's rear appreciatively. "What's wrong, Klaus?"

"Why do you think something's wrong?" Klaus asked between his pushups. Perhaps it hadn't been the best choice of exercise, because with every time his body dipped downwards, there was just one thought in his mind.

"Do you truly think I don't know when something's upsetting you?" The reply was murmured, and Dorian didn't *look* upset, but he did seem somehow quietly worried. "Whatever it is, Klaus, you can tell me. Is it the Soviets being on the ship?" That was certainly enough reason to be worried, but... Dorian didn't think that it was quite *that* bothering him. No, it was something else....

Now that Dorian was *pressing* the issue, it seemed more and more idiotic to Klaus. /Yes, something's wrong -- I want to fuck you, I want to have sex with you, I'll hurt you if I do that, because no matter what you say, I can't believe it doesn't hurt.../ "It's nothing, Dorian."

The sheer sorrow in those blue eyes made him ache to see. "All right," the Briton murmured in agreement, laying back on the pillows and closing his eyes. "But if you decide later that you want to talk about it... I love you. Whatever it is, I'll listen."

"I just don't want to run in the same rut I fall into often enough," Klaus told him, as he turned over and started to do sit-ups. The pushups hadn't done his arousal a lick of good.

"All right, Klaus." Obviously offers of help weren't going to go too far. "Shall I call for breakfast?" he asked, a leg propping up with foot flat on the mattress so that Klaus got a view of one long pale gold leg, the sight of it distinctly erotic.

As if he needed anything else erotic in that moment! "Yes; you make the call," Klaus agreed, doing his sit-ups faster now.

Rolling over so that he laid on his belly, Dorian made the call, fingers wrapping in the phone cord as he ordered orange juice, scrambled eggs, bacon and english muffins, a last minute thought adding strawberries and powdered sugar to go with coffee before he hung up the phone. "Klaus. We really should talk about whatever's bothering you, rut or no rut," he said firmly. "If we can talk it out, we won't have to visit that rut again."

"Don't... bet on it..." He reached two hundred, and then laid back, stretching out his muscles, heels still against his bottom, knees still bent, erection still present. Dorian was right, though -- talking always helped somehow, and wasn't *HE* usually the one trying to get the ruts filled in? "I woke up differently than we usually do."

"Obviously," Dorian told him dryly. "You were on the floor with the covers when *I* woke. What brought that on?"

/Just tell him -- and then he can laugh, I'll pretend it was just an overreaction, and it's done with until we wake up like that again./ "You were... grinding back against me."

"...you mean...?" A slight wriggle of his rear came in imitation. "That? Against...? Oh, Klaus. I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable..."

Dorian's calm, almost pity-filled reaction, made Klaus feel all the worse. /Nothing. Nothing at all to him. I'm such an idiot.../ "It was just a shock," he excused.

A hand reached out, nimble fingers caressing his face. "Klaus. Darling..." He bit his lip, looking at the other man. "I really won't mind if you do it. I know you wouldn't ever hurt me. I know you're afraid of that, but it wouldn't be painful or humiliating or any of those things. Not with you." Not to mention the fact that Dorian *himself* would feel better knowing he could still do it. If he couldn't, if he panicked, he knew that it would make Klaus feel terrible and himself feel worse, but... "I need to know if we *can*. If *I* can. If I can get past... all of that..."

Klaus sat up fully, still on the floor while Dorian lazed and partly dangled off of the bed. It made the fingers on his face brush a little harder, with a little more of that comforting contact. "But what if you can't? Then it would hurt you."

"If I can't, then I'll tell you to stop. I trust you," Dorian told him with excruciating solemnity.

Klaus was quiet as he mulled it over, and over again, moving his right hand to cup the fingers against his cheek. "Tonight, then. We'll... try it."

The softening of Dorian's face was impossibly sweet as he leaned further off the bed, supporting himself on his left palm as he lightly pressed his lips to Klaus's. "It will be all right," he whispered, a promise to himself as much as it was to Klaus.

"You probably thought you'd never hear that from me," Klaus whispered, taking that sweet kiss and returning it just as a knock sounded on the door. "I'll get the food." Since he was on the floor anyway.

"Never," Dorian agreed, stealing one more kiss before laying back in the bed to look at the ceiling, heart beating frantically from that simple promise. /Oh, Klaus,/ he thought, smiling as the other man brought their breakfast in and sat on the edge of the bed. "It's going to be a perfect day today," he decided.

"It will be if I push Polar Bear overboard," Klaus uttered, looking seriously at Dorian. "Is... do you really want to do that... with... Do *that*?"

"With you? Yes," Dorian told him, turning on his side. "I want to do *everything* with you. I trust you, Klaus. No one else..." Not even James anymore, his poor cranky boy. He just couldn't. Not anymore...

"I trust you, too." But, Dorian already knew that, and more. He offered the other man a plate, and then picked up his own. "I'm sorry if everything is... going slowly because of me."

Sitting up, the blond man took one of Klaus's hands in between both of his own. "No. Whatever you want, it's fine. I..." He tilted his head to the side and smiled. "I want us both to be comfortable, though."

/Tolerant beyond a fault,/ Klaus thought to himself, as he looked at Dorian's expression. /If I hurt him.../ He wouldn't ever forgive himself. Ever. "Better circumstances for all of this would have made it easier."

"If wishes were horses, we'd all be racing at Ascot, sweet. Shall we have breakfast?" Dorian asked with a smile.

"I suppose so..."


The sun was nearly finished setting, casting a golden glow across the water as Klaus and Dorian strolled along the deck, a breeze wafting in off of the cool ocean. They weren't quite out of the islands yet -- a slight engine problem had, apparently, kept them from leaving when they should have. Since they'd been in their room most of the day, neither man had really noticed, though they probably should have.

"It's beautiful," Dorian sighed, leaning against the railing. "It's almost a shame to *leave*."

"Leave America?" Klaus snorted as he leaned forwards a bit more, standing shoulder to shoulder with Dorian. "It's been a good trip, good for both of us, but this 'new world' can't hold a candle to home."

"Not a doubt," Dorian replied. "We've been happy here, though. Maybe that's what it is."

"We'll be happy in Germany, or England, or wherever we live," he shrugged. "Ja?"

"Ja," came the teasing reply, the thief tilting his face upward to smile.

"You're mocking me, aren't you?" Klaus asked, narrowing his eye as he turned his head to look straight at Dorian -- it was good-natured expression, though, and he leaned close as if to kiss Dorian before he jabbed him lightly in the stomach with a chuckle.

That gained him soft laughter and a kiss in return, lips lingering against his own before a whispered breath came to his ears, still filled with utter amusement. "Ja~a..."

"Hmn, hmn, you're incorrigible," came the warm decision, before Klaus turned his head and caught the earl's lips in his, a slow, tender kiss that more than showed his delight with Dorian's playfulness.

"Mmmmhmmmmmm." That agreement was given under Klaus's lips, accompanied by the curve of a smile as Dorian shivered. He liked this little spot, mostly abandoned, and no one had caught them kissing yet on their trip, though why either of them felt there was a 'being caught' to worry about... Klaus wasn't so conscious of that factor as he had been once; perhaps it was just that he no longer cared if people saw, and recognized them. Those people who'd judge... What were they to him and his desperate hold on life? Nothing!

A hand settled on Dorian's back, tugging him a bit closer now, the kiss sliding minutely deeper by the moment. It drew a pleasured sound from the tall blond man, his arms wrapping tightly about Klaus's neck for a moment before they parted, Dorian whispering, "Let's go back to our room, darling?"

"Not yet," the German murmured, looking warmly into his lover's eyes with his own monocular gaze. Yes, life was good...

"What have we here?" a Russian-tinted voice broke in, striding up beside them.

The way that Dorian stiffened was felt more than seen, his blue eyes darting to the side as Klaus shifted him momentarily closer to him.

"Polar Bear," Klaus nearly sneered, as he turned to look at the Soviet agent, slowly. The missing eye and a certain... differentness in his expression were both easy to spot. "Having a good cruise?"

"I do hope you're enjoying it as much as we are," Dorian said lightly, hand on Klaus's chest. "Sunset was delightful."

"Mischa told me you two were vacationing, but truly... this sodden love-bird cover does not suit you, Iron Klaus," Polar-bear laughed.

"And here I thought the entire Soviet *regime* was just *waiting* for the day when I'd finally seduce him so they could shoot me," Dorian drawled, almost painfully aware of the Russian man and the way in which he looked at them.

"You're not welcome here, Polar Bear -- so go away, unless you want us dragged into another mission."

The man snorted, raising both eyebrows. "*I* am not Mischa. I don't believe you're not on a mission, Iron Klaus. I warn you -- don't interfere with me."

"Wouldn't dream of it," Dorian drawled. "We're *on* *holiday*."

"Twice now, you've vacationed to cross our paths. Do not think such a weak cover can last for long," Polar Bear warned them.

"We have shitty luck. I don't want to keep running into you fools," Klaus scoffed. "Let's go back to our cabin..."

Wordlessly, Dorian shifted a foot, moving away with Klaus still close beside him. /I don't trust that man. Damn. And with no way for us to get off of the boat, either.../

Klaus's thoughts, too, were along that line... and then again, he wanted to hear more. So when, as they walked forwards and Mischa came into view, he decided that it would be best to circle back around the deck, and eavesdrop as they had the last time.

"What are we *doing*?" Dorian asked him in a whisper, frowning.

"A favor for NATO," Klaus uttered just as softly, not changing their pace or their closeness.

"You mad, mad man!" was the sighed response, but Dorian didn't resist. His natural curiosity was quite enough to drive him along with Klaus to find out what was going on! "There was a lifeboat near them. Perhaps if we slid under its cover, we could hear them without being seen..."

"Yes," Klaus decided. Yes, unseen and close enough to them... He picked up his speed a bit more, perhaps rushing to get there in good time and start listening. Oh, to have a good bug and recorder!

It was easier than it *should* have been to slip into the lifeboat, and they were lucky they had done so when they did! Polar Bear and Mischa were coming along the deck towards them, and still talking!

Klaus settled in close to Dorian, their heads nearly touching as they listened to the approaching conversation.

"[Iron Klaus is here -- with his pet thief, Mischa.]"

"[Here??]" Mischa asked, sounding surprised.

"[On this boat, yes! I came across he and that British man making out like two teenagers.]" The distaste and lingering bits of shock were very evident in his voice.

The shrug was almost audible in Mischa's voice. "[So long as they are together, they seem able to survive. After what the Stasi did to them, I am not surprised. And now that they are only civilians... Eh. What does it matter if they are faggots?]"

"[I don't think they're civilian -- I think this is a cover, and that they are following us!]"

"[I don't agree, but you'll continue thinking as you like,]" Mischa grumbled.

"[Why don't you agree, Mischa? It's so damned suspicious!!]" Polar Bear was obviously agitated.

"[I don't agree because I've seen them and seen the records of what was done to them! ANY agency would dismiss someone for half of what happened to them. And what use is Iron Klaus without a right hand to fire? Hm? Did you notice his hand? The eye?]"

"[I noticed the eye, but I thought that patch was an affectation,]" Polar Bear growled lowly, taking a look around. "[All right -- never mind them, then. As long as we do not find them acting suspicious, I suppose we can leave them be. The mission, now...]"

"[Agreed,]" Mischa sighed. "[We still have Clark in our pocket. It should be no serious problem that NATO has caught the agent Howell was stupid enough to send. They won't know we still have other men bought and paid for.]"

Dorian could feel Klaus tense beside him, the German leaning closer. /Clark,/ he thought, /is too common a name -- give us more, just a bit more detail.../

"[What if the one caught speaks?]"

"[It won't matter,]" Mischa replied. "[He doesn't know we have the director's secretary in our pocket.]"

/But I know... The secretary of a director... he or she is called 'Clarke' or 'clark', one of those spellings.../ Klaus was tensely still as he continued to listen.

"[Then nothing has been disrupted other than a minor cog.]"

"[More or less,]" Mischa agreed.

It was then that the urge overtook Dorian. He tried to resist it. He *did*, terribly, burying his face against Klaus's shoulder, holding his breath. It didn't work, however.

He sneezed.

/Fucking shit./

"[What was that?!]" Polar Bear snapped, looking around.

Ohhh, this was bad! Dorian clapped his hands over his mouth and shuddered. /No, no, no!!/

"[It was nothing,]" Mischa said, and Polar Bear did not resist. The footsteps approaching the little life-boat seemed to belie that -- yet Klaus stayed still, keeping Dorian nearly smothered against him, so close he was. "[I'm sure it must have been our imaginations. After all...]"

"[After all, why would a sneeze com from a life raft?]"

"[Perhaps it has a cold,]" was the polite response as Dorian squirmed slightly, another sneeze coming on rather quickly.

/Can't sneeze!! CAN'T sneeze!!/

"[Why don't we air it out first, to see if it really has a cold, or...]" The cover came up in a snap, to find Klaus and Dorian huddled together. Klaus's first reaction was to spring to his feet, to get out of the life-boat. Sadly, he wasn't expecting the butt of the gun that whacked him upside the head the moment he began to move.

"Klau-!"

Neither was Dorian.

"[Well?]" Mischa asked, scowling. Such busybodies! /Making my job difficult is so like the two of you!/

"[They must have heard what we said. Let us kill them, put the tarp back down, and let someone else stumble across them,]" was Polar Bear's suggestion.

"[I have a better idea...]"

Chapter 19 by Kat and Tzigane
Hours later, Dorian woke with a throbbing headache, whimpering. /Ohh, it hurts.../ A hand snuck up to touch the side of his head, finding a knot there that had bled a bit, making his hair sticky. "Ooow..."

"Don't sit up," came the soft words, Klaus's voice dry and exhausted sounding from right beside him.

"I think I'm going to throw up," Dorian whispered to him. "Shit. I couldn't help it. Sorry."

"'s all right." Though, from something in Klaus's voice, it didn't *sound* like things were all right. "Just stay still. 's a small boat, and if we move a lot, it'll only rock more."

"*ROCK*!?" Dorian asked, blue eyes flying open wide. "What do you mean, *rock*!?"

"After they knocked us out, they fastened down the tarp and lowered us in. It's nearly dawn now." Which meant that the cruise ship was long gone.

"Oh, *shit*," Dorian declared again, groaning. "Dammit. We're going to *have* to sit up and see where we are, Klaus. Drifting along in the Atlantic Ocean in a lifeboat's not my idea of fun."

"No, and neither is being concussed," Klaus agreed in that same even tone; he stayed where he was, still laying down, even as he reached an arm to dip down and unfasten the tarp.

It was, at least, a lifeboat built for eight, and not the two that they were, so there was a little more room, and (Klaus assumed) supplies if the Soviets hadn't removed them first.

"At least we shouldn't be *too* far from land, should we? We took off late, and we could still see some of the islands when we were watching at sunset..." Dorian sighed, reaching up to hold his head.

Light crept in slowly, and when Klaus had unfastened a bit of the tarp, he sagged back down to cover his eyes for a moment, feeling his pulse throb loud in in skull with every breath he drew.

"You see where we are."

Peering up, Dorian groaned, the intense feeling of nausea rising further as he squinted against the bright light beginning to fill the world with its glow. "I... I think I see an island...!"

"Oh, 's good," Klaus sighed, still laying prone on the sloped bottom of the boat.

"It would probably be a good idea if we found some paddles or something. Do these things come with oars?" Dorian asked, laying back down and swallowing, hard.

"I n' know." Klaus didn't shift for a moment, and when he did it was with complete grogginess. "Check 't the back...?"

"I don't think they'd fit," Dorian muttered, squinting. A look to the side proved that the things were strapped on either side of the boat -- four oars, so that would be all right, if they could just handle them. "They're on the sides."

"'n kay..." Klaus groaned tightly as he finally did sit up -- and it was for Dorian to see his pale face streaked with blood in the rising morning light.

He couldn't help the horrified whisper that escaped him at the sight. "Oh, *Klaus*..."

"Was...?" Klaus steadied himself with a hand against the bottom of the boat, drawing his legs up beneath him for a moment before he repositioned to rest back on both hands, only partly sitting up. "'m okay..."

"Your head..." Dorian whispered. "You've got blood all over you. Oh..."

He shifted the tarp so it was in the boat with them, too, and drew a breath of crisp, slightly humid air. "Scalp wounds... 's just a lot of blood. 'm all right."

Shivering, Dorian reached for an oar, popping it loose from the tight strictures holding it to the side of the boat. "We might as well row. We can take care of it when we reach the island, see if we can find fresh water..." If they couldn't...

Klaus looked hazy enough that he could have gone to sleep again; Dorian had a suspicion that Polar Bear had been the one to knock Klaus out, and Mischa had likely put the aching knot on his own blond head. Still, the German man hung on, and nodded to Dorian's suggestion, prying an oar from his side loose, too.

"If you aren't up to this, darling..." Dorian began.

"'ll try." That he didn't get an instantly snapped affirmation as Klaus blinked for a moment, trying to sight the land, and then dipped his oar into the mostly calm water, said a lot.

With some care, Dorian set his own oar into the slot for it and began to row as well, remaining silent as they moved slowly towards land. /With any luck, it'll have some form of population,/ he thought to himself, glancing over to check on Klaus every so often.

Klaus was barely keeping up with Dorian's slow, even strokes; though, once he was aware of the blond man watching him, he pushed onwards, rowing harder. "Sooner we get to shore, sooner we can rest..."

"Don't outdo yourself," Dorian warned with a frown as they kept on. The water was beginning to push them towards land, itself, the tide coming in and sending them towards the beach a little better.

"I shouldn't 've... made you come with me, we should've... just gone back to the cabin..." And they'd be sleeping, peacefully, comfortably, *safely*.

"It'll be all right," Dorian told him firmly. "I *wanted* to." He *had*, natural curiosity unbearable for him.

"Now we're..." Now they were *somewhere*, paddling a life-boat towards unknown shore, and he felt as if he'd pass out if he stopped rowing.

"Who knows?" Dorian asked. "Maybe behind that fringe of trees is a bustling city somewhere!" Though God knows it didn't look like there was a bustling *anything* there...

"Maybe." The grim tone to that word sounded doubtful. "'n we get to shore, we can use the boat for shelter..."

"If there's no one there," Dorian agreed. /And if there's no one there, we'll have to set something else up for shelter that'll be sturdier. We've got the tarp, at least..../

"'t leas' 'til 've got more... energy..." Klaus closed his mouth, swallowed, and then returned his attention to the tug and push of the rowing -- as long as he could keep his muscles moving smoothly...

They finally reached the beach, both pushing themselves to do it, and Dorian jumped out to tug it farther out of the water. "We're here, Klaus. We're..." Once the boat was safely there, he couldn't hold it back any longer. He leaned over and threw up -- mostly water, a bit of whatever remained of a late lunch from the day before. What was worse was that he knew Klaus must be feeling even more horrible than *he* did!

Klaus, though, stumbled to his feet, one hand cradled up against the side of his head once he was sure his oar was inside the boat, and he began to pull it even further up onto the shore -- each slow, methodical step made to carry it beyond the reach of the tide.

Swallowing hard, Dorian trudged to help him until they had the thing quite beyond the water for the moment. "You can rest now," he whispered to Klaus. "I'll take care of the rest."

"All right." And Klaus sat down on the sand with a heavy thump.

Silently, Dorian climbed into the boat and began rustling through compartments. There, he found blankets, medicine, food, and even gallons of water, all of which he promptly tossed into the tarp and lowered to the ground. "Klaus, can you move far enough to get out of the sun?"

Slow to react, but he did, rising with a slight stagger from sand that refused to grant firm traction, before he backed up towards the tree-line. "We c'n use the boat for shade..."

"Yeah," Dorian agreed, wondering how in the hell he was going to get the boat up there by himself. "For now..." He walked to the treeline, dropping the tarp there before going to help Klaus to it. "Come on."

"'re we getting the boat...?" He asked hazily.

"I'll get it in a minute," Dorian promised, though he was damned near ready to drop.

"Wish 's was Greece... less heat, l's fucking bugs..." Klaus sat down on the slightly grassy ground, cross legged, leaning forwards a little to control the ache of his skull.

"Hold on," Dorian said, quickly spreading out the tarp. "Can you move over? I'll cover you with a blanket and you can use the other for a pillow..." Later, he'd get Klaus's hair clean. Now, though, he needed to get him comfortable and to move the boat...

"Move over...?" Klaus got up again, but looked confused as to where he was supposed to move.

"Onto the tarp, darling," he was prompted, Dorian helping him to move. "Lay back, now. I'm going to cover you up..."

The easy acquiescence was worrying, as was the fact that Klaus did lay down and let Dorian cover him. "'n't sleep... 'ren't.... not supposed to sleep?"

"No," Dorian agreed. "But for now, rest. Doze. I'll wake you once I take care of the boat..." God, that worried him! Klaus was much worse off than he was, and if Klaus died....

"N... 'n right." Klaus closed his eye, carefully, dilated gaze focused on Dorian as the lids closed around it.

"Be right back," he promised again, heading to drag the boat farther up. It took some work -- a lot of it, in fact, and he was sick again, though it was no more than a dry heave. By the time he got back to Klaus again, he nearly fell down beside him, panting. "Wake up," he muttered, shuddering.

It was the shudder more than the mutter that stirred him back, and Klaus looked a little more alert when he started to prop himself up with a protesting noise. "Hn?"

"Don't sleep," Dorian sighed, closing his own eyes.

"Hmn...?" /But you.../ But Dorian wanted to sleep. "C'n you?"

"Hm-mm," Dorian replied, voice negative. "It'd be a bad idea..."

"'n we 'n't sleep," Klaus decided, sitting up a little more. "Food...?"

"And medicine," Dorian declared, eyes still closed. "And water. Ought to take a look at the knots on both of our heads..."

"Open y'r eyes."

"I'm awake," he was informed, aquamarine seeming to peer out from under golden lashes. "'m just not functioning. Don't wanna."

"Sit up," he instructed slowly, doing so himself, just a bit more.

"Bossy," Dorian muttered, obeying slowly.

"Ja." His own head was still reeling. "'ll lay here. F'r a bit."

"Sounds good," Dorian agreed, stomach seeming to dance wildly as he reached over to pluck through the things he'd gotten out. "We've got antibiotic ointment, water, all sorts of meds, and some food. Probably oughta take care of your head now..."

"Hurts less now," Klaus uttered, shifting again to share the blanket with Dorian. Though, it didn't help much, since he was starting to feel unhappily warm again.

"I feel like my brains are squishing out," Dorian muttered, sighing as he reached for the water. "Here..." He began tearing a strip off of his shirt, since the fabric was fairly fragile.

"Don't use fr'sh water... " Klaus scolded. "'s for drink'n."

"And for *wounds*," Dorian chided back. "If you get an infection and die on me, I'll have to use sea shells to slash my own wrists, and I'd just as soon not."

"But 's water out there," Klaus gestured to the ocean.

"Yes," the blond man replied. "Dirty nasty salty stuff that's got God knows what in it. I'm not using it," he told Klaus firmly, opening the bottled water with one hand.

Klaus looked reluctant abut that idea, but he started to move off of the tarp a little so that Dorian could wash the wound.

"There..." That said, Dorian went to work, gently cleaning the thing with fingers that only lightly explored, washing out blood and getting down to the goose-egg that seemed huge when compared to his own. "Oh, darling. It's *nasty*," he sighed.

"'n press so hard," Klaus winced, trying to not jerk back.

"I'm almost done. You can press on me in a moment," came the promise. Dorian's own wound had bled little, but just enough to matt the hair down beneath the top of his curls. "Hold on." A quick rummage through the small amount of medical supplies revealed a tube of bacitracin which was promptly put to use. "There. All better."

Klaus looked a bit silly, hair half-wet, eyes still barely focused, but he took the tube from Dorian, and the water. "Soon... 'll go find civilization." God willing, civilization would find them first.

"After... ow... after we rest. *Out* of the sun," Dorian muttered, letting Klaus take care of him. "I'm really going to do something to make both of them miserable next time we see them!"

"'re doing it? 'n even think of what 'm going to do." That was almost growled, and it was a comfort to hear Klaus growl anything, while he worked on Dorian's wound.

"Ouch," Dorian declared again, wincing. "Almost done yet??"

"'m I hurting you?" The rich voice was thick with concern as he dabbed on the antibiotic ointment, backing off from touching almost immediately.

"Not really," Dorian sighed. "It hurts enough all on its own, darling. Ouch," he declared again with another release of breath.

"'m kay," Klaus uttered as he moved to sit closer to Dorian, closing the container of water. "Food?"

"Yeah. Storable stuff. Here," Dorian sighed, reaching for it and handing it over. He DEFINITELY didn't want any. Not yet...

It was some sort of foil-covered vacuum-sealed grain-bar, a box of them. He opened one, broke it in half, and offered half to Dorian. "You eat first."

"Nn-nn." That was flat denial, the British man looking at it as if it was a snake. "If I eat it, I'll throw it up."

"You f'l sick?" Klaus asked, looking at him worriedly. "'s probably 'cause we haven't eaten since supper."

"Puked twice already," was the reply. "Sort of. I'll be all right.."

Being told that, though, didn't soothe Klaus's nerves an ounce -- he settled down right beside Dorian, hip against hip, and reached for the bottle of water. "Drink."

"I don't want to," Dorian almost pleaded, but he took it all the same and swallowed a bit, closing his eyes. It wanted to come right back up, and he shivered. "Unh..."

Klaus put one clammy, too warm hand on the back of Dorian's neck, trying to comfort. "Can't get dehydrated. Want to try to move into deeper shade...?"

"I think... here's fine," Dorian sighed, laying back. "I just need to lay down. Probably shouldn't sleep, either of us, but..."

"We won't sleep," Klaus sighed, laying down with Dorian, and taking a deep drink of the water. "We won't sleep."

"Just for a minute," was the whispered promise. "We'll only lay here for a minute..."

Just a moment.


When Klaus was next conscious, it was a hazy red-blue darkness that was descending on them, and it was chilly outside.

The sun he'd seen rising was setting now.

"Dorian..." His head hurt less, though it made him not less worried about the other concussed man -- neither of them should have slept!

"Hmmm?" It was a sleepy sort of answer, Dorian giving a soft sigh. "Klaus?"

Fingers touched at his cheeks, and slightly reddened skin. "Oh, you're sunburnt..."

"Ahhh..." Oh, that little sound wasn't so good. "Ouch. That hurts..." The British thief opened his eyes, blinking. "God, did we sleep all day?"

"Yeah -- looks like the shade ran from us, too, at some point... Let me see if there's anything for burns in the aid kit," Klaus murmured, moving away a little to get the box.

His skin felt awfully tight and hot to the touch, forcing him to give a little impatient sound of pain. "Did it get you, too?" he asked Klaus, trying not to frown. He had a feeling that would hurt!

"My face feels warm, so I'd guess so -- does it hurt so badly...?" He fumbled open the box, and started to search through what they had.

"Feels as if I've been fried. If I were fried potatoes, I'd be dubbed done," was the wry response.

"That's not good," Klaus uttered, picking up a small tube of aloe -- enough for one of them to use for a couple of days... /I don't need it,/ he decided, tossing it to Dorian. "Here."

Dorian *would* have smiled at him, but that would've been unpleasant. "Could you do it? You can see better than I can where the burns are..."

/I don't want to hurt you..../ But he moved close, smearing some of the warm clear-green goo onto his fingers, and then began to smooth it lightly over Dorian's cheeks, chin, and spots on his forehead. "Are you feeling better?"

"Yeah," Dorian admitted. "My head's not pounding so badly and I'm a little hungry. Not so queasy. Oh, that feels good," he sighed. "How are you?"

"My head aches, my eye's bothering me a little, but other'n that, I'm fine." His fingers rubbed gently for a moment more. "Tilt your head back -- your neck's burnt."

A little gasp sounded as Dorian obeyed, lip bitten between white teeth. "Damn, things that hurt that way shouldn't feel so blessedly *good*," he muttered. "I'm all ashiver. Nerves ought to differentiate better than that..."

"If it hurts, how can it feel good?" He kept his two fingers moving, smoothing the aloe gel over the reddened skin, too warm beneath his touch.

"I don't know," Dorian admitted. "Probably because I feel oversensitive, I guess."

"Oversensitive how...?" he pressed, wondering. Pain couldn't feel good, could it...? And if it did, would that mean some of the things he and Dorian had done had really hurt...?

"Like when you're sick and someone touches you and it almost feels good even though you're too sick to enjoy it," Dorian sighed. "Oh, it feels so much better now that you've got something on it. I'll do you, now, Klaus?"

"I don't think I'm really badly burnt," he told Dorian, even though he held still for the other man to inspect. "I can't think of any real examples that I've felt of that, except..." When they were in the hospital, and Dorian let him hold his hand.

"Except?" Dorian asked, dabbing a little of the gooey aloe onto his face tenderly.

"It felt good in the hospital to hold your hand."

With those words, the blond thief almost visibly softened. "Oh, Klaus. I love you so."

"Ja, I know," he said, and Dorian's fingers could feel his smile. It still didn't explain why telling Dorian that had gotten such a reaction, but... but he supposed from Dorian's words that it'd been all right.

Lightly burnt lips pressed to his own, then, before Dorian spoke. "I suppose we should do something about somewhere to stay for the night, even if we've already slept. I doubt we'll find civilization in the dark, darling..."

"Let's see what we can rig with the boat and this tarp," Klaus suggested.

"All right," Dorian agreed, rising slowly. "It's a clear night, Klaus. We could always just sleep on the tarp and blankets 'til morning..."

"And wake up late and sunburnt again," Klaus shoot his head 'no'. "If we rig a shelter now, while it's dark, Dorian... we can sleep through the day, and explore when the sun isn't out, or early or late..."

Ahh, Klaus was so perfect that way! He nodded, shaking out their blankets. "All right," he agreed, glancing towards the wild vegetation where forest met beach. "Do we want to move nearer all of the bushes, there?"

"Yes," Klaus told him, starting to stand up. A mostly empty stomach caught up to him fast, and he sat back down again. "We're going to eat first.... and I'll see what I can do about finding us food."

"We have enough here to last at least several days. Tomorrow, we'll look for something else. Who knows?" Dorian drawled. "Maybe they'll have fishing line hidden in the boat."

"That's an idea, actually..." And even if all they caught was one or two fish, it'd be enough for both of them to eat! But for now, he moved to snag the box of food-bars.

A quick search revealed that one box was some form of fruit bar, and one of those was quickly given to Dorian, another opened for himself. They ate them slowly, careful not to eat too much at once and make themselves ill. "Mmm," Dorian declared around a chewy mouthful. "Not bad. Could be much worse..."

"MRE," Klaus nodded solemnly, swallowing. "These will keep us alive, though, so who cares. Tomorrow, we'll have to see where we are, if we're near anything else..." If there were people, and he hoped they wouldn't be there *long*.

"You know, I don't see even the faintest glow of electric light in the sky, Klaus. If there was a city here, there would be, wouldn't there?" Dorian asked.

"Probably. Even a town would do me right now, though."

Golden curls shivered as a warm wind blew past. "I'd think even a village would cast off *some* sort of light..."

"Maybe," Klaus sighed, looking out and over towards the tree-line. Common sense told him Dorian was right, but hope and stubbornness...

"At any rate, let's rig the boat and tarp together against one of the trees for now? Tomorrow, we can search for civilization and fresh water..."

Klaus finished chewing his bar, and moved to his feet again -- feeling much, much better to have something in his stomach. "Pick a sturdy-looking tree."

It only took a moment to determine which one of the palm trees seemed sturdiest and Dorian nodded to it, moving to tug at the boat. "Shall we lean this up against it and then wrap the tarp to provide a sort of shelter?"

"Lean the boat against it on its side," Klaus murmured, already dragging the heavy thing up the beach further. It would be good protection from evening winds... "Tack the tarp down against the side and use something to prop the tarp up at the other side..."

"Like a tent," Dorian noted, grunting slightly as they tugged the boat into place. "We can tie the tarp the way it was originally..."

"On just one side," Klaus clarified. Now, the fun part would be getting it up on its side...

Dorian seemed to agree, for he paused, frowning at it as they stood near the tree. "Well..." A moment of pause, and Klaus sighed, moving to get his grasp on the side farthest from the tree, using a heel to lever down the near side. With care, Dorian began pushing as well, until they very shortly had the thing toppled over on its side, despite its hefty size. Thank God it was aluminum! "There!"

"Not so bad," the German mused, pulling it back so that it rested on the tree more. "That will make a good shelter for us!"

"Good!" Dorian declared with a sigh. "Now, the tarp..." Would be less trouble...

They moved it in place easily by each of them holding a side, and then fastening it in place. "You know, as a team, we only get better and better..."

The urge to say 'I told you so' was swallowed as Dorian smiled at him, moonlight spilling down on the beach as the silvery round glow of it made itself known. "Now, then. Shall we get our blankets?"

"And all the other supplies." Dorian carried over the blankets, and Klaus took the food and first aid. "We'll manage here, just as well as we do anywhere."

"Good. Then there's no reason to put off what we were planning for tonight... is there?" was the husky question given in response. He was feeling *much* better, and Klaus looked as if he felt better, too. That combined with the sheer *romance* of where they were would be enough for Dorian to forgo the worry of getting sand in odd places or... or worse ones about where they might be...

"What...?" Klaus looked at him in complete confusion -- had he agreed to something, while freshly concussed, that he didn't remember?

"Making love?" Dorian asked him softly.

Technically, he'd agreed for that to have happened the night they were left unconscious in the boat. Technically... /I want to, there's no one here.../ "You still want to?"

"Yes." The reply was given quietly, Dorian standing close to him, the blankets only scant feet away, waiting to be moved inside of their little tent. "Very much so." Even though his heart was beating as if it would burst with what was either excitement or fear, he *did* want it with every part of him. "Though I might want to wait at least until my skin doesn't feel as though it's going to fall off of my face," he sighed a bit sheepishly. "It does hurt awfully, all tight and hot and unpleasant."

"Then we'll wait," Klaus soothed, snagging the blankets. "We'll sleep for a bit tonight, and then we'll explore a little. In the morning we can see just how bad the burn is."

The thief couldn't help but smile a little at that, even if it pulled his face a bit tight. "How we can even think of sleeping..." he began.

"Rest then -- I still have a headache," Klaus shrugged, tossing the towels under their little shelter. "I'd like to go out and look around in a couple of hours, while it's still dark."

"That sounds acceptable," Dorian agreed solemnly. "Until then, we can just lay together..." That sounded like such a beautiful idea!

"You know I'd never pass on a chance to hold you," Klaus purred a bit softly, waiting for Dorian to duck in first.

Obediently, the blond man slipped into the makeshift tent and they spread out the blankets carefully before Dorian laid down, waiting for Klaus to come in after him. Once he did, and once they were both side by side with Klaus's arms around him, he relaxed, sighing slightly with pure pleasure. "Oh, Klaus..."

"Hmn?"

"Do you think there's anyone on the island besides us?" Dorian asked.

"I hope there is." Though the lack of evening glow that Dorian had pointed out to him seemed to be a hard truth -- that they were alone on the island, except, probably, for a few animals.

"Mmmmm." For a while, silence reigned, and they laid there quietly together, but Dorian finally shifted, his back to Klaus's chest, rear pressed to him lightly. "I think I like laying this way. Do you mind?"

Through the lean muscles of his back, he could feel Klaus's body freeze for a moment; then, the exhalation of a tense breath. "You don't mind?" he finally asked when he drew in air again.

"It's just how I want to be with you," Dorian sighed quietly.

"Be with... when...?" He couldn't even form it into a full and proper sentence -- just vague questioning that he hoped Dorian would understand.

"Always." That answer was a bit vague, Dorian's arm moving back to rest against his own. "As soon as my skin doesn't feel so tight, though. If that's what you mean..." It made him nervous, but oh how he wanted Klaus!

Shifting just a little, Klaus slid an arm beneath Dorian's head, fingers resting lightly against Dorian's chest. "It... it's no rush. We're... I mean, we're stranded here right now, and I... 'm not sure either of us are ready for this."

"If you're not, then tell me," Dorian said quietly, nuzzling back to him. "I don't want to push you just because I'm ready for something. I... I've wanted you that way a long time, and I think -- no, I KNOW -- you can make everything right again somehow."

"I want to make things right for you again," Klaus murmured softly, right into Dorian's ear as they pressed closer to each other. Once settled in, it took every thought in Klaus's mind to keep from getting hard, with Dorian's ass pressed back against the cradle of his hips. "You're so much to me."

THAT admission sent an outright tremor through the British man, sinuses tingling. "I know," he whispered, and he did, always had, or had at least HOPED. "I love you so, Klaus."

"I know." Love, though... it was intangible, and though Klaus suspected he did love Dorian, there was no surety. And he couldn't say it unless he was sure, not unless he was sure and knew that saying it wouldn't hurt Dorian.

With a sigh, Dorian closed his eyes. He wasn't sleepy, but resting wasn't out of the question, and he was safe in Klaus's arms. There was no reason *not* to do so. /One day, I hope.../

The German man laid there, holding Dorian so close, trying to not concentrate on any of the myriad of thoughts in his mind. If he spoke, it would only drive them both into a rut again. One of many, though the one of need and want didn't hurt them so badly -- it just hurt him to realize and know there was so much wrong, still. /Take it one day at a time, Eberbach, and this will never change. Every day is one more day ignoring that there's something wrong with us, something more wrong than what we do when we're alone together./

"Klaus?" It was a whisper, inquisitive, willing to be still if no answer came in return.

"Ja?" the slow, bare answer he got in return came as a tickling breath against his tightly curled hair.

"What are you thinking about?" Dorian asked softly.

To tell him, to not answer at all, or to lie...? /I can't lie to him, not ever.../ "About how I wish things were different. Not different... I mean, if everything was still the same, and you and I were together." If they were both 'normal' and un-hurt, if he still worked for NATO, if Dorian was still laughing, flirting, wildly daring...

"Like this, then? Except..." The thief paused momentarily. "Except like we were before. But this way." /Like I wished for so long.../

"Yes," Klaus murmured quietly, still not moving -- somehow, it was easier to say without the weight of Dorian's eyes on him. "I wish we were." Because he was nearly always aware that they weren't the way they should have been, that circumstances had twisted each of them.

"Can you be happy since we aren't?" The question was spoken so quietly, and meant to the depths of him. Without Klaus, there was no happiness. Without Klaus, there was no safety. Without Klaus...

He wasn't sure there was a Dorian anymore.

"I'm happy now, Dorian." As if to assure the other man, he nuzzled a soft, tentative kiss behind Dorian's ear, pushing aside strands of thick curls. "I just worry about you. And me. If we can really... function."

"Mmmm." It was a sound full of understanding, and he wriggled back more closely against Klaus, sighing. "I think we can. We don't seem to do too badly," he noted.

"Not too badly, but..." Klaus's rich voice trailed off into a sigh. "I worry."

"Because we aren't like we used to be. We... can't be that anymore, though. Not now. Maybe not ever, so we just have to go forward as best we can, don't you think?"

"I know -- but sometimes I..." Just got stuck in his thoughts. Like now -- dwelling on the past when he sanely knew he should be resting, relaxing, trying to conserve energy, before he went out to explore a bit of the area.

"Get caught in a rut, so to speak," Dorian said for him.

"Ja." He pressed a little closer, burying his face against Dorian's hair. "I think if we weren't making such an effort to not let that happen, we'd... not be able to do what we do."

The reply was firmly spoken. "Then we just have to keep it in mind, then, darling. That's all."

"I'm glad... that you're doing so much better than you were at first." Doing so well, that Klaus was able to take long moments to work on both their problems, and occasionally just his own -- while still keeping a keen eye on Dorian. "I really..." /Just say it, oh, *dammit*.../ How hard to say, words that he'd just balked minutes before at saying. He didn't know, he wasn't sure, he was afraid... /Trust him to not abuse it, trust him to help the way you help him, trust him to always be there.../ "Love you."

He could feel the stiffening of the other man's spine, the dreadful *stillness* as Dorian's breath seemed to stop coming for just a moment. "K Klaus...." Klaus. *KLAUS* had said... and he...

"That... that's all right, isn't it? If you don't... I mean, I won't, if..." Oh, *shit*, why had the other man gone so stiff and still in his arms? "Dorian?"

"*Klaus*!!!" His name was spoken so sharply, the other man turning in his arms rapidly enough to almost bump their noses together. "Oh, Klaus, Klaus, *yes*, Klaus!"

From stillness that had made him worry, to this, ecstatic joy...! Klaus held him in return, twice as tight, shaking a little. "I didn't mean to say... it, but I'm worried... and if something happened and you didn't know..." It would have killed him, to have felt such love given to him, and been unable to return it to Dorian.

The feel of wet tears against his throat was probably almost enough to scare him clean to death, but Dorian couldn't help himself, and it didn't matter that it hurt his face to be tucked there. "I love you," he whispered. "Oh, I love you so much. Klaus. Oh, *Klaus*!"

Dorian could feel Klaus rocking him a little, so very gently. The other man was always trying to reassure or calm him, watching over him even when he didn't need it... "Don't cry, Dorian -- I didn't mean to make you cry..." Tears... tears meant pain, unhappiness.

"I'm just so terribly happy," Dorian managed to say softly, arms wrapping tightly around Klaus's middle. "I never... and to hear it... I'm just so happy!" he finished almost incoherently.

Had it been really so important? Had him finally giving those simple words meant so much to Dorian...? "I meant it -- I really think I do, because... you're so much of me."

"Nothing. *Nothing* could ever mean so much to me," the British man murmured, deep voice husky with emotion. "Klaus, I love you so. I've loved you *always*..."

A soft chuckle reached his ears then, Klaus's odd sense of humor perking up for a moment. "We would choose to... to say this when we're stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere, laying on a blanket on cold sand."

That gained him a little laugh. "Well, you know, it's really rather romantic, isn't it? Stranded together on a beautiful tropical island. Not many people get the opportunity, now do they?"

"It's not safe or sane to romp naked on the sands, no matter *what* shitty American commercials gave you that idea," he scoffed softly, before pressing a kiss to the edge of Dorian's mouth. "I think I've had enough rest for one day."

"What would you like to do instead?" Dorian whispered breathlessly. The hell with the pain in his face!

"You should rest," Klaus told him, lips still at the edge of his mouth. The taste of aloe was enough to remind him to pull back and to not do it again -- because sunburns hurt.

"And what will you do?" the other man asked.

"Maybe... see if I can find fish...?"

The urge to laugh was fought back, blue eyes dry now and sparkling slightly in the moonlight fighting its way inside. "That sounds just marvelous. May I come, also?"

After a moment of thought, he was told, "Ja. If the water's cooler than before, maybe you can put a little on your face."

Salt water would probably be just awful for it, but he smiled all the same. "Sounds wonderful," he sighed, lightly touching Klaus's arm. "Let's go."

Klaus sat up slowly, still holding Dorian, and kissed the side of his neck very, very gently before moving them out of the 'tent', as he was thinking of it. "If I can find a sharp stick, we might be able to manage."

"We should've checked the boat for fishing line before turning on its side in the dark," Dorian admitted wryly.

"We can do that in the morning -- but you're going to stay in the shade when the sun's out, understand?" Dorian was all but ordered by his companion.

"Yes, Klaus." He might even obey.

Maybe.

Chapter 20 by Kat and Tzigane

Four days later, their routine hadn't changed much -- the rations were holding, and Klaus had forged into the woods some -- but mostly he'd stayed nearer the shore, not wanting to have Dorian too far from his sight.

So, he'd taken some line that *had* been inside of the boat, rigged a hook, and had begun to fish -- good nutrition for them both, and better than those bars. Their life-boat didn't have a skillet, but it did have a metal dish, so the cooking and eating was done in that.

Life was simple, lazy, and a bit dull.

It was all right, in Klaus's opinion.

"I caught two today," he smiled as he approached their shelter -- which Dorian only came out of now that the sun was setting, golden hair fairly shining with fire as the crimson rays reflected back off of those golden curls.

"*I* found little packets of salt hidden away in one of those compartments," Dorian told him proudly, smiling. "That ought to be a treat for the fish, hm?" His face wasn't nearly as red anymore, barely a pale pink, only lightly sun tinged.

"Good -- a little flavor on our food won't kill us," he uttered, sitting down cross-legged in the sands as he reached for the knife they had and started to gut and clean the fish.

"That's REMARKABLY disgusting, darling," Dorian noted with a sigh, wrinkling up his prettily pink nose.

"You've watched me do this the past three nights," he was reminded.

"I thought it was disgusting then, too," Klaus was informed.

The German man smiled as he looked over at Dorian. "Would you rather eat these two fish with everything still inside of them? Nein, so, don't complain about a little fish blood."

"Yes, Klaus," was the most obedient answer. "Though I'm sure it would be easier to eat them if I didn't see their guts first," Dorian teased.

"Hmn, then turn around," Klaus warned him, as he started to carefully de-bone it. "Why don't you start the fire?"

"That sounds like a perfect suggestion," Dorian agreed, moving to their small pile of driftwood. Gathering it had been fun and effortless, and the economy sized book of matches they'd found in the boat had made starting a fire even easier than that. "Hmmm, they'll be delicious! The last ones were. You catch the best kinds of fish, Klaus."

"They're certainly cleaner than the animals running around here." He'd seen a few crashing through the underbrush, smaller animals -- rats, a smattering of other mammals and lizards, some kind of pig. "The salt will help."

Dorian's agreement was quietly given, the other man concentrating on their fire. It was small to accommodate their modest metal dish, but it was more than enough considering they didn't need a fire for their own warmth. It had been freezing some mornings in the Berkshires, but this small tropical island had certainly been pleasant, weather-wise. He hoped they continued to be lucky -- it was still hurricane season, after all.

With their luck, something Klaus considered a major victim of Murphy's law and bad karma at some point in his life, one would probably end up perching right over their current island home.

It didn't take long for Klaus to finish with the first fish, putting one side of its body on the dish with a little of the fresh water. "That should be just fine," Dorian sighed, taking one of the little salt packets and sprinkling it over the thing. "It looks delicious. Especially since you got rid of its guts, darling."

"We could eat them, but it's just not worth the trouble." And it would probably only make them both sick, and what was the sense of that?

"I'll forget you even made that suggestion," he was told firmly. "Because caviar is one thing, but random fish guts is entirely something else altogether."

"I've never liked caviar, either," the German shrugged. "Eating that instead of meat makes as much sense as substituting wine with dog-piss."

The way that Dorian's nose wrinkled was absolutely adorable. "Thank you for that enlightening comment," he declared, sighing as Klaus placed another slice of fish into the little pan to be salted.

"Can you say I'm wrong?" Klaus challenged, smiling a little grimly at him as he started on the next fish.

"Not with a straight face," Dorian admitted. "One *should* like caviar, I suppose, but in the end, I simply can't get past the fact that it's fish eggs. Rotten fish eggs," he decided. "Elegant, I suppose, but lacking beauty and *taste*. Cheese and fruit is better."

"And I'm sure you've found ways to make that very elegant." That was wryly said -- how funny that they were talking about food while they prepared their measly meal of fish.

"Darling, anything's more elegant than rotten fish eggs," Dorian informed him. "Truly. This, for example, is purely gourmet in comparison. Well... maybe not, but it *tastes* a lot better. What's that saying? Hunger's the best sauce."

"Those ration bars are certainly starting to taste good," was the returning agreement as he started to de-bone the next fish just as carefully as the first. "Tomorrow I'm going to start a fire burning and leave it burning -- a signal in case anyone passes by."

"It's a good idea," Dorian agreed. "D'you think anyone'll notice? That we're gone, I mean. Jamesie'll just *die* if we aren't where we should be..."

"He'll suspect I've done something horrible to you."

That gained Klaus a sigh. "Oh, dear..."

Looking up at his companion, Klaus tried to crack a comforting smile for Dorian. "It means, though, that at least he'll put more effort into trying to find us."

"With any luck, they'll have noticed the boat was missing and have some idea of where to start looking," Dorian decided.

"What 'they'?" Klaus asked after a moment, slicing that fish neatly and carefully laying the half on the dish that was now sizzling.

"The ship crew. I'd think they'd keep an eye on their lifeboats and such, wouldn't you?"

"I'd hope they do." Because *they*, personally, had made no friends on the ship who'd notice them being missing. They kept to themselves, so hopefully the missing life-boat would be realized...

Dorian nodded. "Well, if they don't, you'll shortly get to see me looking rather *odd*. I'll bet you have a *lovely* dark beard, but mine comes in all straggly and *curly*, and if you laugh, I shall simply be required to scruff you with it or something."

Klaus snorted unhappily AT that -- he was already starting to feel a little scruffy along his chin. "I hope you didn't try to grow it out on purpose."

"God forbid, no, darling! Well, it *was* for a purpose, but it wasn't something I liked, so I've decided it doesn't count. Can you imagine? It was just awful." Dorian sighed. "I rather hope we get rescued before we're more than scruffy. Four days is an awfully long time to go, you know. You actually look enchantingly *shadowed*, however."

"Only you would say that," he was told with gentle confidence and a shake of Klaus's head. "What were you growing a beard for?"

Dorian grinned. "For one of those things you don't like to talk about, darling. Generally, I prefer to do things romantically, but sometimes, practicality works just as well." If not better... but he wasn't going to admit to that!

"Oh." Klaus dusted a bit of sand off the last half's scales, and looked at the fire for a moment. "Ja, don't tell me about things you've stolen."

"I've stolen at least one thing you hadn't ought to mind hearing about too much," came a teasing offer.

It certainly caught Klaus's attention. "What's that?"

"Your heart." It was pure kitsch, sappily romantic, and Dorian looked so damned pleased with himself that it was almost laughable. "I love you awfully, Klaus."

The edges of Klaus's lips curled upwards just enough to make Dorian completely delighted with the reaction, and Klaus tossed the last part of their soon to be dinner onto the plate. "It wasn't stealing, I don't think. I noticed, and just let you take it."

"Oh, well... it's mine now, stolen or not," Dorian told him cheerfully. "You know, Klaus," he continued, face becoming serious as he seasoned the last of the fish, "my face doesn't hurt anymore..."

"It doesn't?" It actually took him a moment to register what that meant, or could mean, but when it had been placed in his mind, Dorian could *feel* the intensity of his gaze. "I'm glad... it doesn't hurt anymore. I hate to see you hurting..." The knife was cleaned quickly with a splash of water that he'd boiled earlier in their dish, and wiped dry, set aside. Then he moved back beside Dorian and the fire just a bit away from their shelter. "That's good." /Can I kiss you?/

"Tonight," Dorian whispered, leaning closer. "Can we...?"

"Ja." He wanted to add his own 'please' to it, but there was no need to vocalize it, not as he pressed his lips against Dorian's cheek for a light kiss. "As long as you think you can...." /I just hope I can./

The blond man seemed almost shy as they sat there side by side, a stick they had sharpened and burned being used to move their fish around in the little pan. "Good," he whispered, already thinking about it. "Oh, good..."

"It won't hurt you, will it?" Klaus asked after long moments of sitting shoulder to shoulder in silence with Dorian. "If we... I know how badly you were hurt when..."

A finger came up, lightly placed upon his lips. "No," Dorian said solemnly. "It won't. That... we won't think about that. It was wrong, not like things will be with you and me. So it won't hurt. I promise." They'd found tubes of various medical creams and other things among the small first-aid box, and one of those would do for lubricant, he was sure. If they wouldn't, there was always the aloe, though Klaus would surely protest the use of the aloe since one of them could get burned again. Still...

The German man swallowed, looking down for a moment, and kissed the finger Dorian pressed against his lips. Then he moved closer, an arm sliding behind Dorian's back. "But will it feel good?"

"It will feel *very* good," Dorian whispered, thumb rubbing across Klaus's lower lip. "I know it will."

Another kiss, softly placed against the pad of his thumb. "I've never done this before."

"We'll explore it, then. Go slow," Dorian promised solemnly. "It's not really that much different than what we do already. Just... pleasing one another, Klaus. Making things right. Making things good. That's all."

"I've never understood it, and I still don't." And he still had, in his mind, the rough pain of having a finger twisting about within his body -- and that was just a finger -- his cock could do so much more damage, so much more pain to his dear companion... "Is... there a way for you to control what... what's going on?"

Smiling, Dorian nodded. "Yes. I... if you're comfortable with it. I can... we can... I can sit atop you," he fumbled out finally.

"Sit..." Klaus couldn't echo the rest, just looked as Dorian for a moment. Dorian had been over him before, laying warmly on top of him, a comforting presence... "I can't see why I'd be... uncomfortable with it."

"We'll be naked. Sometimes, that changes things. Before, we always had on at least a few items of clothing," Dorian offered.

Pants and shirts, even if pushed to where they wouldn't be a bother, or a heavy blanket, all of which were used as a floor... "I'm comfortable with you against me. More than... more than ever."

"Good," was the soft reply. "I love you. It will all be just fine," he declared. "Our fish is done, darling."

"And salted -- it'll be a good change." With a stick that was more blunted, he speared the smaller of the two pieces that had already been cooked, and took a bite.

Chuckling, Dorian poked its other half and nodded agreeably before taking a bite. "Should be. How is it?"

"Salted fish," Klaus shrugged. "It's good -- just enough water in the dish this time, and the salt helps. Tastes better every day."

With a visible grin, Dorian bit into his own. "Mmmmmm," he declared, chewing and swallowing. "You know, by the time we leave, we'll be able to cook fish like nobody's business."

"Fruit would be nice with it -- later tonight I'll look for fruit." Plus, they both needed it -- something citrusy so they wouldn't end up with scurvy or something like that.

"Before," was the reply. "We'll look together. Maybe there'll be pineapple or something near the spring?" They'd found running water the day before, a clear stream that gathered in a pool at the foot of a small waterfall. "We could go swimming, maybe."

"Swimming..." Definitely a safe thing to do together, safer than swimming in the ocean with its salt and snagging creatures, its strong currents. "Yes. After we eat then -- are you sure you face is all right?" It still looked red.

Dorian shrugged. "It's stopped hurting. It should be *fine*, darling."

"Good. As long as it's stopped hurting..." It couldn't be any worse than those horrible cuts had been at first, the worry that they'd gone clean through his companion's cheek...

The scars had been the worst of the burning, most sensitive, but even they felt better now, his face not so tight, the pink cheeks no more than just that -- pink. "Eat your fish," he prompted teasingly.

"Hmn -- if you start to eat your nutrition bars in the mornings," Klaus teased back, taking another bite of his piece.

Dorian's nose wrinkled, lips pursing slightly. "If only they didn't taste like cardboard," he sighed.

"Cardboard that's good for you -- if we just eat fish, we'll probably become fish, at this rate." More teasing, to keep Dorian happy and smiling, while he worked mentally through his fears of hurting the man in what they were going to do.

"I'd make an *awful* fish," he admitted. "Probably something totally ridiculous, too. You'd be a shark," he decided. "A very marvelous shark."

"Hmn, a stereotypical one eyed shark with one messed up fin," Klaus scoffed, taking another bite of the fish -- the fourth would finish it off, and there was one more piece for him.

"All right, so a pirate, then. The Dread Pirate Klaus, king of the seas!" Dorian declared extravagantly. "And I could be your arch-nemesis. That's better than cabin boy, I think," he said. "We could secretly be lovers and rule the oceans together!"

"Hmn, I don't take well to being compared to an disreputable ancestor." That, too, was smiled, so Dorian could tell that Klaus was relaxed and enjoying their banter as he took the last bite and chewed slowly. "You'd make a better pirate."

Blue eyes fairly sparkled in the firelight. "Raiding, thieving and all around having a marvelous time?"

"While wearing tight pants and a blousey shirt," Klaus agreed, stretching for a moment. "It's going to be a nice, calm night again. I wonder if it ever rains here."

"It must," Dorian decided, "for it to be so lush. Maybe it just isn't the season for it?"

"Don't tell me things like that. If you do, that means the next season we'll probably be flooded right out." If they were still there, which he hoped, despite the beauty of the area, that they weren't.

"I suppose we'll just have to go building a hut or something. Sort of a modern Robinson Crusoe, you think? Or... mmmm, Swiss Family Robinson!"

"Swiss Family Robinson...? You mean those people from the book who built their own semi-modern house... Dorian, I doubt it's possible." He was still intensely proud of their shelter, which was fairly comfortable.

"Probably not, but we can still probably do a lot to keep us high and dry, darling," Dorian pointed out.

"Soon -- once I've figured out a steady source of food, because we're not getting enough right now." Otherwise, food wouldn't have been such a factor in their minds.

"There's bound to be something other than fish, you know. All of those pigs running about and such," the blond man murmured.

"Then we need to work on weapons to get them with -- we can sharpen sticks and harden their tips in the fire..."

Wryly, Dorian said, "I'm not sure I want to get very close, Klaus!"

"Then I can hunt those, and you can fish," he suggested next.

Dorian *definitely* didn't want him hunting alone! On the other hand, he really didn't want to watch pigs bleed, either... "Well, with any luck, someone'll find us soon," he declared, starting on his second piece of fish.

Klaus followed suit, too, though he took Dorian's piece from him, and gave Dorian his own, larger, piece. "That's what I'm hoping most, but a backup plan has never hurt."

"Klaus," Dorian began with a frown.

"What?"

"Give me back my fish. This is *your* fish. I don't want your fish, I want my fish," he was informed firmly.

"You didn't finish breakfast," Klaus reminded him, "so you need it more than I do."

"Klaus..."

"Dorian." Said back to him in the same tone Dorian had used on him.

Still frowning, blue eyes fairly gleamed at him. "I'll eat it," he declared with a sigh. "But only because you want me to."

"I won't do that again if you eat everything you're supposed to. We've been fine with four days, but we might be here a lot longer, and you need to be healthy." It didn't really matter if his own health suffered, as long as Dorian was all right.

"And *so* do you," he was told firmly. "We'll go scavenging for fruits and such, though, and it'll get better." Dorian was such an optimist!

Such brightness was hard to deny -- to denounce Dorian's better temperament would harm them both permanently. So Klaus nodded and gave a bit of an agreeing grin as he quickly ate his second piece.

By the time he'd finished, Dorian was working on the last of his own, and was smiling. "Come on. We'll leave the fire and light part of the driftwood to light our way there. Maybe it'll help to find fruit, and we can go swimming. We should probably take..." He'd have flushed, if his cheeks weren't already so pink. "Something with us."

"Take something with us...?" Klaus asked, while he moved to grab a piece that would suit as a torch.

"The aloe, or maybe one of the other tubes..." Dorian offered a little shyly. It wasn't that he wasn't accustomed to sex; he was, it was just... well, it was Klaus, and with everything that had gone before... "For lubricant."

"Swimming?!"

"No!" Dorian groaned, and he *did* flush, then, face lighting up with heat. "For... for... YOU know!"

"I... I guessed -- there, though...? It's so..." Open, he wanted to say. So many directions that needed to be watched!

"On the rocks just above. It'll be beautiful and the moon will be bright," Dorian offered quietly. "And it will be all right, there..." It wouldn't seem furtive or quick, just... open. Just them.

An elevated position was always safer than a low-lying one... "Will you be able to relax there?" In the end *he* didn't matter -- Dorian did.

"Yes," Dorian replied solemnly. "I will. Will you?"

"If you can," was the predictable answer.

"I don't really think it'll be a problem for me," came the tentative response. "I think I could relax with you most anywhere..."

They were still seated near each other, so Klaus pressed a kiss to the edge of Dorian's lips. "Just with you."

"Let's go, darling," Dorian whispered. "Let's go swim, and... I'll stop in the tent. Come on..."

"Before we come up with a reason to not," Klaus agreed with a soft smile, tentative and hard to give when paired with his too true comment. Standing up, he pulled Dorian with him -- so they were together and closer than ever.

"Kiss me again?" The question was a little husky, softly spoken, and arms wrapped around him slowly. "It will be all right, Klaus. I promise you."

Familiar touch, well-known, calming voice; both washed into his mind and comforted more than Dorian could know. But he felt it, Klaus relaxing and then moving his lips to press them against his companion's... no, lover's mouth. Dorian was a lover, just as possessive as he could be, at times. /We promise each other so much.../

Promised it and would die to fulfill it. "Love you," Dorian whispered, hands sliding down to his hips, touching, light, *good*. "Adore you. Klaus... It will be all right. Come on." Carefully, he took the other man's hand, smiling at him bravely. "Fetch fire with your wood here and we'll go..."

To the little spring, where they would... and he wouldn't hurt Dorian. Not ever again, not ever!

Funny how they could relax together, no matter where or how, and how Dorian always seemed to keep him focused when they started something together. He caught Dorian's eyes out of the corner of his eye, and smiled as he led Dorian over to the driftwood and grabbed a piece. "I'll light this, and you... get the other."

It only took a moment; less than that, really, and then it was in his hand and he was with Klaus again, walking towards the underbrush. The tropical jungle was wild, but they'd beaten through a small path the bushes and trees days before, so it wasn't difficult to head towards their source of fresh water, hand in hand, the tube tucked carefully into Dorian's pocket. "A bath will be nice," he declared inanely, smiling at Klaus, trying to set him at ease.

"Bath -- soap would make it a bath. We're just planning on splashing around in our drinking water source," Klaus snorted gently.

"I suppose we could try scouring off with sand as we do with our dish," Dorian offered a bit dryly, "but I rather think it'd be horridly unpleasant."

"I was just going to say it might work," Klaus laughed, shaking his head again. "As long as we avoid anything sunburnt, it shouldn't be too unpleasant."

"You do me and I'll do you," Dorian offered mischievously as they strolled into the clearing where the pool of fresh water lay.

The waterfall wasn't much -- just a short spill over into the little pool, perhaps as much as six feet, perfect to serve as a shower. It *was* beautiful in the silver moonlight, however, the pool itself reflecting light from its perfectly clear water, the heady scent of tropical flowers heavy on the air.

His comment got the desired reaction from Klaus -- a blush that warmed the German's cheeks. Yes, soon they would be 'doing' each other....

"We're lucky to have found this place," he tried to comment off-handedly as he started to remove his shirt.

"Mmmm." It was a quiet noise of agreement as Dorian began to strip as well, blue eyes trained on the other man. "Klaus, if you want to stop at any point, all you have to do is tell me so..."

"I remember," Klaus murmured, watching Dorian a bit more than absently. "But I'm... are you sure you'll be okay...?" He was hoping beyond hope that Dorian was right and that it wouldn't be like what the Stasi had done.

"Mostly certain," Dorian replied, shoving at his pants. They came down with an unexpected ease, dropping to the grassy floor of the little glen, shirt dropped atop them. "I think I'll be fine."

"So, if you need to stop, just do -- I'll know to back off," Klaus said agreeably, staring at his lover's body while he finished shucking off his own clothes. He was still a divestmentphobe, unless it was for a clear purpose... and the purpose now was *very* clear.

Dorian nodded. "I'll tell you. Perhaps I'll say..." His lips curved up in a smile. "Hm, why not... Achilles."

Stepping out of his trousers, Klaus nodded to that suggestion -- even as he quickly made his way into the small pool of water. "So, you'll say it to... stop everything?"

"Yes," Dorian replied quietly, watching the other man slip into the cool, clean liquid, following after him slowly. "That's just exactly what I'll do."

The water was *crisp*, and it felt almost like what he assumed stepping into glass would feel like -- enveloping and chilly -- but the chill was a nice reprieve from dry, sweltering heat. "If you need to. And... you'll be on top." Twice the protection, Klaus though, from something going wrong.

Dorian's agreement was that soft word again. "Yes. Klaus..." Carefully, he moved closer to him, an arm wrapping around the other man's waist, legs moving lazily to keep him afloat. "I love you." It threatened to melt the man, being told that again and again like Dorian did -- weakened him to the core, and he didn't care at all that it did. The strength it took to keep afloat was little, though Klaus made sure Dorian's grip was just a loose one. "Kiss me," was the demand, given with an absolute surety that it would be granted. "Kiss me and kiss me and kiss me..."

"Would it be better to do that on land?" Klaus asked, before he took a brush of a kiss, careful.

"For now," Dorian told him, "we can do just as we like right here. I doubt we'll drown, darling. When we do that... then, we can slip to shore."

It seemed reasonable that way -- once Dorian had even gently insisted. "Kissing you... is a pleasure I can't do without now." The earl's lips were warm, even when chapped from too much sun, and they parted just enough for his tongue to slip between them, caressing within. From there, it was a tangle of mouth and tongue mingled with hands that stroked over the width of Klaus's shoulders, touching him with an obvious want. Response came by way of gently nibbling teeth, nudging legs pressing lightly to Klaus's as they remained there, treading water easily together.

A few days without touching with such intent had put Klaus a bit down from where he'd been in his ability to take easily those heady touches. Dorian's teeth catching onto his bottom lip got a soft moan in response, and Klaus sliding one hand firmly along Dorian's spine to better mould their bodies together. His free hand went out, into the water, to better keep them afloat. Swimming... was something perhaps that they shouldn't have even bothered with -- he wanted to be on stable ground then and there, to be able to see how he touched Dorian.

It seemed that Dorian understood that need, for he pulled back slightly, mouth swollen from the sheer force of those kisses, a little breathless. "Let's move that way," he murmured, pointing in a direction where the clear pool of water was a bit more shallow, more likely to allow them to stand than not.

At least it would allow them an easier time of touching each other again. The sheer need that lurked in the back of Klaus's mind, to do those things, was frightening at times. To know that, given the option, he would probably spend all hours of the day, all days of the week, doing that...

"This is better," he decided, as they reached a point where he could put feet down and not be under the water, footing firm enough on silt and rocks.

"Much," Dorian purred, his own toes finding a proper footing. "Now, then, I believe we were right about... here?" He leaned forward and kissed Klaus again, bringing his knees up to clutch at Klaus's thighs. His arms still wrapped carefully around those broad shoulders kept him stable, and it felt so *good* to press himself completely against the lean length of the other man's body!!

It almost completely unbalanced Klaus, but he was more than grateful for that pressing contact -- Dorian might as well have not bothered to find footing, for all that his feet weren't touching the bottom of their little pond anymore. Klaus was pleased where the thief's knees were, though, where his arms were, where his lips were pressing, again and again...

"Love you." It was a fair litany, singing in his ears, the feel of Dorian's mouth fluttering kisses over his face unspeakably delicious. "Love you. My Klaus..."

Overwhelmed by those kisses, he could only drudge up the effort to reply, "Ja, yours." As if Dorian needed to be told -- the teasing comment about having stolen his heart was true, the utterances of having him... yes, all true. Otherwise they would never have gotten further than that night in the bathroom, where Dorian had caught him touching himself.

Slowly, as he wrapped his arms around the small of Dorian's back to hold him up, Klaus started to back up -- towards the shore.

"And I'm yours," Dorian told him, moving to nibble lightly where throat met jaw, mouth caressing past there to his ear. "Always, Klaus. Forever, and I'll never, ever leave you..."

Would it have been the same between them if they'd been lovers before the Stasi had brought about changes? Would it have been the same if Klaus had been able to deny an overwhelming need to protect, to *have* Dorian just for himself? Probably not, but what they had, the way they were... "Ohhhh, ah, Dorian..." He kept backing up, until there were water-smoothed rocks against his back.

The taste of Dorian was pure hunger, the steady rock of hip to pelvis unmistakably desirous of more. One slim thief's hand reached out, finding a hold on one of the rocks to hold them still as he moaned against Klaus's lips, sighing against them a moment later. "Up on the rocks," he whispered to his lover, parting from him. "I'll be back in just a moment."

"Where are you going?" Klaus asked hazily, not yet moving as Dorian pulled back.

A smile that was purely born of adoration and need crossed the other man's lips. "To fetch something from shore, darling. I'll be right back. Promise."

Something... *that* something. Klaus watched, still breathing a little hard, as Dorian moved out over the water; once he was near the shore, Klaus turned, and climbed easily up the sloped rocks, up to the flat area atop the rise. He seemed almost a silvered god there in the moonlight, water spilling so close to him, the occasional splash making its way over the rock in a chill little wash. It was nothing but purely appreciated as Dorian turned back, a small, slim tube in hand, and looked at him for just a moment before slipping back into the water and silently swimming over to the rocks.

He pulled himself up beside Klaus, looking at him steadily. "It's almost difficult to believe you're actually human, love. You're so beautiful here this way..."

"Beautiful? Me...?" Klaus smiled slight at him, already pulling his gold-and milk-hued lover near. One hand cupping the side of Dorian's face, the other lightly at his waist. "Nein -- you're the one who might as well be a part of the water."

"Beautiful," Dorian informed him again lightly. "A living work of art, almost. A divinely made water god come to life to take a mate..."

Sometimes it was better to just let Dorian flatter him -- because how could he be *that* and be missing an eye? How could he be *that* and be missing a hand, bear so many scars... But arguing would have ruined the mood, and his own need to make Dorian entirely happy. Usually when they were both naked there was a sheet, or something, but not now -- not it was just the stone beneath his back, slightly cool, and Dorian kneeling beside him. "Why look for a mate, when all I want is here in you?"

The slow curve of Dorian's lips said much, the spark of his eyes undeniable even in the flat pale light. "Because I *am* your mate, darling. And I'll always be," he purred, leaning in to kiss the other man delicately.

The hand at his waist, Klaus's right hand, pulled Dorian's body nearer -- but not yet touching his. Without water between their naked bodies, it was somehow a thousand times more overwhelming to have his lover that close. "Always," came the aching whisper of agreement against Dorian's mouth.

Easily, Dorian allowed that kiss, opening to it, his arms wrapping tightly about Klaus's neck, the entirety of him yearning to be held snugly against the other man's body. He could resist only so much and so he slid forward slightly, pressing them chest to chest, wanting so badly for more. When Klaus next tried for more contact, it was the unexpected meeting of their hips, sliding together almost like two puzzle pieces -- and how much Klaus wanted to join with Dorian! He gasped at the rub of erections, slicked with water more than anything else. "Dorian..." It wasn't a request for him to stop -- it was a request for something coherent.

"Yes," Dorian promised him in a single breath. "Yes, *Klaus*..." His hand slid down, caressing over the stiff, slick, heated length of him, slowly but surely coming from root to tip. "Is this what you want?" he whispered, trembling a little with the strength of his emotions. "Is this what you *need*?"

"Uhn, gott, yes!" He tried to not move his hips at all, but they twitched upwards a little, into Dorian's grasp. "I want to do that to -- *with* you so badly..."

"Then we will," his lover almost groaned, reaching for the tube. "Klaus... you need to touch me. There... if you can..."

"Touch.... t-touch you where?" Klaus asked, wanting desperately, clarification.

Taking the other man's hand, Dorian gently guided it between his thighs and farther back, touching fingers between his own cheeks. "Here. With this..." He indicated the tube. "To make sure that I... I'm able to take you in. To make me slick. And I'll do you, here..." His second hand lightly caressed over the length of Klaus's erection, trembling only slightly.

Klaus could feel his own hand shake a little as he coated two fingers on his good left hand with the slick stuff -- probably something they shouldn't be wasting, but it wasn't a real waste if it felt so good as it did. Of course fingers would ease the way, but just one finger had hurt so much for *him*....! "I love you," he murmured, sliding those two fingers up along the crevice between firm muscles.

"Oh, Klaus..." The way that affected Dorian was so *obvious*, the entirety of him seeming to melt with the sound of those words. "Beyond knowing, yes... yes, yes, yes, Klaus, *please*..." His own fingers were still stroking slowly over the blood-filled throbbing jut of flesh so blatantly needy between Klaus's thighs, tenderly moving upon him. "Please, I need you so much... so many ways..." His wet head dropped forward upon the stone, water-damp corkscrew curls spilling around him. "Please..."

If Dorian's pace had been just a bit faster, Klaus would have been worried about reaching completion -- with his lover writhing and moaning just kneeling partly over him, so blatantly beautiful... Hard to resist. "You... okay?" he asked as he slid one slicked finger in to the second knuckle.

The little mewled sound that he gave seemed as if it was meant to be agreement, and the slight shift of his hips was an obvious one. "Yes!" he finally managed to groan, eyes slitting open to watch Klaus. "Oh, *yes*... Only you, Klaus," he whimpered. "Only you, ever. Ever..."

"Only you." He meant it just as much as Dorian's words, as he slipped that finger in a little, moving it very carefully -- with no idea of what he was supposed to look for, if anything at all, or what he was supposed to do.

"Just a little more!" It was a whimper, pleading. "Just a little... little... AHHHH!! OH, *GOD*!! Yes, Klaus!!!"

Obviously, he had found whatever he was supposed to look for, and equally obviously, it must be *good*.

Though in particular, nothing felt too different from anything else -- it was all hot, all clenching around his slicked finger. But he didn't stop, because obviously he was doing something right. "Can I... add my other finger...?"

"Yes..." It was a raw little sound, Dorian looking at him, hand moving to the tube to squeeze some of the slick ointment out onto his fingers. "Yes... you can, please, Klaus. I'd... unnnnh..... Oh, I'd love it if you did!!"

At first Klaus didn't think a second one would fit in -- but he tried, pressing it close against both the tiny hole and his other finger. When it slid in, his blond lover gave a sound that was purely pleasure, entire body arching with the feel of it. "Hah!!"

"It isn't too much?" Klaus asked, desperate for the reassurance that Dorian was all right with having that done to him.

"So good," Dorian whined softly, shivering. "So *good*... Klaus... Oh, *GOD*, how I want you, need you... love you..."

"You're amazing," he whispered tensely, watching the blond's face flicker with expressions. Now that Dorian was so intensely distracted he'd stopped touching Klaus, which was just as well. There was enough visual stimulation to keep him hard for weeks.

"Now... Klaus?" Dorian panted out, wanting more. He knew it would be all he could do to get his legs beneath him, to get himself atop Klaus and settled there, but he wanted Klaus so *much*...

"What... what do I do?" It sounded pathetic, but he *needed* to be told exactly what Dorian wanted him to do....

"On your back, darling," the British man murmured, lightly pushing at him so that he laid flat. His brains felt utterly scrambled with desire, but he pulled himself together enough to only let out a little moan of loss when Klaus removed his fingers. "Huunh..."

"If it hurts," Klaus reminded him shakily.

Moving over him, Dorian paused, kneeling up. *He* seemed the God in that moment, blond and ravishing and silver in the moonlight, shimmering with cool moisture, a thing made up of exquisite purity. "I'll tell you," he promised in a whisper, reaching for Klaus's heated erection and taking it in hand before settling down slowly so that it met his own flesh, lightly placing it between his cheeks. "Tell me the same, Klaus..."

Klaus was barely resting his weight back on one elbow, caught in looking up at Dorian's pleasure-caught frame. Just beautiful to have that kneeling atop him, to have that... He shuddered visibly, a tensing of muscles, when Dorian guided his cock towards its destination. "I will." Though he couldn't see how it could hurt *him*.

Momentarily, Dorian paused there atop him, thoughts scattered with sudden panic. /It's Klaus,/ he thought taking in a deep breath. /It's Klaus, and he'd die before he'd hurt me.../ With that, he slowly moved downward, pressure opening him up, making him gasp as the soft tip of that stiff erection sank past the scarred ring of resisting muscle meant to hold him out! "Ohhh!"

"Nnng!" Klaus's voice caught between a gasp and a choke as he froze, keeping himself unmoving. Such a tight, tight clutch around him as Dorian controlled the actions.

The other man's name was a shaky sound on Dorian's lips as the blond moaned, sliding slowly down that hard flesh until Klaus was deep inside of him -- so impossibly deep that he felt as if he was going to simply tear apart with the tension and the want and... yes, the fear. "Klaus," he whispered, leaning down and pillowing his head on Eberbach's scarred chest. "Hold me, Klaus. I'm afraid I'm going to fly apart!"

Fly apart... Klaus understood that, since he was nearly going to shatter from the *amount* of sensation that came from Dorian's bottom resting against his hips, the shuddering heat that clutched at him. The plea in Dorian's voice un-paralyzed him enough to get his arms to work for him, sliding around Dorian's shoulders to do just that. "It.... it's all right. It's just me, Dorian."

"Yes..." The whisper was shivering agreement, Dorian trembling against him. "Just you. Just.. oh, *GOD*, Klaus! So... so hot, so *much*, so much of you... so deep... ohhh..."

"It, it isn't too.... ah, too much?" Klaus asked disjointedly. It took hard concentration to keep his voice working, to speak when he wanted to move his body against Dorian's.

A shift proved that it wasn't too much at all, breath shuddering loose from the man straddling him. "Nnnnn, *Klaus*, God, *yes*!"

Klaus's hands, unsteady, stroked against Dorian's back, over the smooth skin as he stopped hugging the man quite so tightly near him. "How... are you?"

"Feels so good," Dorian groaned out, shuddering. It hurt a little, too, but he would never, ever tell Klaus that! Besides, the wonder of it more than made up for the small amount of pain, and the little shivers working through him could certainly be put off to pleasure!

"Can I.... m-move yet? Christ, you feel so hot, Dorian!" He couldn't help that it felt so good, that he wanted to grasp Dorian's hips and grind up into him.

"Y...es, please *GOD*, do it, Klaus!" That reply was barely moaned out, the slim blond man writhing atop him. "I... need you so..."

"It's... so..." Powerful, he wanted to say, as he arched his hips minutely so that their bodies pressed closer still, and then parted. He needed to kiss the other man, needed badly to do that, and yet he needed to watch Dorian's face, to make sure everything was okay...

It gained him the softest sound of pure pleasure, Dorian shifting above him. "Kiss me," he whispered, shivering. "Kiss me and touch me... here..." A nimble-fingered hand took Klaus's own, lightly placing it on Dorian's cock, the flesh desperately hard and needy. "God... *yes*..."

That was familiar, though it was hard to work on stroking Dorian where the man liked it best -- around the head and beneath, he always remembered that -- while he rocked minutely into the man kneeling over his groin. "Lean... lean down, so..." So he could take Dorian's mouth in his.

It seemed so easy for Dorian to obey, and for a moment, he honestly thought he'd melt into the German man with the sheer bliss of being kissed that way. "Nnnnnmmmm!"

Linked completely to each other, groins melted completely, mouth against mouth... It was more than Klaus had ever felt in his life, more pleasure in one complicated act than he'd ever thought possible. Each straining shift brought new pleasure, a quickening of pace; and all the while he stroked at Dorian's fluid-slick cock while his mouth ate at Dorian's. It wasn't like every sick fear he'd had -- it didn't feel all powering to indulge in the act, and Dorian wasn't being hurt, and that made it so much better!

Panting slightly, Dorian pulled back from him, mouth swollen, and smiled. "Do you... like it?" he managed to ask, a steady writhe of hip and thigh continuing to build pleasure between them. "Do you want more of it? Do you want more of *me*...?"

"Yes, yes, more of you, Dorian, it's..." It was beyond the ken of coherence for him, and it showed in the way he tried to form more words, but ended up just smiling breathlessly at his lover.

Returning it, Dorian shifted up, sitting on him fully. He shook his hair back over his shoulders, hands lightly placed on Klaus's abdomen as he nearly *purred* with satisfaction. It was so *good* to feel Klaus in him, to feel it not hurting, the way that everything rubbed so perfectly. "Good," he cooed quietly. "Ohhh, so *goood*..."

"I could... oh, do this for hours," Klaus moaned disjointedly, shuddering at the race of feeling he got from Dorian's hands on his stomach. He finally rested a hand on Dorian's hip, other still stroking firmly, shakily at the earl's hard cock.

The purely luscious sounds he dragged from Dorian were so good for him, freeing him of his worry as the other man rose and fell on the stiffness of his erection, shuddering steadily. "Please... please, please, please, *yes*, God, more...!"

He couldn't think of anything else to do for Dorian -- other than rock his hips up firmer, and stroke faster, matching the two paces -- oh, he wanted to give in to his nearing release, but not unless Dorian went first!

It wasn't much of a stretch for Dorian to do just that. The feel of Klaus deep in him, nudging at the all-too delicious nub of his prostate; the realization that he *could* do this after all; the sheer *freedom* of who and what they were together... It all combined, mixing in him until he was nearly incoherent with joy, and when he came, it was with a cry that echoed back over the water and into the trees, the entirety of him going stiff.

If he were ever to black-out during sex, then would have been the time. But he didn't; the release, a sudden rush of need that had to be let loose, hit him hard, and left him drifting when Dorian rolled forwards a little, resting entirely atop him. "Ach, da.... darling..." It was awkward for him to say, but it was something, as he stroked gently with heavy-feeling fingers.

"Perfect," Dorian whispered, rubbing his cheek against Klaus's shoulder. "'S just so perfect..."

"Felt.. feel so good," he sighed, voice nearly slurring the words right together.

"Garrison," a voice said clearly from the other side of the brush, "I'm utterly *certain* that I just heard a *howl*."

Klaus tensed immediately -- shit, there *were* other people there, and their clothes were on the other side of the little pool!

"I can't imagine that it would be a *human*, Jackson," came the assurance. "We're probably going to be eaten by some ridiculous tropical animal or something!"

Not only were they together, and naked, but the were still *together* -- his cock, softening, was still within Dorian' tight clench... He had to do something.

"Don't come into the clearing!" he called out to them. "Wait a moment!"

"Well," a third voice declared, deep and calm, "it looks as if Jackson was right. How remarkable. You'll have to eat your words about the animal, Garrison."

"Shut up, Orville. Who are you?" the voice who seemed to be Garrison called.

Klaus started to sit up, Dorian still a motionless blanket of body atop him. "Civilians -- we were stranded here a little while ago -- hold on a moment, we've been... swimming." /Come on, Dorian, get up, help me here.../

"This is either very good or very bad," Dorian whispered, shifting slowly off of him. "Back into the water?"

"Ja, and over to our clothes," Klaus finished, barely a whisper.

"Civilians, eh? Hm, odd, that." That one was Jackson. "Well, odd that you'd say it, all the same. Decent yet, are you?"

"Not yet..." Both he and Dorian slid quietly into the water, and he swam forward quickly, over to the other side of the pool and then out of it, trying to sort out their clothing.

"Here, those are my pants," Dorian whispered. It was going to be *hellacious* to dress like that when they were both wet!!!

They were handed over as Klaus stood and struggled first into his underwear, and then his pants. Somehow, if the pants had been wet, too, it might have been easier. But at least it was something, and he jerked his shirt on quickly, absently pulling up his eyepatch to dry the skin beneath. Trying to not watch Dorian in his rush to dress, too -- why was it that everything they tried ended up interrupted somehow?

"Are you finished dressing yet?" came the call from one of those voices.

"Er... yes!" Dorian declared, buttoning up his shirt. "We're mostly decent now!"

"Oh, *GOOD*," was the proclamation, a rustle of leaves sounding before three men revealed themselves from the surrounding vegetation.

Klaus took a stance between over relaxed and ready to attack, edging himself nearer his lover. But the three men coming out of the bushes didn't *look* threatening at all -- rather, they looked like doddering old scientists or professors.

"How remarkable," the second voice said, squinting at them. *He* was obviously Jackson, as declared by the stitchwork on his white lab coat. "This is the first time we've gone for a walk and found people on the island."

"We were in a lifeboat, and we ended up here," Klaus said warily. "What government do you work for?" /Please don't let this be Cuba.../

"Oh, no government, dear boy, no government," the one with Garrison on his coat declared. "It's a private island, and our lab's well tucked away in the brush. Come along and we'll feed you and let you take a bath and perhaps contact someone to fetch you?" he offered.

"That sounds all right," Dorian agreed, glancing to Klaus.

"Who do you work for?" Klaus asked, still intensely suspicious -- there would be nothing worse than walking right into a trap!

"Oh, for ourselves," the one named Orville declared. "Governments are too corrupt to bother working for them."

The German eyed the three men for a moment, and then nodded once. "Thank you, then, for the offer of aid."

Dorian nearly sighed with Klaus's expression. "I'm dying for a hot bath," he told them, smiling.

"This, you may have," Orville replied, nodding. "We have much of the commodity of hot water."

"We need to make a call to Europe," Klaus uttered, grasping Dorian's hand between them to keep him close when they followed after the man. This was a good turn of events, it seemed!

"That would certainly be acceptable," Garrison informed them. "We have the proper equipment to do such a thing..."

"And then some," Jackson muttered.

"...and so we'll be glad to help you in any way it may be possible for us to do so!" the little man with the bowl-cut hair and large nose finished, glancing at his comrade.

"Thank you," Klaus said again, "Lets go now...?" Because he and Dorian were standing in wet clothing, and he wanted to be able to get back to Germany soon, now that the option was there.

"Of course," Orville agreed, turning to begin their journey.

Klaus gave the hand he held a firm squeeze, and looked over his shoulder to make sure that Dorian was okay with how things were going -- did he sense anything wrong with those three? Other than odd appearance, of whom Klaus knew they should be no judge, they seemed... all right.

Dorian seemed to think so, too, as they tromped through thick foliage and grasses on a path that was nearly impossible to see. Big leaves whacked their faces every now and then as they followed the men in their white coats silently, listening to their babble.

"Remarkable..."

"Can't imagine..."

"But there you have it, all the same!"

"Excuse me, but what are you fellows having such trouble imagining?" Klaus asked politely.

Glancing back, Jackson peered at him dimly. "Oh, that anyone could be stranded on our island. It's an oddity. One rarely finds people stranded on deserted islands anymore outside of classic novels."

It was hard to not sigh, as he continued to follow the men. Yes, it was unlikely, but... but he and Dorian *lived* the unlikely life! "Shit luck, I think of it as. And since you're here, it isn't really stranded."

"Excellent point, my boy. Bright," Garrison told the others, nodding. "It isn't deserted after all."

"Just seems like it," Dorian agreed.

"We didn't explore too far in from the beach since we couldn't see a glow from your compound when the sun set," Klaus told them. "More shit luck, since we've been eating fish and ration bars since we ended up here."

"The fish really weren't so bad," the blond pointed out to Klaus. "Especially once we found the salt..."

"Which was only this evening," Klaus pointed out, stroking his thumb over the back of Dorian's hand. "It hasn't been all bad." The pool, the talking, the *respite* from worry, the sex, oh god, they'd finally done it, hadn't they? Yes...

They'd DEFINITELY done it.

"Good, good. It's an abundant sort of island," Jackson told them, nodding at the silent Orville. "Isn't it? That's why we chose it!"

"What do you do?" he asked absently, still stroking his hand over the back of Dorian's. When they got a chance alone, he had so much to thank Dorian for, so much...

"Research," Orville rumbled, nodding his bald head. "We do private research."

Vague. Vague, but Klaus wasn't about to press it too far. "We won't disturb your work for long, then -- just until we can get out of here."

"Yes," Dorian agreed. "My accountant will come running when I call..."

"That's all right," Garrison told them. "We've got a few extra quarters for when family comes to visit." There was nothing at all suspicious about that until the lot of them stopped in the middle of what appeared to be an empty clearing.

The empty clearing put Klaus on edge, and it was more than obvious that the German *was* tense, as he verged closer to the trees and underbrush again. "So, where is your base...?"

"Right here," Garrison said, hitting a red button on a small contraption drawn out of his pocket. The grass lifted up, revealing a mechanical door -- obviously an elevator. "As I said. We work for no government. They're too corrupt. And they'd like too much to get their hands on things we choose to do."

"Wise to keep it hidden, then," Klaus said, edging forwards only after one of them started to go in. There was no way he was going to let himself and Dorian end up boxed into a fort that he couldn't see...

"WE thought so," Jackson agreed, even as Dorian's hand clutched Klaus's more tightly.

/This is so odd. Not threatening, really, but... FRIGHTENING, nonetheless,/ he decided, shivering.

As the other two moved into the doorway before them Klaus could only try to soothe Dorian's nerves with his touch from one hand, mulling things over. Perhaps it had been better when they'd thought the island stranded...

Still, it was a chance they'd have to take, and so they stepped into the elevator and Dorian shivered only a little as it began to take them down. /What an odd place,/ he thought, staying very close to Klaus. /So strange../

"We will show you to your quarters, and then send the message you wish when we arrive below," Orville told them politely.

"We only need one room," Klaus said as he made sure that Dorian was still comfortably close to him, almost protected in that small space.

That didn't seem to faze any of the old men, one of them just nodding slowly. "We expected as much," Garrison replied solemnly. After all, it wasn't as if what the two of them had been doing was in much question...

Dorian flushed slightly and glanced up at Klaus. "We'll be off your hands before you know it," he promised.

"Hopefully James won't charter some tug-boat to come get us," Klaus sighed. It would be *cheap*, if slow as hell, and he wasn't in a mood to put up with shitty thrift.

"Well..." Dorian said thoughtfully. "I'm sure he won't. After all, we'll have been missing for at least a few days. Poor Jamesie is probably frantic..."

"Good." Then they might be something better, faster -- a plane would be good, the faster they could get *home*.

"We hope our hospitality will be enough," Jackson said as the elevator came to a stop. "We aren't accustomed to having company."

"I'm sure everything will be just fine," Dorian replied with a smiled nod. "Thank you."

Hopefully they *were* just scientists, hopefully they weren't luring Klaus and Dorian into a trap, hopefully...

"Yes, thank you -- anything you can do for us will be more than enough."

"Just don't wander down the third hall to the left and everything should be just fine," Garrison told him. "That's where the research labs are."

"We won't leave our room," Klaus assured him. "We're not here to look around -- we just want to get home."

Jackson chortled at that. "Excellent. Just excellent!"

Smiling, Dorian hid his shivers. Creepy old men!

Shortly the two of them were escorted to a fairly comfortable, if stark room by the three old scientists, and Klaus wasn't going to any issue of question in his mind. No, he wanted a bath, and to sleep in a bed, call James, or Bonham, or someone, and to get back *home*! "Thank you, again, for helping us," he murmured graciously.

"No problem," Orville told them with calm inflection. "Would you like to send your message now?"

"Yes, please!" Dorian sighed, smiling charmingly at the lot of them. "We would appreciate that terribly much if you don't mind. Urm... 's there a phone, or...?"

"We'll just.... send a message for you," The one with the big nose said cryptically. "If you'll give us a number and a name to call, we'll set up transmission for you..."

"That's more than fine," was the agreement from the Briton, Dorian stepping close to Klaus. "Please, call Mr. James. You may reach him at 00-44-0845-773 3377... perhaps I should write that down..." Dorian muttered.

"I won't forget it," Orville promised with a nod of his head, and then the scientists left them alone! Blessedly!

Klaus made sure the door was locked, and then turned his attention back to Dorian. "You're all right?" was his first, concerned and wary question.

"A little nervous," was the reply, arms wrapping tightly about the man. "But fine, other than that. You were marvelous, Klaus. Just marvelous," he sighed, holding tight.

"Marvelous...?" That was almost confused, before he realized that Dorian was talking about... Oh. The German let himself smile ever so slightly, pulling Dorian comfortably close. Ah, but it was good to hold Dorian, to be sure that they would soon be back in Europe. "You were always marvelous, still are. That was..." He pressed his cheek against the side of Dorian's head, golden and very wet curls clinging. A nervous half-sigh left him. "Thank you."

"I think," Dorian murmured, holding tightly to him, "that we might as well go ahead and trust these strange gentlemen. After all... even 'f we don't, it'd just mean we'll be nervous for days. What do you think?"

"I'll trust them only because there isn't anything else to do." They were outnumbered, even if it was a small number and no hardship for Klaus to take out, but it was also a small bastion of civilization into which they were being invited. "I don't give a shit if they have other motives, or are working for someone. I just want to get back to Europe." And there was the side thought that it was roughly time to get a 'replacement' eye that would save him the trouble of the marring eye patch. Yes, it would be good to go back to civilization, and going back home changed nothing as far as being with his new lover and companion.

"For now..." Dorian smiled up at him. "Let's go to bed. I'm sure you'll enjoy sleeping in one as much as I will, at this point..."

"Have I ever said I have something against sleeping in a bed?" Klaus asked rather rhetorically. Better a bed than a tarp and emergency blankets on the sand!

"Not even once," Dorian agreed, kissing the corner of his mouth lightly. "I can't wait to curl up and be comfortable with you," he sighed. "Seems like forever since we slept in one..."

"Hmmn, yes -- but let's shower first...? I... don't really want to get the sheets dirty, and I'm sure we would," Klaus reminded him. Playing through the pool of water was completely different from *bathing*! And both of them, he was very sure, needed a bath. Was he the only one who could still smell a little sex off of them both?

It didn't seem to matter to Dorian, though, for he only kissed him once again. "Together?" he asked, smiling slightly, the scars on his face momentarily seeming brighter beneath the fluorescent lights.

Not that Klaus noticed it on Dorian's face, or cared at all. "Ja, together. 't'll save water and time," Klaus excused, though Dorian could read it for just that -- an excuse, and not even a full-hearted one, since Klaus started to pull Dorian towards the bathroom.

He stripped as he went, dropping dirty clothing to the floor with a little laugh, and by the time they actually reached the shower, he was entirely naked and trying to make certain that Klaus was the same. "Hmmm, it'll be nice, having soap, shampoo..." He sighed almost lustfully. Bathing was close to heaven!

"If I didn't know better, I'd think you wanted the shower more than me," Klaus murmured in slight amusement, as he disrobed only a little hesitantly. "Start the water?"

"If I can have you both together..." Dorian drawled, reaching in to quickly turn on the hot water. "Well. There's nothing wrong with *that*, now is there?"

"As long as I'm included." As long as he could be near Dorian, as long as he could touch him and be close, know that he was safe... They were going to go back home soon. Gently, he urged Dorian into the shower, snagging the rather simple soap and shampoo in there.

Unable to help himself, Dorian moaned with what was unmistakably pleasure the very moment that the hot water hit him. "Oh, GOD, that's marvelous, darling," he sighed, eyes closing in pleasure. "Hmmmmm...."

"'s odd to get a real shower," Klaus murmured, closing the shower's door behind them to better seal in that heat -- he realized only then how *cold* and unregulated their temperatures had been, even in that climate, and in just what odd places sand could stick.

"I think," Dorian told him, frowning, "that I have sand up my..." That more or less proved that their thoughts were running along similar lines.

"Doesn't surprise me," Klaus said with a straight face and a furious flushing in his cheeks as he handed Dorian the shampoo, already lathering his own.

"NOTHING surprises you, darling," Dorian teased, happily going at his own washing, delighted to be getting clean again. "Ohhh, this is magnificent!"

Klaus tilted his face up into the stream of the water for a moment, eye closed tight against it as he washed out the shampoo from his hair. Then as an afterthought, he removed the patch, now wet, and carefully cleaned over the socket and spacer it hid. Hopefully Dorian wasn't watching.

He needn't have worried; even if Dorian had seen, he wouldn't have been put off by the sight. Still, the blond man was washing diligently, and carefully didn't look. He knew that Klaus didn't want him to see, and that was more than enough for him.

They'd certainly gained a good sense of each other's preferences and limits when they'd been in America together -- and now they were working on the barriers of intimacy, something Klaus was glad to be working down and scared of all the same. But Dorian loved him with a fierce devotion, and he knew and had said that he loved Dorian...

And they managed well together, in ways Klaus would never have expected before the Stasi had come along and changed everything so drastically.

He finished washing before Dorian, but couldn't help that he lingered in the hot water that came down, lingered until Dorian, too, was done.

"Mmmm. So tired," Dorian sighed, wrapping wet arms about Klaus's waist, the water still running over them. "I'll sleep awfully well, I think."

"How about you get dried off first, then sleep?" Klaus offered gently, reaching for a towel that was awkwardly draped over Dorian's shoulders.

"Can't I just stay right where I am?" the thief chuckled, drawing back to smile up at him.

"You can still hang onto me in bed, you know. Sheets, warm, a mattress... Aren't your finer, decadent senses screaming at you to dry off so you can get in a *bed*?" Klaus purred, only *half* teasing him.

"Yowling," Dorian drawled in reply, smiling at him. Of course, it would *still* be awfully nice if Klaus dried him off, he decided...

"Then what's stalling you?" The edges of his mouth were coming up again, in that oddly pleased smile that he got from looking at Dorian for very long.

With a curious little pout, Dorian chuckled, still not letting go of the other man. "I want *you* to dry me off and put me to bed, darling. Won't you, please?"

When it came to doing things for each other, Klaus seldom asked why; this, too, would be left unquestioned. The towel around Dorian's shoulders was let slip a little, and Klaus gathered the edges in his hands to start drying Dorian carefully with it. "There isn't a blow dryer; we're going to have to go to bed with wet hair..."

Sighing, Dorian accepted his touch, letting Klaus towel him off slowly and thoroughly. "I doubt it'll kill us considering the last few nights. It'll be so nice to get home. What say we skip Greece altogether and go back to Germany, Klaus?"

"I was just going to suggest the same thing to you in the morning," Klaus smiled a bit hesitantly. "Do you mind if we did that?"

"Hmm, no," Dorian sighed as Klaus stood, leaning forward and kissing him lightly. "I wouldn't mind at all. I would imagine you're ready to go home." So was he, for that matter, but for the moment, Klaus's needs were more important.

"Terribly. I've missed Germany... And you must miss England," was the quick observation as he shifted a little to dry the backs of Dorian's thighs and over his buttocks.

"Hmm, but we can go there later," the blond man said. "For now, let's go home." Home, after all, was where Klaus was. It always would be. Besides that, it was past time that Klaus discovered whether or not his father had disowned him -- a horrid thought, but one that was most present in Dorian's mind.

Klaus was sure to avoid making any decision that would lead him to finding out; and if he did, or already knew, he might never tell Dorian. After all, he had a small barren apartment in Bonn, and Dorian had a fairly spacious flat... "America was nice, but only for a vacation," the German agreed, moving the damp towel to soak up excess from Dorian's thick hair.

Another humming sound came from Dorian by way of agreement, the British man sighing with pleasure. "You spoil me awfully, you know. I appreciate it, Klaus. I appreciate *you*. I love you."

"How do I spoil you?" Klaus half-demanded, still toweling the blond's hair.

"What you're doing now," Dorian sighed. "I love it, but oh, it spoils me so that I don't want to do it for myself!"

"It's not spoiling when it's deserved and when I enjoy doing it to you," Dorian was told in Klaus's most contemplative tone as the towel was set aside and then he picked up another to start briskly drying himself. The touch of Dorian's fingers stopped that, the towel stolen lightly away along with a brush of lips and nose that caressed him tenderly.

"Let me."

"Let..." Klaus echoed it once, halfway, and then stood still. Not perfectly stiff, just... just still for Dorian, still looking at the thief. "All right."

His acquiescence gained him another kiss, a buss of lips that followed along behind the towel. Every motion made was a tender one, caressing over scarred skin, lean belly, hip and thigh. The way that Dorian touched him was almost worship, and his kisses followed the drying trail, planting themselves lightly everywhere that his hands had been. Front, back, and finally all of his hair was ruffled dry, and those arms wrapped about his neck, lips lightly touching his ear. "Bedtime?"

"You.... are an evil man," Klaus shivered as he wrapped his arms around his lover. That was just lovely to feel, Dorian all wrapped around him. "Yes, bedtime."

"I'm your evil man," Dorian promised him softly. "Always, Klaus."

"Dry enough for clothes...?" Klaus asked softly, a whisper as if someone could hear them. It would have been rude, in his opinion, to sleep nude in the bed provided by a kind host; though their *clothing* was fairly dirty still.

Kissing the tip of his nose, Dorian shook his head, knowing full well the way his lover's mind worked. "No. No clothes. They're in miserable shape, darling. It'd be perfectly awful of us to sleep in them."

"Hmn, I suppose you're right," Klaus murmured, starting to back Dorian out of the bathroom. He frankly wasn't sure he could lay nude with Dorian and *sleep*. The way those blue eyes drooped, though, said much, so perhaps... just perhaps it would be possible.

"So tired," he sighed. "I hope Jamesie comes soon..."

"He'll probably come on wings once they call him," Klaus smiled ever so lightly, as they neared the bed, letting Dorian lay down first. "Hopefully."

Curling up on his side of the bed, Dorian sighed softly, eyes already closed. "Mmmhmmm," he managed by way of agreement, arms stretching out, reaching for Klaus even though sleep was so close already. The German let Dorian settle against him, as was their habit now, and simply closed his eyes. They were still safe, they were in a bed, and sleep really wasn't as hard to grasp as he'd first feared...

Chapter 21 by Kat and Tzigane
"Thank goodness Jamesie came so quick!" Dorian laughed, slipping out of the car and stretching. It had been a quick trip from the island to Germany, and he was awfully grateful. The plane James had chartered had been a *horrid* little thing, but it had gotten them home, and that was really all that mattered! The scientists had been so *nice* during their stay, as well, though they'd never quite found out what the funny looking little men were actually *doing*.

Klaus had taken a few guesses -- something weaponry, very advanced, very expensive. Beyond that would have required him to notify some government to be aware of the scientists...

But he didn't have to, and he preferred it that way.

"So, will we stay at your flat while we plan what to do next...?"

"That seems to be the thing to do. Much less likely to be spied upon there than any of yours, hm?" Dorian noted, tilting his head to the side.

"I doubt they'll bother any longer," Was his solemn reply as he looked up and down the street, absently straightening the lay of his jacket. The things they'd brought with them, that had been in their cabin, had actually reached the destination, and James had brought some of them with him so that Klaus and Dorian would have their clothes when they took the plane back. And Klaus had his gun again, hidden beneath his jacket.

"They *did* toss us off the boat, darling," Dorian pointed out to him. "I rather think they might bother after all."

Klaus grimaced, yet he stopped suddenly. "We need to go to the Bonn office -- *now*. I'd forgotten what we'd overheard..."

"All right." Easy acquiescence as so often came to him from Dorian, the car door reopened, the thief slipping back inside with ease even as Klaus himself did. "Let's go. We can make other plans when we get back."

"Sorry -- we probably should have done that on the way in..." But it'd slipped his mind, and that was the frightening part. Still, that twinge didn't stop him from bringing the car, his car, back to purring life, and pulling out onto the road. "Do you want to come in with me when I go in?"

"Of course!" Dorian flashed a smile, one that sent tingles directly down to Klaus's toes. "I want to see the expression on your Chief's face when he sees that you've returned!"

"If they'll let me in the building." There really was little doubt, though, that they'd be let in, given who they were. It was just a matter of how far they could get. He'd be giving the information to *someone*, though. It was too important and put too many lives at risk to let it go on.

THAT earned a laugh from the British man. "Hmm, Klaus, as if they could keep us out?"

"They probably wouldn't dare -- but remember what I was dismissed for. They might keep me out because of that." Not that it wasn't just the work of two psychologists bullshitting about personality flaws that he'd always had.

With a sniff, Dorian tossed golden curls back out of his face. "Let them try. They won't dare, or they'll never have another moment's peace from me!"

"Ah...? What would you do?" Klaus asked almost teasingly, as he turned a corner.

"Break in every night and rearrange the entirety of the section chief's office. And steal his chocolates," Dorian declared.

"Every night...? You'd lose a lot of sleep." A vague reminder, gentle and still vaguely smiled at Dorian as he neared the familiar parking garage that he'd been nowhere near in too long. Absently, he started to fumble his wallet out of his pocket with his maimed right hand.

"That would be all right," Dorian declared. "After all, when I got home, you'd hold me and I could nap for a while in your arms. Every day would still be magnificent!"

Well, then apparently Dorian was getting over his need to not be very far away from Klaus, and that was both a blessing and a curse for the German man -- because he was getting used to being essential in Dorian's life. One more adjustment to make.

"After all," Dorian continued a bit hesitantly. "You wouldn't want to come with me to do that... would you?"

"I don't think it's a feasible plan to take if..." Klaus trailed off as he finally pulled his ID free and pressed it to the window for the pass clerk to see -- though it wasn't needed, as he was easily recognizable to anyone who'd ever worked there while he'd served. "We do need to figure out what we're going to do."

"Take care of our business," he was reminded quietly. That meant going to East Germany, meant... Well. Dorian wasn't going to think about that, no, he wasn't. It had to be done, but he wasn't going to contemplate the matter at all!

"After that. We'll still be... I meant *after* that," Klaus repeated in some frustration as he rolled down the window when the pass-clerk *didn't* recognize him and wanted a closer look at his ID.

"After that will be after that," Dorian said lightly. "Then, they'll take us seriously, I think. More than seriously. After that, we wait and see."

Klaus didn't answer right away -- he exchanged a short, flat toned conversation with the pass-guard, explaining why he didn't *look* like his ID card and that, yes, he *was* Major Klaus Heinz von dem Eberbach, and who the fuck else would be?

Once that argument had been won, Dorian sat back, shivering slightly in his seat. "I believe that once we've gotten past... THAT, our trip, things will settle into place. I don't know why I think so. I simply do."

"You tend to have that luck," Klaus agreed in a tone still sharp from his argument with the pass-guard -- who was probably going back to his post to quietly piss his pants in fear of that *voice* alone, let alone the mad glint that had flared in one green eye. He deftly maneuvered his car towards an unclaimed space towards the back. "I'll trust that feeling."

"How good of you," Dorian teased him, tossing a smile Klaus's way.

The soft rumble of the car stopped, and Klaus smiled as he pulled the key out and pocketed it. "Let's go?" Perhaps they *might* in passing see one of the Alphabet... though Klaus would consciously choose to not interfere with their duties.

Wordlessly, Dorian slipped out of the car, locking and shutting the door behind him before walking to the rear and waiting for Klaus. "So to whom will we be speaking?"

"The chief, first... and if he won't listen, then there are many outlets for this information to be put to use through," Klaus said blandly, as they both walked towards the doors.

"Ahhh." The British man gave a sage nod. "You're going to threaten him about goosing G while we're at it!"

"Damn right," Klaus almost let himself smile, darting forwards just a little when they reached the doors to open it for Dorian. That didn't bother Dorian

-- it was just the sort of thing that Klaus *would* do for him, and he actually rather liked it. He liked anything that Klaus did for him, so he smiled and walked in ahead of the other man, pausing momentarily to look back at him.

"I'm happy," he announced simply, shrugging as if to say that was all. It was certainly enough!

"I know." Klaus's own slight returning smile as he looked towards the secretary, who'd only caught *that* part of their exchange. "I want to speak with the Chief."

The woman seemed to swallow hard. "Well, he says he's not to be disturbed, but... since it's you..." She swallowed again. "I'll buzz you right through, Major!"

"Thank you," Klaus murmured, with a sharp nod before he started to move towards the doors, full well expecting Dorian to come with him and for the thief to *not* be questioned.

"Er....sir, is he..."

"Oh, it's not a problem!" Dorian assured her cheerfully. "I won't be a bit of trouble! Not even a whit! See you on the way down!"

Indeed, they were soon on familiar, missed, ground for Klaus -- stepping into the elevator, punching to be taken up to the third floor. No one else got in with them, for there was no one else to get in; somehow, they'd avoided any foot traffic, coming in the lull of the day by sheer accident. Glancing about, Dorian smiled slightly, eyes lighting up with humor. "Hmmmm...." Unable to resist, he leaned over once the doors were closed and pressed his lips to Klaus's!

In the NATO building, of all places. It was a testament to the turn around Klaus had made and his general not *caring* what the fuck NATO thought when he returned the kiss just a little and moved to stand closer with his familiar looming quality beside Dorian. Possessive without having to touch at all, though he wanted to. Just... a hand on Dorian's back? Yes, he could get away with that, and his men knew -- he didn't care if they were reminded of it. After all... they weren't his men anymore. /I need to stop thinking of them that way,/ he mused to himself as they stepped out of the elevator when it reached its destination. "I'll go in alone to talk to him, if you'd like."

"Oh, no," Dorian said, the sound of his voice almost a sigh, definitely pleased. "I'll go with you. I'd like to hear what gets said."

To back Klaus up, then -- the German man could appreciate that. "All right, then." And with the hand that did decide finally to settle on the small of Dorian's back, his marred right one hidden away in his pocket, Klaus strode down the hall to the office.

The Alphabets were all working away at their desks, phones ringing, papers shuffling, and none of that paused as they moved into the room except for A, who glanced up and smiled. "Hello, Major. Eroica. It's nice to see you!"

"And lovely to see you, as well, A! You seem to be keeping everyone quite busy," Dorian noted, peering about the room. "G's even back in his dresses! How lovely!"

"Dorian..." A low, warning rumble, though Klaus *knew* there was little he could do to thwart the disruption, living and breathing, that *was* Dorian. A living, breathing, lovely distraction... Klaus strained to push those thoughts aside for a more appropriate moment, nodding once to A, before carrying on towards the chief's office.

"We shall see you again, A!" Dorian promised cheerfully, lightly pushed forward again by that hand on his waist.

One knock, and he waited for the man to acknowledge; for the first and only time ever.

"Oh!" G cried, waving. "Hello, Major! Hello, Lord Gloria!"

Another nod he had to make, while waiting for the chief to reply; Klaus knocked again, brows levelling together unhappily as the door rattled under her weight of his hand.

"COME IN!" the man yelled, and when the door opened, his little fringe of hair nearly stood on end! "E-eberbach..."

"Yes.... Chief," Klaus said with obvious distaste as he let Dorian enter first, then closed the door behind them both as he stepped in. "I have information that needs to be known."

"And you've brought Eroica with you," the man said with a slightly sly smile that made Dorian shiver. "How nice. Do sit down."

/Ugh./

"I'm not here to pass pleasant bullshit with you," Klaus growled, carefully omitting any and all possible tones or terms of respect. "I'm here to share very important information that we learned purely by accident -- the Soviet infiltration of the American intelligence agencies go up much higher than was suspected."

The man eyed him suspiciously and sighed. "Trouble follows you everywhere you go, Eberbach!"

"Likely," Dorian murmured, "but there you have it. Don't you want to know?"

"It's your choice: I tell you or I take this information to SIS," Klaus said flatly.

With a sigh, the old man frowned at him. "Tell me," he demanded.

"The Soviets have Clark in their control," Klaus drawled.

"Clark who?" the Chief asked.

The edges of Klaus's lips quirked up for just a moment. "That would be the problem -- it could be Commander Clark, or some secretary named Clark -- either way, the information that could be lost to Soviet hands is... immense."

"That's not very *specific*," the old man grumbled. "Where'd you hear it?"

"On a cruise ship, a conversation between Mischa and Polar Bear before we were chucked overboard by them." Klaus didn't shift in the least -- simply looked at his ex-commanding officer and wondered if he'd be taken seriously.

Leaning back, the man scowled. "I'd heard you'd been picked up off of some deserted island," he murmured. "We'll look into it, then."

"You'd better -- the Americans we found in the northeast weren't *all* that there were in this ring, and the one captured had no idea how high it goes," Klaus said, already rising to his feet.

"There was also a man named Howell mentioned," Dorian noted. "Though perhaps they know of *him* by now, as he was the one sending the agent to meet Mischa."

"Do what you want with that information," Klaus uttered, making a small gesture to Dorian that they were going. "Good day to you."

/Just as brusque and bossy as ever!/ the Chief thought, already reaching for the DiGel in his drawer. "Hmph. Goodbye, Eberbach!"

"If I find out that you didn't do anything useful with what I learned, though, you'll regret it," Klaus murmured, putting his maimed right hand on the doorknob.

"Don't forget about G," Dorian prompted under his breath.

"And you're going to leave agent G alone, understood?" He turned again, to look fully at the Chief. "If you think you can pull shit just because I'm gone..."

"Now see here, Eberbach...!"

"See what, *sir*?" That tone was so disrespectful, so mocking of any power that the chief thought he wielded. "Bastards like you tarnish a good cause."

Dorian smiled slightly at the man, shrugged. "What can one do? After all, he's so unstable; isn't that what those psychiatrists said?" he asked innocently, fingers wrapping in a curl. "My. It would just be better not to set him off, don't you think?"

The sharp smile Klaus gave agreed FULLY with that, and he turned back to the door, opening it. "Let's go home, Dorian."

"Brrr..." the Chief declared once they were gone. Eberbach was so SCARY!!!

In the hall again, Dorian couldn't help the little snicker that escaped him, his eyes gleaming with humor. "Oh, that was magnificent!"

"You did that perfectly," Klaus complimented, as they started into the room that held the alphabet. Once more, he steeled himself to not say a thing to his men. THAT didn't mean that they weren't going to talk to *him*!

"Major, Major!" G cried, running up to smile brilliantly at him. "We heard you were back in Germany!"

"Yes!" S agreed, nodding at him firmly. "Will you be staying?"

"Will we see more of you?" M asked, peeking around a partition.

"It depends," Klaus said truthfully as he kept walking towards the door. "Go back to work, though! Don't waste time!"

"Yes, Major!" they all chorused cheerfully, making Dorian laugh again. He reached for Klaus's arm and waved at Z as they moved past.

"Happy to be back in Germany now?" he murmured with a smile as they slipped into the elevator.

"It's good to be back," Klaus murmured as he let his arm slide around Dorian's waist. Now that he'd gotten rid of the last lingering part of the 'mission', he could relax... and they could plot their revenge tactics.

"Let's go home," Dorian whispered, leaning up to nibble at his ear once the doors were closed. "Let's go home and lay together and..." Klaus could feel the smile against his throat. "I love you."

"I know." Klaus turned his head a little, just to press closer and murmur with a flush of protectiveness, "I love you, too. We'll go home."

"And then. Then we'll plan, afterwards," Dorian said quietly, smiling and remaining close to him.

"Mmm. Are your men still in residence there?"

A negative shake of that head. "Jamesie took them all to Greece to close things up again. He was utterly distraught at the waste of money, poor thing..."

"He can't blame us for getting tossed overboard," Klaus scowled. "Still... it might be best if we left before they came back."

"Yes," Dorian agreed, nodding. "It'd only worry them, otherwise."

"We'll just say we're going... who knows. We'll think of something." The elevator came to the lobby level, and Klaus didn't care what looks he and Dorian got, as close and intimate as they were. He was surprised to find that it gained them very few, only the occasional glance askance, and then they were back in the parking area and heading for the car.

"We'll tell them we're going on a driving tour of museums. It'd be likely, my showing you what I love," Dorian told him, pausing as they reached the car.

"First, though... we need to take a few days to prepare. Fake identifications... and I need to go get fitted for my... my eye." Hesitance there -- no matter how comfortable he was with Dorian's scars, he would probably never relax with what had been done to him.

Dorian nodded as Klaus unlocked the door. "Yes," he murmured, reaching up to caress one of the German's sharp cheekbones. "My beautiful Klaus..."

The compliment brought a smile not for the words but for what the feelings behind it were -- adoration, love, want, need. "Yours." He could agree with one part, though the other.. "So we'll rest, and I'll see if I can get floor plans to go with the address."

"Right." That was the agreement he expected, and always got. "If not, we'll scope it out beforehand." After all, he wasn't a thief for *nothing*...

"I want this to run perfectly," Klaus reiterated as he moved to his side of the car, the driver's side, and opened that, slipping in. "Na?"

"It will be," Dorian assured, buckling his seatbelt. "Not a flaw."

"I just... want to make sure." So that Dorian wasn't hurt again, so that he wasn't hurt again. "You'll see what you can do with your sources?"

That blond head nodded, eyes looking forward as they pulled out of the space and headed back out of the parking garage. "Yes," he murmured. "He'll never hurt anyone in this way again. *Ever*." /Never hurt *you* again.../

"And then NATO will take us seriously -- and if they don't, we'll find something to do. Someone will want to put us to use," the black-haired man drawled softly as he drove by the pass-office.

With a deep breath, Dorian nodded. "I just... don't want anyone else to be hurt, Klaus. I want to hurt him for hurting *you*. I've never..." He shuddered, trying to hide it. "I've never wanted to do violence to someone else before. Not really." Never anything worse than a slap. He'd always hated making anyone *bleed*...

"You don't have to, Dorian -- I've told you, you don't have to come if you don't want to. But I... I have to do this. I'm trained to do this sort of thing, and..." He *wanted* to, for the cold promise of revenge, of protecting Dorian and snubbing out the bastard who'd hurt them both. No higher reason than that.

"I *have* to go," Dorian replied grimly. "I *have* to do it. I *have* to be with you. It's just..." Just the way things *must* be!

"Both of us, a team," Klaus nodded. "You don't have to hurt him though -- I can handle all of that."

"Perhaps," Dorian said. "Perhaps. But..." But he didn't *want* Klaus to have to do it alone!

"Could you do it? Could you wield a knife or a gun to hurt him...?"

"I don't know, Klaus," he admitted. "I've never done so before, but... I want so badly for him to hurt, to hurt as much as he hurt *you*..."

"He hurt you worse than me -- I'm fine now, it was never..." Never as bad as what was done to Dorian. Dorian was always, always first in his mind, his priorities.

The thief shook his head, closing his eyes tightly. "I hated him so much for what he did to you. Still do. Hate that you saw all of that, hate that you had to watch it, hate that I stopped talking. I'm so angry, so bloody *furious* about it, Klaus..."

"But not at yourself. It... we've already decided it wasn't either of our faults. Neither of us were to blame for it, and we're here now, alive," Klaus said, almost reminding himself of it.

"No," Dorian agreed quietly. "I'm not angry at me anymore. I was never angry at you at all...."

"I wasn't angry at you, either," A twitch of a smile as Klaus guided the car through a turn. "I'm glad... that you wanted to see me when I left the hospital. Letting that... changed everything."

Turning his head, Dorian smiled back at him. "I've always wanted to see you. I don't think I could've lived without you. If you hadn't come..." He'd have done worse than just cut his *hair*!

"I... truthfully don't think that either of us could have.... lived well without each other," Klaus's mouth curved with a slight smile. "I don't know what I would be doing without you."

At that, Dorian laughed softly, shaking his head. "Hmm, I can't imagine it'd be half as pleasant." /I'd be crazy or dead. You, too, probably.../

"So... when we get home, do you want to rest first...?" He half hoped they would, just so he could... relax, in a familiar surrounding, large, comfortable bed, Dorian and all of his accoutrements.

The question was answered with a nod. "I want to lay down with you for a while, rest, maybe..." Maybe kiss, maybe touch, maybe just be.

"Maybe...?" Klaus, though, wanted to be sure.

"Maybe more," Dorian told him with a sly little smile.

"Maybe more..." Softly echoed, Klaus's general good mood letting him shift his bad hand from the steering wheel to Dorian's knee. "I'd like that. It's always good."

One of the thief's hands moved to lightly clasp against Klaus's, holding it with undeniable tenderness. "I knew it would be. Always. I trust you with all of me, my dearest Klaus. I always will."

"Yes -- I've trusted you for a long time, now... but now you know that I do," Klaus said, smiling a little to himself. "When I go to the hospital tomorrow to see about my eye, will you come?"

"Of course!" There seemed to have been no question in Dorian's mind that he *would* go. "I can't wait, darling. You look so mysterious with the patch, but I know you'll feel better when you can remove it..."

"Ja... it bothers me." And that slight worry that Dorian would be as disgusted by what lay beneath as *he* was... "Bothers me a lot, though... you say you don't care. I believe that."

"Klaus..." Dorian turned to look at him as Klaus drove along. "I would love you no matter *what*. Always. I'd wait forever for you if I had to, do anything to be by your side for eternity..."

"I know you would." Another turn was made, onto the street where Dorian had his apartment. "I still wonder what I've done to deserve that devotion, but I wouldn't give you and that up for anything in the world, Dorian. Not for fucking NATO, not for the two of us to be... whole again, nothing."

That drew a definite smile, brilliant, scintillating, and the British man slid his fingers into Klaus's. "What haven't you done?" he asked simply. "I love you. That's more than enough."

"It won't ever make sense to me." Dorian felt his finger squeezed. "But I don't need it to make sense anymore. I can function without it making sense."

"Good..." Dorian chuckled, tilting his head to the side. "After all; I've probably *never* made sense to you, have I? Don't answer that," he promptly teased, still laughing a little as Klaus pulled into the small parking area.

"Sometimes you do, more often you still don't," was the blunt but not hurtful statement, as Klaus parked the car, pocketed the keys, and then leaned over to kiss Dorian's lips ever so lightly. "Let's go inside."

"What a brilliant idea," Dorian sighed, leaning to steal Klaus's mouth in a kiss that was a bit deeper before moving to open the door and slip out of the car.

Klaus lingered a moment, watching Dorian get out, before he did, too, and then locked his Benz's doors. Just from the way Dorian moved, he was getting back his old, wonderful and infuriating sense of teasing... and Klaus had to truthfully say he'd missed that desperately. His Dorian was *his*, utterly, and was feeling good, they were both safe... "I wouldn't say that's a *brilliant* idea..."

Blue eyes looked with his, full of pleased humor. "Isn't it?" he nearly purred, moving close to him, taking his hand once again. "All things considered, I'd say it's just marvelous."

"Hmn," Klaus said, shaking his head just a little. "Tell me you have the key? I'm too tired to help you break into the apartment if you don't have it."

A quick delve into a pocket that surely shouldn't have allowed his hand in brought out a silvery house key that he flashed between index and middle fingers, waving it lightly at Klaus as they headed for the stairs, Dorian pausing to tap in the simple code that would undo the lock. "Not a problem," he assured with a wink.

"Ah, I forget that the thief has a high-tech security system to keep out thieves," Klaus said, shaking his head at the pure *irony* of that fact.

Dorian's brows raised as they moved up the stairs side by side, his mouth curving into a rueful smile. "Can you imagine the sheer *horror* of expending the effort to steal something twice? Dreadful! Not to mention how Jamesie would utterly *howl* at the loss!"

"Is everything in the apartment stolen?" Klaus asked with slightly widened eyes.

"Heavens, no!" Dorian informed him, pausing to unlock the front door as he shook his head. "Only the things I like best and simply couldn't bear to part with..."

"Isn't that *everything* you use as decoration...?" Klaus almost teased as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket. "It's at least quite a lot, na?"

"Nnnhmmmm..." was the reply, Dorian stealing the pack lightly from his fingers. "You know, you smoke much more than is good for you, darling. These things are utterly packed full of cancer. At least you could smoke something lighter if you're going to smoke so much..."

"Lighter...?" Klaus asked, as if the idea or concept had *NEVER* crossed his mind.

The other man nodded. "Mmm. I wouldn't ask you to *quit*, I'd hate to try and live with you while you did, but think about cutting back, won't you? I'd just as soon have you around for a bit longer, and since we aren't likely to get shot at *quite* as much..."

"I didn't smoke when we were on the island, I didn't smoke while we were on the plane, and I didn't smoke when I was driving," Klaus reminded him, "In fact, I haven't smoked in a *week*, which is far too damn long."

That gained him a slow smile. "Since you didn't smoke on the island or on the plane or in the car, I rather thought now was a good time to bring it up," Dorian told him, "since you know you can live without them..."

Oh, damn, he'd just gone and argued Dorian's case for him. "Maybe I can go without them -- but the *motion* calms my nerves," Klaus excused.

"Then maybe..." Pink tongue darted out, caressing over lower lip as Dorian moved closer. "...it's time to learn a new motion."

"You smoke, too," Klaus reminded, a desperate last attempt as he let his body move of its own accord closer to Dorian, to make that tease of a kiss a real kiss.

"I'll quit," Dorian promised, bare centimeters away from Klaus's lips. "Never touch the things again..."

"Can't I just find something else to smoke...? Different brand...." There were just places that he couldn't kiss Dorian, times where it was inappropriate, despite the willingness to shun authorities' views.

"I'll buy you something to make up for it," was the vow given just before their mouths touched, parting for Dorian to continue breathlessly. "Something to chew on that'll take your mind off of it..."

"I refuse to give up drinking when it's appropriate," Klaus said firmly, before Dorian decided he wanted to change that, too! That didn't stop him from kissing the thief though, hard and luxurious in motion. "Hmn."

"Wouldn't...mmmmm, dream of making you," Dorian sighed. "You can have all the Mosel you want..."

"Getting drunk again with you is an enjoyable prospect." Klaus finally backed them into the entry room enough to close to door behind them, locking it with the hand he didn't have around Dorian's waist.

"We can do that tonight," Dorian promised him huskily, already beginning to strip him, not caring that they were standing in the foyer in broad daylight. "Now, though..."

It didn't matter, either -- there was no one else around, and no clear windows to watch through. "Now...?" Klaus prompted huskily, as he moved an arm so Dorian could slide right off the shirt that he'd just finished unbuttoning.

"Now, I want to please you," the blond man murmured, hands tracing over bare flesh already. "I want you to enjoy me, and I want to enjoy *you*..."

"Hmn, how...?" Klaus had some ideas already, as he moved his hands to start pulling up and off Dorian's shirt. "Anything, Dorian... 's so good to be home, some place secure..."

For a moment, Dorian hesitated, but then he leaned up and kissed Klaus again. "Maybe we could try what we did on the island... only reversed?"

"Reversed...?" Immediately, he thought of being over Dorian, with the blond beneath him; yet common sense told him that Dorian wanted... something that he had every right to want. That didn't stop Klaus from freezing up for a moment before he said, "We'll try."

"If you don't want to..." came the tentative beginning of a reply.

"Nein, it's only fair," Klaus countered, moving his hands up beneath Dorian's shirt to caress smooth-muscled skin. "Into the bedroom, then..."

"I love you," Dorian whispered to him fervently kissing him again, arms wrapping about his neck. "Love you madly, Klaus, my Klaus..."

Hands on Dorian's back slid to grasp him closer, and then Klaus picked him up rather efficiently. "I know -- I love you, Dorian, I know."

There was something so utterly *decadent* about being held in those strong arms, just as if he was one of his darling fluffy boys instead of a man full grown! It was something he'd missed over the years, and he clung tightly to the dark-haired German man, nuzzling at his ear. "I want it to be so good for you, as wonderful as it is for me. I want you to feel so perfectly *exquisite*, Klaus..."

"One step at a time," Klaus murmured as he used Dorian's butt as a sort of battering ram to push open the door. That brought the bed into sight, and from the *crispness* of the linens, the bedding had been put down rather recently. A pity they were just going to make a mess of it again...

With a breathless little laugh, Dorian kissed him again, shivering with want, with the sheer *need* for Klaus. "Hmmm, darling..."

"You know what you're doing, so..." Klaus set Dorian down on the bed and then sat down beside him, too, to be on level with him, to kiss and touch again. "You lead."

That was permission given and taken, Dorian leaning over him, hands going effortlessly to finish unclothing them. "Beautiful," he sighed, mouth pressing light kisses to Klaus's prominent jaw, sliding beneath to find the pulse of blood in his throat, strong and thrumming beneath the skin. "Mine..."

Shoes were toed off, pants shed, belts and underwear lost to the floor; Klaus's watch remained for the moment out of sheer carelessness, as the German was eager to remain kissing Dorian, trying to tease the thief's tongue into his own mouth again. His efforts did not go unappreciated, for they quickly gained him precisely what he'd wanted, and Dorian's hands sliding down his body to go with it! They settled back onto the bed slowly, side by side, legs tangling as Dorian began to spread kisses over bare shoulders, down his upper arms. "Yes..."

It was taking a little effort to relax into it, to fall into the flow of need and touch, response and reaction, but it was worth it to touch at Dorian's muscles and skin, letting and enjoying the lips on his chest, over scars and hard muscle. "That way... I like that."

"I always want that for you," Dorian murmured huskily, tracing lips to one of those abused, scarred nipples, lathing attention upon it sweetly. Despite the deadened nerve endings of all that tissue, he made it feel good, and the touch of Klaus's fingers finding their way into his hair was proof of that.

Either it was pressure, or Dorian's skill in finding the unscarred edges of both nubs, but Klaus could *feel* that, as he did whenever Dorian did it. Strange sensations that he'd only ever felt with Dorian, and the thick golden curls beneath his hands as he stroked gently. "So good."

"Love..." Dorian breathed, moving to the mate of the first, leaving a lightly damp trail behind, one that had Klaus's nerves singing as the heat came on in the apartment, stirring the air and caressing over his skin. "Hmmm..."

"'f I need... you to stop, you will?" Klaus asked needlessly, though he wanted the assurance that Dorian would.

"The very moment," came the promise, kisses trailing to his navel. "Not a second past the words passing your lips. I love you so, Klaus. I never want to hurt you, ever..."

Klaus shivered as Dorian's hair tickled against his skin; he knew what was coming, wanted it, feared it... "No, you wouldn't hurt me, just like I wouldn't hurt you. Dorian, trust you..."

"Yes," Dorian whispered, pressing a kiss now to the tip of Klaus's erect cock, lightly slipping his tongue over the head. He tugged at the foreskin slightly before taking it between his lips and sucking deeply. "Mmmm..."

"You're..." Intent on driving Klaus mad, it seemed, though the German knew he would protest little if at all -- it felt *good*, what did it matter that Dorian's lips were wrapped around him again, giving pleasure while none was taken? It was Dorian, and Klaus kept himself consciously aware that everything evened out in the end.

Dorian's hands slid beneath him, lightly cupping his rear as if to bring him close. He wasn't entirely comfortable with that -- no, he wasn't.... It was Dorian, though, Dorian touching him, Dorian *wanting* him, and that, he could bear. That, he wanted... "Love you," Dorian whispered, granting kisses slowly, miraculously upon that shaft. "So much. My Klaus. Yes..."

And if he couldn't bear it.... Dorian would stop when he said to. Dorian would, because Dorian loved him... and because he loved Dorian, wanted to make him happy, Klaus knew he probably wouldn't say 'stop', no matter how much it made him uncomfortable. Anything for Dorian. "Ah, Dorian..."

Shifting upward, Dorian pressed his lips to Klaus's, blanketing him momentarily in the length of his body, pressing to him tenderly. "Just a second," he whispered, lips brushing Klaus's cheek before he moved away from him, reaching for the bedside drawer before coming back with a little tube, one conspicuously meant for just what Klaus *thought* it was meant.

Dorian really was going to fuck him, and it was almost an ominous sealing of fates to which Klaus had already committed himself. He loved the other man, loved to touch his body, loved to kiss him, hear his voice, lay beside him in the still of the night and be comforted by their safety together... It was only right that if he was queer he learn how to take it from Dorian. With that thought, he kept his eyes latched on Dorian, concentrating on staying calm.

"Klaus," came the murmur of that delicious, rich voice, sliding over him. "If you don't want this, we don't have to... really, we can just do it the other way, and I won't mind..." Even relaxed, Dorian could tell that he was worried!

"I want to try this," Klaus stressed softly.

THAT brought a smile to Dorian's lips, slow, sweet, and his fingers were smeared heavily with the lubricant so that Klaus could see. "Kiss me," he murmured, the heel of his hand slowly sliding down the other man's body, slipping between his legs, slick fingers held away for the moment that they would be needed.

A shudder, partly fear, partly anticipation, raced through Klaus was he leaned up minutely to take Dorian's lips, to kiss the other man deeply, slowly. If he took a deep enough kiss, perhaps he'd forget what they were going to do...

An impossibly delicate tease pressed between rounded cheeks, lightly caressing over puckered opening. There was no thrust, no penetration, only that bare touch, teasing at him, moving with infinite care over him as Dorian drowned him in kisses, pressing close against him. "Love you," he breathed. "Love you, Klaus..."

"Know... I know..." It was hard to not tense up at that teasing touch, able to only remember being told that it was a 'taste' of what queers did together, and *that* had felt like... "'s okay."

"If you don't like anything, tell me to stop it," Dorian soothed. "Tell me at any moment.." The tip end of a finger slowly penetrated him, infinitely tender. Odd -- not pain, but a tingle that was discomfort against muscles that were determined that nothing went *up* that way. But Dorian had taken it. Dorian had, without too much problem, and he'd been *raped*. /I'll be fine,/ Klaus told himself again.

"'re you all right, darling?" Dorian whispered, stealing his lips with a care, slowly sliding that finger deeper. /Want this to feel so good for you.../

"'m fine," Klaus shivered at that slow, careful invasion. Straight forwards, nothing else yet but that finger slipping into him, no stretching and no pain yet. So, it wasn't a lie, no matter how edgy he felt.

With care, Dorian probed, lightly reaching for the soft, spongy nub that he knew was there, seeking, searching.... Struck it, to get a muffled *noise* out of Klaus as the ache from Dorian's gentle scrub over it shot through him. "Nnh...!"

"Klaus?" That was an uncertain sound, Dorian going very still. "Was that all right?" he asked hesitantly. It hadn't *sounded* all right...

Oh shit, *shit*, what was he supposed to do? Tell Dorian that it had hurt like blazes, or grit his teeth and try to pass it off as pleasure? Or just shock...? "'s... a little rough," he managed.

"Would you like to stop?" Dorian whispered. "Or would you like me to try again?"

"Keep... keep going, but don't do that again." Shuddered words, as Klaus minutely shifted his hips against Dorian's hand.

With kisses, Dorian soothed the way, shifting his hand so that his finger wouldn't rub there again. How they'd ever manage sex, he didn't know and didn't care; only he didn't want to hurt Klaus. Not ever, he'd rather die!

"'s not so bad," Klaus shuddered, eyes closing tightly as Dorian started to move his finger again, careful still to not touch that nub. The movement was a slow steady shift, Dorian's kisses sweet on his mouth.

"Klaus," he whispered. "We don't have to do this. I'm just as happy to do it the other way, if you want..." It would mean he wouldn't hurt Klaus that way, a thought at which he fairly cringed!

"I want to try this," Klaus uttered tensely. "I want to... at least try this." His arms came up around Dorian's shoulders, glad that the other man was close.

"Then you need to relax," Dorian murmured, lightly prying at him, teasing him, his other hand moving to caress over turgid flesh as he shifted, kneeling up beside Klaus. "You need to let go, darling..."

"Let... why?" Uncertainly asked, though he did start to obey, hands slipping from their close grasp to simply linger at Dorian's sides.

"No, no, not of me," Dorian murmured, an assurance. "Just relax, let go of being nervous..." The feel of his mouth, teasing, touching along with his hands, was soothing in so many ways. "Just enjoy. I'll try not to do that again..."

"All right." All right. After all, if Dorian accepted and enjoyed it, he could, too -- it only made sense! And Dorian wanted to do it, wanted to make love with him that way... how could Klaus refuse. Softer now, "All right."

"Love you," Dorian whispered reassuringly, another finger sliding into him slowly, stretching him open. "I love you, Klaus.... It will be all right..."

For a moment, all that could be managed was a shudder, and then Klaus asked, quietly, "'s it get better?"

"For *me*, it does," was the worried response. "But I like when you touch that place inside of me that you don't, very much. This might be one of those things that I like that you won't..."

"We'll try it," Klaus murmured, shifting his hips -- the stretching didn't feel bad, just a little odd, a strange tickling twinge of sensation. "I don't see why it'd be different between us."

A nuzzle against his belly proved sweet, against his cock, sweeter. "Sometimes," Dorian whispered, lightly kissing him as his fingers plied Klaus carefully open, "that spot's very sensitive. Sometimes, that's good. And sometimes," he said, nuzzling against the warmly furred balls beneath that stiff flesh, "sometimes, it's not so good. Every person's different.."

The hands that had been at his sides slid up, to clutch gently at Dorian's shoulders. Lips and thick silken curls, gentle teeth and tender nuzzles, all meant to drive Klaus to a point of utter arousal; all good counters for that stretching Dorian was doing, so very careful. "Hmnnn... what... hn, what you're doing now is very good...:"

"Ahhh," Dorian sighed, smiling. "You like this..." That was without doubt, particularly when he took one of Klaus's testicles lightly into his mouth to suck on it, shivering with the pleasure of it. "Hmm..." Klaus tasted so *good* to him! All salt and soap and man, all Klaus, and it simply couldn't get any better!

"Ohhh!" A hissed gasp of breath, hips arching up towards him sharply to try to get more of the sensation of Dorian's wicked lips on him. "Oahhh, 's good, Dorian... that..."

The bare whisper of a chuckle vibrated, sending shivers down his spine, the fingers in him slithering out slowly as he shifted, moving a slick hand to his own flesh as he moved up to gently press his lips to Klaus's, nudging him with kisses. "Mmmm, darling," he breathed, shifting carefully between the other man's thighs. It'd be better that way, he hoped; easier to miss the obviously sensitive prostate than if they did it any other.

"Kiss... I want to kiss you more," Klaus asked achingly, feelings more on edge now that it was inevitable than at any other time yet. He wanted a hell of a lot more than those sweet nudging kisses, hoping to God that it would take his mind from it for just long enough, if the act happened while he was devouring Dorian's mouth.

"They're yours," Dorian whispered, meaning his kisses, and he stole Klaus's mouth, then, firm and sweet, shifting into position as he did it.

Arms came up around him again, Klaus half-way sitting up just to get closer as he slipped his tongue into the earl's mouth, searching fiercely and *waiting*...

When he pushed in, it was to resistance, and he groaned against Klaus's mouth, unable to stop the sound from coming loose. It mingled with the one that Klaus gave, both of them unable to stop it, and he shuddered. It hurt *him* because Klaus was so tense; so surely it must be hurting Klaus, he knew! "Y'need to..." Oh, GOD! He panted a little, shivering. "Relax, Klaus. Relax..."

Relax, relax, Dorian told him -- how was he supposed to relax a muscle that was against his will wildly clutching at, trying to force and keep out Dorian's hard cock?! It hurt, hurt just as much as it had when the Stasi had done less to him. His legs, on either side of Dorian, clenched, a lowly gritted back moan escaping him. "Trying."

"Press out," Dorian encouraged, shuddering. "Press like you're trying to push me out, not take me in..."

That was easier to do, pressing out while Dorian pushed in; it didn't make sense to Klaus why it let the earl in *further*, when by all laws of physics it should have been added resistance. The pain eased a little, too, only to be replaced by a much deeper in stretching. "S-slow down!!"

"All right!" Dorian gasped, stopping. It took everything he could do to stop that slow forward movement of his hips, to halt it to nothing at all, and he trembled violently when he finally managed it, clinging to Klaus. Both of them were sweat damp and shaking, and he was so afraid that he was going to hurt the German man... so *afraid*! "Tell me when you want to stop," he pleaded, burying his face against the other man's salt-streaked flesh.

It was hard to tell who was shaking worse -- Klaus dealing with unfamiliar pains, or Dorian with his thwarted frustration and fear. "'s... I... I can take it, just...." He tried pushing back again, and that eased the painful tightness some. /Just fucking calm down, you're hurting him, you're hurting him that you can't do this, so *do* it... bite your tongue and *do* it!!/

"Just tell me when," Dorian whispered, clinging to him tightly. "Tell me when you think you'll be all right, tell me if you want me to stop and I swear I will. I swear, Klaus..."

"Try moving, try moving -- it's not getting any better this way... t-try moving," Klaus half-ordered, strained as his shivered and oddly glad of Dorian's clinging.

Carefully, so carefully, Dorian finished pushing into him, a slow flex of hip and thigh, fully aware of Klaus's wilting erection. "Is that better?" he whispered, rocking just barely once he was deep in his lover.

A hiss of indrawn breath was almost answer enough. Klaus didn't need to finish with the word that he did. "N-nein. I... I can't, Dorian, I'm sorry, I-I can't..."

"It's all right," Dorian told him, pulling out slowly, so *slowly*, trying desperately to be careful. His own erection was fast wilting, and that made it slide out a bit easier. "It's all right, Klaus. It's all right..."

So much for what Klaus had hoped would be a wonderful exploration of each other in the safety of their own domain. He'd managed to fuck it up, royally, though Dorian would forgive him for it, as Dorian always seemed to do. "I should be able to... w-we'll try again when I'm more relaxed."

"Shhh," Dorian told him, kissing him sweetly and gathering him close, tight. "It's all right, sweet. Some men simply don't like that. That's not all there is to it; you know there's so much more. I'd rather do what you enjoy than do something you don't..."

Of course what Dorian was saying made sense -- only Klaus *needed* to give back what he took, he *wanted* it to be an even field between them. And nothing had felt so wonderful and intimate as being inside of Dorian, and now, knowing he wouldn't be able to return the same, how could he ever ask for that from his companion? While the soreness lingered, though, Klaus tried to regather himself, to save their time together. "Anything, Dorian," he promised against Dorian's lips. "Anything."

"Love me," Dorian managed to say breathily, yielding to that kiss. "Just love me, Klaus. Always..."

"I couldn't not love you -- I just wish..." That he could do what Dorian had so obviously wanted. He just wanted to make and keep the thief happy, the thief who'd done just what he'd said he'd done -- stolen his heart, without telling Klaus until long after the fact.

The hands that lightly cupped his face felt so *good*, beyond wonderful. "Klaus," that deep voice murmured firmly, "what you do for me is beyond knowing. *I* enjoy what we do, and I don't need anything more. What we do is more than enough, and so good I could die with the pleasure of it. All right?"

"Ja." Rough, bare agreement, but granted. It was hard to deny that rich English drawl, the slender fingers on his damp cheeks. "Ja. If you enjoy it, then... then it's perfect. Whatever you want."

"My darling Klaus," he whispered, kissing him so sweetly, the length of him pressed tightly along the other man's side. "I enjoy it. It's perfect. And it's exactly what I want -- you and me. And that's all."

"You and me." A raggedly echoed sigh, as Klaus initiated the next kiss, slow and comforting to them both. "Ja -- ja, just you and me. 's all we need."

"Ever," Dorian agreed, snuggling close. He wasn't sure if he still *wanted* sex or not, but it felt so good to just be close to Klaus!

Still calming down, Klaus was content to lay there for as long as he could -- with Dorian curled comfortably atop him. "Do you... want to do anything?"

"Hmmm-mmm," Dorian declined, kissing his cheek. "I think I just want to be with you," he whispered.

"Ja... that dulled things a little," Klaus murmured, the words still apologetic, though he did turn his head towards Dorian's kiss. "Hmn. This is nice, too."

"Very nice," the blond man agreed, smiling and kissing him with an undeniable adoration. "Perhaps in the morning, then..."

"And after that, we'll start research." He was going to be sore probably until he woke up, but... but Dorian was still happy, so it didn't matter at all. "In the morning, Dorian. Pull the sheets up?"

A squirm brought the sheets up over them, gained him a kiss. "Love you, Klaus," Dorian sighed, pressed close against him, the warmth of skin on skin exquisite. "So much..."

"Yes -- yes, It's so much... better to be with you, than it was to be without you." So, it was the afternoon -- they'd always had odd hours, and this would be nothing new.

Lips brushed his own again, arms wrapped around him, eyes closed. "We'll do research. We'll start tomorrow," Dorian sighed sleepily. Oh, the trip had been so *long*, and it was so easy to relax into the arms of a trusted loved one...


The lock was easy enough to jimmy open; a cheap thing, and the bolt was no more difficult at all, slipping open beneath his fingers as if it was nothing. His heart was wild in his chest, pounding with a vicious rhythm, coming almost up into his throat, but... /Oh, God, this had better work!/

He just kept thinking of it as the break in that it really was supposed to look like -- just a random thief breaking into a random small town-house, a privileged place to live in for a Soviet. No security system to speak of, though Dorian could guess that the man had senses like Klaus did...

"[Do not move, thief,]" the man growled, and Dorian recognized not only the words but the voice, stiffening and almost *trembling* with sudden fear. He hadn't thought he'd be caught so SOON!!

"[Put your hands up and turn around for me.]" A gun was being made volatile, he could hear it -- the removal of the safety, the scrape of metal against his back.

Silently, Dorian obeyed, drawing in a deep breath as he turned, not wanting to look at the blond officer... not wanting to ever see him again!

"You!" Very surprised, yet pleased all at once. "What are you doing breaking into *here*, you pretty faggot? Where's your master?"

Lips tight, Dorian shook his head, eyes narrowing slowly. He wasn't going to say anything!

"Still... not speaking?" the officer sneered, jabbing the gun against Dorian's chest. "You know what happened when you *stopped* talking, hmn? Walk forward."

Frowning, Dorian did, taking a step closer to the Stasi officer reluctantly. /Klaus, where are you?/ he fretted. /I wasn't supposed to get caught so soon!/

Thus, Klaus was as yet nowhere to be seen! He was still running on the original schedule that didn't allow him a window of entry for another three minutes!! "Faster, you fag. Walk faster, or you'll suck me off here. I'll shoot you, and I'd get a medal for it." The officer was walking backwards down the hall, in the dark, with all the familiarity of someone who'd lived in a place for years.

Silently, Dorian followed him, waiting for an opportunity to tackle him, to take the gun away, to run -- an opportunity that didn't come, even as the man walked backwards into what was obviously a bedroom. /Oh, God, Klaus... please come soon!/

"Lay down," the officer directed with a sharp smile. "Spread your arms and legs."

"No," Dorian protested, voice low and harsh. He wouldn't! He *couldn't*!

"Lay down on that bed and spread your fag legs, or I'll shoot you!" That was a roar, low and unchallengeable.

Jumping visibly, Dorian winced and moved forward, dropping down onto the bed as ordered. He bit his lip tightly as he obeyed, shuddering slightly with the sheer *fear* rocketing through him. To be vulnerable at this man's hands once again...

To be vulnerable and hurt, now that he had Klaus!

"[Lovely fag,]" the officer purred, moving beside the bed, gun still at ready, though his free hand slid along the inside of Dorian's thigh. "Lie still, or I'll chain you down."

Unable to help himself, he tried to pull away, closing his eyes tightly as he bit his lip. "No!"

The gun jabbed again, hard against his crotch. "Listen to me, or I'll blow them off of you."

Whimpering, unable to help himself, Dorian moved his hands to cover his face, trembling as he felt the man continue molesting him. /I can't bear it!/ he thought, feeling tears well up in his fear, intense and too real. /I can't, I can't!/

No Klaus yet, though -- seconds left until Klaus was supposed to appear, yet so much could happen in those long, long seconds... Like the officer's hand groping his groin, trying to rip with vicious playfulness at the cloth of his black pants. That was when he saw it through his fingers -- a blur of motion and a snarl that made him think a dog had been loosed. Yet when he felt the officer topple atop him, felt the spray of a shattered vase, he knew it was Klaus.

With a sob, he launched himself off of the bed at the other man, arms wrapping tightly around Klaus's neck, silent little releases of breath lurching loose from him. "I th-thought you'd n-never come!"

"You got caught too soon," Klaus almost growled as he held Dorian close for the moment. "I'm here now --- are you all right? We need to finish and be gone before dawn."

Wiping his face against Klaus's black-clad shoulder, he nodded, trembling. "I'm okay," he lied, shuddering. "Let's get started."

"Are you sure that you are?" Klaus pressed -- if they'd have to, he'd just slit the man's throat and they could flee, if Dorian *had* to get out of there that moment.

"Let's just get on with it," Dorian answered grimly. "I... I want to get this over with and go *home* with you..."

"All right, then," Klaus murmured, handing Dorian a knife from his own sheath, as he moved to turn the officer over on the bed, face-up. He was just unconscious -- for the moment. Even if he didn't wake up when Dorian began to cut, Klaus wanted to feel a *pulse* when he saw those genitals cut off. Bastard...

Grimly enough, Dorian moved forward, pulling at zipper, button, tugging the Stasi officer's pants off of his hips. He concentrated very deliberately not on what he was doing but on what the man had done to Klaus. A slow, steady burning fury rose up, one that was never far from the surface, and when he placed the knife, he paused, looking up at Klaus as if for a sign, a needed acknowledgement.

He got a grim nod, Klaus making sure that his simple but effective choke hold, and grasp of the man's right wrist in his better left hand, twisted behind the officer's back, were good grasps. "Do it."

With a downward stroke, the knife sliced clean, despite the jerk of the man's body and the violent protest as he came to, the feel of that blade cutting into him enough to wake even a dead man. It was almost more than Dorian could bear, the sounds of his protest terrible, but he kept cutting, all the same, until he felt cock and balls both drop off onto the bed. /Oh, God... can't puke here.../

A moment more of that hysterical, muffled screaming, choked by Klaus's arm, and then the German man neatly slit the officer's throat. The thin red line burbled blood and choked air more than an arm ever could; and without breaking a beat, Klaus began to tear with that knife, viciously cutting as far as he could, through membranes, flesh and towards bone. The sounds were horrible; worse than horrible, and Dorian knew he was going to be sick if he didn't move, get up, not *look*, not *see* how brutally savage Klaus was being!

He shifted from the bed, hands covering his ears tightly, and he waited; waited for Klaus to be done, waited for the man's head to be removed... waited....

Even covering his ears didn't spare him the hissed, rough curses being flung at a mutilated body, as Klaus struggled to direct his viciousness at the cartilage between vertebrae, the cord. Blood made the blade slick in his fingers, hard to grasp as he finally cut it free and then just clutched the fistful of the stasi officer's hair, panting. Victorious in so many ways, at last.
"Hand me the bags."

Trembling violently, nearly ill, Dorian brought them from the doorway where Klaus had dropped them, unable to look at his lover or the mutilated body on the bed, nearly sick with the horror of what they'd done. /I can't believe I... we.../

The only part of the gruesome ordeal that touched Klaus at all, it seemed, was the blood soaking through his clothes. The head was neatly deposited in one bag, the man's cock and balls in another. Then with bloody fingers he moved to the dresser and began to rifle through the drawers for identification papers to put in the third bag. "We'll go home soon -- or straight to the Bonn office, if you want."

"To the office," Dorian whispered queasily. "I want to get rid of it!"

"They'll take us seriously now, Dorian," Klaus said firmly, "And we're safe now. You're safe. He'll never be able to hurt anyone else."

"I know.." He DID know. He knew it had to be done, that *they* had to do it, that it had to be *together*...

He'd just never before known he *could* do such a thing!

It wasn't aesthetic, and it wasn't anything that was expected of the thief... "Dogtags," Klaus muttered to himself, moving to retrieve them from the body.

"Let's go, please..." The words were almost pleading, shudders rippling through Dorian, down his spine...

Oh god, but at least *his* spine was still intact!

Klaus retrieved the tags, though, dried them on the edge of the bed, and dropped them into the third bag, along with a passport and work papers. He let Dorian keep that one, taking the other two for himself. "We're going."

Nodding shakily, Dorian moved close to Klaus's left side, just a few steps behind him. "I'll... go out first," he said softly, desperately not wanting to be left alone with the body.

"Together -- no more splitting up," Klaus told him, waiting for his lover to join him. Three and a half months of planning, and it had all gone off almost without a hitch.

Another nod, Dorian slipping up close to them, and they moved silently out through the back door of the apartment, heading quickly and infinitely quietly down the fire escape. Their car was parked two streets over -- a junker much like the one they'd had on their first mission, actually, one that made Dorian wish for a better car.

Back in Bonn, though, waiting for them, there were two better cars -- Dorian's sporty car, and Klaus's Benz. No more shit-junkers to blend in with the rest of the area. Klaus dropped the parts in a cardboard box in the trunk, sealed the box, then slipped into the driver's seat. "'s a long drive -- you can sleep while I drive."

"Close to you?" Dorian asked insecurely. "I think I'm going to be sick, Klaus..."

"You're going to be sick...?" Being told that brought him down from his state of vicious cold, just enough to be of help to dorian again. "Why?"

"We just..." he whispered, clenching his eyes tightly shut. "Oh, GOD..."

"Tell me, Dorian -- tell me what's wrong," Klaus asked him, driving carefully and unremarkably down the streets. "Tell me...."

"We just killed that man," Dorian whispered, laying down and burying his face against Klaus's thigh, tears rising wildly. "He touched me and I hated him and I wanted him to die and we... we... j-just..."

Blood -- in the cloth of Klaus's black trousers, he could smell blood... "Killed him. You haven't.... you haven't, before, have you?"

Choking back bile, Dorian shook his head, jerking up from Klaus. "No," he whispered, closing his eyes tightly, the stench in his nose, thick on the back of his tongue. "Never."

"We'll wash when we get home -- and you can tell me anything, Dorian, at all... First time is always.... always the hardest." Now it didn't bother him at all -- but he hoped, for both their sakes, that Dorian was always bothered by it.

"I don't ever want to do it again," Dorian told him, raising his hand to his face, covering his eyes. Even *he* smelled like blood! There was no getting away from it... "Not ever. Please, Klaus, don't ever let me again..."

"Never. Back to stealing... cracking safes and being my better sense, for you, Dorian." He spared a hand, for a moment, to squeeze Dorian's knee.

With a shaky little sound, Dorian nodded, eyes still closed tightly. "Let's hurry home," he whispered. "Once we're done. I desperately want a bath..."

"It's a few hours now," Klaus said uneasily, hand still on Dorian's knee. "Just sleep? Then we'll go to the office, and then we'll go home. We'll go wherever you want to -- your apartment, or... hell, the Schloss." Where he hadn't gone except to get clothes in too long -- surely his father was waiting to come down upon him hard, to talk to him and to ask those questions Klaus had been avoiding for almost too long.

"Somewhere quiet," Dorian answered, still trembling. "Somewhere we can bathe and you can hold me and I won't have to think..." God, he didn't want to think!

"Your apartment, then." Because he *knew* it was safe, knew that they'd be comfortable and feel like it was home. But he'd have to stop hiding, wouldn't he? "Just sleep -- close your eyes, and I'll wake you when we're in Bonn."

Trembling still, Dorian nodded, settling back in his seat. "I love you, Klaus," he whispered, eyes on the dark-haired man. "Love you awfully. You won't... you don't..." /See me differently, now that you've seen me do that? Do you?/ he wondered, biting his lip tightly.

That thought hadn't even neared Klaus's mind -- yet there was no way for Dorian to be sure. "Won't what, Dorian?" he pressed quietly, taking the twinings of the road with unremarkable skill -- just like any other driver would, nothing to distinguish him.

"Won't think of me differently," Dorian whispered, shivering. "Won't... won't not love me because I did..."

"Did what we needed to do? Dorian, it... hearing you say that sounds absurd. I need you, you need me, nothing has changed just because we're *safe* now." He wished he could stop driving -- wished it intensely, yet he knew he had to keep going, that he couldn't comfort Dorian yet, or let the adrenaline leave his own system.

"I'm glad," Dorian whispered, swallowing hard, grateful that they hadn't eaten anything before they'd gone into that town house! "So long as we're safe. So long as no one hurts you again..."

"We're safe Dorian -- God, we're safe." Klaus was trying hard to make that seem like a solid fact to the thief, though it was hard to convince himself of that thoroughly. "We'll live our lives now, however we want."

"Any way we want..." Dorian whispered. "I want to be happy with you, Klaus. You and I, just happy. That's all..." Content and safe...

"We will be -- we are. Now, sleep -- it'll make the drive quicker for you if you sleep."

"'ll try," the blond man promised him tiredly, closing his eyes. Behind them, he could still see everything they had done, the horror of it deep in him. He wondered if he'd ever be able to close his eyes and not see it, hear it, know they'd done it...

He woke up to daylight, piercing through the lids of his eyes, though, and Klaus shaking him gently. The car had stopped, and they were in a very familiar...

Parking garage.

"We're back?" he asked muzzily, lashes fluttering open slowly. "A'ready?"

"We're here -- do you want me to take it in, Dorian?" Klaus asked, already unbuckled and leaning over Dorian just a bit. The German had no idea that he still had a little blood on his face, and though he'd cleaned his hands his shirt was soaked with the dried stuff.

"I'll come," Dorian answered a little hoarsely, waking up a bit better. "I want to be with you..." Especially after the last night, he desperately needed to be with Klaus!

"All right," Klaus murmured, leaning in for a light kiss, before he leaned back. "I'll get the... box."

With a nod, Dorian undid his own seatbelt and slipped from the car, standing by the side of it to stretch and scratch momentarily at his lower back, biting his lip and frowning. /Can't believe I slept through us getting back,/ he thought, moving to the trunk as Klaus opened it up and reached inside to pull out the box. /I s'pose exhaustion does that to you../ Well, that and the sheer terror of *trauma*, though he had arguably suffered much less than the man they'd killed. Much, much less... It had been frightening, yes, but there was frightening and there was *dying* horribly, having Klaus digging a knife around in your neck...

The box was weighty, the bottom sagging a little, damply, when Klaus lifted it, but there were no stains of blood on the bottom. "Let's go."

With a nod, Dorian shifted into step beside him, heading upward through the parking lot towards the building. He held the door open for Klaus and moved silently with him towards the desk there and the secretaries who were gathering at that early hour of the morning, just arriving to work.

"Major..." one of them said, obviously not expecting to see him there. "Can I help you?"

"I have something for the Chief," Klaus said crisply, with an inclination of his head to the box.

"He isn't in yet," she said, peeking at the thing. "Can I deliver it for you?"

"I'd rather you didn't -- may I leave it on his desk?"

Reluctantly, she eyed the box. "I'm not sure I can let you do that, Major..." After all, there could be just anything in that box!

"Then I suppose I'll leave it here -- but it's evidence," he said, obviously disliking that he'd have to leave it with the secretaries. "Or I could just wait until he does come in."

"He should be in within the next fifteen minutes," the woman told him, smiling. "Or you could give it to one of your Alphabet..." They were, after all, *still* Klaus's Alphabet, no matter who might come after him.

"I'll wait," Klaus said almost smugly, though he set the box with a wet noise atop the entry desk. "I want to see the look on his face."

Ohh, and Dorian knew it'd be a doozy! The squelch as the box sat down made him cringe, and so he asked, "D'you have a plastic bag or something? I'm afraid we might need it in another ten or fifteen minutes..." By the time the Chief came in, anyway!

"Or a small, brown paper bag," Klaus amended, lips still wearing that frightening half smile as he fixed his gaze towards the door.

"Plastic would be better," Dorian assured her, the woman looking at them a bit wildly.

"Er... HERE, Major," she said, reaching beneath the desk and quickly pulling the liner out of the trash can there to offer THAT to him.

"I can't see why," he drawled, looking to Dorian. "I sealed it -- it isn't *leaking*."

"But it's *squishing*," Dorian informed him with a little shudder. "Really, darling..."

"Condensation -- it's only a little."

"What... what's *in* the box," one secretary dared to ask, with a fierce shake in her voice.

"It's a secret," Dorian murmured. "We could tell you but then, you know, I'd have to leave you alone with the Major..."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked, looking over with that smile, still laughing to himself just a little. "It's not like I'll hurt just *anyone!"

"Shhh, darling. You shouldn't tell them that. They might loose all fearful respect if you do!" his thief replied, that smile giving him chills.

No more words as a reply -- just another laugh, easily given and just as eerie as the others before it. "All right. All right. You keep working -- we'll be quiet while we wait."

The laugh alone was enough to send the women scattering, wild-eyed, and every so often, one of them would glance to where he stood and *shiver*.

"You're scary today, darling," Dorian murmured, feeling oddly as if he wasn't real, as if the world wasn't real. Perhaps even as if he was still asleep...

But no, it was real; Klaus was savoring his revenge on the man who'd hurt them both so much. And Klaus's revenge was a frightening thing that seemed to only grow in *glee* as he caught sight of the Chief coming near the doors. "Ah, this will be good."

Upon catching sight of them, it was nearly all the man could do not to turn around and run back out! /Eberbach only gets scarier with time.../ "Good morning, Eberbach," he harrumphed. "What brings you here so early?"

"A mission completed, as a favor to other western spies and to NATO," Klaus murmured, reaching into the pocket of his blood-stained black pants to pull out a piece of paper that had a name highlighted -- it was well worn, but it was still the top-sheet of the KGB report that Mischa had given him. "That is the name of the Stasi officer in charge of what was done to Lord Gloria and I."

The blood stench on both of them wafted past and the potbellied man looked at them wildly for a moment, hand reaching tremblingly for the paper that Eberbach offered him -- a paper which held bloody fingerprints. "My God," he whispered hoarsely. "My God, Eberbach, *what's in that box*!?"

"Just a little present," Dorian reiterated in a soft murmur. "I'm afraid our friend'll be hacking off no more body parts. Sad, I'm sure."

"Ja... And in this box..." Klaus slid it down from the desk to set it on the floor and open it as he knelt beside it. "These are his dogtags and identification papers... And his head is in one bag, and his genitals in the second."

One of the secretaries gave a little cry, another one fainting dead away, and the Chief turned white as a sheet. "My God, Eberbach," he whispered. "You're mad!"

"No," Dorian answered clinically. "He's not mad. Not any more than I am. We got revenge. The Stasi will now be afraid of *US* more than they are of NATO."

"We took out a top agent," Klaus murmured, setting the identification papers bag back into the box. "Mad, hmn? I can do things that you can't, that your agents can't."

Grimly, the old man looked at the two of them, silent momentarily before he finally, *finally*, gave a slow, solemn nod. "All right," he sighed, shaking his head. "All right."

"We'll leave this box with you, then," Klaus murmured, closing the flaps and standing up. "Shall I put it anywhere, or just leave it here?"

"Here's... fine," was the hoarse answer given as Dorian stepped up, arm slipping around Klaus's waist.

"Let's go home, darling..."

That seemed enough to distract Eberbach -- but nothing like the old days, where it would have been to shove Dorian away. No, this he moved into, closer. "Your apartment?"

"Unless Jamesie's home," was the agreement quietly provided, undoubtedly giving the Chief more gray hairs and perhaps even causing a few hairs to fall from his head with the shock. "Then, I want to go somewhere quieter..." Because if James saw them both bloodied, the high strung accountant would be terribly upset, and Dorian simply couldn't bear that. Not yet...

"My apartment, if that," Klaus said as they left the building. But it was so stark there... still, it was some place. "We'll look for his bicycle."

"Poor Jamesie. I hate to avoid him, only..." Only he just couldn't bear EXCITEMENT of any sort, not right at the moment, perhaps not even anytime soon!

"We're both tired." The drive back, which Dorian had slept through... had been harrowing for Klaus, though there was no need to tell the thief of that. "Tomorrow... tomorrow we should go back to the Schloss, I think."

Blue eyes slanted towards him as they moved towards the car. "Are you ready for that?" he murmured, shivering. It wasn't that it was terribly cool, only... only that everything seemed so awful and uncertain in the morning light!

"No more hiding, right...?" Klaus asked him, green meeting blue. Wordlessly, Dorian nodded. "Then we'll stop hiding. We... *I* need to know if I'm still an Eberbach," Klaus uttered in a low tone as they entered the parking garage again.

"Do you suppose your father knows yet?" Dorian asked hesitantly, reaching to clasp Klaus's hand lightly.

"Knows which part...?"

"Anything. Where you went. Me. What happened..."

"Nothing," Klaus murmured, "Not... that I know of. He'll know that I've been discharged, and why..." And hopefully no more -- or else, everything. Then it least the news would have had time to settle in for the old man.

Dorian nodded slowly. "I hope everything will be all right, Klaus. I hope..." His own father would have welcomed Klaus with open arms, he didn't doubt. Klaus's father...

Well.

He could comfort himself with the fact that his own father would not only have welcomed Klaus but would have been *very* proud of Dorian to settle down, happily, with someone who cared deeply about him. "If it isn't, at least it'll be a chance for me to move my things out of the schloss and into my apartment," Klaus shrugged, unlocking the car. "Do you think James is in right now...? Maybe we shouldn't even bother heading there..."

"They're due back sometime today," Dorian said by way of reply. "If they aren't there yet, they should be soon...."

"I brought a set of your clothes over to my apartment last week, didn't I?" Klaus asked, trying to jog his own memory as they both got into the car. "It's a little bare there, but it's quiet."

"Even if you didn't, we'll throw everything in the washer," Dorian told him, shivering slightly. Even he was slightly sticky with blood, and it made him nauseous. "By the time we get out of the shower, we can hang everything to dry..." He planned to stand under steaming hot water for a *very* long time!

"Blood is hell to get off," Klaus said agreeably as he started the car. "Think the chief got our message?"

"I think so," Dorian replied quietly, shivering. It was just so incomprehensibly *awful* to hear Klaus say things like that!! He didn't want to think about how hard it would be to get the blood off of them! /I'm a coward,/ he thought, frowning sharply. /A horrible, terrible coward.../

Klaus pulled out of the space, and then out of the lot before he spoke again. Now it was quieter, more contemplative. "I'm scaring you, aren't I?"

"A little," Dorian murmured. "I'm a coward. I'm sitting here with dried blood on me, we killed a man horribly, and all I want... all I *need*... is to be held tight against you and never let go and somehow... somehow... that makes me so *afraid*..."

"Why?" If he let himself think in response, at all to what Dorian was saying, in any way other than simply tucking it away to remember, he was sure he'd get caught in a rut. "There's nothing wrong with that."

"Nothing wrong with needing you or with having killed someone?" Dorian asked, beginning to shake, the sheer horror of what they had done setting in again.

"Either." Klaus said it so very calmly. "I need you, too. Once... once we're home, and I've washed..."

"All right," Dorian said softly, still shivering. "All right."

"You.... it shouldn't bother you that we killed him -- he deserved it," Klaus assured. "He was sick -- everyone who knew him knew that."

That gained him a slow nod from the thief, a biting of lip. "I..." He shivered. "I know, Klaus, but God... I never thought I could... that is to say, I..."

"It's like when you didn't know the gun that you held had a bullet in it." That was accompanied by a knowing nod from Klaus. "That's all right."

"Oh, Klaus," Dorian sighed. "I really didn't want to know this about myself..."

"That you can kill? Everyone can. And you won't have to again." /I won't let you, because now I know it hurts you,/ the ex-major told himself.

"I love you," Dorian whispered, reaching for him, hand touching the blood stiff fabric of Klaus's pants, clinging to his thigh. "I do. I don't know what I'd do without you..."

"If you weren't there, I'd be lost," Klaus murmured without hesitation, taking a quick glance from the road to Dorian's face, before he looked back again. The glass eye lingered longer, eerily, before it drifted back to almost looking forwards.

Wordlessly, Dorian slid over, abandoning seat and seatbelt to sit thigh to thigh with Klaus, his desperate need to be close to the other man growing. "How much farther?" he murmured, trembling fingers clutching tightly to him.

"Two more streets, Dorian -- it's all right, we *are* nearly home..." And he loved Dorian, and wasn't that alone enough to keep the man calm?

Home... home meant somewhere together, Klaus's apartment or his own, and it didn't matter which one. Home meant safe, meant shower, meant being held close in Klaus's arms, and the mere thought relaxed him slightly. /Don't think about it, idiot,/ he told himself ruthlessly. /Don't think about it yet!/

Silence from Dorian was always a little disturbing for Klaus, but he didn't question it -- didn't dare to, not with Dorian so shaken! He pulled up in front of the building his apartment was in, and turned the car off.

For a moment, they sat there, and then Dorian looked at him, reached out, touched his face. "Let's go in?" he murmured, wanting desperately to be somewhere safe, safe with *Klaus*...

It seemed to spark Klaus back into motion. "Yes. Yes, let's..." He didn't want to break contact with Dorian, and was tempted, almost, to drag the man through his side of the car. "You've been here before, haven't you?"

A silent shake of the head came, the answer no. He had known, of course, that Klaus lived there, and Bonham had been, but he had never actually made his way into Klaus's sanctum.

"There isn't much to see here," Klaus told him gently as he pulled the key from the ignition and finally rose to his feet.

"All right," Dorian said, scooting out of the car on the driver's side to follow him, not wanting to be even that far away from Klaus. "I don't care. So long as it's quiet, and you and I are together..."

"We can... sit on the sofa and watch tv after we wash." Sit there and hold was what he meant by it -- holding without any pressure at all for anything past that, as might be implied in bed. Nodding, Dorian let Klaus shut the door behind him and wordlessly stepped close to him as they headed for the building. "Are you going to be okay?" he asked Dorian as he slipped an arm around his waist.

"I think so," Dorian answered quietly. "I've stopped being nauseous, so surely that's a good sign..."

"You'll feel better after sleeping," Klaus promised as he pulled keyed open the door of the hall and then moved up stairs to a landing and unlocked the three outer locks on his door.

/Paranoid,/ Dorian thought with a little smile, and he was sort of *glad* for it. That was what made Klaus *HIS* Klaus, after all. "And an electronic security system, too," he managed to tease, though it wasn't much of one.

"Ja, keeps the Soviets out," Klaus murmured, darting into the entry hall once the door was open, so he could key in his code.

"The Soviets must not be very good then," Dorian murmured, shaking his head slightly, at least *trying* to be his usual self for the moment. He was failing badly.

"Ah, they're very good -- it's just a matter of not wanting to," Klaus shrugged as he glanced around the bland, barely decorated room. "C'mon, my shower is this way..."

Aquamarine gaze remained on him as they moved through the monotonous hallway to the equally dreary bathroom, all of it done in beige and other shades of functional brown and gray. He didn't comment on it, only glad to be nearing water and the opportunity to at last be *clean*...

"Just put your clothes on the floor," Klaus murmured, sounding a little tired as he moved forwards to turn on the tap in the shower. In bare seconds, the black catsuit was off and on the floor and Dorian was pressed against his back, hugging him tightly. "Hmn, I don't get a chance to undress?" Klaus teased, careful to be gentle as he straightened up, slipping an arm behind him to hold at Dorian's waist, keep him close.

"Maybe," Dorian agreed, the sound muffled against his shoulder. "Need some help?"

Gentle, Klaus let his maimed hand caress against Dorian's skin, trying to soothe. "If you would?" The request was complied with, hands lightly tugging at belt, loosening pants, pushing them away, pulling the black shirt off, as well. The stains of the night's work were on both of them, but Dorian didn't look -- he only stayed close to Klaus and pretended that they weren't there, that no such marks marred them. Shoes were kicked off with a little work, and though Dorian perhaps hindered more than he helped, Klaus was afraid to break the contact. "It's all right, Dorian... we're fine."

"All right," Dorian agreed, face pressed to Klaus's shoulder, muffling his words. "All right..."

"Hmn, come on," Klaus goaded softly as he stepped under the shower's spray, taking Dorian with him. "Move... move around front?"

Directions were easy enough to follow; the blond thief slipped around him between body and shower wall and wound up in Klaus's arms, his head on the other man's shoulders, his own arms wrapped tightly about Klaus's waist. He couldn't think, *wouldn't* think... "Oh, God..."

Wet Dorian, curled shuddering into his grasp, uttering softly... "Calm down -- we're okay, you're okay, nothing will happen to us."

"Is it always like that?" Dorian asked, holding onto him tightly.. "Killing someone?"

A hand slipped into damped down golden curls, trying to work the water better through Dorian's thick hair. "Sometimes it's worse. You'll never do it again, though."

A broken little sound, partially laughter, came from the British thief. "Oh, Klaus. I'm so sorry to be such a horrid coward!"

"You're not a coward, Dorian." Gentle touch tried to go with the words, two fingers moving as well as five could through thick strands. "You're no coward for not having bloodlust in you."

Silently, Dorian clung to him, face pressed wetly to Klaus's throat, unable to bear letting go of him. /I'm so sorry,/ he thought, closing his eyes tightly. /My Klaus. My beautiful Klaus. I.../ Oh, he couldn't *think*, couldn't even do anything but tremble there against him, letting loose a slow sigh.

"We both... need to calm down," Klaus told him, letting his hand slip down to run along Dorian's back. The water they were standing beneath ran along the line of Dorian's spine, tumbling over Klaus's fingers. "I love you. I shouldn't have... made you do that with me."

"Had to go with you," Dorian murmured, sighing softly. "Had to. Had to do it. Didn't want to. Had to..."

"I'm sorry." He'd thought... and forgotten that Dorian would go along with something he suggested simply because he wanted it -- Dorian didn't seem to need to want it to do it with Klaus. That was worrisome, yet not worth too much thought.

"Not your fault," he was informed, Dorian's hands shifting to rub lightly at his waist. "I could have said no, but..." But he couldn't have let Klaus go alone!

"Dorian... Dorian, it's over. We're... running in circles again," he tacked on, trying for a soft laugh as he let his hands roam over Dorian's skin with less of a nervous sort of gesturing to them.

That lovely scarred face lifted from his shoulder, looking directly at him. "You're... right. You're right. I'll stop. Kiss me, Klaus." Kisses were a sure way to forget anything that ailed one, he was fairly certain!

"And then we'll wash?" Klaus sounded *almost* exasperated, even as he shifted minutely, not caring how wet his face and lips got before they made contact with Dorian again. "Hmnm."

For a moment, it felt almost desperate, but then the kisses gentled, Dorian sighing with the pleasure of them, hands letting go of their desperate grasp. "Now," he murmured huskily. "Now we can wash."

"Then we'll go into the living room... And I'm sure you've clothes here." Or Klaus could loan him a pair of sweatpants. Despite the fact that they were alone in the apartment, with no one who would disturb them, the fact remained that Klaus didn't like the possibility of someone other than Dorian seeing him nude. So it was restricted to the bath and bedroom. Otherwise, comfortable clothes were almost required.

"All right," Dorian agreed solemnly, reaching for the soap. It smelled of Klaus, all sharp and delicious, almost like oranges and yet certainly a *manly* scent. It made him feel a little better, too, as he soaped his own hands to get the blood stains off, thinking of washing Klaus once he was done getting the terrible sanguine blemishes off of his own skin.

For the moment Klaus, who still bore the red smears on his chest, the red spread marks on his arms, dried and thick on his hands, was content to just keep his hands on Dorian. "Need help?"

"Hm-mm." Sometimes, they communicated that way, in soft sounds, barely spoken, almost hummed. No, Dorian didn't need any help, and once his own arms were clean, he went to work slowly on Klaus's, cleaning away blood as if it was anything *but* that, silently washing away the stains of what they'd done. If only he could wipe it from his mind as easily....

Of course it wouldn't bother Klaus at all, really -- though Klaus was sympathetic, he sadly only vaguely remembered how it had felt, how badly shaken he'd been the first time he'd taken a life. He stayed still while Dorian washed him, yet when the soaped hands spread to his chest, he leaned in once more to take another soft kiss. Tenderly, he started to try to explore Dorian's lips, breaking it and starting it again in a most distracting and teasing way, the water only making the meld shorter and slicker.

"Darling," Dorian breathed, the kisses distracting him, taking his mind off of things and making him smile. "You're stealing my attention."

"Good -- kept it here. On us. Pay attention to now, to this..." And not to what they'd done, not to what had been. That was falling into a rut, a circle of thought, and Klaus kept it in the fore of his mind at all times how dangerous that was for them to do. "You're beautiful. My Dorian."

"Yours," Dorian agreed, melting for him, soapy hands moving now more in caresses than cleaning swipes. It felt good just to touch Klaus, to be close to him, and to receive those drugging kisses. "Always yours. Only yours, ever..."

Klaus wasn't sure that he could ever get enough of Dorian touching him, against him; so he more than just gave in to the thief, trusting in the water's pressure to remove the rest of the marks from him. "Need you, I'm so glad he didn't hurt you before I got there...."

"I was praying for you to come," Dorian murmured against his lips, giving into him beautifully. "I knew you would come, but I was so desperately *afraid*..."

"It didn't... go perfectly right, but it could have been much worse. Considering the risks, we did very well," Klaus praised Dorian gently, letting his kisses trail to Dorian's cheek, and then back to his lips. "We work well together."

"Knew we would," Dorian sighed, shivering slightly, nuzzling at him. Klaus made it so easy to just not think about things... "Knew we'd be perfect together..."

"We were good when we were at odds... better now that we're not trying to turn each other in to the KGB or Interpol," Klaus drawled, pushing Dorian back just a little so that he was under the brunt of the spray, to rinse soap from his body first. "Tilt your head back." Obediently, Dorian allowed his head to drop back, his eyes falling closed. It was Klaus's turn, now, to touch and caress, hands moving gently through Dorian's hair, over his arms, back and shoulders, lingering down to his hips. All the suds were swept off, the marks of blood left were rubbed gone, the smears from Klaus's own hands removed. "You look like a water fairy," he mused quietly.

Blue eyes drifted open slowly, warmth and excitement in them -- an inevitability any time that Klaus touched him, a response he'd given to the other man for as long as he could remember. "And you, Poseidon?" he asked, mouth twitching slightly. "You'd make a beautiful sea god, my Klaus..." Oh, how lovely that would be painted, and how he wanted to see it!

"Poseidon, seduced by a water fairy?" Klaus asked, finally managing a real, relaxed smile as he moved back under the brunt of the spray to kiss Dorian. "At least you didn't go for the cliche of Mars."

"It'd be too obvious," Dorian sighed, feeling Klaus's lips slide down to his throat. "Mmmmmm, 's nice when you do that. I like it..."

"You like anything," Klaus reminded in a gentle tease. Anything as long as it felt good, as long as it was Klaus, as long as it was gentle and thrilling to his body. He let his mouth trace the wet, soap-tasting flesh of Dorian's neck, over familiar cords of muscles as he bent a little more to slip just a little further down.

"Oh, yes..." Dorian sighed, fingers coming up to work their way into water heavy black strands, tugging lightly at the German man as he found the warm perked flesh of his nipples, teasing at them. "Oh, Klaus..."

Hard little nubs that he rubbed gently at with one hand, trying to get more of those sounds from Dorian's throat while he finally decided to take one into his mouth. Making love in a shower... would rather solve problems of cleaning up, wouldn't it? "Do you... want?"

"Always... always when it's you," Dorian sighed, back arching slightly so that Klaus could get to him more easily, his balance kept easily enough. "Yes..."

"Decadent demon," he murmured in a warm tease, chuckling a little to himself as he shifted down to his knees to kiss Dorian's flat belly. New, odd position for him to try it, yet it was one that his... reading, and overhearing conversations told him was 'traditional'. It seemed right to offer Dorian that relief before they retreated to rest for the day.

The sound of his name was thick on Dorian's lips, trembling hands stroking his face as water cascaded down it, fingers tracing over his cheeks. "You don't have to, you know," Dorian murmured, gaze distinctly wistful.

"I know. Want to," he clarified, as if Dorian hadn't needed to hear anything else from him. He wanted to, and that was that, wasn't it? "You feel good." Warm and strong and alive, all for him, for the both of them together... His left hand grasped Dorian's hip gently, while his right hand slipped down a bit lower to grasp the base of Dorian's cock.

"Yes..." Dorian whispered, eyes closing slowly. Ohh, to have Klaus do *that*, to feel Klaus *there*... it was so *good* when he did it! He'd done it once when they were in the Americas, once on the ship, and now.. Now...

It would be a long time, they both knew, before Klaus would become casually comfortable with such an action; yet until then, he reached for the limits of what he was comfortable with, aiming for Dorian's wants and needs more than his own. A slight difference of perspective that let him bend his head, holding Dorian's hips still as he let his lips close over the flared head of Dorian's cock.

"A...ahhh..." It was an almost broken sound, the way that it trembled out, his thief's hands closing tightly on his shoulders, an attempt to hold himself up as Klaus suckled tightly at that sensitive tip. "Ahh..."

The earl was always clean, so the taste was something Klaus couldn't ever mind. Salty, a tang to his tongue as he sucked and slid his tongue around the head that he held carefully between his lips. Every so often, he'd take in a little more, sliding down further but not ceasing in his ministrations. When Dorian came, he'd try to keep more this time, try to last a little longer...

Ceaseless caresses spilled over him, fingers trailing his shoulders, stroking over the length of his dark hair. The noises that Dorian gave were sounds of desire, of love, of adoration, the quiet clamor of enjoyment, and that alone was enough for Klaus's satisfaction. There was nothing better than knowing that Dorian was enjoying something, that he was doing something wonderful to his exquisite blond thief. It was enjoyable payback for the pleasures that were so often offered to him. To give Dorian pleasure as close as he could to the heated clench of a body around him, one he couldn't provide from sheer over-sensitivity, was very satisfying. This time, Klaus lowered his head down nearly to the base of Dorian's cock, and then swallowed.

"HAAAAHH!!!" The yell reverberated back from the tiles and Dorian came, unable to help himself. It felt so fucking *GOOD* that he simply didn't have the wherewithal to keep from exploding down Klaus's throat, sobbing with the intensity of it. "UNH!"

This time, Klaus didn't have a choice in the matter, to swallow or not -- Dorian was too deep in, and he just kept swallowing to avoid choking. And when the earl was done, he pulled back a bit fast, coughing minutely. "'s good?" It had been or at least seemed awful fast!

"So..." Dorian panted, shaking his head so that droplets flew. "So, so, *SO* so good," he moaned a little, still shivering from the effects of it.

"Think we're done in here," Klaus said hazily, moving back a bit and still swallowing to clear the taste from his mouth, as he stood up, hand offered to Dorian. The blond man took it, stepping out onto the bath mat and watching Klaus turn off the water. There was still evidence of Klaus's own erection and he smiled slightly, leaning to kiss him tenderly once he stood. "Hmn?" Klaus paused in his motions for a moment, even though he'd just been about to reach for a towel to dry off. Or three, since he felt as waterlogged as Dorian's hands looked. Like raisins!

"Want me to take care of you?" Dorian whispered, kissing him again, hand lightly brushing over his belly.

He felt a shiver pass through Klaus at that though, then the German nodded slowly. "Ja, please..."

"How?" Dorian asked him, almost humming. "D'you want..." Want to lay together, want to be buried deep in warmth, held close and tight so that there would be nothing in the world but two heated bodies pressed tightly together...

"A.... anything," he decided -- or rather, vocally didn't decide -- at last.

The smile Dorian gave him was almost sly, towels coming into play as he began to dry Klaus's skin, his hair, whispering quietly as he did so. "I want you. I want to be in your arms and feel you close and stay that way for always, Klaus. I want to feel nothing more wonderful than the pleasures of your touch, infinite, sweet..."

"You're spouting poetry," Klaus said with no little amount of happiness in his voice to hear that sort of thing from Dorian again. "Ah, so... bed instead of the sofa...? You're feeling better...?"

"How can I help but feel better when you love me?" Dorian told him, giving him a smile edged with sorrow. "You make everything better, Klaus, and I *need* you..."

Sliding an arm around Dorian's waist, to draw him close again, Klaus whispered, "I need you, too." That made him wet again, but Dorian only kept wiping, now at both of them.

"Always," he murmured. "Always."

Softly, he kissed Dorian's forehead and the curls there. /So good -- so perfect. Just, always just what I need to have.../ "Whatever you want, Dorian."

"You," Dorian almost purred, working to dry them both off quickly, efficiently, the friction feeling good on his own skin and taking his mind off of... things. "I want you. Let's go to bed, Klaus..."

"Ja," Another kiss taken, or given, whichever it was, and Klaus started to lead his still damp lover towards his bedroom. "And not leave it until tomorrow morning."

"That sounds perfect," Dorian sighed, leaving towels and clothing scattered over the floor, not caring a whit about them. He was getting hard again, a fact that should've been a surprise to him, he supposed; after all, he wasn't a teenager anymore! Klaus had that affect on him, though. He always had.

And Dorian was the only person to have an effect on Klaus -- so they were even. "The... bed isn't as big as yours," Klaus apologized, even as he opened the bedroom door.

"Doesn't matter," Dorian murmured, slipping his hand into Klaus's as they moved into the bed chamber. "It just means that we can sleep closer together, darling..."

It proved to be a full-size, which meant that it wasn't as bad as it could have been, yet it was exactly as comfortable as the one in Dorian's apartment. The room was fairly barren, yet it had been Klaus's haven from the Schloss when he had little time to spare or to simply get away...

In retrospect, what had once been fine for him would have been unbearable then, if it weren't for Dorian. "You're spoiling me for comfort. And sleeping with you is the highest possible..."

"I want to spoil you for the rest of our lives," Dorian told him, settling lightly on the edge of the bed and looking at him, that delicious sidelong glance that he'd seen so often over the years. He now realized that little glance made him want to take Dorian and make him entirely his, and it always had. It was odd to realize it after so many years.

The rush of adrenaline was the same, the same urge to *move*, to give all his attention to Dorian... only now he recognized the other part, the part of him that had gotten infuriated so easily before and now *knew* what to do with that rush, those urges. "Under the sheets," Klaus said in a gentle husk. "And... ich... I don't know what we can use for... lubricant..."

That made Dorian pause for a moment; lubricant was DEFINITELY a necessity! Once, he might have tried saliva, but... He gave a little shudder. Not NOW. "D'you have any lotion or something slick like oil?" he asked, sliding beneath the covers as directed.

"L... I have lotion," Klaus said, turning to head back to the bathroom, towel still cinched tightly around his waist, He returned not a minute later, with a bottle of hand lotion, fragrance free.

"That'll be fine," Dorian murmured, arms reaching out for Klaus. The bottle was put on the nightstand, and then Klaus let the towel fall to the floor; after so long in the bathroom and under hot water, the bedroom felt chill, but no longer. Now, sliding under crisp cool sheets, he found heat again -- in pressing close to Dorian. "You feel so good against me," Dorian sighed, a hand stroking slowly up Klaus's side. "You make me feel as if nothing in the world is wrong. I love you so, Klaus. I'd do anything for you. Please..."

"What you want," Klaus said firmly, shivering at the intensity of warm, still slight damp hand sliding up his side. "Here, now.... 's nothing wrong in our world. Nothing -- 's just us."

"I want to be yours," he sighed, shifting so that his lips were pressed to Klaus's, their legs entangled, his returning erection becoming heavy again with need.

It only took a shift, slight, to brush heavy erection to heavy erection again, wringing a tense groan from Klaus. "Oh, god... ahhhh, Dorian!"

"'s good?" Dorian murmured, closing his eyes, rocking slowly against the other man's groin. "You like it...?"

"Ja... 's good. 's very good, Dorian... need to..." he tried to get more of the sweet friction, hands moving to Dorian's hips to pull them closer.

"Tell me... what you need..." The murmur was husky and sweet, lips stealing away the groan that fell from Klaus's mouth as Dorian wrapped himself around the other man, moving strongly to please his lover. "Mmmm..."

"Need you... need you on me, need to feel you, Dorian, anything you'll give me, I need," Klaus sighed in a shiver of breath as he arches his hips against Dorian's. A hand shifted, clasping the root of his erection and tugging, dragging another of those groans from him.

"D'you want in me?" Dorian asked him, kissing him hard. "'s that what you want?"

"Yes -- fuck, I want to be inside of you." Raggedly husked out words as he moved one hand from Dorian's hip to the nightstand to grab the lotion he'd brought in. The steady slow roll of the thief's pelvis said much, a welcome invitation that was distracting even as he fumbled to get the lid open on the thing.

"Yes," Dorian murmured, a deep, dark rumble that promised purest pleasure. "Yes, yes, yes, Klaus, I want you..."

"I can't see... how it ever feels good for you," Klaus murmured, leaning to kiss his companion as he finally got some of the slick stuff onto his hands, stroking both their cocks for just a moment.

With a little gasp, Dorian arched up, eyes closing as he panted a little. It felt so fucking *GOOD*! "Just does!" he groaned. "'S one of those things feels different for me than you. So good..." The last was nearly cooed, the entirety of his body arching upward with want.

"If you like it," Klaus murmured, voice tense with restrained pleasure as he pressed his hips down against Dorian's with a leisurely pace and familiarity. Anything *but* that one thing was heaven to feel from Dorian... "I... I know I like doing this with you. It's perfect."

Petal-soft mouth stole his, caressing sweetly. "Want you," Dorian sighed. "Love you. Need you. Oh, my Klaus..."

"Shhh.... mmm, shh, I know," Klaus shivered, smiling against Dorian's familiar knowing lips. Every kiss felt golden, new and unexplored directions, minute difference that made all the world of sensation for them both. Carefully, Klaus shifted so that he knelt between Dorian's legs. Slicked fingers traveled from grasping onto Dorian's cock to his entrance, down to press in gently. "You're beautiful."

The way Dorian's lips parted, his head dropping back on the pillow so that golden curls shivered with his delight, only made him more so. The little sounds that sobbed loose were noises that delighted Klaus just as much as the tight clasp quivering around his fingers, as good as singing his thief's enjoyment.

"Tell me... you want this," Klaus purred softly, shaking and tense with need now... oh, but he could wait, to enjoy having Dorian so wanton, so beautiful, so very his and his alone.

"I want *you*," Dorian managed to get out, shuddering with the intensity of waiting for it. "I love you, I love you, *please*...!"

Two fingers curled carefully, rubbed lightly over the nub within Dorian. /You're wonderful, everything with you is perfect, I can do no wrong.../ "Soon, soon, we'll... soon."

Unable to help himself, Dorian cried out, arching upwards in search of more. It felt so utterly *delicious*, and he so desperately wanted to be held close and tight, impaled and held in Klaus's arms, mindless of anything more than the joy of being with the man who made him safe, made him loved, made him *complete* and capable of going on from day to day...

"Can you... are you ready?" Klaus asked in a low whisper, bent over the thief to kiss his lips. "I want you so badly."

"Please..." The sheer thrum of *need* in that rich voice would have sent almost anyone to their knees. "*PLEASE*, Klaus, please, I'm ready..."

"Shhh, shhh." Carefully, Klaus pulled his two fingers out of that tight clench. Then he shifted Dorian's legs so that one was around his waist, the other long leg draped gently over his shoulder. "I'm always afraid I'll hurt you if I'm not slow enough."

"No," Dorian almost sighed, rocking slightly with what could only be a barely restrained patience. "No, you feel so good to me, Klaus, always so careful, so wonderful..."

Klaus rubbed his hand over his aching cock, then shifted nearer to Dorian to press into that tight clench that was nearly calling to him. He loved that no longer was it dark and dirty mental images of that -- it was the real thing, far from disgusting, and so very loving. "Good, I could never handle hurting you..."

The sounds of Dorian whining softly spilled into his hearing, the muscle he had passed straining around him to hold him close as the tall blond's arms did the same, caressing slowly over shoulder and spine. "My Klaus," was the breathless whimper, the trembling feel of Dorian's lips pressed to him as well. "My Klaus, my Klaus, my Klaus..."

"Yours," Klaus agreed thickly, careful as always to hold himself deathly still at first. "Oh, so tight and warm, Dorian... perfect, you always feel, are..."

"For you," Dorian sighed, arching up to him and groaning, relaxing around him. "Just for you..."

Against Dorian's lips a shuddered sigh could be felt, soft and barely released. "Ohhh.... love you, need you, Dorian..." It was only once Dorian had moved that Klaus dared to, a slow shift backwards and then in again, stroking within the length of the heat that clasped him.

It gained him another of those delicious *noises*, the kind that he'd learned to love. They announced better than words Dorian's enjoyment, just as the arch of his body and the slight shudder of his breath singing from his lungs did the same. "Yes..." It was a drawn out sigh, Dorian's entire body stretching out wantonly for more. "Ye~es, yes, yes..."

Always so perfect, the few times they'd done it -- always worth savoring, taking slowly. Klaus didn't let his hips pound against Dorian's pelvis as he could have. Instead it was a slow, if barely controlled, and thorough fucking of his lover. Stilted rolls, and he let his hips twist every so often. "Feels so good," the German moaned, bending to meet Dorian's arched body and plant kisses along the column of his neck. It gained him more of those little sounds, and the slim man beneath him wrapped the entirety of himself up in Klaus, around him, clinging tightly.

"Love you," Dorian moaned, tossing his head so that those glorious curls tangled wildly. "Love you, love you, so close, sooooohhh, *Klaus!*"

The leg he'd put carefully over his shoulder had slipped down, and now clung around his waist as tightly as the first, Dorian's heels against the backs of his legs as he tilted the lean body up even more. He had his lover's lean form arched glorious for him, open and clutching him closer. "Yes, scheiss, *yes*...!" He wouldn't until the other had, first -- always sure to make sure Dorian was in pleasure *first*.

With an almost violent cry, Dorian fell over, spilling wildly between their bellies as Klaus pushed deep inside of him. So close to Klaus, so together, so utterly *inviolate*... "UNH!"

"Dor..." A shudder cut out his voice, hips snapping roughly against Dorian's a final time, and then again, as he spilled deep, so deep within the utterly desirable form that held him. "Ohhh, ohh, fuck... Dorian, Dorian, thank you..."

Sleepily, Dorian pressed close to him, holding him tight inside. "Mmmmmm, 's good," he sighed moments later. "Thank you, Klaus. I..." He paused, smiled slightly, pressed his lips to Klaus's cheek. "I feel better, a bit. You still love me. I knew you did, but I needed..."

"I love you, need you, no matter what -- sex or no, a-anything or not, I'll always need to love you, to have you for mine..." Desperation should have seeped into his words, if it hadn't been for that fact that Dorian was so thoroughly his. "Always, I'll always love you."

Arms wrapped slowly about his shoulders, legs coming down from tightly around his hips to tangle with his own. "Always," Dorian agreed quietly. "Everything will be all right, darling. It will be all right..."

"Wasn't I telling you that not long ago?" Klaus almost laughed, as he let himself slip free of Dorian's wonderful clutching heat, and laid beside him on the bed. Strong arms kept the blond close against him, wrapping him in their warmth and security.

"Mmm, yes, and you were right," Dorian told him, laughing softly. "And so am I."

A kiss, careful and lightly tender, brushed over his lips, trying to give touch and sensation without arousal to go with it. "Tired, much?"

"Mmm." It was a sound with no meaning, one that signified thought. "Not so much," Dorian murmured. "But some. Sleeping in a car is rarely sleeping and I... I was feeling too nervous to really rest, I suppose. Upset. Was the drive back so terrible?"

"It was long," Klaus sighed, "And tense. Crossing the border... had been a close call. You were still sleeping when border guards stopped the car and shined their torches into our windows."

Shifting to get comfortable in his arms, finding the perfect spot, Dorian nodded slowly. "We're all right, now. Tomorrow will be all right, too."

"I'm glad you're sure of it." A soft, forced laugh, and Klaus shook his head a little. "My furniture and books will probably packed into neat boxes that have been sitting on the lawn for months."

"Maybe they won't have been," Dorian offered quietly. "If they are, I'll buy you all new ones, Klaus..."

"It doesn't matter to me," Klaus murmured. "'s just things. I don't need things... I need... the family history more, my own name..."

"Shhhh. It will be all right." That was a promise, for Dorian would *make* it come out if he could. "It will..."

"I know... it *will* be all right. NATO and the other groups will take us seriously now... No matter why they say they kicked me out, we proved that we're both useful." Comfortably purred words, as Klaus turned his head to nuzzle at Dorian's cheek. "We... I almost didn't believe that we would be."

"Not any more, though," Dorian whispered, face moving so that his lips brushed Klaus's. "We're useful. We'll continue to be useful. And there's always this, and us..."

"Always, always us and this," Klaus agreed in a comfortable, mostly happy tone. Funny, how the horrors of those hours with Stasi had pushed them down this new, often frightening but utterly enjoyable path. He now had a companion, he had Dorian, he had a vague goal in life... The friction of lip to lip was slow, leisurely. "Want to lay here...?"

"Just like this," Dorian agreed in a slow drawl, nose rubbing lightly across a cheek. "We'll sleep a while, shower again and then..."

And then... go to Schloss Eberbach and see...

"Tomorrow."


"Have you ever been here before?" Klaus spoke without looking at Dorian, instead with his eyes trained on the road ahead of them. They'd slept for quite a while to make up for the tense drive back from East Germany, showered, watched a little TV and just talked. God, it was good to go back to the sort of routine that they'd fallen into when they'd been in America, that they hadn't been able to hold while research for their own personal 'mission' had taken over their lives.

"When we first met," Dorian reminded him with a little laugh. "A couple of other times, too, but no one knew I was there. Especially you..."

"You mean you snuck into my house *more* than that once?" Klaus asked, raising an eyebrow as he glimpsed over to the other man for just a moment.

"Well...." Dorian laughed, unable to stop it. "You know, Jamesie found all but the last hundred of the deutschmarks you tossed out of the plane and wanted to steal it from you so I came with him. I was afraid he'd get caught or hurt himself if I didn't! And I really am so terribly fond of your pumpkin pants ancestor..." he teased.

"You're not stealing it," Klaus warned him. "You don't have to, and I don't, still, see why you'd ever want that picture -- it's terrible."

"Because it's lovely and it looks like you, or you like it, perhaps. You're like art come to life, darling..." Dorian murmured.

"Was," Klaus murmured. "Maybe I looked like him at some point... though I don't mind that I don't anymore."

Leaning over, Dorian pressed his mouth to a high cheekbone, fingers caressing the opposite jaw. "You're beautiful to *me*, darling. Always will be," he declared, and though it was perhaps extravagant, it was also *very* true.

"Dorian... please, not while I'm driving. If I kiss you right now, like I want to, we'll end up going off the road," Klaus drawled, smiling just a little as he strained to keep his attention on the road.

That gained him husky laughter, the press of lips against his ear before Dorian withdrew. "When we stop, then," he nearly purred, laying his head on Klaus's shoulder.

"You're a complete distraction." Just a statement -- not a complaint. He *needed* Dorian to distract him, all the time, to make his life enjoyable... "That will certainly be relaxing before we enter the Schloss."

"It's all going to be fine," Dorian soothed him, a hand going to stroke his shoulder tenderly. "I promise you, Klaus. I promise..."

They were nearer now -- he could *see* the Schloss and its grounds now, and he hadn't been able to before. /Not long now, and I'll know for sure.../ "Even if it isn't, everything will work out."

"Yes," Dorian answered him simply. "It will."

The hand on his shoulder was a comfort, Dorian so very close to him in the silence as he finally pulled his Benz into the drive. If anything, he was going to be in trouble to begin with -- for having been away from home for so long... "Better be prepared to get right back in the car," he murmured absently as he stopped the car in front of the main steps of the schloss.

Dorian nodded, a sidelong glance saying much. "Whatever the case, you know I won't let *anyone* abuse you," he stated outright, frowning slightly. "I can't, even if it's just yelling. I'll be ready to leave if you say the word."

"I'm not in a mood to get yelled at today," Klaus assured Dorian gently as he opened the car door and stood smoothly. No suit today -- just denim pants and a clean white shirt. His butler would probably die of shock.

"D'you suppose your father's actually here?" he asked, tilting his head to the side as he slid out on Klaus's side, standing tall beside the other man.

"I've been gone for so long that he's probably had to come up here to manage the estate," Klaus murmured with a slight shrug before he started up the steps.

Dorian nodded, shutting the car door and following behind him, hands slipping into his pockets as he did so. "Well, darling, I don't see any of your belongings on the front lawn so perhaps that's a good sign..."

"Maybe they sold them," Klaus suggested with dark almost-mirth in his voice.

"Or sent them to the local church as charity?" Dorian muttered just as the door came open before Klaus could so much as knock or reach for the handle to open it himself.

"SIR!" the butler cried, looking almost tearfully pleased to see him. "You're home!"

/Have the Soviets replaced him?/ Klaus wondered, one eyebrow arching as he looked at his butler. "Ja... Ja, I'm home. Are you all right?"

"Your father is here," the man replied. "He's been Very Worried, if I may say so!"

Now both eyebrows came down as one. "Ja? And who the fuck replaced him with a dummy? Tell me right now if you're being puppeted by the Soviets!" he demanded loudly.

"Klaus," Dorian said sweetly, "maybe he's just worried about you..."

"We've ALL been worried about you!" Dominic chided, sniffling, tugging a handkerchief from his pocket. "You just ran off, and such terrible reports were coming in!" He sniffled again, scrubbing at his eyes.

"This is surreal," Klaus muttered, glancing at Dorian. "Stop whimpering -- you're not supposed to do that," the butler was chided as Klaus stepped back him and into the front hall, ready for an ambush.

"Your father's in the study, sir." Dominic sniffled once more as Dorian patted him on the back.

"There, there, man. He's home. It's all right," the tall blond murmured.

"Dorian, have you ever read the Bible story of the prodigal son...?" Klaus asked, as he started, still cautious, down the hallway. "That sort of strange shit just doesn't happen in reality."

One last pat of the butler's shoulder and Dorian followed Klaus down the way. "Well, darling, but you never know, truly you don't. Perhaps they HAVE missed you. It isn't unheard of; *I'd* miss you, after all..."

"That's because you love me without question," Klaus said, quoting Dorian's general sentiment towards him. "Missed me... I barely ever talked to them. Dominic missing me... I can understand. Almost."

"Perhaps..." Dorian said, biting his lower lip momentarily. "Still. Filial affection can't be denied, you know. It's there, even if you don't speak. Father and I didn't speak for quite some time when I was younger. He sent me off to Eton, and then to Oxford, and we really didn't even see each other for a while, and then he died. Still, he'd be most happy to see me if he were alive, and happier to see you..."

"There's a difference between not talking out of ... just not talking, and not talking out of anger, and dislike," Klaus murmured, grasping Dorian's hand on a whim. "We might as well get everything over with at *once*... His study is just down the hall here."

Fingers squeezed his own carefully as they continued down the hallway, pausing only to knock at the door. "Enter," came a firm voice from behind that dark wooden portal, and Klaus reached out to turn the knob.

He swung it inward slowly, cautiously -- there was always the possibility of an attack, even in this 'sanctuary' that he called home. There were not Soviets waiting to jump him, so he stepped into the room that was lined with bookshelves and lit with the morning sun, holding Dorian's hand. /What a way to present yourself.../ "Father."

An older man who looked most remarkably like Klaus sat behind a large and beautiful antique mahogany desk, one that made Dorian want to sigh. His fingers steepled slowly, face betraying no shock as they came into the room, words not damning them immediately. "Have a seat, Klaus... and this, I presume, is Dorian Red Gloria, the Earl of Gloria and famed art thief Eroica?"

"Charmed," Dorian murmured, a bit shocked.

"Of course," the elder Eberbach replied.

No explosion of temper...? Then that spoke of a slow building to the older man's point, then... Klaus moved to sit down, but only after he set down a chair for Dorian, too. "How are you doing, father?"

"Well, considering that my son abandoned his homeland to go to America to recover from his injuries rather than coming home to me," he was informed. "And how are you?"

"Better, now." Klaus didn't dare move his eyes from the old man's face, for fear that he was someone else wearing a mask -- though the bitter opening reply *sounded* like him! "I needed to get away."

"From Germany?" he was questioned, as if that seemed impossible.

"From everything," Dorian murmured, answering before Klaus could do so. "You seem to know a great deal, sir."

Pausing, the older man reached into a desk drawer and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, taking the time to light one slowly, drawing in a lungful of smoke and releasing it before speaking again, a simple enough reply. "Yes."

The storm, then, was coming. "You read the report on why I was discharged, then. What did you think of it?"

Another calm draw on the cigarette, making Klaus and Dorian both wish for one. "That it was a crock of shit," his father bit out, shocking him.

Grey-green eyes, one a slightly *off* shade from the other, were wide as Klaus looked at his father. That off shaded one never quite tracked as well as his real eye, so it drifted a little as Klaus blinked a few times, trying to make sure he hadn't hallucinated that. "I was expecting a diatribe about being a failure, father."

The man leaned back in his chair, still smoking slowly. "You did your best, did you not? I have heard a tale of several Stasi hits, bad orders, and two men who did the very best that could be done, who survived. I have heard more. I... would not think you were a failure for doing your best, Klaus."

Klaus looked away for a bare moment, if that. "We did our best... it just wasn't enough. When we were in America, I kept waiting for a letter or... something. A restraining order. A notice of disownment."

Silently, Dorian watched as the older man sighed. "You are my only child, Klaus," he noted quietly. "That would be cutting off my nose to spite my face, as they say."

"I haven't been much of an asset to you for an heir... and I won't be one," Klaus murmured, giving Dorian a significant glance.

Crushing out the cigarette, his father sat forward, expression grim. "Do you take me for a complete idiot? This I have known since you were fourteen!"

"What?!" Klaus's nerves, set on edge with anticipation, hadn't been prepared for the completely opposite reaction. "Why the *fuck* didn't you tell me?!"

"Do you think you would have thanked me to hear such a thing? *I* thought you would be more grateful never to know, to simply live your life as it was without knowing. I did not know, however, about *him*," he was informed with a gesture to Dorian.

"Me?" the thief asked, uncomfortable momentarily.

"YOU," the elder Eberbach replied.

"What *about* him?" Klaus asked dryly.

"Why don't you tell me," his father responded with identical tone.

"... starting from what point? The point where he started to stalk after me through missions, or the point where I realized I... can't live without him?" There, he'd said it *aloud*, in the presence of someone other than Dorian.

THAT obviously made the older man wish that he hadn't put out his cigarette as he leaned back in his chair and sighed. "Are you happy, then?" he asked, frowning.

"Ja, now." More than he could remember being in his life, and content, after all of those horrors... "Very much so."

Another sigh. "Then that, I suppose, is enough. You realize that you need an heir, Klaus."

/So do I!/ Dorian wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. He decided that Klaus could just take care of the matter, and that was quite all there was to it!

"What do you want to know?" Klaus asked his father, after the beat of silence had fallen.

"I suppose I am curious as to what you plan to do about that situation. No more. Perhaps you would like to consider the matter. Dinner is at seven, as usual." That was as good as dismissal, and a strange end to an even more bizarre meeting.

"What situation...?" Klaus asked as he stood up.

"I am assuming that there was no injury to your brain, Klaus," his father said wryly, bluntly. "Heir? Those things known as small children who run about on plump little legs and drive you mad, but are required for the furtherance of one's family?"

"Father... I hate to say as much, but I really doubt that I have... the patience, the..." he trailed off, trying to find a better angle of approach for the conversation. "I'll explain why I doubt it's likelihood at dinner?"

"It is a necessity," his father reminded him, going back to the newspaper that was on his desk. "Gather your thoughts, of course, but keep that in mind, Klaus."

Dorian raised an eyebrow, shrugged at Klaus. Necessity? /Thank goodness I have sisters.../ At the least, there was SOMEONE who might continue being the Earl of Gloria if he died without issue, or rather *when*.

Klaus grasped Dorian's hand in his maimed right one, and led the way to the door. "We'll get our bags... Go up to my room, I suppose."

"Seven," his father reminded as they moved out of the study.

"Well," Dorian muttered. "That certainly didn't go as I expected, or you expected, for that matter..."

"I think we've just entered a bad American horror movie, na?" Klaus suggested as he turned down the hall again. "That was almost wrong."

Dominic was still sniffling into his handkerchief in the hallway as they passed. "Klaus, are you QUITE sure they were normal to start? Perhaps they've always...er, been this way, and you simply never NOTICED..."

"That's normal for the butler," Klaus uttered as they passed him. "Not... not normal for my father."

"Maybe there was some foreign substance in his cigarettes," Dorian mumbled under his breath.

An amused sound left his lover. "Maybe we shocked him senseless...?"

"Maybe," Dorian replied, "he was expecting it."

"He could have saved me so much grief if he'd told me he knew," Klaus sighed. "Fourteen...? *I* don't know how he'd know..."

Dorian reached over, patted his hand as they headed out to the car. "Fathers are often magic that way. Besides, would you've believed him if he'd told you, Klaus? I shouldn't think that you would've..."

"No, but he's always been drilling into me that I should find a woman and marry..." Klaus shook his head as he opened the front doors again and led Dorian out. "Christ, today is going nothing like I'd thought it would."

"Well, he *STILL* wants to know where you're getting an heir, Klaus. He's rather going to bother you about THAT one..." Dorian murmured.

"There won't be an heir," Klaus told Dorian, knowing he had to come up with a way to tell his father that same thing. Ah, but how, how to *explain* that they weren't as... stable, really, as they could act.

Dorian nodded as they stopped beside the car. "I hadn't doubted, Klaus, only sometimes it's difficult to tell one's parents just what they don't wish to hear..." Well, perhaps it was if one had a parent like Klaus's. His mother had been easy to tell when he'd decided he'd rather stay with his father and be a homosexual thief... but perhaps that was because he *had* both parents, and Klaus had only his father and no mother...

"You have any suggestions on how to tell him?" Klaus asked openly enough as he unlocked the trunk of the Benz.

"'Gee, Daddums, I'm rather afraid children are simply right out of the picture because I'm as queer as any local fairy you might've ever met'?" Dorian answered with a chuckle. "Really, I can't imagine. Perhaps we should just tell him outright that we aren't... you know. Aren't secure enough for that, you or me. Might never be. Or perhaps simply tell him that we aren't for now and will see about it later, or think about it. You are not, however," he was informed firmly, "doing THAT with one of THOSE creatures, no matter how badly your father might like grandchildren!"

"I, however, could not stand doing that with one of *those*," Klaus chuckled mirthlessly as he swung his own one bag free of the trunk. "I need a smoke -- so you have to kiss me, before I have to knock out the false bottom of this case and get my spare pack."

Without so much as a single thought to the contrary, Dorian flung his arms about Klaus's neck and *did* kiss him, a delicious thing that tasted slightly of the bacon they'd eaten for breakfast and apple jelly and Dorian, a sweet, tangy sort of taste that made him shiver with need for the other man. "Mmmm.... 's that better?" Dorian husked as he shifted away for a moment.

"Ja... if dinner wasn't at seven, I think I'd go to bed right now," Klaus breathed in a rough purr, as he leaned nearer again to take another, slower and deeper seeking kiss. The mix of flavors alone was good, then add to it that it was Dorian's lips, so warm and wanton for him!

"So let's go to bed for just a little while," Dorian whispered once they parted, lips deeply colored by the force of Klaus's against them.

"We did that all day yesterday," Klaus reminded, "and I'd like to show you around, some."

"Show me everything," he was told, Dorian taking his own case out of the boot and smiling up at him. "Show me what you love about this place, Klaus."

"It'll take most of the day, then... and after a few days here, we'll go to the North Downs...?"

THAT gained him an utterly brilliant smile, the case in the blond man's hands dropping to their feet as Dorian wrapped himself around Klaus to kiss him again, this time with a sense of utter adoration. "I love you, Klaus," he whispered, and then laughed.

"Mm, I know," Klaus murmured. "And at the rate you're going today... I'm going to get enough kisses to make up for missed cigarettes. And I know you want to go back to England."

"A little," Dorian admitted. "I want to show you the things I love and oversleep with you as Jamesie lectures at us to get up and badgers me about household accounts..."

"He's getting as bad about house mothering as Bonham," Klaus teased Dorian. "Your men... are very loyal. Trustworthy. I'm glad they wanted to help me and you."

"They love me," Dorian told him solemnly. "They want me to be happy. They want me to be well. Even Jamesie can't object to you making me happy. Not..." Not now, he wanted to say.

"He seemed about to, at first," Klaus murmured softly, giving a shrug. "But, I'm glad he... turned around."

Dorian's shoulders lifted as well, bringing a definite sparkle to his eyes, a tilt to his lips. "Well, you know Jamesie..."

"I do. Let's drag our bags in, hmn? Before father sees us kissing out here. He might be freakishly calm, but that would undo it, I am sure," Klaus observed sagely.

"Especially if he managed to catch my tongue in your mouth," Dorian whispered as the front door came open, Klaus's father stepping outside.

"Klaus," he called.

"Ja...?" Well, it wasn't supper time yet! Bag in hand, Klaus started towards his father and the front door.

"Stop kissing that man and show him the gardens!" his father told him sharply before turning to go back into the house and shutting the door behind him.

"And perhaps someday you'll rate something better than 'that man'," Klaus murmured as he stopped on the steps and turned back to Dorian. "I'll show you my room, and we can unpack."

"Marvelous, darling," Dorian laughed quietly, shaking his head. "Better 'that man' than 'that fucking faggot' or something!"

Once Dorian was at the stop of the stairs with him, Klaus grasped his hand and opened the front door again with the side of his arm this time, since both hands were occupied. "I'm up almost in the tower..."

Blue eyes sparkled as Dorian walked inside with him. "The view's spectacular, I'm sure. Your land is almost as lovely as *mine*..."

"And I would have to say the same -- England, lands of fog, rain, and badly paved narrow roads." A soft chuckle, as he veered Dorian towards the stairs. "Na? We're nationalistic."

That only gained him laughter, a delicious feeling for Klaus, indeed. "Most definitely so," Dorian chuckled, laying his head on Klaus's shoulder before they started up the stairs. "But lovely, winding, *rustic* narrow roads," he teased.

"Rustic... is that what you call decrepit? I'll remember that if you ever call *me* rustic!" Good natured, happy teasing -- the affront Klaus acted was pretend, and it was a wonderful thing to after so long, still, to have someone he could be so at ease with.

"Wouldn't dream of it, darling," Dorian informed him airily before laughing once more. "Mmm, no, you aren't decrepit. You're beautiful, finely honed, and infinitely fu.."

"Not where anyone else can hear it, will you say that," Klaus murmured, giving Dorian's hand a tug towards him; the blond got a kiss on his mouth, just at the edge, for his trouble, though.

"Who'd hear me?" Dorian teased, smiling brilliantly.

"Dominic? My *father*. Who would probably be very unhappy to hear that..."

"At least he'd know I like you very much..." his lover replied, a decidedly naughty smile upon his face.

"I think it's rude to give any parent proof that you're sleeping with someone. It's more tactful this way," Klaus murmured.

A thoughtful silence passed momentarily. "Well," Dorian finally said, "perhaps with ordinary parents! My father would've asked if you were any *good*..."

"He'd *what*?" Klaus asked in loud shock. "No! No, you're teasing me again!"

"Dead serious," the thief said, shaking his head. "He was gay, too. He'd 've asked and laughed when he did!"

"You could ask father what he'd say..." Klaus chuckled. "Lucky you."

Blond brows rose up, a consternated expression crossing Dorian's face. "Darling, your father'd probably plant me a facer if *I* asked him such a thing!"

"Plant you a facer?" Klaus blinked as they want up the next flight of stairs.

"Punch me silly," Dorian informed him almost primly.

"I wouldn't let him," Klaus drawled firmly. "Never. I think he's saner than that."

"You've done it before," came the teasing reply.

His hand was gently squeezed. "I'm sorry. I... haven't done it in a long time."

"Oh, Klaus..." They stopped there in the hall, the Briton's bag dropped, his arms going about Klaus's shoulders. "I love you. I'm only playing, and I never minded at all..."

"I know," Klaus smiled, embracing Dorian in turn. "I just... forget sometimes, that you've forgiven me."

"I'd forgive you if you blew up the world, you know," Dorian teased him, smiling.

"If I blew up the world...? Dorian, if I did that, there wouldn't be a *you* to be forgiving me!" A tap on the back of his shoulder got the thief to release him. "Come on -- only a bit higher now."

"Then you'll be a good boy and show me the gardens?" Dorian teased.

"We'd better not get caught kissing while out there," Klaus murmured in amusement as he bent to pick up Dorian's bag along with his own. No more held hands, but it would assure that they got upstairs!

"But the garden's a perfectly LOVELY place to be caught kissing!" Dorian protested with a little laugh. "A perfect choice for just such a thing, darling! Why else would he have suggested that you take me there?"

"To.... show you the well trimmed shrubs and flowers...?" One slim black eyebrow raised, and he turned his head to look at Dorian quizzically. "That'd be my guess."

"And not to kiss," Dorian murmured thoughtfully. "How remarkable!"

"Is that what your garden is for...?" Klaus teased him, as they reached the top landing and he started down the hall. "If it is, don't tell me that. I'd prefer a surprise."

His lover laughed, a sound that delighted him. "Oh, my garden's full of roses and lavender, meant for sitting and enjoying the scent of the things," he announced. "There are lots of little nooks with benches, that sort of thing!"

"Hmn, for what reasons do you have those benches?" Drawled lazily as he finally stopped before a rather nondescript door. /Home at last... but with Dorian here, it'll be a real home./

"For sitting," Dorian teased. "And enjoying..."

Black eyebrows crawled up high beneath Klaus's bangs, and he managed a small little smirk as he opened the door. "Enjoying, hmn? I've never actually looked in the back gardens for spots to.... enjoy."

The room behind that door was just as neat as his apartment, though it had much more by way of personality. Of course, it wouldn't take much to have more personality than *that*... "I'll bet there are plenty," Dorian nearly purred, slipping inside to look around. Books scattered a desk in the corner, little lead soldiers lined up on a table, the art of war present in that room. It would have made him shiver if it wasn't such a little boy sort of war.

Klaus probably hadn't redecorated in years, and showed no want to do so now. Why bother? He liked, occasionally, to look over his toy soldiers, and loved to read his books... /I've been away for too long,/ he mused to himself, glancing over to the bed. "You unpack, I'll put on fresh sheets?"

"Why don't we just dirty the first set properly?" Dorian asked with a little smirk, reaching to dig a finger against Klaus's ribs gently.

"You're horrible," Klaus accused without heat; he was right, too! "I'll get the new sheets out so I can put them on tomorrow morning, then."

"I'm horrible and you love me," Dorian corrected. "Take me out to see the garden. I don't want to unpack. I want to find a nice niche in which to kiss you!"

"Then don't complain to me tomorrow when your clothes are wrinkled." With that, Klaus tossed down his own suitcase, and moved towards the door again. "I'm glad we came here."

"*I'M* glad your father wasn't waiting to have an auto de fe," Dorian replied with a shiver as he joined the dark-haired German man. "From the sounds of it, I rather thought the Inquisition would've been kind compared to whatever we might've suffered from him..."

"Worse than the inquisition is what I always suffered when I dared to come home without a wife, when he was home." Dorian's hand was once more caught in a firm grasp, as Klaus started to drag him off down the hall.

"Perhaps he was *hoping*," Dorian noted as he moved along behind Klaus, the slight tug and pull on his hand entirely pleasant.

"I still can't see how he knew at fourteen what took me fucking *years* to figure out..." It was grumbling he knew, but Dorian was more than willing to listen to him grumble sometimes.

"Sometimes fathers just know things," his lover excused, shrugging. "Mine knew I'd be a marvelous thief, so he helped to show me how."

THAT struck Klaus as amusing, what it implied and what his own parallel situation would have been. "Father would definitely not want to teach me how to be a marvelous fag."

At that, Dorian smirked. "*MINE* did!"

He got his hand squeezed for his trouble. "If your father was so very gay, how did he manage to produce *you*?"

As they headed down the stairs, Dorian seemed to think about that question. "Oh... I have several older sisters. I suppose he felt a certain... hmmm, oh, a responsibility to the line, to bear a son. Once I was born, he stopped dealing with women at all, really, aside from Mother and... Well. Mother left him when she realized that it wasn't just father who was 'that way'..."

"She left him because you turned out gay? I'd think she'd leave him because he turned out that way..." Klaus shrugged, shaking his head as they lazily went down the stairs.

"Maybe it's only that it felt that way because I was a child," Dorian replied with a little sigh. "I DID feel a bit guilty. All right, very guilty. Father sold the castle at North Downs and we moved to Cornwall so he'd have enough money to support my mother and sisters in the style to which they were accustomed... He pretended that it didn't make him unhappy, but..."

"There's no way that such a thing could make one *not* unhappy." Though unhappy was a long-familiar thing to Klaus that before the... incident had would have had trouble imagining being so content for so very long.

"And then I got caught trying to steal Giorgione's Shepherd and he sent me away to school and..." Dorian shrugged as they reached the first floor. "Well. I suppose, in the end, he died alone. He never found anyone like you for himself, and I was at Oxford when he died..."

"That's very... sad," Klaus murmured, squeezing Dorian's hand tightly. "I can't imagine that happening to you."

Another shrug came in answer. "Me, either, darling, but then... I've got you." He'd known from the moment he'd seen Klaus that the other man *had* to be his!

"I believe that I'm the luckier one in this." Now they turned down the back hall, headed towards the terrace that would lead them to the gardens. Klaus was already searching through his mind for a niche of some sort in those gardens.

"One way or another," Dorian murmured, "I'd say we're both pretty lucky..." They had, after all, survived the Stasi, come to terms with themselves and what had happened to them, gotten revenge and, most importantly, fallen in love...

And that was what was, by far, the most outstanding and important to them both. "If I didn't have you, God knows what I'd do with my life..."

That, Dorian knew, was one of their ruts. "You do, though, darling," he noted, nuzzling at Klaus's shoulder as he opened the back door, letting them out into air scented with heavy fragrance.

"Ja." A soft laugh as he let go of Dorian's hand to slip his arm around the thief's waist. "What's your favorite flower?"

"Roses." It was a terribly PREDICTABLE answer, but it was very much the truth. "I adore them."

"Which color -- be specific, it's probably out here somewhere," Dorian was told, while Klaus gestured with his free hand, the maimed on, over the veritable *field* of neatly planted flowers and the paths between them.

"Red," he was informed in a murmur. "The color of passion and love. Orange is also very nice, but red is my favorite..."

"What shade?" Klaus asked, starting to drag Dorian down a sloping path that brought the high flowers to above eye level.

"Deep, dark, delicious," the thief laughed, looking at everything. He was particularly fond of the purple ones and wanted to stop just there, but Klaus was tugging at him and so he followed along, almost jogging to keep up with the long-legged stride. He was enjoying himself immensely!

"Deep, dark..." Klaus repeated it absently, taking another turn, a sharp one, and then stopping immediately before a single bush of roses of such a dark red that they could have been black in dimmer light. "These!"

With a little gasp, Dorian dropped down to look at them, cupping a bud carefully with one hand, avoiding the nasty-looking thorns that seemed quite determined to prick at him. "Ohhhhh, *Klaus*...."

"Here -- let me pick one for you," Klaus murmured, kneeling easily beside his lover, reaching his right hand near Dorian's nimble fingers.

The deepening of that aquamarine gaze was one with which he was entirely familiar, a wantonness that seemed to spread with that change of color overtaking Dorian as he plucked the stem carefully, popping off thorn after thorn without pricking his fingers. "Thank you," he was told, Dorian leaning forward and offering him his mouth.

It wasn't a fresh bud, but rather one that was just starting to open, that would slowly unfurl as its time passed. The exchange of beautiful rose from Klaus's hand to Dorian's was avoided, though, as Klaus took the kiss. A slow, luxurious thing as they both knelt there, and Klaus had a hand on Dorian's back to tug him minutely closer, other hand rising to tuck the de-thorned rose behind Dorian's ear.

Eyes closed, Dorian smiled, leaning to kiss Klaus again. "Thank you," he whispered again, lightly brushing his lips against the other man's, almost childish the way it simply skimmed across Klaus's mouth.

"You make me so happy... a fresh rose is the least I can give you," Klaus spoke softly against Dorian's tickling lips, unwilling to close his eyes and lose sight of the beautiful face that he didn't see the scars on.

"I always knew you were a romantic at heart," Dorian teased, arms wrapped about his neck, eyes still closed. He was more than happy, he was *content*, felt so wonderful, just to be in Klaus's arms... /Nothing can get better than today./

"It's your fault," was the equally teasing reply. "All yours..." The day couldn't get better, really -- the worry that had been weighing so heavily on Klaus's heart was just *gone* now!

"Here they are, sir!" came a call from down the way. "They're kissing next to the Taboo roses!!"

/Fucking hell.../ Now he was sure that his father's goal while they were there was to make sure they *didn't* get a moment alone once they started to kiss. He was going to get privacy if he had to install a dead bolt on his bedroom door that night! Slowly, he backed off of the gentle kiss, and looked up in the direction of the voice. "Hmn, figures."

"Come BACK, idiot! You aren't supposed to let them know we're keeping an eye on them!" Klaus's father bellowed.

Unable to help himself, Dorian laughed, wrapping his arms even more tightly about Klaus's shoulders. "This, you lived in *this*, and couldn't laugh at it?"

"It's easy enough to do so now," Klaus murmured, shifting back near to Dorian before he turned his head a little and called back, "Father! *Why* are you 'keeping an eye' on us?"

"He wants to be sure that the Earl is nice to you!" Dominic called.

"SHUT UP, IDIOT!"

"You're definitely related," Dorian muttered, stifling the sounds of his chuckles.

"How can you tell?" Klaus asked dryly, taking another kiss almost to *spite* watching eyes, a good long kiss. Maybe that would get them to stop watching. "Hmn, this rose fits you well."

"You think?" Dorian asked him huskily, kissing him again. Hmmm, Klaus's lips tasted so... "Why do you think that?" he questioned, drawing in a deep sigh as they parted.

"It's decadent. And beautiful." Nothing really poetic or fluid, but it was certainly tenderly uttered and sincere.

"Kiss me again," Dorian sighed, incredibly pleased with himself. "Maybe we can find a quiet nook where they can't peer in.."

"I don't see the sense of spying on us." Round-about agreement as he leaned near again and kissed Dorian properly.

"Maybe they just want to see how we 'do it'," Dorian whispered mischievously, stealing James's terminology.

"Ugh, I'd rather not think that," Klaus shivered as he started to get to his feet. Then he called out again, very mock-innocence, "Father -- are you and Dominic out on a stroll like Dorian and I are?"

The sound of two grown men crashing to the ground in stunned surprise (or perhaps because Klaus's suggestion had nearly given them both a heart attack!) came to the two of them as the older man held Dorian's hands, pulling him up as well. "I..." Dorian couldn't help but laugh. "I think, darling, you've quite given them a nasty turn!"

"Dinner, Father -- I will see you at *dinner*." Klaus's final stressing point as he led Dorian from that bush, and absently fixed the rose he'd tucked behind Dorian's ear. "I think I have an idea now, where to go..."

"Why not just wandering?" Dorian asked him. "We could go back to the house, too, and look at the paintings.. all of those fops and mister pumpkin pants..."

"Later -- I'm going to take you to a quiet nook," Klaus promised.

"That," Dorian agreed, "sounds most promising..."

And it was.


After their first run-in with the butler and Klaus's father, Klaus was grateful for the fact that the other men had entirely disappeared from following them. They'd been left to their own to talk and kiss and wander until seven, when Klaus had herded Dorian towards the dining room.

His father was waiting, already seated, and Dominic was hovering about the end of the table, waiting for them to show up. "Darling," Dorian muttered from the corner of his mouth, "they're a tad frightening."

"How so?" Klaus asked, truly curious as to why Dorian thought so.

"They're hovering like a nanny in a bad American horror film," Dorian whispered.

"They've always done that," Klaus shrugged as he moved into the room, Dorian firmly in tow. He was *hungry* after all day without eating!

Watching from beneath his lashes, Dorian allowed Klaus to seat him, tilting his head to the side slightly as Klaus slipped into the chair beside his.

"Did you..." The elder Eberbach cleared his throat. "Did you have a nice walk through the gardens?"

"Once you stopped following us," Klaus said truthfully to his father, while Dominic scurried off to get dinner.

A manful clearing of the throat came from Klaus's father, his brows rising. "Well..."

Klaus was looking at the older man pointedly, though -- he wasn't about to let it drop, 'rude' person that he was. "Well?"

"Well..." His father matched his frown easily, a ferocious look, grumbling, "I wanted to be sure you were... all *right*..."

"All right...? I'm not sure that I... follow you, father," Klaus drawled as he unfolded his napkin. "What to you mean?"

Dorian drawled an answer before his father could. "He wanted to be certain that I wasn't abusing you in the garden, darling," he teased. "Really, he *is* your father. Parents like to do these things, I'm afraid, odd as they are."

"You, *abusing* me?" Klaus laughed, soft at first and then a real, loud laugh that he had to stifle.

"You were aware that your son has the *strangest* sense of humor?" Dorian asked, raising a blond brow and smiling at Klaus's father as Dominic returned, nearly dumping the cart in his surprise at all of that laughter.

"Y.... Klaus Heinz, is there something..." Dominic was cut off by Klaus sitting upright again, still chuckling but gesturing to the man to not worry. God but it was funny to think of Dorian hurting *him*!

"I'm afraid I'm awfully non-violent generally, sir," Dorian chuckled, smiling down the table at him. "It'd be more likely that he'd smack me than the other way 'round, and I'm afraid that simply isn't likely at all."

Dominic's eyebrows all but crawled into his recessed hairline, as if to say that it wasn't so very long ago! Klaus, though, only smiled and nodded while soup was set out before each of them. "He's right."

Clearing his throat, the elder Eberbach promptly lifted his soup spoon, frowning. "Klaus, surely you wouldn't hit... er..." Well, it was a man, after all, wasn't it? So hitting him wouldn't exactly be against any particular societal more, not that Klaus had ever paid any attention to them....

To ANY of them. "I haven't in a long while," Klaus uttered, almost glaring at Dominic for a moment as he picked up his spoon and then thought the better of it and reached for crackers to crumble in first. "Na, Dorian?"

"In a very long time," Dorian admitted with an almost dreamy smile. "The last time..." The last time had been before they'd gone to East Germany.. "Hmm, it's just been a long time."

Klaus didn't need or want a reminder of how things were *before* the incident, so there was no need for him to mention that aloud. "So, Father, how have you been while I was away...?"

"Concerned," his father answered shortly, working on his soup. Dinner was no time to be holding conversations; he was much like Klaus in his efficient eating, steady though not messy. "You did not call me before you disappeared off to that heathen place."

"I needed to clear my head and get away -- there wasn't much time between my release from the hospital, my discharge, and the start of our trip."

"NEXT time you go somewhere, contact me first," he was informed shortly.

The interaction between them was nothing like the relationship between himself and his own father, but it WAS amusing, Dorian decided...just for the fact that they were so very much alike in such entertaining ways! /Bossy. And nosy,/ he thought with a smile.

"Then I'll tell you, in advance, that Dorian and I are heading to England for a while after our stay here," Klaus drawled.

His father snorted. "Land of bad roads and queers, I say," he sighed. "Why not just stay here?"

Klaus tilted his head to the side a little, to smirk at Dorian -- apparently, more than one person thought the roads were bad. "Because Dorian hasn't been home since... it happened."

"My family misses me, particularly Jamesie. He gets so lonely when I leave him alone, you know, and if I'm not careful, I'll get back and find he's sold something I particularly like by way of revenge. He thinks I'm better now," Dorian noted ruefully. After all, he'd sent that awful banged up little plane to get them...

"Which..." Klaus shifted one elbow onto the table as he finished his soup, thoughtful. "Isn't entirely true."

"Klaus?" his father questioned, looking right at him.

"Mmm?" Casually -- better to be prompted to see exactly what his father wanted than to make a guess and give too much information.

"What do you mean when you say that this is not entirely true?"

"Dorian and I... sometimes fall into ruts, among other things," Klaus said without much concern in his voice. "To make it simpler... let me just say that my discharge wasn't entirely groundless."

Grey-green eyes much like his son's remaining orb danced between them momentarily. "I see," he said finally, leaning back in his chair as Dominic returned to remove the soup bowls and set out the next course.

"It really..." Dorian paused, biting his lip. "It's really not so bad..."

"We manage very well. As long as we stay conscious of when we start to... repeat things, there isn't any problem." It had been a terrible problem for them both while in America, though, but thank god they'd resolved things between them.

"And this poses some problem," the elder Eberbach prodded, frowning.

"Yes." Klaus was firm on that. "To... a point. It's hard to explain, really, without mentioning incidents."

"You are trying to tell me subtly that you plan to have no children ever, aren't you?" his father accused suspiciously.

/Well,/ Dorian thought with some amusement, /I do believe I'd laugh if I didn't think they'd BOTH yell idiot at me.../

"I'm not going to touch any woman," Klaus agreed. "Some days we have enough trouble with ourselves -- we don't need *children*."

"But..." his father began.

"Really," Dorian said dryly. "People in situations like Klaus and myself shouldn't be entrusted with the creatures." God knows they had enough problems without adding *that* to their burdens!

"If we're not travelling, we're working," Klaus went on for them both. "It would be impossible."

"We're going to have to discuss this again, then," his father said darkly. "There *must* be an heir, Klaus!"

"I know that it's my... duty," Klaus uttered as he picked up a piece of lightly buttered bread and then passed the tray to Dorian. "But I can't fulfill it."

The man gave a heavy sigh as Dorian took the tray and a piece for himself. "Klaus, this family has a very long history," he began, a lecture Klaus had surely heard many more times than one.

"I know," Dorian's lover sighed. "But it hasn't done me... much good in life."

THAT seemed to momentarily stump the older man. "Klaus..."

"Perhaps," Dorian interrupted smoothly, "it would be better to discuss this in another year or two? We remain not entirely well, and I admit that I have objections to sharing..."

"I can frankly say that between Dorian's... protectiveness and my possessiveness, that it would be impossible right now," Klaus reiterated. *Fuck* it was hard to explain the strange dynamic between the both of them.

Reluctantly, Klaus's father sat back. "Three years," he grudgingly murmured. "We'll talk about it in three years."

"Five," Dorian offered.

Klaus was sure that his father would live so long -- easily. It was an Eberbach tendency, when given a life without being ended short in battle, to live an obscenely long time. "We have a lot to recover from," Klaus supplied.

"Five." That compromise was even more unwilling than before. "But you must consider the matter!"

"I will." And he would -- he'd consider it a tightly closed case-file, but his father didn't have to know that. "So, now that that's done with..."

"Let's eat dinner," his father sighed.

"Sounds painless," Klaus murmured, looking over to Dorian with his good left eye and winking.

Dorian grinned at him. "After all, it's good, honest, hearty German food, hm?" he teased in reply.

"You shouldn't joke that!" two generations of Eberbachs said at once. Klaus burst out laughing, though.

And that was how dinner went.


There was a feel to the mission Klaus didn't like -- it was both routine and risky, a challenge yet essentially a clear simple objective...

And an eerie sense of deja vu. Maybe it was just because he wasn't directly aware of who was or wasn't the enemy at first glance. Maybe it was that they were in ex-Soviet block territory. That was always enough to set his paranoia on edge...

"Put that cap over your hair, Dorian," he drawled, checking the perimeter again by peeking out the window of the unlit safe house room they stood in.

"Can't have that peeking out, now can we?" his partner murmured, tucking the length of braided golden curls tightly beneath his black cap and shifting to stand beside Klaus. In the dim light coming from outside, the pale scars that still marked his face were quite invisible. Over the last five years, the people with whom they often worked had come to unequivocally accept them, to almost forget that they were there, just as they had accepted the changes in Klaus. Their lives had become something resembling normal again, they were comfortable in their own skin.

The ruts that they hit were now few and far between, and when they did catch into one, it was shallower than if had been in those first few days. Time and patience had gone far to heal their internal wounds; external ones were easily ignored. Klaus kept his own very low-key and had possessed the luck of only losing his glass eye on one mission where he'd been hit too hard on the side of his head by a neo-Nazi.

"Bright as a flashlight," Klaus told him without hesitance. "We'll get in, get the disc, get out, and be on our way home in hours, hmn? Out of this godforsaken place."

"Right." What else was there to say? He knew Klaus was uncomfortable, and he was none to comfortable with the matter himself. There was just something that tingled along his spine, something he hadn't felt since...

/Don't think about that. You're just making yourself paranoid,/ Dorian thought, scowling.

And paranoia and dealing with it, frankly, was something best left to Klaus, who was an expert in the matter. At least, what's what Dorian had told him when he'd drawn his gun at the sound of a car-backfiring just before they'd left London for the mission. The German's ease of motion with his left hand was so great now that it was hard to tell he'd ever been right-handed -- perhaps his shooting was even better.

"We'll take the jeep until there's a mile left, and then we'll have to walk it."

Nodding, Dorian tucked several tiny picks into one pocket, hid another in his hair, and made sure that the tiny wires that were woven into collar and sleeve seams were in place. "Ready."

The safety was removed from Klaus's pistol, and then Dorian's lover nodded while walking to the door. "Hell yes."

From there on out, it was silence; the need to talk between them while working had long since dried up, missions taken more seriously than ever before. Even Dorian had become serious about *those*, and this was no exception. No more failures or slip ups in the over five years since their initial run-in with the Stasi; they were efficient, they were fast, and NATO knew that they didn't like to be bothered with petty shit. No, if a mission came to them, it was high risk, and worth their skills being called upon. Certainly tromping through the shambles of the disintegrating Yugoslavia looking for an ex-Soviet agent who had a disk that he shouldn't have had counted as more than petty shit.

"I wonder what's on that disk," Dorian murmured as they settled into the jeep, darkness nearly swallowing them whole. "It must be most remarkable if they're sending *us* after it."

"Passkeys, Dorian, and blueprints of installations." Things of literally deadly importance. Floor plans alone were dangerous things, but maps of wiring, utilities.... Klaus shook his head to himself as he started the jeep. "The current holder stole it."

Blond brows rose slightly. "Well, that was rather careless of the last owner, wasn't it?" he murmured, frowning. "Not good at all..."

"He's on the move right now -- no accompaniment, an unsecured safehouse," Klaus went on -- not that Dorian didn't already know the information. It was just a quick, on the spot review.

"With any luck, he'll never even know we came and went," Dorian said quietly, shaking his head. "I hope we don't have to..." Kill him. He hated it when they did...

"If we do, I'll do it." Dorian was still more of a pacifist -- that, at least, hadn't changed in five years.

"I'd just as soon it didn't come to that," he was informed wryly, but he accepted that it might, and they moved on from that particularly unpleasant thought. "The safe he's supposed to have is one of the old ones, so it shouldn't be difficult..."

"Cocky. He's cocky that no one will even try to take it from him again, to have such low protection..." Klaus was thinking aloud, often the best way to air through his own thoughts for holes.

Dorian bit at his lip. "Or perhaps he's confident in his skills. After all, sending in troops to get it back would be ostentatious, ridiculous, and would destroy what NATO and the UN are trying to do in Croatia. Perhaps he expects he can handle a thief or two."

"He's expecting a low profile no-name," Klaus countered, just to test the idea.

"Not in this area. Not at this time," Dorian murmured. "He's expecting the best, because only the best could get in, get the disk, and get out again without fucking everything up entirely." Klaus's favorite word, obviously, had invaded Dorian's vocabulary.

"Do you think he's betting on just one thief?"

A shrug answered him. "Possibly. One thief is usually more subtle than two. Two is better for getting the job done, but..."

"Working teams of two thieves exist," Klaus finished. Yes, they were the exception, a partnership that defied all sanity for those who looked at it for a brief moment only. The longer one looked, the more it made sense, all of it -- both how they lived together when not working and were lovers, and how they flowed seamlessly in missions, now. Klaus kept his eyes on the stony 'road', nodding. "Think he'll have backup?"

"One. Maybe two others, if that. You're right, darling. He's cocky," Dorian replied.

"If we can't catch him and his comrades off guard, then I'll have to kill them. Hope that they're sleeping, Dorian," Klaus murmured as he kept thinking, turning it all over in his mind for other things.

"I'd pray, if I believed in such a thing," his companion muttered.

They drove on through the dark for the longest time, silence between them as they prepared themselves for the grim task ahead of them. It was really not any more difficult than any of the objectives they'd been sent to fetch before, only there was an edge to both of them, a fear, a paranoia...

Klaus cut the engine, and coasted it in behind sparse underbrush, glanced over to Dorian once to give a signal as a nod -- no more talking, no more discussing, and no turning back once they left the jeep. Wordlessly, Dorian leaned over, pressed his lips to Klaus's with warmth, a comfort; it was something he always did before they risked their lives, something he meant to do for the rest of them. Always a last assurance before they couldn't anymore, just in *case*. A soft kiss that didn't delve into the passion with which they often kissed, assurance and love before Klaus pulled back and slipped out of the door of the jeep.

From there, it was silence, walking side by side. Dorian's fingers were shoved in his pockets, resting reassuringly on the tools of his trade. It made him feel better to know that they were there, and since that time so long ago, he'd made sure that his catsuit had sets of wires and picks sewn carefully into hems so that they'd never be without them again.

Klaus, too, had made modifications in weaponry; he carried a great deal more, now, hidden on his body. The holstered gun, one at his ankle, another at his belt, a forth at the small of his back. To some who knew them only vaguely, it seemed excessive. To Klaus, the extra guns were just a chance; to Dorian, the extra picks *were* the difference between life and death. There was no such thing as being too safe.

The road continued darkly for a while, the occasional street light buzzing to life, making them even more nervous than before (as if that was truly possible!). Still they walked, quiet laying between them, pausing only once they neared their destination: a battered building, shattered windows covered with boards, some few still existing whole but covered from the inside to keep gleams of light from showing within its heart. Dorian's fingers, nervous, now pulled out the small set of picks from his pocket, expression grim, heart beating wildly. It was nothing like that time before, but...

But.

/I don't like this. We should back out, now.../ he thought, gnawing at his lower lip. /It would be better to not get it than to keep on like this. They need to send someone else.../ Only who else could do what they could do?

Yet he only needed to say the word to Klaus and they'd turn back, Klaus would kill the mission without question. It was just a matter of *telling* his lover as much, that fear, and Klaus would turn around, go back to the jeep, and they'd make themselves scare and tell NATO to piss off. Klaus never questioned Dorian's occasional premonitions.

Green-grey eyes, one painted and one so very real and deep, looked over to him and gave another nod.

With a filling breath, Dorian nodded in return. It wasn't such a bad feeling; it wasn't as bad as it had been on occasion. Perhaps, whatever it was that was bothering him, it would only mean that it would be one of their close calls.

Maybe.

Close calls weren't so bad or impossible as some saw them -- often, he and Klaus put their over-preparedness to use for them and came out on top.

Klaus led the way towards that shuttered house, keeping low and silent on the approach to the back door; his pistol was kept drawn, index finger caressing absently over the trigger.

Silently, the lock came open beneath Dorian's fingers despite its shoddy state. The small vial of pb blaster he kept in the pocket with his picks often came in handy, particularly for squeaky hinges or difficult locks. Klaus sometimes thought that Dorian was a toolbox in and of himself.

He was proving that again that night, as the door swung silently open; Klaus led in first again, the firepower of the two, scanning into the dark space beyond. The stench was undeniable; a dark smell of waste, piss, spoiled food, and the urge to refuse to step foot in the damned house overwhelmed Dorian as he paused at the doorway. Still, he couldn't *not* follow Klaus, so he stepped inside and silently shut the door behind him.

Someone had lived there before the house had been turned into a 'safe house'. Klaus was willing to bet money that whoever had lived there was still somewhere in the rubble of a life that Klaus knew he was walking over. Bits of papers, scraps of cloth -- it made the jumble of the wolf-ravaged house in Alaska feel like it'd been neat! He listened once he was in, listened carefully for sounds of any inhabitant.

The quiet noises of talking filtered in from somewhere upstairs, and Dorian pointed a finger upwards, blue eyes tracking through the darkness. Even half blind, Klaus saw as well in the dark as he did, so that their path through the junk that filled the floor remained quiet. Tension seemed to rise and rise and rise, and Dorian could feel his teeth grinding together.

Through the junk of the floor, Klaus led the way to the decrepit safe, stepped into a clear spot with his gun drawn and angled towards where he saw the stairs, always watching Dorian's back now, unlike his mistake of that one time.

The work went quickly, easily; the safe was rusted and hard as hell to open, but Dorian managed to flick the door wide finally, only to find a tiny wireless camera sitting inside. "Shit!" It was a barely breathed whisper, but most definitely meant.

Klaus didn't dare turn and see what the 'shit' was about -- only kept the gun trained at the stairs and hissed back, "Abort."

Silently, Dorian rose, shifting to run silently back to the door, expecting Klaus to be right behind him, but the loud sound of a safety being removed from an older-model pistol came from a source remarkably close to his head. "Ah-ah-ah. Only if you want to lose the back of your head, hm?"

Two forms in the darkness was all Klaus could see, and he knew, with all truth, that in pitch dark and unable to perceive depth with his only one eye, there was no way he could hit the man with the pistol without clipping Dorian, possibly killing them both.

Then he heard the click behind his own head.

"Let us go, and no one will come after you."

"Huh." That sound said much, a snort of disbelief. "And you said this also to Iosef?"

THAT made Dorian dizzy, the bloody rushing from his head in a dash to leave him white as a sheet and shaky. /No, no, no, no.../

Klaus stayed cool, though, and jumped to no conclusions. "Who's Iosef?"

Laughter came from both of the men, then, one of them jesting to another, "[Eh, as if they did not cut off his balls!]"

"Ah, him." Klaus was grasping for calm, now -- these were men who knew that officer, who had some reason to hate he and Dorian more than most of the enemy already did. "He did not release us when we asked." A simple, calmly shrugged answer.

"Ja," the first one drawled, speaking English so that the amusement in his voice was even more obvious to Dorian, despite the fact that years with Klaus had smoothed out his German. "As if you would not have hunted him down even then, Iron Klaus.. Or perhaps now you are only Tin Klaus, eh?" The feel of the gun moved to the back of Dorian's neck, pressing hard. "Tin Klaus and his fucking little queer whore, huh?"

"Think what you will," Klaus shrugged off, unable to see that press to Dorian's neck, but hearing his lover's startled breath, such a soft change of pattern.

"I think perhaps if I blow his head off, I would be wasting a fine fuck, eh, faggot? Huh?" he nearly purred, leaning forward to trace his tongue into Dorian's ear. It made the blond man damned near nauseous, and the urge to kick him in the balls and run was only obliterated due to the press of cold metal against his spinal cord.

"I think perhaps that you're courting the same fate as that officer," Klaus growled, unable to really help the slight jolt forwards he made, a rush towards the man that was aborted by the jab of a gun against his ribs.

"Oh, no. You see, we are not that stupid. We are, after all, still alive, despite the fall of the Republic, despite what you did to Iosef, no?" the man behind him laughed. "I think that we will go upstairs now, ja?"

"*Nein!*" Klaus snapped, making another lunge despite the gun against his ribs -- and this one was for Dorian, to knock him free of that agent's aim, so they could rush for the door...

That proved to be a mistake, for a shot rang out, accompanied by a sharp cry of pain, and there was little chance for running at all. How could one of them ever leave the other, no matter what? And particularly at that moment!

Klaus knew, immediately, that it hadn't been him who'd been shot -- that he was the one who'd escaped harm so far, and that Dorian's voice had been the one to cry out. No, no way that he could run, with Dorian shot; immediately, he pulled Dorian tight into his arms, trying to be protective in case of more bullets.

"[How sweet,]" one of them snickered as Dorian clung to him, shaking his head wildly, whispering for Klaus to *go*, to get out, to *leave*. He was frantic, and it was telling.

"Go, go, go!" he hissed, barely heard even by Klaus. "Go!!"

Klaus started to his feet as quickly as he could after the initial protect reaction, with Dorian held close, yet before he could even get to his knees, he heard both guns cock again.

"I do not think you should be so stupid. Perhaps, instead, you should pick up your faggot and march to the stairs, ja?"

"If you're going to kill us, you should get it over with," Klaus snarled, putting their combined weight back on his knee for a moment before standing up straight at last. It left Dorian dangling ridiculously, long legs sprawled over an arm, thigh bleeding heavily so that Klaus could feel it against his hand where he applied pressure.

"That would be too easy, I think. Especially after Iosef. We know better ways to make you tell us what you know, and then we will kill you afterwards, yes?"

"This fucking game again," Klaus bit out. "We won't talk! There is no Stasi anymore to draw information from. The KGB told us where your friend Iosef was -- understand that you're useless to everyone, deplorable."

As they headed for the stairs, guns trained on both of the NATO contractors, one man shrugged. "There are terrorists and others who desire information. It has uses. You will talk..." And then, eerily...

"We will see."

That was enough to make Klaus falter at the top step, nearly freezing all together. "Which one were you?" he asked in a faintly shaken tone.

"He was still tight when I fucked him," the man purred altogether too near his eyes. "I'll bet you'd have been tighter."

This time Klaus didn't stop on his way up the stairs. "You won't touch him again."

Ohh, that was funny to the man, revealed to be the dark-haired one who'd had Dorian second once they reached the top of the stairs and the light. "We will see," he chortled, shaking his head. "You, Tin Klaus, are funny."

Dorian's trembling had become more pronounced with every step, the way he clung to Klaus telling. He wondered if their backup had already done something to help them. He wondered if they would ever get out alive. He wondered if he was going to bleed to death...

"Let me bind his fucking leg before you damn bastards start -- he won't be useful for speaking if he passes out," Klaus said acridly as he entered the upstairs room.

"And he is useful for so~o much more," the second man joked snickeringly, already having caught on to just what was going on between the lot of them.

"It won't work this time," Klaus muttered under his breath as he knelt again, Dorian still cradled in his arms, though he soon laid him gently on the floor and started to remove the right sleeve of his shirt to use it as binding. "Bastards are wasting your time."

The dark-haired man laughed. "You will now provide us entertainment, Tin Klaus and faggot. This is not necessarily a waste of MY time."

The blond man clenched his eyes tightly shut and kept his mouth just as securely closed. Being shot hurt like hell, and being so afraid hurt worse. He'd go crazy if they touched him, just completely crazy! He couldn't stand it! /Klaus, you should have *run*.../

Not that his lover would have *ever* thought of deserting him -- it wasn't even a remote possibility for either of them to *be* without the other. "Entertainment, huh? It won't last you long," Klaus told them as he wrapped the sleeve tightly over the wound on Dorian's leg.

"We will see," the dark-haired man snickered. "Tie him up, tightly. Make sure he can't get loose..." A sneer crossed his face. "But make sure we can get at all of the important parts."

The moment he had Dorian's leg done, he pivoted sharply to face the man who was coming up behind him with rope. "I don't think so!"

"Perhaps you would rather that we shot your faggot once more? Perhaps in the head, this time... Then would you be willing to be tied?" came the amused response.

"There's no need to shoot again," Klaus murmured, dropping, very slowly, his defensive stance. /God dammit!!/

The ex-Stasi laughed abrasively as his companion began to tie Klaus carefully so that his hands were tightly kept to the frame of a bed that was in the room, but the rest of him was upon the floor near Dorian. "I don't think we need to tie the little fucktoy, hmmm? Eh, Eroica?"

Wide blue eyes turned to Klaus, and it was obvious to him if to no one else that Dorian could take little more. They'd been captured since the Stasi a time or two, but everything seemed so similar, even if it was also wildly different, and for all that they were better...

Fucktoy? Klaus gave the ropes a testing jerk. "Don't touch him, do you hear me? You lay a god-damned hand on him, and I'll cut it off!"

"Not," he was informed dryly, "if we cut *yours* off *first*!"

Klaus stilled then, a dark silence falling over him. "Dorian -- pretend you're not here. We've weathered worse than this," he said firmly, not giving the ex-Stasi the joy of an answer. He could almost see the breaths that parted Dorian's lips, pained little wisps that stirred the curls that were falling in his face now, and the way that golden lashes came down to hide the expression in those eyes said that at least he was trying very hard to do what Klaus had told him to do.

"Undress the blond queer," the obvious leader of the two snickered, waving a hand to direct the other man.

Two on two -- Klaus could hardly believe they were being defeated by such odds, yet they were solidly out-gunned -- two to none that he could reach. He could feel the gun against the small of his back, inside his thigh, at his ankle. Yet, with his hands up behind his head like that... It did him no good.

"I get the pleasure of undressing him? Will you keep the gun on them, then?"

"Ja," the ex-Stasi drawled. "I'll even let you go first with him, if I can go first with the other."

/Oh, God, oh, God, oh, GOD.../ Dorian was hanging on by a thread, truly, he was. He wasn't a coward, Klaus had proven that to him, but *this*... *THIS*...

The first hand that fell on him met with resistance and the sound of a loud protest, almost a scream it was bellowed so loudly. His eyes flew open, wild, and he struggled despite himself, despite his injury. "NO! *NO*!"

"Why are you doing this?" Klaus roared over Dorian's protesting. "This isn't the way to get information out of us -- you've already seen that!!!"

"Should I shut him up?" the second laughed to his ex-Stasi friend.

"It's fun to hear him yell. He did not yell the first time," the dark-haired man offered enthusiastically, ignoring Klaus; after all, he didn't particularly care if they got information or not. "I doubt anyone will come even if they hear him..."

"You fucking stupid bastard! It's no god-damned wonder why you ended up here, of all the shit-holes in the world -- only smart enough for cheap sneak thieving! There's a reason why you aren't an officer!!" Anything at all that Klaus could think of to insult the man was leaving his lips -- anything to distract them from Dorian, to distract the man who was starting to pull off the thief's catsuit.

"What did you say!?" the man hissed, now ignoring Dorian to stalk up to Klaus, cocked gun placed under his chin. "Repeat what you said!" The fact that he now had the ex-Stasi's concentration on himself did not withdraw the second man's attentions to Dorian, including tearing off the bandage Klaus had so recently applied. "Say that again!"

The satisfaction of hearing Iron Klaus back down, though, wasn't going to come to him. "You know what I said," he drawled coolly. "I said that there's a reason you could never have been an officer. Too fucking stupid."

"Bastard!" the man hissed, drawing out a knife. "You must want to lose your other fucking eye!" He really couldn't tell in the light which eye was the one that had been destroyed, thanks to some additional surgery and the way that Klaus's bangs fell.

"It's not my fault that you're fucking stupid," Klaus snarled, giving the rope at his wrist a jerk as he arched fiercely.

The knife flashed out even as Dorian screamed again, slicing across the glass eye with a vicious strike. "Bastard!"

Klaus hissed in pain -- but only for the scratch the blade scored across his false eye, and the bit of blood it drew from his eyelid. "Yes."

"No! NO, NO, NO!" Dorian was screaming, as much from the fact that Klaus was bleeding as from the fact that he was being assaulted again, and he grabbed a nearby shoe, firmly smacking his attacker upside the head with it.

"Your queer fucker!" his assaulter snapped, wrenching the shoe free of Dorian's hand to bring it heel down across Dorian's jaw. It connected with a firm crack, the sound of bone giving way, and brought a groan that was purely pained with it.

That snapped Klaus's attention to Dorian -- no, this plan wasn't working at all!!! "Leave him alone!!!"

"I don't think we will," the ex-Stasi growled, smirking as he used the knife to begin cutting off Klaus's clothing. "I think that we will, instead, let you watch while he is fucked again, eh? You like that, huh? Fucking him... You like that, right?! So you'll like it when we do..."

"When the tables are turned, I'll make your fucking lives miserable -- what we did to Iosef is nothing compared to what I'm going to do to you!!"

"All talk -- Tin Klaus," the second man sneered as he shoved Dorian flat on the floor, and fumbled open his pants.

The blond thief was wild at that despite the obvious pain he was in, jawbone likely cracked from the force of that blow, his head ringing. He didn't want to open his mouth -- his whole face hurt! -- but he couldn't stop the frantic whines that were escaping him even as he tried to roll out from beneath the man.

He was kept pinned in place, though -- a knee jabbing just above his gun-shot wound, while his captor stroked his cock. "Pretty fag..."

"You bastards!" Klaus snarled, trying again to get the man who was working on him, the ex-Stasi who was cutting away the last of his shirt; with one free leg, he lashed out and caught the man in the crotch.

"SHIT!" Groaning, he fell backwards, clutching at his groin as he toppled. "Agnnn..."

The sound of Dorian screaming again, nothing dignified at all like the first time, rang out in the room, penetration coming swiftly, terribly, driving him out of his mind with agony! It burned, hurt, tore, and he couldn't bear it, simply couldn't manage to keep himself apart from it, couldn't *think*...

"Ohh, shit..." the ex-Stasi's partner in crime moaned as he sank in, both at the pleasure clutching around his cock and for what had just been done to his friend. "Ohhh, this one feels so good! Get off the floor -- it was just a kick!"

'Just a kick' from a steel-toed boot. It'd be a wonder if the thing ever worked again! "Fucking asshole!" the man groaned, rocking with his hands cupped over the injured area. "'m going to fuck you up so bad..."

"Get near me again, I'll kick you again," Klaus snarled -- oh, and Dorian, he couldn't help but look at what was being done to him lover. "I'll kill you -- you fucking bastard, I'll cut you into *pieces* -- pieces so small that no test will recognize your body!!"

Rising stiffly, still clutching at himself, the ex-Stasi growled, slashing out with his knife viciously, catching Klaus's face, the sharp edge slicing down to the bone.

A well placed slice over his jaw that got a startled cry of pain from Klaus, eyes shutting tightly. It made his right eye, and the bleeding lid with it, hurt more, but it wasn't as if he could see from that eye to begin with... "Fuck you."

"Fine." That growled answer barely sounded over the cacophony of agonized sound filling the small room, the accompanying groans of pleasure. "We'll do that, then."

"[No, we won't!]" His snarl hurt his cut jaw, the sharply protesting muscles that all but screamed their agony at him. "[Not touching me!]"

This time, the man wasn't stupid; he reached for one of those feet, first, removed the shoe despite kicking, prepared to tie him with it before starting with the other as he growled out, "[Yes. We WILL.]"

Klaus gave a final kick, struggling all the way and rubbing his wrists raw -- what hellish luck!! "[No you won't! You won't get a thing from us!!]"

"[Don't you understand yet!?]" the man gritted out, coming over him, cutting off slim black slacks. "[This is not about information! This...]" A dark smile crossed that face. "[THIS is about *revenge*. You killed Iosef. Your escape destroyed my career. This, I will have revenge for.]"

"[You won't live long to enjoy it,]" he was told in a flat tone, as he finished cutting off Klaus's slacks, revealing the array of guns the man had hidden on his body.

"[So long as I have it,]" came the purred response as he removed those guns from the bound man, the stridency of Dorian's screaming stilling slowly, becoming silence, "[does it matter how long I have to enjoy it?]" Klaus spit in his face. Carelessly, the knife slid through white cloth underwear, ripping them off, slicing Klaus's hip as he did so. "[You're going to regret that, Tin Klaus!]"

"[Iron,]" Klaus hissed as he was bared. He'd never been able to manage sex of that sort with *Dorian* despite trying every so often just in case it had gotten less painful. Now... now it *wasn't* to be Dorian -- it was revenge... "[I'm Iron Klaus.]"

"[Yeah,]" the man drawled, sliding between his thighs, half-hard cock pressing against him despite the previous blow to the groin. "[I suppose you are, after all...]"

Klaus gave one more struggle, trying to jerk his legs free, his wrists free -- anything at all to stop what he didn't want to happen! if he could get free, he could get Dorian free, and they could leave...

The violent jerk of entry put an end to that thought, and an end to any thought at all.


"They're late," A fretted to Z. They'd taken over the Major's job entirely, and no one had objected to that. In fact, they'd been given all of the appropriate promotions since, and not removed from the unit. It was a matter of NATO knowing what was best for the Alphabet, really -- the senior agent of them all, and the 'rookie' who had been Klaus's protege and favorite. The experience and the skills of Klaus were there, with the both of them combined.

"They're never late," Z uttered tensely. "I don't like it -- let's move out, now."

Nodding firmly, A stood. "Right." It was only five minutes, but there was a sense of something *wrong* there, something *terrible*, and they both felt it. Doubting one's instincts was ill-advised in their business.

"I'll drive." Z had picked up Klaus's driving habits, and though it was a frightening thing on traffic crowded streets, on missions, there was no other way to drive. The younger agent was already on his feet, bolting for the door. "G, come with us!'

"The rest of you, wait here. Prepare for *any* emergency and be ready to evacuate when we get back," A finished as they headed out the door, G right behind them, his stern tweed walking dress entirely practical. Practical, but still a dress after all. Klaus's return as a contract employee who was put to use often, had gotten G back into his... her old mood, her better one of sometimes flaunting, often working -- a brilliant little minx who used the dresses as a way to put others off the scent.

The car was already running when A and G reached it, a handy, functional jeep that Klaus himself had tuned to make sure it was working well enough. "Get in!" Z barked

They obeyed without question, the vehicle taking off before A's second foot was quite off the ground yet, grim silence filling the thing as they headed out in the night. "I've got a very bad feeling about this," A muttered.

"Get your gun out, take the safety off," Z murmured to A as he peeled around a barren corner, towards and past the still empty jeep that Klaus and Dorian had driven within a mile of the spot.

Even G obeyed that order, pulling a tiny gun from a pocket that looked as if it couldn't possibly fire anything more than a bb but which was actually *quite* lethal. "Sir, how will we get in without...?"

"Without what?" A prompted.

"Without Lord Gloria," G answered meekly. S was the closest thing they had to a thief, and they'd left him behind. G couldn't pick a lock to save himself, much less anyone else!

"Break in, if it's not opened," Z shrugged -- at this point, the mission was likely soon to be aborted -- extra damage did no harm if it could mean the lives of their two best contractors and friends.

"Yes, sir." A's eyes caught G's in the rear-view mirror, the obvious worry on the slim man's face disturbingly echoed in his own as he glanced over at Z.

They *all* had that sense, and it only amplified when Z screeched to a halt just in front of the safe house. "Right -- all three of us in one unit."

G and A nodded, and they abandoned the jeep, slipping around to the back: the point of entrance Dorian and Klaus were supposed to have taken. The door was closed, but a quick turn of the knob revealed it to be unlocked, and it opened easily, without a sound -- a sign that their contractors had at least been there. Z led in, and moved through the dark bottom floor -- towards the stairs, the top of which he heard *noise* from.

The noise was no more than a soft keening covered by conversation, a sound that sent chills down G's spine. It seemed inhuman, as if no throat could possibly produce such a sound and yet...

And yet.

There it was, drifting down to them. Z led up the steps, silent and avoiding the weak-looking boards -- he stayed to the edges, crouching down before the door at the top to listen to the conversation.

"[Why did you cut it out, frigging idiot!? Now he can't talk even if he wants to!]"

"[At least I heated the fucking shears! He will not bleed to death! It isn't as if you wanted him to say anything, anyway! You only wanted your revenge!]"

Z tensed a little, but held silent and still for a moment longer -- to listen to the two men bicker, trying to place where they were in the room. One was nearer the door, but he was sure he'd still have the sweep to swing it open and start shooting.

A slight motion to his left marked A, nodding at him, head tilted to the right. -- you take the one on the left. I'll take the one on the right -- he mouthed, giving an equally sharp nod to G.

That confirmed, Z snapped open the door and shot to his feet, gun locked plainly and accurately onto the man to the left. "Freeze."

"What the..." The words were out, gun shifting, but it was too late, for A had shot the one on the right, the sheer amount of *blood* covering the man damned near scaring him to death even in his cool levelheaded response.

Z took a moment of pause, to see the fear in his target's eyes, before he shot him cleanly in the skull -- and then let his gaze drift over the room proper, while G gave a startled gasp from the doorway. Both operatives -- /operatives?/ Z thought dully, eyes widening -- were naked and bloody, a fair amount of thick sanguine liquid having dripped loose from Eroica's mouth, from a shot on his thigh; from the eye which was glass, from Klaus's jaw...

"God..."

Dorian was propped loosely up against Klaus, while the retired Major was still tightly bound, arms pale from having been above his head so long. The skin of his feet and lower legs was reddened in spots, nearly charred black in others... it seemed a miracle to Z that they were still breathing. "Mission abort," Z murmured. "G, get to the jeep, radio for a 'copter."

"Yes, sir," G whispered, face turning pale at the sight of them, at the horrible *smell*...

"Dear God," A sighed, moving into the room carefully, gun still drawn.

"Scan for others, there may be more hiding," Z said softly, kneeling down beside them both to check for pulses. Both were weakened, but not so weak that they'd die in the next few minutes, unless it was from shock. With that thought in mind, he put his gun back into the holster Klaus had given him years before, and pulled a knife from his belt to cut Klaus free.

The ropes were soft and split with incredible ease, those muscled arms dropping slightly before Z's hands caught them, bringing them down carefully. He could see Eroica's lashes flutter, blue eyes gleaming at him momentarily with glazed expression before closing once more, unknowing of him. It seemed eerily familiar, *too* familiar, and it was almost more than he could bear.

"No sign of any others," A reported quietly, turning quickly at a sound in the door. It was only G, though, with the small medical box that had been in the jeep, moving forward to kneel on the bloody floor.

"There's a copter on the way."

"Good," Z murmured, standing up to strip the bed of sheets. "Tend to anything immediate, G, and then we need to warm them up so they don't succumb to shock..."

Bare moments later, the little transvestite moaned, a hand coming up to cover his mouth, as if that alone would hold back the bile that was rising.

"What?" A questioned sharply, the thrum of the incoming helicopter beginning to sound outside.

"They..." G swallowed HARD. "They've cut out Lord Gloria's tongue!"

"Oh, shit," Z swore as he snapped the top blanket from the bed and moved to let G help him wrap them. "A, go signal in the chopper!"

With a nod, A turned to go. The faster they got both of the men to a hospital, the better the chances of something at least going well enough that they wouldn't *die*... though they might wish they had...

Chapter 22 by Kat and Tzigane

Bright bright lights in his eyes, no, eye, piercing down through until he turned his head to look into the pillow. Woven cloth shielded the light away, though to twist so made a pained tug in his arm -- what was that? Why did it hurt so much?! "[Help... Dorian? Ah, fuck, help...]" A strained whimper of noise as he tried to tug away from the pain again, not yet caring to open his eye again.

There was no answer; nothing, nothing but white silence accompanied by the consistent thrumming beep of iv, of monitors singing their steady hospital song.

"Major?" A voice asked almost timidly, a body moving close to the bed from the sound of it. "[Major, it's all right. You're in hospital again.]"

Klaus flinched, trying to jerk away again, but only managed to make it harder for him to breath, pressing too close against the pillow. Why did it hurt so much everywhere, why? His head jerked up with a ragged gasp, eye not yet daring to open. Not yet. "[Dorian?]" The voice that talked to him *wasn't* Dorian, couldn't have been Dorian, though he couldn't remember why it couldn't have been Dorian.

"[You're both in intensive care, Major. He's in the room next to yours. Please, just rest...]"

Not with him...? Klaus opened his eye at last, peering around the room through the vertical blinds his lashes formed. "[Need to see him...]"

Quiet conversation, just beneath his hearing, spilled into the room, fading at the edges. "Sir... [Sir, you can't. They say he's not well enough, and neither are you. You cannot get out of your bed, and he isn't awake..]"

"[Need to see him,]" Klaus stressed, trying to shift upright with a tense groan that reverberated through his chest. The pain seemed to be everywhere... "[Have to.]"

"[You can't, sir. Just lay back...]"

"[I need to see him!!]" Klaus demanded, straining against all sanity to sit up, eye opening as best it could to take in the antiseptic room and the voice talking to him. From the vague blurred image of blond hair, blue eyes, it HAD to be Z.

"Sir..." He sighed, defeated. "[Let me talk to the nurse on duty again. I'll make arrangements, if I can. Please, until then... Lay down?]"

"[I need to, have to see him.]" Klaus did lie down just a bit, his back propped against the pillows to finish trying to look at everything in the room.

"[You're safe,]" Z murmured, moving closer to him. "[We've made sure that you're both very safe, Major...]" It was reassurance, and desperately needed.

Safe, safe.... was there something they had to be safe from? "[What happened?]"

Eyes widening, Z shifted forward. "Sir... if you could tell me what you remember..."

He swallowed once, then shook his head slowly. "[Water.]" A stall so that he could see what he *could* remember -- he knew the blond man with the blue eyes was Z and not Dorian -- that Dorian was pretty, and his, with long hair, and shiny streaks, and thick lashes.

A hand that trembled ever so slightly poured water from a styrofoam pitcher into an equally stiff white cup, holding it to his lips carefully. "[There, Major...]"

Halfheartedly, Klaus tried to move a hand to help, but he felt too tired and stiff to have it be much use, so he let it drop back to his lap, and simply drank what was given to him. "[Thank you. I remember... opening a door. Then I can't remember anything else.]"

"[I... see,]" Z murmured, frowning. "[I'll talk to the nurse, sir. You keep resting, all right?]"

"[Tell me what happened, first -- why... am I here?]" Why was he hurting, where was Dorian, why did a nurse have to be asked before he could see him?!

"[You were both badly hurt, Major. Your... You were burned and..]" How to say these things? He sighed. "[And Eroica lost a great deal of blood...]"

"[Eroica?]"

"Dorian?" Z said softly, looking almost fearful.

"[I remember... that he was screaming. And then he wasn't. That's why I need to see him,]" Klaus murmured, looking at Z's fearful face. "[Let me see him.]"

"[But you don't remember that he is Eroica...?]"

"[He's Dorian. That's it. I don't... know what you're talking about.]" Klaus frowned, and then winced at the pain his jaw gave him for the gesture.

Ohh, that was a very bad sign! "Let me speak with the nurse, sir..." he murmured in English, wondering if Klaus would understand him.

"[Tell her I need to see him,]" Klaus said, shifting just a little before just sagging against the headboard in exhaustion.

"[I'll tell her, Major. You don't need to be moved, either of you, but... I will do what I can,]" Z informed him quietly, leaving him to hopefully drift away into sleep once more. It would be better for all concerned if he did, but Z knew the Major too well to think that anything might be that simple!

Sleeping wasn't an option -- not when his body *hurt* so badly, and not when he couldn't really tell where he was -- a hospital...? A hospital meant that there were buttons. He'd been in one before, but hadn't Dorian been there with him? Hospitals meant call-buttons -- and buttons to stop the pain. He could see both of them, but his tired arms wouldn't reach for them.

Where was Dorian, since they weren't together?

Z had said in the room next to him, but the sudden panicked worry that he really *wasn't*, that Dorian was gone somewhere and not coming back, filled him up and overflowed, frightening him, sending him spiraling into misery. Everyone knew Dorian was supposed to be right beside him! So if Dorian wasn't right beside him... where could he be??

Dorian wouldn't leave him, though -- God, not after... after what felt like an eternity, no matter what, they'd always said they'd be there for each other... Unless Dorian was hurt, too. Maybe Dorian was hurt worse than he hurt, maybe...

Maybe Dorian was dead and Z just didn't want to tell him.

"Major Eberbach..." It was a nurse, and she was smiling at him, Z behind him. Why they kept calling him that when he wasn't Major Eberbach anymore, he never could understand. "This nice Mister Z was just saying that you wanted to see Lord Gloria. I'm afraid that we can't move either of you..."

It took him a moment to reply, though the water Z had given him helped when he did reply. "I need to see him -- I can... I can move myself to see him, but I have to see him."

"Sir..." the nurse began again.

"Dammit, I have to see him to be sure he's okay!" Klaus snapped.

Z spoke up then, tentatively. "I can help him, Nurse Schreiber..."

"I need to see him," Klaus repeated, looking to Z. "Make sure you're not bullshitting me... need to see that he's alive. Safe."

"He's alive," Z promised. "He's in the next room.. but Major..." Oh, there was so obviously something that he didn't think Klaus should know!!

"What? But what?" Klaus demanded -- what was it that they were hiding from him?

"But you have to be very quiet," the nurse said sternly. "He's *quite* ill, and so are you!"

The frown on Klaus's face deepened, but he nodded -- as if he didn't know how to act around his companion!! "Let me see him," he repeated.

"I'll get a wheelchair," the nurse grumbled, leaving the room. Z sighed slightly and shook his head, stepping up to the bed to lay a hand on Klaus's arm gently.

"Do you think you can stand from where you are, sir?" he asked quietly.

Why couldn't he stand? "Ja." Absent, carelessly answered. "Dorian should be in the same room as I am. We were last time. We shouldn't be separated..." He shifted to the edge of the bed, and then moved his legs over the edge. *That* was when he realized the source of his pain.

"You were both hurt very differently this time," Z murmured, helping him to sit up as the nurse came back. "You're in intensive care, and you each have a special nurse assigned to you..."

"Don't care," Klaus murmured, resting his weight on his hands to keep himself balanced as he sat there. "Don't... don't care. I have to see him."

Z's expression softened as the nurse came back, one of the extra-wide wheelchairs pushed before her so that the sides would not touch his burned flesh. "I'll see what I can do, Major. You're right. It would just be difficult to get another bed in one of these rooms and..." He bit his lip. "Neither of you can be moved out yet. All right?"

"Why not?" He hadn't realized yet *why* he hurt so much, why it hurt to get to his feet on shaking legs, hurt *badly* even with Z supporting him. "Shit..."

"Your legs are burned," the nurse sighed at him almost gently, shifting to help Z settle him into the chair, hands going afterwards to replace the dressings on his calves. "Badly. And Lord Gloria is..." "He's lost a lot of blood," Z interrupted, shaking his head at the woman. /Don't tell him that, yet.../

"How?" Klaus asked quietly. "How? What happened? I can't... remember." Last time... hmn, there had *been* a last time, but he couldn't remember it well. There was crying, shaking to remember, holding Dorian's hand.

"You were captured, Major," Z murmured. "Both of you. You were hurt, but we're doing our best to take care of you. Lord Gloria's men and the Alphabet have all taken turns staying with both of you...."

"I need to..." Klaus rested his arm on the arm-rest, leaning on it less than subtly. "I need Dorian." More than visitors who weren't the entirety of his being.

The nurse slipped behind him, pushing the brakes away from the wheels to move the chair forward. Z got out of the way, then, as they moved through a wide doorway and out into the ward itself. A baker's dozen of nurses, male and female, moved proficiently among the open room, in and out of doors much like Klaus's. They seemed almost like ants or other colonized insects with the way that they hurried and rushed, and he was fascinated by it even as they wheeled him to the right, stopping at the open door of the room next to his own.

Klaus leaned a little, looking in -- he could see golden hair pillowed amongst white, tubes and machines too numerous. But his eyes were locked tightly on the hair of the turned-away man. "Closer."

With some care, he was wheeled further into the room, A glancing up with bloodshot eyes from a chair in the corner, giving a little gasp. "Major...!"

He was awake, even if he wasn't... didn't seem very there, except for being painfully intent on Dorian. Grey-green gaze focused on A for a moment, half recognizing, before it slipped away to Dorian again. "Let me touch him."

"He's very ill..." the nurse began, but Z shifted to push the wheelchair forward despite her words, and A joined him quietly as they moved beside the bed.

Swathed in white, the blond man lay, tubes leading into his arms and out of his mouth and into his nose, horrible, horrible array of plastic lines that seemed an impossible network to follow. Worse, blood stained the pallor of his face, leaking from the corners of his mouth in little trails that dried out in streaks.

All that Klaus had was an IV and a catheter that he could barely feel -- nothing in comparison to his beloved... He lifted one tired, heavy palm to grasp Dorian's gently, his maimed right hand clutching weakly. "Why is he still bleeding?"

Silence filled the room, no one wanting to answer him, but A finally spoke softly. "Major, they've... they've... There's something wrong with his mouth and the mouth is a very sensitive place. It's healing, but it's going to take a while because there wasn't anything they could do for him, really..." Not with the wound partially cauterized, the tongue God only knows where in that rubble.

"Tell me." It wasn't a demand, but for all the ferocity and sad anger in those two simple words, it might as well have been. He wasn't looking at them, though -- he was looking at Dorian, gently holding his hand and oh-so-careful to not displace any of the wires.

"They cut out his tongue, Major," Z whispered softly. "We couldn't find it, and they way they did it, no one really could have put it back..."

The black-haired man stilled tensely, swallowed and then closed his eyes. "Gott..." His grasp of Dorian's hand didn't stop, though. The noise, when it had stopped... that was what it had been. He hadn't been able to see, hadn't really been very conscious... /My Dorian -- I should have protected you. I *promised* to protect you.../

The flutter of lashes came, golden and trembling against pale face. Blue eyes opened, hazed, unfocused, and then drifted shut again, but Dorian's fingers wrapped oh-so-slowly around his own, then, knowing somehow that it was him.

Not lost to Klaus at all, that clutch of fingers, even if he hadn't seen those sweet eyes look at him. "Ich liebe dich," Klaus whispered tensely, swallowing. "I should... should have protected you better. I'm sorry." Those fingers squeezed again, as if to say that it was all right.

"I'll..." The nurse swallowed. "Are they...?"

"They're never apart," A whispered. "Not since five years ago. They were here, then, too..."

"The sooner... we can get them in a room together," Z whispered, too, just to A and the nurse, "I think the sooner they'll heal. Last time... last time they could stay like that for hours and hours."

Nodding, the nurse moved to leave. It was *definitely* time to call in psychiatry, now that they were awake! She knew that they couldn't be moved in together yet -- in fact, Major Eberbach would undoubtedly be moved to a regular ward a week or more before Lord Gloria would be. She had a feeling that they would be needing all of the help anyone could give!

"I'll stay with them," A murmured to Z, brows slightly tensed as he heard Klaus murmur more to Dorian, apologies and soft soothing words, clasping gently to the thief's hand. "They'll be fine until we have to take the Major back to his room."

"Then, who knows what kind of hell will break loose," Z agreed on the breath of a sigh, shaking his head. "I'll go out to the waiting room and tell the others, then..." Anyone who wasn't on duty would be there, he knew; they had been for the past few days and would undoubtedly remain for quite a few more.

At least now, that Klaus was awake, and Dorian almost was, the touch and go feeling would fade. They'd heal. Both of them were strong... well, *had* been strong enough five years ago to heal so well. Who knew, now?

"I'll see you then, Z," A murmured ruefully.

"See you," Z agreed, and was gone.


Days.

It had been days, or it seemed like it, a million years, in fact, since he'd last seen that beloved face. He'd lain awake, washed with fever, and prayed for him to come as he'd swallowed blood and dozed in wrinkled sheets. The smell of his own flesh offended him and he wanted a bath and he desperately wanted color and not the plain white of walls and sheet and bed. When the little dark-haired man with the curls had snuck him in a rainbow catcher for the window, he'd forced his lips to curl with delight, and the little thing had cried and had to be taken away, afterwards. That was okay, though. Now he had color, light that made it dance in the sunshine.

If only he would come...

He did come, but it was with others again. His beloved was still in a chair, looking less ill and more comfortable than that fleeting glance so long ago. Clean clothes, and a comfortable blanket wrapped around his shoulders and over his lap. It wasn't white -- it was dark green, and caught Dorian's eyes in the best ways possible. He had glints of memory -- trees, walking, running, laughing and chasing, being chased and swept up into arms...

"You're awake today," Klaus uttered in a soft sort of desperation as A wheeled him right up beside Dorian's bed. The separation had been hard for him in particular, and he *felt* worse off for it than he had when he'd just awakened. Every time he closed his eyes, he could hear screaming, feel... feel disgusting hands on him. Klaus needed and wanted Dorian again, needed badly to see him.

THAT made Dorian smile, just those words, just those lovely thoughts. Terribly fleeting things, they were, and the empty smile curved upward, momentary happiness filling him incredibly. He knew that his Klaus in the chair was most magnificent, that he loved him, loved him, loved him, only he couldn't think for very long at a time about anything in particular at all beyond Klaus and his rainbow.

Klaus reached one hand to hold his tightly, three fingers grasping over his five. "You look better. They told me... told me that you can be moved into my room in another week. I want that a lot."

That seemed to quite please Dorian a lot, the blond man nodding and making firm noises before pausing and looking at Klaus in confusion when nothing more than grunts came from his throat. A hand moved up, touched his face, his throat, an overwhelming disorientation striking him. Why couldn't he make words like his Klaus could? He had never tried before just now, that he could recall. What if he had never been able to make words before?

"They hurt you." Klaus's voice fell quiet, tense, as the knot of tears gathering in his throat threatened to choke him. "They... they cut out your tongue. They're dead now. I'm so sorry I couldn't protect you better..."

To see those wide blue eyes well so pathetically with tears that spilled over pale cheeks hurt him worse than telling Dorian the truth had at all. The British man ran his fingers over his lips, on the verge of sticking them in his mouth to feel before he was stopped.

"Dorian..." Klaus's hands, both of them, caught Dorian's wrists gently. "It doesn't matter, Dorian. That you can't talk anymore. It doesn't matter to me, do you understand that?"

What he said gained him a slow nod, even though those tears kept slowly falling. The bleeding had stopped, at last, and they had taken away some of the awful plastic tubes from his face and hands, so it didn't hurt him that Klaus had his wrists. No, it felt reassuring, and it made him want to smile again, and he forgot just why he had been so upset anyway after another moment or two.

"You're wonderful, Dorian," Klaus whispered, shifting as forwards as he could, to kiss the backs of Dorian's hands. He barely paid a thought to A moving his chair closer still to Dorian's bed, then stepping away for the moment. "I'm so sorry..."

Sorry for what, Dorian couldn't imagine, so he patted Klaus's hand and smiled and smiled, and showed him his window rainbow. He wanted to tell him about the little man who'd brought it and how he'd cried, but he couldn't think of why he wouldn't be able to do so; instead, he simply waved at it, nodded, and waved again.

"You like that?" Klaus asked quietly, holding tightly to the hand that wasn't waving. "James brought it?"

Oh, *yes*! That was the little man, James! He nodded his head not quite vigorously, and it made him dizzy, forcing him to lean back into his pillows and to smile tiredly at Klaus. /Beautiful, beautiful, my artwork man,/ he thought, even though he wasn't entirely sure what he meant by it.

Klaus dredged up a smile that didn't hurt as badly as it would have before they took the stitches out of his jaw. "You must miss color."

He did, oh, he did, and the yearning was there in his eyes as he reached out and touched the soft green blanket around Klaus, the lovely striped pajamas with maroons and blues. He wanted pajamas and a green blanket, so badly that he wanted to cry again!

"Do you want this...?" Klaus asked softly, letting go of Dorian's hand to start pulling it off from how it was wrapped around him for warmth. Without thought, Dorian took it, snuggling into the softness of it and crooning just under his breath as hands petted over the brilliant color, the almost velveteen material. Klaus was content to tuck it around Dorian, and then catch one hand again in his own. "That looks pretty on you."

The words gained him one of Dorian's best smiles, pale scars lifting slightly with the feel of it, tracing over his skin. Klaus didn't see them, though; he hadn't seen them in a very long time, really. The way that Dorian seemed to snuggle into that delicious verdant cloth made him forget even more than that, really, because all he could see was pale blond and vert and wonder.

He wanted to get out of his chair and sit with Dorian, hold him, touch him again... but he wasn't sure he could stand properly yet without the terrible pain, so he satisfied himself by leaning near, smiling back at Dorian. "My room has more color than yours -- and you'll be able to join me there, soon. And after that, we can go home."

That obviously excited him terribly, those beautiful eyes awash with tears for a moment, pure joy, and he was so very delighted he could barely hold still. He was tired, though; he'd been awake a long time waiting, and he was so tired, but his Klaus was there, and he had a *green* blanket, and oh, he was so happy...

Words, Dorian's voice, would have been such a comfort in those moments -- but the sheer joy of Dorian's expression suited the same purpose, left Klaus's chest aching again for a different reason. "Dorian... Dorian, can I kiss you?"

That head tilted to the side, eyes closed, lips delicately pursed...

Klaus leaned near, lifting out of the wheel-chair a little to brush his mouth against Dorian's. Slightly chapped lips tasted of blood... but Klaus didn't care. "When you're in the same room with me, we can sleep together again," Klaus murmured as he slipped back down to sitting. "I've missed you."

That sounded nice; rather promising, in fact, and Dorian sighed softly with the pleasure of the thought. To be held safe and warm and wrapped up in color seemed a miracle. It did!

"Then we'll be able to go home. Do you..." Klaus looked intently at Dorian's face. "Do you remember how the fish you bought me died a couple of years ago...? I have another in my hospital room. I think... I think James brought it for me. You'd like it."

Fish... fish, fish... There was a fish? That thought was almost evident on his face, but the little flash of red-blue fish that he thought of made him smile. It made him terribly happy, all of that *color*...

The smile was enough for Klaus, though he couldn't push down the sinking worry for his lover. It didn't reach his eyes, though, as he let his fingers stroke over the back of Dorian's hand. "Yes. Yes... And we'll be going home, soon. We won't have to be here much longer, Dorian, I promise that."

There was obvious relief in the way that Dorian's hands moved to pat his, sleepy eyes smiling at him as he closed them. That patting didn't stop, though, any more than the steady snuggling into the green velour blanket did.

"I won't leave until you're asleep, Dorian," Klaus told him, quietly enjoying the patting of his hands, of having Dorian so wonderfully close to him.

Dorian didn't want him to leave, but he sighed, aching all over, the sharp pains in his mouth dulled by the drugs they fed him, his eyes drooping ever so slowly. Klaus was with him. Klaus was with him, and that made everything right, made everything *better*...

"Sleep well," Klaus wished softly, watching Dorian with a frightening ferocity as the blond's body relaxed away into slumber.

"Sir?" A questioned softly from the doorway. "Are you ready to go back to your room?"

A moment more of watching, and Klaus nodded. "Ja, since he's sleeping. It's cold in here."

"Shall I get your blanket?" A asked, not really wanting to take it away from the sleeping Lord Gloria. That splash of brilliant color seemed *right* clutched around him so tightly. "I don't know if they'll let him keep it..."

"They'd better," Klaus said firmly. "He needs it more." Because Klaus could get another, and it was no trouble for him to be cold. If he couldn't keep Dorian warm, at least his blanket could!

"I'll tell Z. He'll be staying with Lord Gloria later this evening, and he'll make sure that he still has it," A murmured, hitting the large metal plate on the wall to open the doors to the intensive care unit as he wheeled Klaus out of them.

"'s good -- they shouldn't take his things away from him. It helps him get better sooner," Klaus said wisely as he leaned back in his chair, tiredly. "When will they move him to my room?"

"In another week or so, the nurse said. They don't want him moved until they're sure he's not going to get worse, and he's got an infection right at the moment." The shears hadn't been very clean, even if they *had* been partially heated.

"An infection...?" Klaus turned his head, looking worriedly back at A. "How serious?"

"They're giving him antibiotics via IV, sir. That's never particularly good," A admitted as they found the elevators, pressing a button and waiting for one to arrive.

"I should be kept up to date on these things," Klaus said disapprovingly.

"The nurse told me while you were sitting with Er... Lord Gloria, sir," he was informed.

"I'm glad you told me, then," Klaus frowned. "I do have power of attorney for him."

"They say..." A paused, biting his lip. "They brought psychiatrists down. It's awfully hard because he can't talk..."

The retired major frowned sharply at that. "He's never liked psychiatrists -- why did they bring them down?"

A ding sent them into the elevator, A pressing the button for the fourth floor. "Well... I guess, special circumstances. He didn't seem to mind them. He doesn't seem to mind *anything*. Major... I don't know."

"I know," Klaus said tensely. "But it doesn't change anything. This.... this is my *fault*. And as long as he's happy..." As long as he was happy, so what? And he'd been dazzlingly happy to get that richly colored blanket.

"I know, Major," A murmured. "You love him..."

"It was worse last time. Crying and he was so scared all the time... this is better." And would be better still when Dorian was with him, where he belonged. "We'll manage. We always do."

"But what if he's not..." The oldest member of the Alphabet paused as the elevator came to a stop and he pushed Klaus out into the hall. "Well."

"I don't care." A was told that pointedly, almost angrily. As if he expected Klaus to turn his back on Dorian!

"I don't mean that," A murmured, shaking his head as they moved along, his understanding of Klaus entirely too good after so many years of working together. "What I mean is, what will you do?"

"Do...? We'll... do what we did before we went back to contract work, what we did between jobs given to us." Relax, enjoy life and each other.

A pursued the question no further, though his worry was deep. Instead, he simply continued to the end of the hall, depositing Klaus carefully in his room. "Would you like some help, Major?"

"From the chair to the bed...? Ja," Klaus requested politely, shifting to sit up very straight. "It still hurts to put weight on my legs... the nurse says that muscle was damaged. I... can't remember it." There were a lot of things he couldn't remember, in fact, and he bullshitted his way through a lot of others.

Carefully, A moved forward, shifting an arm behind Klaus's back and another carefully beneath a thigh. "All right. We're going to move now... slowly..."

Klaus still had the upper-body strength to grasp onto the edge of the bed and pull, lightening what A had to help lift, and between them both, his lean form was comfortable on the hospital bed once more. "Thank you, A."

THAT made A flush with pleasure, his lips curving upward in a smile. "You're very welcome, sir. I'll be back to see you, soon. G will be coming in an hour or so."

"All right." That was said idly, as Klaus let his eyes drift over to the little beta that was swimming around in the bowl on a stand not three feet away.

"Oh... And... Sir, your father... wants to come see you," A mumbled. "Both of you."

"Father...?" He got a curious blink, but Klaus nodded once. "I... he can. Where is he?"

A shifted nervously. "In the cafeteria downstairs, sir."

"Send him up, then," Klaus uttered, shifting to lay more comfortably, sheets pulled up around him for warmth. "While 'm still awake."

"Yes, sir," A replied, and headed for the door.

Klaus didn't thank A this time, and that was almost a comfort for the younger agent -- to not receive that thanks. Instead, the retired major and probably ex-contract employee snuggled himself into the bedding, and kept his eye open so he wouldn't nod off yet.

For a while, it seemed that his father wasn't coming; but then a firm knock sounded upon the half-shut door and it came open beneath the older man's fingertips. Klaus couldn't remember ever seeing his father look so *old* -- his face seemed almost as gray as his hair as he moved into the room, shifting the plastic hospital chair to sit beside Klaus's bed. "Klaus," he murmured, reaching to awkwardly pat his son's hand.

Klaus managed a faint smile, a flicker of expression. "Did you bring the blanket to me?"

He'd never thought to see his father flush that way, looking almost -- ALMOST -- embarrassed as he coughed slightly, fidgeting. "Yes."

"It was nice. I gave it to Dorian -- he needed it more. It's too dull down there for him and giving it to him made him happy. So, thank you," Klaus told his father easily.

At that, faded green eyes widened slightly. "I'll get you another," he promised with solemn intent. "How...? How is he?" It was not quite the same as asking Klaus how *he* was, but... it was quite close. After all, his son cared more about that blond thief than he did about himself!

"Happy, sometimes. He doesn't talk -- can't, because.... because. He knows he can't talk, though, and he..." Klaus closed his eyes for just a moment. "He should be up here with me, but he has an infection and they want to keep a closer eye on him."

"Because?" his father questioned softly. "Klaus... both of you...?"

"Both of us what?"

"Will both of you be all right?" It was a subjective question, really, uncertain, almost in need of reassurance. Over the years, he'd grown closer to his son; mostly because Dorian had forced them into learning to know one another.

"We'll manage. We won't be a burden on you, Father. I know... that you're old and we..." Klaus sighed, lips thinning again as words slipped away from him for just the moment. His father was old, old as dirt as he'd said once, and he knew that his father didn't have many years left in him. Better to try to make them enjoyable -- that's what old men were supposed to do, wasn't it? Enjoy their last years? "We'll just stay home."

"Klaus, I want both of you to do what you want," he told the younger Eberbach firmly, expression grim. "Not to simply do what *I* want you to do.."

"We... we can't work anymore." Klaus turned his head for the moment, to look around the room and out the window he felt lucky to have, the slits of light that crept in. Then he let his gaze drift back to his father, and he shifted to curl up on his side, head on the pillow. "Dorian seems to just want to be happy."

"What.." The older man cleared his throat. "What, precisely... is wrong? With both of you, Klaus? I ask not to pry, but..."

"Why are we still here...?" Klaus asked, perhaps missing his father's exact intent, but at least finding some intent to go from. "My legs are still burnt; It's hard to stand or walk for long, yet. Yet. They... they shot Dorian, cut out his tongue. And they... hurt both of us."

"Hurt you..." That seemed pensive, as if his father was contemplating the extent of that. "Yes. Yes, I would say so..." Almost as if he was afraid to do so, a hand reached out and awkwardly patted Klaus's hand. "Perhaps I should bring things... more things than a blanket...?"

"Yes," Klaus approved, moving the hand that got the pat to grasp, lightly, his father's hand. "Yes. The one from the end of the bed?" It was a bit plain, but he'd gotten Dorian to like it, and occasionally they put the old warm thing to good uses... or, had. He could remember that clearly, though, moments of happiness and pleasure... sometimes it seemed there were so many of them! "I... need something to... have, to remember, until he's here where he should be. I'll sleep better if it reminds me of him. They... they hurt us like they did last time, but we didn't talk this time either, Father. You would have been proud."

At that, the old man felt a sharp tingle in his sinuses, his jaw firming to pure steel to keep himself from shouting out in protest. It was *wrong*, purely *wrong*, his son... "I'll bring it," he promised solemnly, determining that he would do whatever needed to be done until Klaus could do it for himself.

Klaus gave his hand a squeeze, and murmured a 'thanks' in English. "You'll visit again? My men spend a lot of time here, but I can see that they don't like to be here. Even Dorian's men visit -- Bonham, I think, brought me a fish. It might have been James." His brow furrowed for a moment, "Or Z. I can't remember."

"You were sleeping when they brought it in, perhaps?" Oohhh, if he hadn't been, that was so terribly worrisome!

"No, I was awake -- I just wasn't paying attention." He was looking at the fish, and remembering other times, both in and out of the hospital, seeing a similar fish. "But it's pretty. Dorian bought me one the last time they hurt us."

It was strange, that conversation, the fact that his son who could remember every minute detail of any given moment could not recall who had brought him the fish, regardless of whether he was paying attention. "Yes," he murmured. "He'll like it, when he's brought into this room. Perhaps I should get him one for his. Do they allow them in intensive care, I wonder...?"

"No. A thought they'd take the blanket from him, and James's window rainbow, but he's going to tell them to leave Dorian that. It's too dull down there for Dorian, and he looked so sad before it..." And that wasn't going to be withstood by Klaus! Dorian would not be sad if he had anything to do with it.

"I see... perhaps I will bring something for both of you, then." His hand was squeezed gently, his father standing. It seemed awkward, the way he moved, bones creaking. "I will return, Klaus."

Klaus let go of his father's hand, nodded. "Take care of yourself, father. Thank you."

"I..." The old man cleared his throat. "Well. Yes. You, as well, Klaus..."

"I'll try," was the slightly smiled, yet genuine answer from his son.

With gleaming worry in his eyes, the elder Eberbach turned to go, pausing only once at the door. "Klaus," he said softly, pausing. "I won't bring up the subject of children again..."

After all, how could he, when his own was so obviously not doing well at all?

It hadn't even crossed Klaus' mind, as was evident by the pained frown on his lips. "Children... ahh, I could never... not now, not with Dorian... Dorian..." Klaus shook his head. "The way he is now, no..."

"He's..." But no, he wouldn't ask. He'd simply go and see. "I'll be back, Klaus, and I'll visit him when I return... you, as well."

"I'd like that," his son repeated, before closing his eyes lightly; then he burrowed down comfortably in the bedding, as comfortable as he could get in a hospital bed, and tried to go to sleep.


The green blanket was still with him when they wheeled the extra bed into Klaus's room, wrapped tightly around him. A small spot was rubbed almost bald despite its newness from the way that Dorian had nuzzled happily at it for almost a week, and his rainbow catcher was cradled carefully in his hand, the little plaid-clad bear that Klaus's father had brought him clutched in his opposite arm. Dorian seemed so *happy* to be out of intensive care and back to a world of color that he was entirely distracted, eyes taking in so much all at once that he seemed bedazzled.

To see Dorian so happy was stunning for Klaus, and he couldn't help that he tried to get out of his own bed to be closer to Dorian. In the end, though, at least until the room was empty, he satisfied himself by curling close to the edge and talking to Dorian, near to touching. And when the nurses and doctors left, he'd touch, he'd hold Dorian, be near him again...

"Good afternoon, Dorian," he greeted warmly.

The blond man beamed at him, showing him the soft little bear clutched in his arms, once again showing him the rainbow maker as he nuzzled beside the bare spot on his blanket steadily. It felt so good...

"Father gave you that bear?" Klaus asked with a smile for his companion and lover, shifting nearer still to the edge of the bed, his own blanket bundled up around him from the end of the bed, tucked in with him beneath the regulation hospital sheets. "He brought this for me, too. You remember it, don't you, Dorian?"

Blankly, that gaze peered back at him, mouth pursed thoughtfully for a moment. Did he remember it? Quilted patches, pretty in the sunlight, and something... something about grass and *the bad thing*...

Klaus wouldn't do the bad thing to him, would he?

"We used to lounge on it outside in the garden sometimes," Klaus supplied. "By the roses you love."

Roses...that brought to mind deep fragrance, dark color, and wiped away the thoughts of any bad thing happening at all! He nodded, then, only slightly confused, and smiled for his beautiful artwork man.

"We'll do it again," Klaus promised, snugging himself deeper in the blanket. "We will -- when we get home again, Dorian, we will. And you'll have as much color as you want..."

That was a delicious promise, one that prompted a soft sigh and a smile, the almost delicate wave of fingertips as if to say yes, yes, and yes. Dorian felt awash with color, with brightness, for the room was quite filled with flowers of all types, every color, and more roses than he could conceivably count, yellow, white, red, even tangerine. He loved every one of them, wanted to touch them and crush him with his fingers and paint himself with them...

It was probably better for Klaus that he was unaware of Dorian's deeply resounding wish at that moment. It would have scared him more than he already was, on edge with wondering how Dorian would be and where they would go next. "Hmn, I'm glad you'll like that. Very glad -- I want to go home now, with you, so I keep thinking of what we'll do."

Fingers reached out to touch the flowers on the table between them, Dorian unable to resist the urge. The petals were velvety, so soft, and he cooed, having another good something to touch.

Klaus liked to see the smile on Dorian's face, and the soft cooing noise was one that didn't take Dorian's tongue to make -- it was rolling, a hum of pleasure. "Be careful of the thorns."

The thorns were not important, though; he was, after all, only touching the flowers themselves, caressing over the open petals tenderly, wishing to pull one loose and clasp it to him. Instead, he laid back, the nurses shifting nervously as they plugged in the iv pump and hurried from the room, abandoning them to one another.

That was just what Klaus had wanted; with a smile, he shifted nearer, and finally just slipped to the edge of the bed, eyes warm and only really half open. "We'll have to come up with signs to talk with, Dorian." THAT seemed an interesting thought, Dorian turning immense blue eyes on him and tilting his head thoughtfully as if to say, Signs? "Signs like..." Klaus moved his maimed hand slightly. "Hand gestures to mean things -- like, 'yes', 'no', 'maybe', 'you want'..."

Oh, well, those, he didn't need. After all, Klaus always took care of whatever he wanted, didn't he? Or he thought that Klaus did, anyway... And the other words, well, he'd have to think on those.

"I'll think, too," Klaus murmured. "There's always sign language, if you want to learn." He wouldn't be able to manage it with his maimed hand, though, so he was glad that he could talk even if Dorian couldn't.

THAT sounded awfully complicated, and more than he wanted to think about at the moment. He yawned, not bothering to cover his mouth, for he truly didn't think anything of it. It revealed the mangled mess of his mouth, enough to make anyone cringe, but particularly Klaus.

It was *very* red, and darker than it should have been... "Are you glad to be up here with me...?"

The blond man nodded, snuggling tightly into his covers. He rather wished that Klaus was beside him, but being in the room was almost as good, and there were so many *colors* in Klaus's room! It was better than almost anything so far as Dorian was concerned.

A shift, and Klaus got himself down into the wheelchair, pulling his blanket with him. He had to put weight on one leg for a moment, and it hurt in a blaze from tightly dressed calf clean up to his hip, but the pain faded to the now familiar ache once he was seated. Then he settled his blanket around himself, and wheeled the fraction to be close beside Dorian's bed. "This is... is better than the last time, some ways."

The tilt of Dorian's head was clear, curiosity on a face that seemed almost too innocent for his own good. Last time... what was last time? He decided it wasn't something he needed to think about -- ever.

"Just sleep, Dorian," Klaus murmured to him soothingly. So, Dorian didn't seem to be able to remember a lot, and his expression was sometimes a bit off -- so what? Klaus had coped before, would cope again. Dorian first, then himself, because without his lover, he wasn't anything at all. "I'll be right here when you wake up, and we'll be home not too long from now."

Home.. That was such a delicious promise! It rang of beautiful things, of color and light and softness and *baths*, how very much he would like to have a bath! He sighed, yawned again, and reached for Klaus, eyes closing sleepily.

The reach for Klaus gained him a hand on the other man's back, and blanket, and Klaus leaned near to lay the side of his head on Dorian's bed. "Just sleep, Dorian. Like that."

He did, and they were together, close and tight. Everything was perfect again.

Perfect...


He was glad, once they pulled up into the drive, that his father had sent a driver to pick them both from the hospital. Klaus was still in no shape to be driving, though he was able to walk on his own again.

Rather against the advice of the doctor, Klaus hadn't gone home right away -- he'd stayed resolutely at Dorian's side until the blond was ready to be released. A had carefully pulled strings, and so had Z, to make Klaus's presence an unquestioned one.

/Father's waiting, I hope,/ Klaus thought absently as he opened his car-door and tugged Dorian out of it after him. "We're home now."

Standing beside him, the lovely man tilted his head to the side, curls tumbling over his shoulders in wild profusion. They'd been allowed to grow after he'd cut them so many years ago and now ran wild to his waist, lovely things that Klaus liked best to stroke and touch, brush and caress. 'Home' was not what he'd thought it would be -- for some reason, it didn't look at all as he thought it should. Still, it *was* familiar, and Klaus was there, so that was all right, too.

"Maybe after a few weeks here we'll go to the North Downs? You have a castle there, if... if you remember," Klaus said a bit hesitantly.

He *did* remember, remembered a house other than this, he *did*! Something of Dorian had been utterly lost when they had been tortured the second time; something that Klaus was afraid would never come back. It wasn't just that he couldn't talk; it was also that he couldn't seem to *think*, couldn't *remember*, that there were things that simply drew blanks with him no matter how often Klaus or James or Bonham or *anyone* repeated them. That he could remember a house besides the Schloss was immense relief for Klaus -- no matter what, he wouldn't just give up on his companion, yet it would have been unfair to not expect him to grasp for the strings of hope, thin threads, that he sometimes spotted. He had trouble, sometimes, but it was incomparable to how his lover acted, or, didn't act. Knife-sharp wit and playfulness were gone...

"Good," Klaus smiled, moving to the back of the car to pop the trunk. "I'm glad you remember."

That gained him one of those bright, sunny, thoughtless smiles, arms wrapping tightly about his waist, halting him from drawing out the box of their things. All of the flowers had been disbursed amongst the ill and elderly on that floor before they'd come home, leaving only pajamas, blankets, fish, and Dorian's teddy bear and rainbow catcher to come home with them.

It wasn't too much for Klaus to lift, though he was unable to hoist a thing as tightly hugged as he was. Ohh, but so what if he didn't get their things out of the trunk quickly! He brought his hands up, resting them on Dorian's shoulder-blades, keeping him close. "You'll be happy here."

That seemed a certainty; after all, wherever Klaus was guaranteed happiness, did it not? Klaus had made sure that he got bright Jell-o whenever he wanted it and all sorts of marvelous flowers. He couldn't ask for any better! Klaus watched out for him, and kept the doctors from moving them at night, he kept Dorian in flowers and bright things...

"You'll be happy," Klaus murmured, softer now, as if to assure himself of it, too. It hurt, hurt to have his lover so harmed... "Come on, Dorian -- let's go inside."

With that now-permanent silence, Dorian tugged at him, ignoring the box and pulling Klaus to make him come with him rather than fetching it. He tugged, and Klaus followed, going to the front door, and when it did not open automatically, it caused him some consternation. In the hospital, all doors had been open or they had opened automatically...

"Hold on," Klaus murmured, fumbling a key from his pocket. "I have to unlock the doors."

Doors with locks on them quite defied Dorian's understanding, brows knitting tightly. Why on earth would anyone lock something? How odd that seemed, how impossible!

"It keeps us safe, and--"

"Sir?" the door swung open before Klaus could fit the key in the lock, revealing the old butler to them both. "Sir, welcome home."

AHH!! It was the bald man! Dorian knew him! He'd followed them around in the garden and something funny had happened! He couldn't say just what, but that was all right. It still made him give an airy sound of not-quite-laughter, almost grotesque in its strangeness, pleased to see that gleaming head and to think of something distinctly *amusing*.

That almost laughter got Klaus to crack a smile, at last. "Yes, Dominic, we're home. Is father home?" He started past the man anyway, into the comfort of the house.

"Yes, sir!" was the tearful answer, Dominic snatching hold of Dorian and sobbing all over him, bringing blond eyebrows to rise upward, mouth turning into a little 'o' of surprise. "He's upstairs!" Dominic wailed. "Fixing things for yo~u!"

"Fixing things?" Klaus asked almost absently as he pulled Dorian way from the butler. "Don't cry on him -- why are you crying? Use a tissue!!"

Sniffling, a handkerchief appeared from Dominic's pocket, his nose blown loudly in it. "He wanted for things to be nice for you when you got home!" the man sniffled, making Dorian give that haunting huffed laughter again.

"Nice for us...?" Hadn't their shared room always been nice, the places they stayed together comfortable...? "Should we go up now, then...?"

Dominic shook his head wildly. "Oh, no, no! Wouldn't want you to interrupt before it was done, you know!"

"What's being done?" Klaus asked with a furrowed brow. "We want to go up there and settle in..."

"It's a *secret*," Dominic sniffed, becoming (for once) the epitome of butlerhood. "You mustn't interfere until he's done!"

"Then what are we going to do?" Klaus asked him rather pointedly.

Hopefully, the man peered at him, then most particularly at Dorian. "We have chocolate cake..." Oh, he knew Klaus wouldn't eat it, but Dorian *adored* it!

It was distressing for the butler to see the face, unhappy, that Klaus made, though that distasteful expression faded as he turned to Dorian. "Do you want to eat cake while we wait?"

That gained him a quick nod, one indicating that he very *much* wanted to eat cake while they waited! Cake was better than Jell-O, because it was deliciously sweet and clung neatly to the roof of his mouth. He rather liked cake, and chocolate sounded like a wonderful sort of cake, indeed!

"Then we'll go into the kitchen and we'll eat cake there." Slipping his arm around Dorian's waist once more, Klaus didn't let frustration touch him as they started down the hallway.

Once they were settled down at the rather large table, Dominic rushed off to the kitchen, returning with incredibly large slices of chocolate cake -- cake that even had chocolate *icing*, incredibly rich stuff that was quite enough to make one ill if one ate it all, Klaus was sure!

Klaus shifted his chair closer to Dorian, and tried to scoot the piece of cake away from himself, slowly, subtly. "Enjoy it."

Reaching down, Dorian lifted the fork that had come with it and cut off a hefty piece, but he didn't eat it himself; no, no, he shifted it up towards Klaus, offering it to him with wide eyes.

Oh, it was horrible to be faced with such torture at Dorian's hands... Klaus opened his mouth a little, and moved down towards Dorian's cake-laden fork. As he took the cake off of the fork, the blond thief seemed to nearly melt with the pleasure of being allowed to feed him. Klaus gave him wonderful things, and he knew that chocolate was a wonderful thing! He so wanted to share, and it made him smile and sigh, shivering with enjoyment.

It wasn't... so bad, Klaus decided as he chewed. He'd had much sweeter, and though the frosting threatened to choke him, the cake itself was spongy and warm, a little bit of cinnamon somewhere in the mix to make it even more palatable for him. "Mmm." An encouraging noise of enjoyment, in the hopes of getting Dorian to eat, too. "I like the cake."

What a smile that gained him, brilliant, and those soft lips pressed most happily to his, no longer tasting of copper or dryness. Encouragement given for Klaus to eat his own cake, Dorian took a bite of his own and gave the little coo that represented pleasure for him.

/Just eat the cake, Klaus... if won't kill you and it's almost... almost good,/ he thought, as he sectioned a piece without frosting and lifted it past his lips. "I'm glad you're better now."

Better was subjective, though, and Dorian never would be completely better, would he? It seemed impossible, particularly considering the way that he had seemed in the hospital, the way he seemed even now, and it almost physically hurt Klaus, a distinct pain even as his words caused another of those sweet smiles.

He still loved Dorian; Dorian still loved Klaus, and... and no matter how much it hurt him to see his once brilliant lover that way, he wouldn't give up. Klaus loved the ex-thief too much to even consider it... "After this, do you want to look around the house, or sleep?"

Open palms indicated that Dorian wanted to see the house, and the curiosity as he peered around the dining room said much. He had been here before, he knew, but it was something like a dream -- hazy, barely remembered, and not even remotely *real* to him.

Now it was real, so he had to learn it all over again. Klaus understood that, that... lack of memories. The psychiatrists said that Dorian had repressed everything when he tried to forget what had happened. Klaus had told them it sounded like shit to him, but... but it was possible. "The garden first...?"

A vigorous nod came, those eyes glistening upon him even as Dorian ate the last bite of the cinnamon spiced chocolate cake. The garden sounded *perfect* somehow, sparking all sorts of half-remembered dream things.

"We'll sit out there and look at the flowers...?" Klaus offered. Sit Dorian beside him, and maybe... maybe he could pretend that everything was how it was just a short time before. He watched as Dorian took his last bite and rose, moving towards him in that waft of floral scent that had made his knees weak for almost fifteen years, the remnant of smell left by the soap James had brought to him. The little skinflint had made numerous small, expensive purchases over the past weeks and had always been led away sobbing like a child. There were days, still, when Klaus almost wanted to do the same.

His feet made him stand without his direct permission, though the movement of his arms to enfold Dorian for just a moment before they did go into the garden was entirely approved. He spent a great deal of his time trying valiantly to not face what was going on, to not deal with Dorian's real actions.

How could he avoid it, though, when that face was filled with so much childish contentment, those lips pursed with such sweetness? There wasn't any way to avoid it wholly, no way he'd yet found, and all he wanted was for Dorian to be well again, or for something, anything, to take the last sense from his mind so that he, too, was blessed with Dorian's empty-minded contentment. Because until one of the two happened, he knew he was unwell and unsteady, probably little better than Dorian, and he was Dorian's watcher, his lover trying to protect him.

Delightedly wrapped arm in arm, Dorian walked beside him, eyes everywhere at once. There were so many wonders in Schloss Eberbach, things which Klaus had often taken for granted, but something about the blond man's excitement had often brought his own interest to the things that had seemed so commonplace before. This walk was no different than others in that way, for Dorian took great delight in some of the things they passed -- a Renoir here, a Degas there, some exquisitely sculpted statue yon -- but the difference, now, was that he had no astute comment to make about them, and Klaus could still here comments of years past ringing in his ears.

'Women -- I almost wish that they painted more half-naked men, and then I'd probably love that painting even more!'

'I wonder, darling... do you think Pumpkin pants had a cock as nice as yours?'

'Ohhh, the color on this could put a rose-window to shame...'

/Don't dwell on it, Klaus,/ he chided himself as he stilled, as Dorian did before the colorful painting.

The expression that took over Dorian's face was most particularly worshipful as he looked up at Tyrian, hands rising to carefully touch the frame. He seemed to understand automatically that touching the painting itself should not have been done, but oh, the gleam in those eyes, it seemed almost like the old Dorian, and he opened his mouth... Opened it and gave that odd chortling little laugh, pointing at the man in pumpkin pants and then at Klaus, obviously quite pleased with himself and the entire matter on the whole.

What that matter was, Klaus hadn't the damnedest, and the distress that almost touched his lips showed as much. "That's Tyrian, Dorian. That picture is the whole reason you ever met me."

His obvious disquiet touched Dorian, making the blond man's brows come together, his entire body language changing to tentative, uncertain. A question lay in his eyes, worry that he had done something wrong or that whatever was wrong with Klaus was his fault... and, in a way, it *was*.

"It's all right," Klaus sighed, reaching to take Dorian's hand. "It's okay. I.... I'm still getting used to things."

That didn't seem to be enough, but Dorian let it go, becoming quiet after that as they made their way towards the back of the house.

"Are you all right?" Klaus asked him gently, frowning further as he clutched at Dorian's hand.

A slight gesture passed between them, the obvious confusion on that face saying so much, and yet Dorian was truly unable to express what he did not understand... *WHY*? Why, he wanted to ask, why did Klaus need to accustom himself to 'things', and what had he done to make the his beloved artwork man so unhappy?

"I just..." Klaus swallowed, and leaned near to kiss Dorian. "I'm just sad. Not about you. You make me happy, just... things are different from how they used to be."

The feel of that brushing kiss was sweet and yet somehow more confusing than any kiss Klaus had given him before that he could recall. It seemed almost reluctant, and it made Dorian sad with him to know that he was unhappy. Tears welled up, arms sliding slowly around his neck, and Dorian gently patted his back, hugging close to him.

"I love you," Klaus sighed, closing his eyes as he hugged Dorian tightly close to him. The lean form still felt the same, though thinned a little from too long in hospital. It was easy to imagine... that everything was all right. "It really is better that you can't... remember things. I can't remember some things, either."

The sound of a sigh spilled against his ear, Dorian's hands still caressing his shoulders in slow, soothing gestures. He seemed to understand, then, that something was not right with him, and he trembled, holding Klaus all the more tightly, shivering with that sudden cognizance.

"We used to.... I remember that we used to not get along well. We fought all the time. And then we got hurt and I stopped fighting, and we spent a long time together, before... this last... happened," Klaus said haltingly, amazed that he managed to struggle the words past his lips at all. Memory hurt him sometimes, but it came readily most times when called upon. The caress of Dorian's hands was one such thing that drew his mind back up, almost familiar in their lingering knowledge. "I still love you. And you.... you were hurt because of me, this time. It's my fault they took your tongue..."

A frantic shake of that golden head was felt next to him, denial swift and true, and the soft sounds of hyperventilation accompanied it. What terrible, terrible things for Klaus to say! He couldn't bear them, couldn't bear to think them, couldn't imagine the horror that was his mouth or that *bad* thing, he couldn't, he *couldn't*!!

"I wasn't... I *didn't* protect you well enough. I should have... but I'll protect you now. Give you anything you want -- sweet things, color, anything at all, Dorian, just to make you happy." So that *he* would never feel as sad and heart-sick as Klaus was feeling.

Oh, but that didn't make it better at all, it didn't. He wanted for Klaus to be *happy*, not to simply make *him* happy, and it made him sob softly, shivering as he clung tightly to the tall German man.

"I'm sorry," Klaus shivered, holding him tighter. "I just want to make it up to you, but I don't know where to begin..." It felt almost like when they'd first started to work things through -- smiles and laughter one minute, the next fits and tears. Fingers tangled in black strands of hair, stroking awkwardly through them as Dorian continued to cry in his grasp. It seemed even worse than ever before, particularly because of the way Dorian's voice hitched, soft and dry, no clear sounds given.

No idea of how to stop those tears, or even for Dorian to really convey what he was feeling. Klaus could only keep his eyes closed -- after all, only one of them was sighted, he remembered -- and stroke along the line of the blond man's spine. "Tell me how to make it better."

Dorian's hold tightened upon him, tear-stained face lifting. Strain was obvious on it thanks to his pallor, his bitten lips, those glistening eyes that looked at him so seriously. When Dorian laid his head sweetly upon Klaus's shoulder, it was not an answer so much as a suggestion. He was so tired, he had cried and they'd eaten and they'd driven from the hospital, and now he was tired, and Klaus was still sad and tired, so what harm could sleeping do? It hadn't been the *plan*, but Klaus guessed he could take Dorian back through the house to his... Their room, if his father would let them go there yet. "Upstairs?" That head nodded, curls tumbling wildly around them. That obviously seemed to suit Dorian, his arms going around Klaus slowly, a sigh filtering slowly loose from him.

Klaus felt reluctant to see his father, when he knew that the older man worried so much over them, but there wasn't anything he could do, he reminded himself, as he started down the hall slowly, arms around Dorian, too. By the time they had reached the stairs, Dorian's snuffling had stopped, and by the time they reached the first landing, his face was finally drying again. That was good -- after all, it would only bother Klaus's father more if he knew they had been crying. Klaus had been careful to not cry -- because it would only exacerbate Dorian. But his at least half-smile was tight at best, and didn't improve much as they finally reached his bedroom door. He freed one hand with some effort to knock lightly.

"Just a moment!" That was his father, yelling, and after a few seconds, the door was flung open to them. For a moment, he could almost see himself standing there, his father looked so pleased with himself, so momentarily *young*, and then his eyes adjusted to the light coming in from the room, the glow of it, and he saw his father as he truly was. He looked old, and tired... so much more tired than he had years before, and centuries older, if that was possible. "We came in to... go to sleep," Klaus murmured, trying to not look at his father with his tired hurt gaze. "How are you doing?"

"Brilliantly," the older man sighed, stepping back from the door so that the room was revealed.

It quite took Dorian's mind away from his sadness, eyes opening wide as his hands came up to cover his mouth, little gasp going almost unheard. In the windows lay brilliant, old stained glass, the sunlight shining in through them, and against the wall between the two of them was a poster bed -- not Klaus's bed at all, but a soft, magnificent thing draped in colorful blue velvet with which the slim blond seemed to fall in love at first sight.

It was pretty, and colorful... and it looked dangerously comfortable. Klaus turned Dorian loose gently, and smiled questioningly at his father. "You... did this for us, Father?"

The expression on the commander's face seemed almost tender as he nodded, the worry gleaming in his eyes impossible to miss. "I thought, perhaps... that you would like it," he answered, watching as Dorian moved to the windows, holding out his hands in front of them to watch the colors spill over his skin.

"I do -- Dorian does, it's... we always.... did mean to do something up here, but just..." Never had the time to, the concentration to devote to it. There wasn't any need for Klaus to go on, as he swallowed, blinked something back -- perhaps tears. Reminiscence did him no good, and Dorian and his father didn't need to know how badly he missed what he remembered. "Thank you, Father."

"You're welcome," his father replied solemnly. "I suspect you'd like to have a short rest, now," he suggested gently, glancing to see Dorian kneeling down in front of the windows to look closely at them.

"We're tired," Klaus sighed, moving near to hug his father gently, briefly. "We'll try to be awake for supper."

"I'll send Dominic up to wake you," was the murmured reply, hesitant arms coming around him momentarily. "And I'll make sure it's something you'll both like."

It was odd for Klaus to hug him -- he'd barely given his son a hug when he was a young boy, and certainly not when he was a grown man! But there was something... comforting to know that he was appreciated by the son he'd been at odds with most all of Klaus's life. "That'd be nice."

"I'll... I'll see to it," he repeated, nodding, hugging Klaus tightly once before parting from him to slip out into the hallway, leaving his son alone with the blond thief who was his lover.

Or at least, who had once been his lover.

"It's very nice," Klaus said, moving near Dorian and kneeling down to be on level with him before the multi-colored windows. "Beautiful."

Carefully, a finger traced over the beaded lead holding one fragile pane in, and then Dorian sighed, placing his head upon Klaus's shoulder. Oh, it made him so *happy*...

"Let's sleep," Klaus said softly. "Go to bed seeing this and wake up to just as pretty a sight." That seemed perfectly acceptable to Dorian, his eyes drooping visibly as he yawned, nuzzling Klaus steadily. So tired...

A backwards motion and rising again brought them both to their feet, but only long enough for Klaus to pull down the soft dark sheets, and start to take off his shirt. "Hold on..."

Vague curiosity filled those brilliant jewel-colored eyes as he watched Klaus undress, head tilted to the side. He wondered, perhaps, if he should as well, but if he needed to do so, surely Klaus would tell him to do it. That meant that he could simply continue watching Klaus, a pleasurable thing to do indeed.

"You should... probably do that, too, Dorian," Klaus told him, after a few moments of standing nude in front of Dorian. It had only struck him as an afterthought that Dorian might need to be told to do so.

Shirt came off, then, untidily dropped to the floor, socks, shoes and pants as well, leaving only white underwear. For a moment, that truly seemed to stymie Dorian -- after all, Klaus had on no underwear -- but he wasn't sure if he was supposed to take them off or not. There was something about his underwear...? What was it?

"Do you want to take that off?" Klaus asked softly, even as he moved to get under the sheets. He wouldn't press the issue, though -- wouldn't think of it.

A shake of his head and he was after Klaus, crawling up into the bed stiffly and pressing himself up against the marginally taller German man, arms wrapping tightly around him. It didn't matter, no, it didn't. He'd remember what was important about the underwear later...

And if he didn't, Klaus wouldn't press him. For the moment, he gave in to Dorian, uncaring that he was unclothed and Dorian wasn't; only caring that the sheets were warm and that his body was comfortable with Dorian against it. They hadn't had a good chance to do that in too long. It was happiness for both of them, Dorian nuzzling contentedly against him, and Klaus pleased to hold and be held. The bed was much softer than the one that had occupied space in Klaus's room before, comfortable, and the covers were warm and inviting in so many ways.

Perhaps, Klaus could take his small pleasures there, just by *being* there, and keep himself afloat that way to keep caring for Dorian. Within moments, he slipped off to sleep.

For a while, Dorian lay awake beside him. His eyes were fascinated by the brilliant, gleaming colors coming in their windows, the feel of the velvet, and very much so by the warmth of Klaus beside him. Klaus was warmth and safety, and his own eyes began to droop not so long after Klaus's did. Everything would be all right... Everything...


"Do you really think that they'll... manage, sir?" the butler asked politely, though his fretting tone was hard to mask.

Sighing deeply, the elder Eberbach leaned back in his library chair, hands cradling the glass of cognac so recently poured and not even yet touched. "I don't know," he answered slowly, grimly, his many years apparent upon his face. Klaus had been born when he was creeping into later middle age, and now, almost thirty-five years later, he was feeling every single day of those years. His son, his heir... There would be no more Eberbach children. He supposed he had known it even before Klaus had brought Dorian home, but...

Well.

A father could be forgiven his hopes for grandchildren, he supposed.

"Dorian is so..." He sighed. "I don't know. He seems to live in the moment, and Klaus, for all that he *appears* to do well, is not himself. Perhaps he won't be again. I should have put a stop to all of their contract work years ago, somehow. This is my fault, isn't it?"

"Not at all, Heinz," Dominic murmured, pouring a glass for himself, and sitting down across from the man he'd served for what seemed forever. A few years difference in age was nothing, not now. "They would have kept on. Klaus was stubborn... is stubborn," he amended quickly.

"Just the way we raised him to be, you and me," Heinz sighed quietly, shaking his head. "I wonder, sometimes, if we did things the way they should have been done. Perhaps not. Do all parents feel so much guilt when it comes to their children?"

"I'm not sure." Not comforting, but truthful -- after all, Dominic's entire life had been one of serving and working for Heinz. "What else could we have done?"

"Perhaps if we had not sent him away to school..." Heinz mourned pointlessly.

"Then perhaps he would be dead now. Or a businessman. Or some lush. It's impossible to tell, Heinz, what could have happened." Sage words from the butler as he took a sip of his drink.

With a sigh, Heinz did the same, shaking his head mournfully. "We're the end of the Eberbach family," he said softly. "I had hoped that at least there might be *some* way for Klaus to... Well." He'd known better than to think that his son would sleep with a woman. Dorian wouldn't have stood for it, and Klaus likely would have failed in it (and oh, he didn't want to even consider the matter! It was an unseemly thought for a father to have!). Still...

"Not utterly, Heinz. Your sister has a son who'd be... more than happy to take on the title."

A snort answered that, Heinz emptying his glass at the mere suggestion. "*That* idiot faggot," he sighed. "He *acts* like some sort of degenerate. Not at all an upstanding man like my Klaus!"

Dominic couldn't help but muster up a chuckle and a nod. Yes, *that* Eberbach was a lush, and thank god he didn't actually carry the Eberbach name. "And he's married."

"There is that," Heinz sighed, standing to pour himself more spirits, frowning. "I should have pressed the issue when we were younger. Even now, we could have raised another child if need be, and perhaps they would not have placed themselves in such danger if I had insisted that they consider children earlier..." After all, there were surrogates, artificial means of creating children...

Perhaps it was the wine, or the stress of the last few days -- preparing for Klaus and Dorian to come back to the Schloss, and then just *seeing* them -- but the butler couldn't help another soft laugh. "Heinz... we sound as homosexual as they are."

THAT made Heinz chuckle audibly, faded green eyes gleaming. "Old queers, even. It would be funny if it were not so..." Utterly *absurd*. On the other hand, when was the last time he had been with a woman...? First and last, actually, had been Klaus's mother. He had loved her rather as fiercely as Klaus did love his British companion, and losing her had hurt for a time, before he'd locked it away as Klaus had eventually learned to do with things.

"Funny," Dominic finished for him. "Sometimes I feel like Klaus is my own son, too... You were always off in Switzerland when he came back from a mission in a complete rage at the thief."

"Was he *really* so angry with him?" Unable to help himself, Heinz gave another of those reluctant laughs. Ahh, his son. Such a magnificent son he had been, and now, things were such a wreck and would probably never be the same, considering that they were reminiscing as if Klaus were dead!

"Always. He'd hit walls, practice what he'd do the next time he saw Lord Gloria -- punches and kicks -- rail about decadence and perverts..." Dominic looked down into the empty cognac glass, having barely realized he'd finished it off.

With a sigh, Heinz simply brought the bottle back with him, filling up Dominic's glass again before settling down close by in his own chair, placing the decanter between them. "You know, it was the same with Klaus's mother. She drove me mad. If she had not been a woman, I probably *would* have hit her a time or two, just for how crazy she made me. Is that not odd?"

Dominic nodded. "I remember. Almost the same kinds of fits Klaus threw. The stain from the wine-bottle you smashed is still on the wall in the parlour. Perhaps it was just meant to be that kind of person for you, and for Klaus."

"More like a curse," Heinz sighed, shaking his head. "Without them, what could we be, either of us? Just cold, hard men, and to see Klaus clinging so and to know why, and how unbearable it would be if he did not..." Ah, it hurt him!

"He... I can't tell if he's happy now, or miserable," Dominic murmured, "But he ate *cake* for the first time in years today."

THAT visibly startled the elder Eberbach, the man's blue eyes widening slightly. "He ate *CAKE*?" he asked, startled. "What on earth possessed him to do such a thing?"

"I.... shouldn't have been looking, but I did," Dominic went on, not quite answering yet. He poured himself another glass from the decanter between them. "It was for Dorian, since he always liked sweet things, and I cut two pieces just because. Klaus never usually ate it, but... this time he did. Chocolate cake."

"Klaus doesn't like chocolate very much," Heinz murmured. "But he *would* eat it for Dorian, wouldn't he..."

"I added cinnamon when I baked the cake, and he didn't eat any of the frosting." Did that, somehow, make the bare facts any easier to cope with?

Klaus's father nodded slowly. "I see." That was all he said before going back to drinking his cognac steadily.

"But you're right -- Dorian was the one who got him to eat it. Lord Gloria... seems a lot like a child," the butler sighed heavily, before taking another sip.

"Think he'll get any better?" Heinz grunted, sighing. "Can't talk. Can't keep his mind on anything. Klaus would've been better off if..." If he'd died? No, because then he feared his son would have gone immediately after. If he'd not had Klaus when Lucinda had died, then he wouldn't have really had a reason to carry on the way he had. The pain of loss was duller after so many years, but it still hurt him to think of his smiling wife.

"If he'd died? No, no, I think he would have gotten out of the hospital and killed himself. At least with Dorian alive, we know he'll be alive, too."

That gained him a sharply slanted look from Heinz and then a reluctant nod. "I suppose..."

"I like Lord Gloria, Heinz, and you know it," the butler pointed out without accusation in his voice.

Reluctantly, Klaus's father smiled. "Yes, yes. I do not mind him, either, only... this will not be easy. It will be less than easy, Dominic, and I don't know how we will deal with this..."

"I plan on dealing with it a day at a time... but we're old, Heinz. After..." Well, that was something no man liked to contemplate. "What about when we move on?"

That brought on an even deeper sigh, Heinz finishing off his third glass and starting another. "I suppose that, too, will have to be considered a day at a time."

"I'd rather have some idea of what would happen to them when that happens," the butler shrugged. "Then I won't worry so much."

"Perhaps they'll get better," Heinz offered tentatively.

"Why do you think that?" Was it even possible? The butler obviously didn't think so.

A shrug came from the elder Eberbach. "I don't," he confessed quietly. "A man has to have *some* hope, however, does he not? If Dorian doesn't get well, Klaus..." Klaus... his poor son.

"It's almost like raising a child all over again," Dominic sighed, setting down his empty glass with a heavy clink. "How could he get well?"

"Perhaps," Heinz murmured, "we should consult better psychiatrists than the ones who saw them... him. *The* best..."

"Would they agree to see them?" At least Dominic was willing to admit that *both* of their charges needed help.

"If they will not, we will have to find a way to *make* them," was the grim answer, the old man nodding firmly at him. "We will come up with something, Dominic. I have yet to be beaten!" Only once, when his wife had died, and he had survived that. He *would* find a way to make sure that Dorian and Klaus were seen by someone who might be able to help them!

The decanter was offered to his empty glass, Dominic giving a lop-sided smile. "I'd give anything to hear your son call me 'barcode' again."

A snort of laughter sounded. "No, no. You're right. Pointed it out. Might 's well be your son, too. We've raised him, best we could..." The liquor was obviously beginning to loosen Heinz up quite a bit.

"He did accomplish a lot," Dominic chuckled. "Got lucky, never got killed on one of his missions -- lived through the war, which is more than a lot of people we knew."

"Wha's that thief call it? Bang-up job, yes. Tha's it," Heinz noted solemnly (if not soberly). "Quite all right."

"Did it for a... well, a good cause." Dominic chuckled softly, pouring his glass up to the brim again. It was hard to keep track of what drink you were on when you just kept topping off your drink. Heinz, at least, fully finished his glass before the next one. "Hmn, 't least he doesn't go around calling everything... 'fag' anymore."

That caused his employer to snort with snickered laughter. "'s better than some of the other things, 'sn't it? Motherfucker's generally a worse insult to most, isn't it?"

The butler paled briefly, looking terribly shocked before another sip of liquor did away with that emotion. "True. I think Lord... Gloria made a lot of changes... on Klaus, not any of them bad."

"'s true," Heinz agreed, polishing off the last of his glass. "Dominic? 'm too old to drink like this. You ought to've stopped us both."

"I know." He didn't seem repentant, though, as he put the stopper back on the almost empty decanter. "But you needed a drink...!"

A snort sounded. "Huh. 'f Klaus sees 'is, we'll never live 't down!"

"Why wouldn't we?" Dominic blinked at him.

"'Cause children shouldn't see such things." That seemed to make great sense to Heinz, who nodded most solemnly.

"Hmn..." Dominic was trying to dredge together a reply when he heard a knock on the door, and then Klaus peeked into the room.

"Oh, shit," Heinz said quite clearly, blinking.

That, if possible, got him a more confused look on his son's tired face than had been there to start with. "We... came down to get supper..."

"'s supper time?" his father said, looking at Dominic. "You di'n't announce supper, Dominic! Is it even cooked!?"

"Uhhm... one of the lesser staff must have finished it," the butler said with a sheepish expression, as Klaus came further into the library, bringing Dorian in tow. The blond man seemed quite fascinated with the paintings on the wall and tugged at Klaus to pull just a little away and look at a lovely pastoral scene full of Eberbach ancestors with interest.

"Urm..." Heinz said, trying to think. /Oh, dear../

"You've been drinking," Klaus said with all the disapproval in his voice that he'd once used on Heinz when he was five or six.

THAT quite seemed to startle his father, worrying him even worse than he had been before!! "Just a nip," he qualified, fingers coming together sheepishly.

"It's not good for you," Klaus said, shaking his head a little, before turning to look with his seeing eye at Dorian, making sure that he was still all right looking at the pictures. "I wanted to thank you... again for what you did in the bedroom. It's nice up there now."

At that, Heinz visibly softened, looking incredibly old in that moment. "'m glad. You... seem t'enjoy comf'table things and I wanted both of you t'be..."

"We are. Dorian loves the... the windows you have put in, they're so bright, and the bed is comfortable..." And that, very obvious now, was Klaus's new liking -- comfort. Perhaps it was an over-reaction to the pain and hurt inflicted in such a cold, dingy place as the Alphabet had told him about. "Are you all right, Father? You don't look well..."

A tug and a soft coo from Dorian distracted his attention, a face for which Heinz was incredibly grateful as he looked to Dominic for help.

"I'll..." Dominic lurched to his feet carefully. "Sir, shall supper be served here or in the dining room?"

"It's warmer in here," Klaus murmured as he moved over to Dorian. "Mm?"

"Here 's... Fine," Heinz replied, watching as Dorian pointed carefully to a painting of Tyrian, fingers caressing over the frame. He was nearly purring, obviously comparing the look of the degenerate to Klaus, and so pleased with himself. He had been earlier in the evening, as well, though Heinz couldn't know it. Still, that excitement was very nice to see, and he wondered how much Dorian remembered, and if more might be coaxed from him.

"Yes, that was your favorite picture," Klaus told him, again, though after a good nap it was less frustrating. "You tried to take it a lot."

Arms were flung joyfully about Klaus's throat, accompanied by soft grunts of happiness even as Heinz muttered, "And you tried to sell it, Klaus!"

Klaus had no way to even guess why Dorian was so overjoyed. He just hugged his companion close, while he told his father, "I was trying to do what I should."

"Sell our cultural heritage!?" Heinz asked him stridently, confused.

"Save myself trouble," was the cryptic answer, as he kissed Dorian's forehead lightly. "What's got you excited?"

The painting was pointed at again, and then Klaus as Dorian nuzzled against him happily, wriggling his fingers at him as if to say -- you, you, you!

"It's Tyrian," Klaus sighed softly, trying to drag himself up to smiling and returning Dorian's tender gestures of touch. "Let's sit down?"

No, no, Dorian wanted to say. It's you, it's you, and I want to color you, I want to do that with you, oh, say that I can! The words didn't come, though, wouldn't come, and it seemed as if he wilted slightly even as he smiled at Klaus and kissed him so sweetly.

"Can you... write it down?" Klaus pressed gently as they both perched together on the sofa.

For a moment, that seemed to consternate Heinz and Dorian alike, but then the old man tottered upward, alcohol rushing to his head, and went to search for pen and paper. "'s worth a try, son," he muttered, wobbling back with it. "'s worth an attempt..." Had he just said that already?

"Thank you," Klaus murmured, taking pad of paper and pen, and pressing the pen into Dorian's grasp, paper offered to him. "Write."

It wasn't writing that Dorian was interested in, and once the pen was in his hand, that was obvious. Strokes of it, some obviously not to his liking, but most to it, came into being, until finally, some moments later, there was a rough equivalent of Klaus's face there, only slightly romanticized, and Dorian held it very closely to his chest, hugging it, pleased with himself.

He hadn't ever known the thief to be able to draw so well, but it only went to figure, Klaus guessed. "You want to draw?"

The fingers were back, pointing to him again -- you, you, you.

"You want to draw me?"

Yes, yes! Heinz watched as Dorian threw his head back and gave that eerie chortled laughter, curls spilling wildly all around him. "My God..."

It was a yes, then, and that didn't faze Klaus at all. "All right," he murmured, gently taking the pen from his companion. "You can."

Arms were flung about him again, kisses covering his face, that childish glee written all over Dorian's face. Oh, he was so happy!!

"After supper?" Klaus pressed gently, managing a smile that was genuine, before he started to kiss Dorian back. "Yes, you can draw whatever you like..."

With a sigh, Heinz shook his head, giving the saddest of smiles as he watched Klaus and Dorian. If Lucinda had lived, had been like this after the accident that killed her, could he have...? Of course, he decided morosely, shaking his head again. Of course. Poor things. Poor...

The door opened, and that caught Dorian's attention to it as Dominic wheeled in supper, a bit wobbly. Considering that he'd snagged knives and spoons instead of forks and spoons, it was obvious that the butler was more than a little drunk. "Dinner's served!"

Dorian's glee was something that Klaus calmed down, soothed until his companion was just cooing at him, petting. He wondered, momentarily, if he could eat with Dorian attached to him so, but decided that it would be easier to just feed both of them that way, considering.

"Here, move a little," Klaus whispered softly, shifting Dorian away from him just a little as Dominic swayed nearer.

"Soup -- don't spill anything!"

THAT would be a feat, indeed, for Dominic was near to spilling. God forbid that Klaus or Dorian take it from him! Still, Klaus managed, even when Dorian peeked over the bowl and then smiled at him with beautifully limpid blue eyes, mouth curving lightly.

"Uh..." Klaus handed Dorian the bowl after a moment's thought, taking the spoon Dominic held out, before taking his own bowl. "Got it, Dorian?"

With a nod, Dorian cradled his bowl carefully in his hands, noticing as he did that there was a pattern on the inside, something silvery, he thought. He began to tip it to see what was beneath the soup, but a hand gently stopped him and he looked up in curiosity.

"You must eat all of th' soup t' get to the picture," Heinz explained.

If that wasn't a way to coax Dorian to eat his food properly, Klaus had no idea what *would* work. He gave his father a grateful smile, then nodded in agreement. "'s pretty filigree work."

That seemed to be quite enough to entice Dorian to eat it, for he reached for a spoon and let Dominic put a napkin in his lap, beaming at both of the Eberbach men as he began to eat it. He was obviously pleased with himself, with them, with everything, for that smile did not fade in the least. No, it remained, right until he got to the bottom of the bowl, even as they ate close by, and when he saw that Klaus had been right, he gave that soft, eerie laughter again.

"Pretty?" Klaus asked him softly, still finishing his own. Dorian was happy, so what reason did he have to be so... so sad-feeling? On the other hand, what reason did he have to *not* be so very sorrowful? Dorian wasn't even Dorian anymore, was he? He loved him so, though, always would, and perhaps that hurt worst of all... that even though Dorian was happy, he wasn't himself, and it suddenly seemed awful. But he would give Dorian pretty things, and let him draw and do what he liked... and take it day by day, for as long as he could. He'd done that before, he could vaguely remember, and it had hurt him just as badly then, too... but there was nothing else for him to do. "Yes, it's very pretty," Klaus sighed, answering his own question, and setting down his bowl, with a little soup still in it.

After that, Dominic handed them plates, but the blond man only stared dumbfounded at it. He didn't want any of that stuff -- it all looked *bad*, not at all like Jell-O or any of the things he'd had in the hospital, and not so good or soft as soup and cake...

"It's meat," Klaus told him, picking up his own fork and spearing a little piece of the roast in demonstration. "'s good for you."

At that, Dorian shook his head firmly. No!

"Why not?"

That wasn't a yes-or-no question, though, and all it gained him was a wrinkling of the nose and Dorian's fingers plucking at it as if to say, 'but look at it'!

"Would you eat it if... it was pretty?" Heinz asked, watching them both. That seemed to require some thought on Dorian's part, but finally, he shrugged as if to say he would consider the matter.

"Dominic, will you bring some... bread in? Rye...?" Klaus asked hopefully -- the swirled stuff was best, because it was fresh usually, and soft, and Dorian would like the colors.

"'F course, Kla..er...ah..."

"Yes, Klaus, he will," Heinz finished for the drink-befuddled Dominic. "Hurry along. Bring something to put on the bread, too. To make a pattern, maybe."

Klaus offered the meat again, a little, then demonstrated that it was all right, by eating it off of his fork -- but if Dorian didn't want it, he couldn't and wouldn't force it. It seemed that he didn't, for Dorian smiled at him, patted his arm as if encouraging him to eat it, and then laughed softly. Well... it had been worth a shot.

"All right," Klaus murmured, chewing the slice of meat. "You'll eat the bread Dominic brings?" Dorian gave a smile and a nod, and a little kiss to the cheek. Yes. His companion picked up his plate, then, and, wielding his fork, shrugged, and started to eat. "As long as you do eat, Dorian..."

Chocolate cake hadn't been such a burden. After all, he *liked* sweet things, and he'd liked the soup and the things they had before. He was eating... that was okay, wasn't it?

Contemplatively, Heinz frowned. "D'you think he'd have been able to eat the meat, Klaus..?"

"I..." His son stilled, thoughtful for a long moment. "No, I don't think so."

"Then we'll have to come up with something else." We... yes, we... Heinz would not leave his only child alone to face such a terrible thing. He was a better man than *that*... "Beans and eggs and cheeses."

"Wh..." That Klaus had even *started* to ask why was a bit startling, but Klaus nodded to that after cutting himself short. Yes, for protein to stay healthy. "That, then." And perhaps broths and stock mixed into the soup.

None of that conversation even fazed Dorian. Indeed, his attention was fully and completely riveted upon Tyrian again, his mouth curved upward in pleasure when Dominic came back, a tray with sweet-smelling cinnamon bread upon it. "I thought p'rhaps he'd like this better," he expressed, nodding solemnly.

"'s a good idea," Heinz complimented, while Klaus looked at them both questioningly.

"You should go to bed -- you're both drunk."

"'m not..." His father hiccoughed. "Drunk!"

"*I* am," Dominic admitted, eyes nearly swirling, quite enough to draw strange laughter from Dorian. "I am *VERY* drunk!"

"Then sit down," Klaus said reasonably, as he took the plate and offered the bread to Dorian a bit more intently so he'd actually eat it.

"Oh, thank *hic* goodness," Dominic sighed, setting himself down firmly as Dorian took the cinnamon bread from Klaus and began to eat, humming softly to himself in enjoyment. It tasted very good, and he gave them all a white toothed smile.

Sure that Dorian was eating, Klaus decided to finish his supper -- no matter how unappetizing Dorian thought it was. Then... then he'd find Dorian a pencil, and paper, and let the thief draw all that he wanted.


There was something wrong -- something most distinctly *wrong*.

It had been weeks since they had come home, weeks of snuggling and being held and being prettily kissed. Klaus had bought him colored pencils and crayons and he had a plethora of things in a lovely room at the east end of the Schloss. The morning light came in, and he drew and drew, but...

Something was wrong.

Oh, no one would *tell* him what was wrong; he'd already figured out that. No, they looked at him with sorrow in their eyes, looked at him with those expressions half horrified, and he knew somehow that these looks, these glances, were caused by him. If only he could say why...

He couldn't, though, and then there was Klaus. His Klaus seemed so tired, so miserable, and his smiles were all pretend smiles, as if that would somehow make Dorian feel better. They had lost in their ability to do that, especially once Dorian had figured out that they were false smiles, only meant to cover some unknown edged misery...

And then the little crying thing had come.

Dorian had been glad to see him -- he had brought the rainbow catcher, he recalled -- but he had sobbed and sobbed and begged for him to come back to himself, and Klaus had taken him away and shouted at him and then the little crying thing hadn't come back again.

Obviously, Dorian decided, something must be wrong with *him*.

He couldn't understand what was wrong, though -- only the bare fact that something was. Sometimes, his pictures drew a little smile from Klaus, and sometimes Klaus kissed him and it felt *strong*, and sometimes... Sometimes Klaus locked himself in the bathroom. Sometimes Dorian could swear that Klaus was crying, or who knew what, but Klaus usually made sure that Dorian was somewhere away from where he was going, and eating, or drawing, or playing with flowers, or looking at something.

Sadly, Dorian couldn't deny that his painting man and the little crying thing were being hurt by him. So. There was something wrong with him, and it must be bad, terribly bad, if both Klaus and his little crying thing were so constantly bombarded with it...

How could he fix it, though, if no one would tell him what it was?

Determined, he snuck past Klaus's guard late one afternoon and headed to the kitchens. Today was a bathroom day for Klaus, so it wasn't difficult to sneak by and get down there to talk to the old bald butler. HE would tell him what was wrong with him, surely?

The old butler was alternating between mulling through a stack of recipes, and seeing what needed to be bought for the kitchens to restock the pantry when Dorian tapped him on the shoulder with the top of his pen, trying to get his attention. It made the old man jump with a yell of, "Good God!", a sound that brought the strange, silvery laughter the staff was becoming accustomed to hearing.

"Oh, it's just you Lord Gloria," Dominic uttered, calming once he'd seen locks of blond hair and Dorian's smiling face. "Is there something wrong?"

At those words, the smile faded away, Dorian lightly pointing his pen to the little pad where he'd written earlier. /What's wrong with me?/

"What..." Dominic looked at the pad of paper partly in shock, then at Dorian. "Well, it's.... hard to say."

A pause, paper pad pressed to palm, the scritch of pen sounding loudly in sudden silence. /*SAY*. No one else will tell. Must know. Klaus unhappy.../

"Master Klaus is unhappy, because... because he remembers things that you can't, Lord Gloria. You can't remember how things used to be... different. You used to be... brilliant, and so was Klaus."

Oh, how terrible it was to see the sudden gleam of wetness rise in the glimmering blue of that grown man's eyes, Dorian's lower lip trembling as he wrote once again. /Fix it?/

"We.... can't, really," Dominic murmured quietly. "Klaus's father is thinking about therapy, but... he isn't sure it'd work at all, for the two of you." Oh, he hated to see Lord Gloria cry...

Grimly, words sprawled out over paper again. /*MUST* fix. Must. Klaus unhappy. Wrong with *me*. Must fix. Must!/

"It's just that... he used to be able to talk with you and now..." Dorian trailed off. "You're writing -- you weren't writing before. Does he know that?"

At that, Dorian tilted his head to the side, frowned. /Crying,/ he wrote. /He's crying. Drawing makes him unhappy./

The startlement on the old butler's face grew twofold now. "He's crying...?" That was such an *ODD* thought to have, yet... yet Dorian was telling it to him, and the thief had no reason to lie. "Why would he cry because you were drawing?"

Dorian gave a delicate shrug. He didn't understand why Klaus was crying, only he was, and surely it must be because whatever was wrong with Dorian should be fixed. If only he knew how...

"I'll tell Heinz..." The butler sighed, "and we'll come up with something that might make him feel better, all right?"

/Fix me. Make it better. Make it right. Klaus is unhappy... little crying thing, unhappy./

"Yes, Lord Gloria. Why don't you help Klaus stop crying? Write to him. Write. He can't read minds, and it might help him." Dominic was getting a taste of what was probably driving Klaus to his wits' ends, and he was suppressing the urge to shoo Dorian out of his peaceful domain.

/Will that fix it?/ Dorian's expression was most intense. /Will that make it all right, Klaus and the crying thing?/

"It won't hurt any," he was told gently.

Oh, how stubborn that made Dorian feel! /Don't want to not hurt! Want to *fix*!/

"I don't know how to *fix* you, Dorian -- you're a different person from the one who used to rush into my kitchen, making demands and jokes before rushing off!" Dominic snapped softly.

Oh, how terribly that affected him, tears growing and spilling over as he gripped his notepad to him tightly and *sniffed*, audibly *sniffed*, before making a little hiccough sound and turning to run out of the kitchen with it still clutched tightly against his chest!!

"Lord Gloria!" The butler startled, starting after the younger man. "It wasn't meant that way!"

Even not quite right, even without his tongue, Dorian was fast, and he wasn't stupid. His legs quickly took him away from Dominic, who had to stop to catch his breath. By the time the old man had it back again, he was gone -- gone and safely tucked away in a little hiding place in the library, where he could look at Tyrian and cry silently. /I'm all wrong. I'm all wrong and it can't be fixed!/

Or if it could be fixed, it would be hard to do!

But there was one problem that the butler had half-said -- that he had *used* to be different, and Klaus was missing that. That meant that he was making Klaus unhappy. *That* meant that he wasn't going to be happy himself, a terribly vicious cycle. How could he be happy if Klaus wasn't happy? So he just *had* to be fixed! Why, oh, *why*, why couldn't anyone tell him how!?! But he surely wouldn't get any help there, looking at the painting -- maybe Klaus could help?

That brought him crawling out of hiding and sent him towards the stairs, the sounds of the household's frantic searching lost around him as he headed up towards their room. Klaus would know what was wrong with him! He could tell him how to fix it! He'd only have to ask Klaus, of course!

While he'd been gone, though, Klaus had come out of the bathroom, and was assailed with guilt that Dorian had disappeared while he'd been... been being miserable. He was supposed to watch over Dorian! So when Dorian was opening the bedroom door, Klaus was opening it, too, to step out.

The way that mouth rounded out into an 'o' would have been adorable months before, even more so when Dorian stepped backwards, tripped, and promptly fell upon his bottom. Instead, it intensified Klaus's guilt to see Dorian looking up at him, pen and pad scattered, blue eyes wide.

"I'm sorry, sorry -- where were you? You ran off on me and I was worried," Klaus murmured as he moved forwards, ignoring scattered pen and paper to kneel beside Dorian and make sure he was all right.

How Dorian smiled at him, sweetly, so very pleased to see him, and instead of gathering his pen and paper, he reached his arms up to wrap them around Klaus's neck, hiding tear-stained face against his throat.

/Always, always the same,/ Klaus couldn't help but think, closing his eyes. Yes, now Dorian wanted to be held, and Klaus's worry would have to work itself off on its own, because Dorian would do nothing more than shrug, or nod his head yes or no. No real answer, no real communication, just... yes, no, maybe or don't care. And Dorian demanding that cuddling, light contact that Klaus only sometimes wanted. More often, he was finding, he wanted more, and he wasn't even about to try. "I'm sorry -- you shouldn't wonder off..."

"Lord Gloria!" It was a frantic yell, Dominic clutching at his heart at the end of the hallway. "Oh, THERE you are!! He was lost..."

"I've got him again," Klaus murmured, gathering his companion close, gently so, though he didn't get to his feet yet. "Sorry. Sorry."

"I yelled at him," Dominic admitted breathlessly, guiltily, still clutching at his chest. "We've all been looking for him.."

"Don't yell at him, Dominic. Do you understand? You *don't* yell at Dorian," Klaus muttered, frowning deeper. "Why did you yell at him?"

"He... was writing..." the butler murmured, seating himself in a very convenient chair. His breathing was once again caught, slowly but surely. "He wants to be fixed and I don't know how.."

"Writing?" Klaus seemed less startled than his did *overjoyed*, and he pulled back a little from Dorian, grey-green eyes lit up for the first time in the longest time. "You're writing ?"

THAT brought Dorian's attention back to his pad and pen and he clutched them up from the floor, waving it around wildly before he gave it to Klaus, expression hopeful.

Hopeful for what, though.... Klaus couldn't tell until he looked over Dorian's series of notes. "F-fix you...?"

Dorian nodded quickly, fingers pointing to the page. /Fix me. Fix me, you're unhappy.../

"Fix... you how, Dorian?" his companion asked softly, swallowing. So Dorian knew... well, the Earl would have had to have been stupid to not know. "It's not like you're some.... broken toy. You're human, Dorian, and you've changed. I... I'm the one who can't adjust to this all."

No, no, no, no, no! That nod changed to a negative shake, Dorian frowning at him. /I want to be fixed! I want to know what's wrong! Something is *wrong*!/

"Dorian, why... why don't we talk about this in our room?"

'Fix me,' those lips formed, eyes pleading. 'Fix me, fix me...!'

"Fix what? Fix how? Dorian, I don't know what or exactly *HOW* we've changed, I can't undo it!"

'You know what's wrong!' Oh, that was accusation, pure and simple. 'You know!'

"You're.... you're like a child now, Dorian, and I'm... not much better sometimes, but... you're different..." Klaus was careful, as he said it, to keep Dorian close.

'Fix it,' Dorian pleaded, tears rising sharply. 'Fix it, fix it, fix it.'

"Calm down first," Klaus pleaded softly. "Don't cry... we can.... we can color...." That was quite the distraction, tears drying up reluctantly.

"I... have new books, downstairs," Dominic offered heavily.

"Thank you," Klaus murmured softly, hugging Dorian close and closing his eyes again. "Okay, Dorian? And maybe you'll write?"

With promises of coloring, how could he not agree? With a sigh, Dorian nodded solemnly, stroking Klaus's arms slowly. He would go color, and perhaps write, and even if that didn't make himself feel better, maybe it would make his dark-haired beautiful artwork man happy...

"Dorian.... please, please, write something," Klaus murmured as he stood, pulling Dorian gently to his feet. "Anything."

With a sigh, Dorian stood, pen in hand, and seemed to consider it for a moment. The ball point sprawled slowly across the paper, blue eyes looking at him solemnly as he held up his paper.

Dorian loves his Klaus.

It was enough to melt the German man who stood beside him, and Klaus jerked him near in a fierce -- no, not hug. Kiss. He'd gone too long without being told that, too long without such sentiment. It didn't seem to faze Dorian at all; kisses were not bad things, by any means, though they would have been quite strange if they'd progressed past softly opening mouths pressing to one another carefully.

"Well," Dominic sighed, dragging himself to standing. "I suppose I had ought to go drag out the coloring books, then..." He'd been used to such things *before* it had happened, more than Heinz ever had; so to see Dorian and Klaus kissing for no apparent reason wasn't such a shock. It was best for him to simply move on and get the coloring books while it was still on his mind. "

"Thank you," Klaus whispered when he broke the kiss. "Thank you, Dorian... I love you, too."

THAT seemed to have made up entirely for Klaus's time spent locked in the bathroom, seemed to have made him happy, too, and that helped Dorian's own mood. A little light tugging, a smile, and Dorian was pulling him towards the stairs to follow Dominic.

"You can write instead of talking, Dorian -- not being able to talk hasn't taken that from you," Klaus smiled, glad that Dorian *was* writing! Ohh, a shitty day looked better just from having Dorian write four short words.

Those words gained him nuzzles and a tighter clenching of fingers on pad and pen as they made their way down, Dorian pausing to tilt his head and look at Klaus curiously. 'But what's wrong...' he mouthed slowly. 'What can I do to make it right?'

"You don't act the way you used to. You're.... younger, almost," Klaus sighed.

Determined, Dorian nodded. /I'll act different. I'll find a way. Maybe.../ He bit his lip. No, he wanted to go and color. Would coloring mean he wasn't acting right?

And would Klaus tell him as much if it meant that? Also, Klaus never colored with Dorian. He just watched, claiming no skill at it or drawing. What he did like to do...

Well, the last time Dorian had seen him with a gun, the panic that had ensued had made Klaus lock them all away again, and they hadn't been touched since. There was really nothing left for Klaus but Dorian and reading, and it was hard to read when he couldn't concentrate.

With a little sigh, the blond man gently patted his hand as they continued downward. /Oh, well.../ Perhaps if Dominic and Klaus wouldn't tell him, Father would.

Father was not *his* father -- he understood that. Father was Klaus's father, but he was Father all the same. Perhaps Father could help him figure these things out or something. Dominic and Klaus were so obviously upset by them that he wouldn't ask them again, he thought.

He didn't DARE to ask the little crying thing.

The little crying thing, after all, would just cry harder, and then he and Klaus might get into a fight, and then everyone was in a miserable mood.

"Do you want all of the crayons, or only some?"

That brilliant, gleaming smile was accompanied by a wide sweep of Dorian's arms -- ALL!! He wanted all of them, tons and tons of colors, hundreds of crayons!!

That made Klaus perk up a bit more, the sheer flamboyance of such a gesture, even if it was over just crayons. Years before, it would have been.... been something, something else. He couldn't quite grasp what, though, and that... was something he didn't know how to fix about himself, either. "Okay. Go into the library, and I'll get your crayons."

They parted ways at the foot of the stairs, Dorian moving almost regally towards the library. Dominic was already there when he arrived, waiting with several lovely coloring books -- mostly pictures made of blown-up scenes from girls' comics, for Heinz had searched far and wide for things Dorian would find *pretty*, and when he could not find anything pretty enough, he'd *made* a few. What delight there was in flipping through those pages, sparkles and flowers and lovely smiling boys and girls everywhere!

All pages with simple black lines, a little shading; all pages waiting to be colored with his caring hands. The clothes, in particular, he liked to make as many colors as possible, all sorts of patterns. Sometimes, a particularly outrageous combination would make Klaus laugh, and that was what he wanted to have happen. "Do you like them?"

The way he gathered them close and hugged them to him said as much, cheek pressed to the book on top -- something Heinz had bound up himself, the old man taking some trouble to do it, to perhaps make Dorian happy as he would have done if it had been his own beloved, for he clearly felt for his son. The books had been sent from America. For all that Heinz preferred all things German, he was looking for the *best* psychologists, and the ones that he had spoken to in Europe had all sent him on a search for one man, a fellow from New York that perhaps, just perhaps...

But even perhaps was better than *nothing*, wasn't it?

There was just the matter of getting him to come over, because Dominic truly doubted that Dorian and Klaus could handle a trans-Atlantic trip in an airplane.

"I'm glad you like them -- I'll tell Heinz as much, right now..."

That brought Dorian's eyes brightly to bear, his face lighting up. /Father? I could ask Father!/

"Will you be all right here until Klaus brings you your crayons?" Dominic pressed gently, edging towards the door.

Dorian nodded, but his curiosity was still piqued. 'Father?' he mouthed. 'Now?'

"Uh, yes -- I was just going to go talk to him.... on the phone, since he's in New York right now?"

Oh, that sounded quite odd, and so Dorian simply shrugged, shook his head. If that was the case, it wasn't as if *he* could talk to Father, after all. He had forgotten entirely that Father was gone, but now...

Now he was too aware of it. It was just he, Klaus, Dominic.... well, and the rest of the staff, who knew well enough to stay OUT of their way! "I'll say hello to him for you."

"I've got crayons," Klaus purred, opening the door and slipping in, the big box James had bought borne high.

Applause, enraptured, scattered from Dorian's way, and he waved his books prettily to Klaus to show him what he had gotten. Perhaps, just this once, Klaus *would* like to color with him. They were so nice, after all...

"Can I join you today...?" Klaus asked, sitting down on the floor beside Dorian, cross-legged, setting the box on the table in front of Dorian. That was Dominic's cue to leave, it seemed, because he slipped out.

THAT made Dorian even more ecstatic, and he leaned forward, kissing Klaus delightedly at the mere thought. How magnificent! It *was* going to be a very good day, after all!

"I'll take that as a yes," Klaus smiled as he flipped the cardboard lid off of the box, and grabbed a careful handful.

Yes, yes, yes and *yes*, actually, Dorian rapidly turning through pages to find Klaus a *pretty* picture, the best kind, with lots of little sparkles and two adorable young men standing side by side. He pointed to it, then pointed to Klaus hopefully.

"Hmn, you want me to color that...?" /Or tell you that you used to smile *that* way, with thought or teasing behind it, not.... like now./

To see the smile on Klaus's face visibly becoming forced stilled Dorian's own, no pretense possible as he looked at him, brows drawing together sadly. A deep breath was taken and let out as a sigh, and his fingers moved to gently stroke Klaus's face. /I'm sorry I'm so wrong. I'm sorry I make you unhappy. If I can't fix it.../

If he couldn't fix it, perhaps he needed to go away. Maybe Father would help...

"I'm sorry, Dorian," Klaus sighed softly, as he shifted closer, turning his head to kiss those fingers. "I just... I'll color for you, Dorian. With you. I like that sometimes, and today..."

Leaning forward, Dorian pressed his mouth slowly, comfortingly, to Klaus's, hands drifting down to his shoulders. It hurt. It hurt awfully, knowing that Klaus's unhappiness was his fault, all his fault...

"Dorian... Dorian," Klaus sighed, breaking the kiss softly. "Not so... not that way, Dorian. It'll make me want to do something you don't want to."

The question was written all over Dorian's expression -- do what? What could Klaus do that he wouldn't want to do, when it was Klaus? He liked to feel good, he liked color...

"It's... sex."

Just the *word* upset Dorian, a breathless sound stealing from him, a garbled sob as he shook his head and began to tremble. /No, no, no, NO!/ Klaus wouldn't do that terrible bad thing to him! He wouldn't, he wouldn't, he wouldn't...!!!

"Dorian, Dorian..." Ohhh, he shouldn't have even said it!! Klaus leaned near, expression tight as he grasp Dorian's shoulder gently. "*Dorian*, it's not as bad as what happened then!"

Oh, Klaus did, Klaus DID mean that terrible thing, and Dorian couldn't bear to think about it, mind scattering, remembering, remembering, so many, so many, so much pain, no, no, no...! His head shook wildly, entire body trembling in Klaus's hold, the wild sounds he made utterly terrified.

"I'm sorry, Dorian, please calm down," Klaus pleaded. "It just wasn't so bad before that -- you used to beg me for that!" And now, now, he'd gone into complete hysterics over the mere mention of it.

Arms went around him despite the fact that he had asked Dorian for such a thing, despite the fact that Dorian couldn't bear it. Oh, it hurt him terribly to think about the awful things, images of them screaming through his head, but Klaus was his only source of comfort. What else could he do?

"I'm so sorry... I won't ever mention it again," Klaus shivered, closing his eyes tight as he started to rock Dorian gently. Once he calmed Dorian down again, they'd color -- it was hard to believe that he was actually looking forward to doing that, but it was *something*!

It seemed that Dorian would *never* calm, his whole body shaking wildly against Klaus for the longest time. Even when the tears stopped, that feral trembling didn't, and one look at Dorian's face said much. Those memories, those awful thoughts, all running unbearably in his mind...

"They did that to.... to me, too, Dorian," Klaus told his companion. "I know it was bad. But you can't let them win."

The tears came again, then, and he pressed himself tiredly to Klaus, sobbing in mindless agony, coloring books all forgotten, even his crayons gone from his thoughts.

That was the hard part for Klaus -- staying strong for Dorian, just and only for Dorian. "Dorian...." What could he say? His heart was caught high in his throat, yet he was able to move -- one hand threading gently through Dorian's hair, stroking slowly against the blond's scalp. "I love you, Dorian. You don't have to be afraid of me."

Finally, oh, finally, exhaustion stilled that weeping, Dorian a heavy weight against him, face pressed to his shoulder. Hiccoughing breaths stilled into evenness, and Dorian was gone from him into sleep -- a relief.

When he woke up, Dorian probably -- hopefully -- wouldn't remember it! /I do love you, still,/ Klaus thought sadly, cradling Dorian a fraction closer, and reaching out with one hand for a coloring book. Something to look at until Dorian woke up...


With a sigh, Heinz abandoned the car and began to stump tiredly up the front steps. It had been a tiring trip -- rewarding, but exhausting. He had gotten the psychiatrist he wanted to agree to coming to Germany, to at least *talk* to Klaus and Dorian, and he was quite pleased with himself.

It surprised him immensely when the front door flung itself open and blond hair flung itself at him, arms going around him even as he stiffened with shock, prepared to fall over with the force of that gathering, but Dorian didn't let him, simply clinging most tightly to him before waving a pad and pen around in front of him.

/Fix it fix it fix me!/ he thought. /Father is *home*!/ Oh, and if Father was home, maybe Klaus would stop crying so...

"What is it, Dorian?" His temper had fallen over the years, and now faced with Dorian, who was almost like having a puppy, he was patient.

The pad was brought up, writing scrawling quickly across it. 'Fix me, fix me, fix me! Klaus unhappy, crying, *wrong* with me... fix me, Father!'

"I'll try to, soon..." Heinz answered before he'd really thought about any of it. "Fix what exactly, Dorian? And, Klaus is crying?" THAT wasn't a good sign at all...

Dorian, shrugged, smiled at him. He didn't know, he just didn't know. 'No one,' he wrote, 'will say what's wrong with me. All Klaus does is cry...' Perhaps not *all*, but it was often enough that Dorian was *aware* of it now, and it hurt him to know that it was all his fault. It made sleeping together uncomfortable, particularly since...

Well.

He wouldn't think about *that*.

"What's wrong with you... Why don't I get a cup of cocoa fixed for you and we'll... talk in my study?" Heinz said in a softly worried tone. It never seemed to stop...

Oh, he'd KNOWN Father would tell him, and his face lit up with the hope that the chocolate would be good, and that Father would *know*...! He scribbled as they walked. 'I can't keep making Klaus cry. If upset Klaus, what use am I? Must fix.'

"When does Klaus start... crying?" Heinz asked, as they walked towards the kitchen for the moment. He'd never thought of his son as someone to cry -- even when he'd been a very small child, he'd *seldom* ever shed a tear!

'When I kiss him. When he hides in the bathroom. When he wants the bad thing.'

"Bad thing? And he's been hiding in the bathroom?" Heinz felt more and more distressed, as he peeked into the kitchen and snapped at a young man for a cup of coffee and a cup of hot chocolate to be brought to his study.

Dorian continued scribbling as Father moved out of the kitchen. 'The bad thing. The bad thing that happened.'

"Klaus would never hurt you, Dorian," Heinz murmured in a low tone as he turned, and walked down the hall towards his study. "Never. It.... it's normal for people your age to be interested in that."

'But it's bad!' Dorian wrote, pointing at it. 'That's one of the wrong-with me-things, isn't it? Fix me!'

"There's a doctor coming in a couple of days, Dorian, who's going to try to... 'fix' both of you. But you've been getting better. You started writing while I was gone!"

At that, Dorian shrugged slightly, smiled a little before his mouth turned under, concentration upon his face. 'Had to. Klaus unhappy. Need to fix. If not fix, if me, no use.'

"Where's Klaus now, Dorian...?" He had to ask it, as he paused to open his study door and step in.

'Bathroom,' Dorian wrote. 'Crying.'

"Will you stay here and drink your cocoa, while I go get him...?" This was his duty to deal with, more than Dominic's, and as long as he was willing to use his control, he was the best man to deal with his two... well, one was his child, and the other may as well have been.

Dorian nodded as the young man who'd been instructed to bring coffee and cocoa entered the room silently. Dominic was old enough to need help, and a nephew had been found to begin learning his duties, not that he would ever truly *retire*. /Yes, Father,/ Dorian decided, reaching for his cup.

No verbal answer, though the gesture was taken as a yes, and Heinz nodded, starting out of the study and up the stairs.

Klaus was, just as Dorian had said, ensconced in the bathroom, because the door was closed and locked. No sounds, but...

"Klaus?" Heinz asked quietly. "Klaus, it's your father. I've come home..."

"F.... Father?" Klaus's voice was a little muffled, but he could be heard moving again, and soon the knob of the door turned, opening inward. Klaus looked.... ragged, with dark circles under his eyes from not sleeping enough, and a listless expression.

"Klaus..." Oh, how shocking to see his son look so old, so tired, and despite everything, he reached out and pulled him close. "Dorian," he whispered quietly so as not to startle or alarm Klaus, "said that you were upset. I came to look for you."

Klaus didn't cling to the old man the way Dorian had -- more, he touched tentatively, barely at all even though Heinz had pulled his son close. "I'm sorry. I just... can't... I can't deal with it anymore. I'm sorry."

"Shhhh," Heinz soothed. "Shhh. There is a man coming. I found someone to try and help, Klaus. I will try to make these things right..." Oh, but what if he couldn't? "Perhaps I should take one of you on a trip for a few days. Perhaps you, so that you might relax..."

"I can't... I can't leave him," Klaus murmured. But it was killing him to *stay* there, doing the same thing day in and day out, rotting there... "I need him, so I can't leave..."

"Just for a few days," Heinz murmured. "Just long enough to relax..." He couldn't bear to see his strong son break down so terribly, unable to carry the sheer burden thrust upon him.

"I can't... I can't sleep without him, and he's been panicking when I get near the bed with him, now, so..." So sitting on the floor at night was restless, sitting up and watching Dorian, waiting until the blond man was in deep sleep so that he, too, could slip under the covers. /Calm, calm down.../ Otherwise he'd just start crying again, and he didn't want to get his father's jacket wet.

The morbid thought that it would have been better if Dorian had died crossed Heinz's mind once again and was immediately struck from it. "I'll talk with him," he murmured, petting through the dark strands of hair now laced with silver, gently soothing Klaus, knowing that he needed it. "I'll talk with him about it..."

"He... he barely listens to me anymore, doesn't.... do anything but color and smile..." And sometimes writes to him, but seldom saw the need for it. "I know... that I've changed, but..."

"Shhhh," his father murmured, sighing. "Lay down. Rest a while. *I* will watch him. I will speak to him..."

"N-no, I can't sleep *without* him," Klaus murmured tensely. "Tried to. The nightmares..."

With a sigh, Heinz gave in. Perhaps drugging them both for sleep would help. "All right, Klaus. Dorian is downstairs, and I need to speak with him, but... I also needed to see you..."

"Now, or...?" Klaus wasn't sure if that was a dismissal or not, so he always found it better to ask, as he pulled slowly back from his father, still miserable-looking.

"You may come with me if you wish," Heinz murmured, lightly petting Klaus's back, tender with him. He thought that perhaps Klaus wouldn't like to hear what might pass between Dorian and himself, but how could he deny him that right?

It would have been hard to do, mentally, though easy in action -- just tell Klaus anything, and he would do it if he thought it would keep stress down. Though he knew that he'd be with Dorian again, and that his companion knew he'd been crying... /I can do this. Like I always do.../ Dorian had been panicky and hysterical around him so often of late, and to be around just *that* was exhausting on his nerves. "I.... I guess I will."

"If you don't wish to, I can have Dominic make you some coffee and a sandwich, Klaus," Heinz told him. "You don't have to do anything you don't *wish* to do, son."

"I.... I'll have lunch in the kitchen, while you.... talk with him?" Then he wouldn't be too far away, but it would be a littler respite.

"That sounds perfectly acceptable," he was assured, Heinz patting his shoulder again reassuringly. "Let's go downstairs, hm? Dominic made a cake, just the kind you like, with cinnamon and no frosting..." He'd spoken with the other man on the way home from the airport, stopping the process of cake-making for a short time.

"All right," Klaus sighed, finally pulling away from all but the hand on his shoulder. "How.... how was your trip?"

"Successful," Heinz informed solemnly. "The man I want to come and see both of you will be arriving within a few days. Perhaps...he can help..."

"How?" Klaus wanted to know how, while Dorian wanted to know the more simple *what*.

"I don't know yet," his father admitted on the breath of a sigh as they headed for the door. "I don't know, but perhaps soon we will."

"He won't want to separate us, will he? Because I won't let that happen," Klaus uttered as they left the bedroom.

His father's head was already shaking. "No," he promised. "He won't separate you. *I* won't allow that..." If only because he truly thought it would destroy both of them, and he couldn't bear it, not his son..

"Good. What are you going to talk with Dorian about?" That was tentatively asked, as if Heinz would tell him he couldn't be told.

"He... wants to know what is wrong with him," Heinz replied gently. "I am going to try to tell him, and try to explain a few other things..." Like sex, which should be quite the fiasco.

"All right. If he needs to be calmed down... I'll be in the kitchen." Part hiding, and part trying to keep himself comfortable and calm.

"I hope it will all be better, soon," Heinz murmured just before they parted at the bottom of the stairs. "Perhaps..."

"Perhaps...?"

"Perhaps when I talk to him, things will be better..." his father suggested firmly. "For now, have your coffee and cake. *I* will take care of things."

And Klaus didn't even bother to question that his father could -- because if anyone could do it, it was Heinz, he knew. One last nod, and he made his way down the hall towards the kitchen.

/This is going to be hard,/ the old man thought seriously, before turning back towards the study.

Bright blue eyes attached to him when he came back in, pen pausing over paper. Dorian had begun doodling once again in his boredom, adorable little caricatures of Heinz that would have been quite funny, *beforehand*.

Now it was odd, and a reminder of Dorian's lingering childishness. "Did you like your cocoa?" Heinz asked as he stepped in and closed the door behind him.

A nod answered him firmly, Dorian waved his empty mug around and smiled. /Hello again, Father!/ he thought happily, picking up his paper and flipping to a blank page.

"I got Klaus out of the bathroom.... He's in the kitchen having a little cake and probably a lot of coffee. You haven't been letting him sleep with you...?"

Oh, how guilty Dorian looked then, his face darkening, eyes beginning to water. How could he, when Klaus wanted the *bad thing*? He was so afraid... 'Bad thing,' he wrote. 'Klaus wants bad *thing*.'

Heinz sat down across from Dorian, behind his desk, nodding. "Sex, you mean? Dorian, all human beings do it."

'But it's BAD!!! It *HURTS*!' Those tears spilled over wildly. Oh, Father wouldn't understand, either!

"Dorian, calm down... It did..." He could feel his face flush out of embarrassment and pity for both Dorian and his son, for just a moment -- twice it had happened! "It hurt because it was bad people doing it to you. People who weren't your loved one, people who wanted to hurt you."

Shaking fingers came up, brushing away tears. 'But Father!' he wrote. 'Why does Klaus want to do that? Is that what's wrong with me?'

"Klaus... doesn't want to hurt you, Dorian. It's something that... feels very..." It was hard to think of his son having sex with another man, let alone trying to instruct Dorian in its ways. "Very good between two people who love each other."

'Is that what's wrong with me, Father?'

"That you don't want to...?" Heinz asked for clarification.

'That I make Klaus unhappy,' was the tearful revelation.

"Klaus is unhappy because he doesn't know what to do," Heinz answered after a moment. "It isn't entirely you."

'What should *I* do. Fix me!' Oh, it was a tearful imploration, expression begging, pleading for help! 'If I let Klaus do the *bad thing*, will that fix me?'

"You shouldn't do that, Dorian, if you won't enjoy it," Heinz murmured. "That would only make it worse for both of you."

'Will it make Klaus happy?'

"It... it might," Heinz had to say truthfully. "If he could make you happy that way, it definitely would."

How pale Dorian had become, how cringing and fearful! 'If it will make Klaus happy...' He wrote. 'Anything. Anything, for Klaus happy.'

"You'd have to be happy with it, too," Heinz chided. "I don't think you're ready for that. Why don't you try... don't think of it as a Bad thing. Think of it as something that won't happen again until you *ask* Klaus specifically."

Well, Father *still* hadn't said just what was wrong with him, but... he *had* pointed him in the direction of making Klaus happy, so... 'But Father, *what* is *wrong* with me, that I make Klaus so unhappy?'

"You...." Heinz hesitated, sitting back in his chair. "You spend a lot of time hysterical. If you could calm down, I think he could calm down, and you'd all be happier."

Oh, and that made Dorian feel worse, because it *was* all his fault that Klaus stayed in the bathroom and cried! He had *known* it was, of course, but he had hoped that it was not, and Father's words made him tremble, made the tears fall again even as he nodded, filled with strange guilt and shame.

"Dorian..." A hand tapped lightly beside his pad of paper, as Heinz leaned forwards. "He's trying his best to be strong for you, but it's not enough. If you could try to be strong, too, then it would be easier on both of you."

Face down, the sparkling cascade of tears continued, accompanied soon by hitched breaths and soft sounds of weeping, even though Dorian nodded his agreement. Oh, Father was right, it was all his fault, *all* his fault! 'Klaus,' he wrote finally with shaking hands, 'better off without me'.

"No, he isn't." Heinz was firm in that, saying it to Dorian firmer than he'd been thinking it earlier. "No, he isn't. He told me that he can't be without you, do you know that? He does love you, Dorian..."

Love Klaus, love Klaus... 'Love Klaus. *Hurt* Klaus. If hurt Klaus, no good!'

"You're not hurting him. He just misses things, like the work he used to do with you. But his legs..." Well, that and his mental state prevented him from working anymore. But no need to emphasize what was obvious to Heinz.

'So. Stop crying, stop... stop upset, do bad thing, this make Klaus happy?'

"Stop crying, stop upset, and I think the rest would follow," Heinz murmured, nodding. "It would help. He's been avoiding you because he doesn't want to get you going again. He looks like he hasn't slept all week."

Oh, how guilty he felt! 'Anything, make Klaus happy,' he promised, so miserable he could have just died. Oh, Father had told him, and it was just awful! *EVERYTHING* was wrong with him!

"If you say so," Heinz sighed. "How did you like those coloring books?"

'Pretty,' Dorian wrote listlessly, fingers going still afterwards, gaze captured by the floor.

"Dorian... don't go out to try to make Klaus happy directly. It would never work. He's happy when you are, and when you're sad, he is, too. So make him feel better by being happy again."

Nodding, Dorian rose, face damp, fingers brushing away tears. He nodded, and then he walked away from Father, sighing deeply. All his fault, all of it. Poor Klaus, poor poor Klaus, to put up with him so. Oh, he felt bad and sleepy...

"Do you need something, Dorian...?"

Nap. He needed a nap, that was just what he needed, and if he was going to let Klaus do the bad thing to him, perhaps he should nap *with* Klaus, now... he only had to tell Heinz, and it would be done, turn away from the wall he was near...

Turning, he sniffed, mouthed the word. 'Nap.' Then, maybe his head would stop throbbing, too...

Or maybe something worse would, then!

"Do you want me to get Klaus...?" Heinz murmured, getting to his feet gradually.

The soft, miserable sound Dorian gave seemed to be agreement, his mouth turned down in an unhappy little moue.

"What's wrong, Dorian?" Klaus's father asked quietly as he walked towards Dorian, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. With a sigh, the former thief turned and hugged him, holding onto him for a moment before pulling away to write.

'Was hoping it wasn't me making Klaus so unhappy.'

"It's everything, Dorian," Heinz murmured softly, patting the earl's shoulder lightly. "It's only you, though, that can make him happy."

'Will try,' Dorian decided, biting his lip. 'Will make Klaus happy, one way or other...' Even if it meant going away, a horrific thought that made him want to cry again.

"There's only one way," Heinz murmured softly, guiding them both towards the door. "Staying here and helping." That gained a slow nod from Dorian, almost ashamed due to his thoughts of only a moment prior. "Why don't the two of you nap in the library? Klaus would probably like a fire... Wouldn't that be relaxing?"

Relaxing, and Klaus maybe wouldn't want to do the bad thing just yet, especially if Father or Dominic would likely walk into the room! Dorian nodded, smiled a little tiredly, and waved a hand as if to say that sounded perfectly all right to him.

"I'll have Dominic leave your crayons and coloring books on the table in there, too," Heinz went on, leading him down the hall towards the kitchen. "And that'd be nice, hmn?"

Dorian nodded even as they stepped into the kitchen, his expression turning shy as he saw Klaus seated at the table there. The dark-haired man was eating cake, and he looked so tired... /My fault.../

Klaus heard them come in, though, and looked up. "Dorian...?" Klaus asked quietly, setting down his fork. "Would you, uhm, like some cake...?"

Watching as Dorian moved forward and sat down beside Klaus, Heinz nearly sighed with tension relief. "I'm going to make a fire in the library and get Dominic to lay down a pallet. Dorian wants a nap in there with you, Klaus."

"Oh! I'd...." Klaus swallowed the piece he'd had at the back of his mouth, nodding. "I'd like that! Thank you." And then he looked to Dorian, expression still as grateful as he let one hand slip to rub gently over Dorian's back. "Thanks."

That was soothing, not at all reminiscent of that other thing, and Dorian smiled at him, still more than a little worried, but worried now for Klaus instead of himself.

Klaus offered his fork to Dorian, still smiling gently. "Want some?"

Heinz watched for a moment as Klaus and Dorian shared cake before turning away and setting out for the library and to speak to Dominic. Just as well to go ahead and get that out of the way and, to tell the truth, it hurt to look at his son and the blond man that way.


It was three days later that the doorbell rang, lightly, signaling a guest. Dominic halted in his dusting and headed for the door, feather duster still in hand even as he pulled it open, dark eyes fastening upon the man on the front doorsteps. "Yes?"

"My name is Akio Himemiya," the tall man in the doorway introduced. "I'm the psychiatrist that Graf Eberbach wanted to come see his son. Is the Graf in right now...?"

"Come in!" Dominic insisted, rheumy old eyes tearing up. "Come in, come in, he'll be so glad to see you!" The sound of such enthusiasm seemed to have caught Dorian's attention, for he drifted out of the library to peek into the foyer and see what was so exciting. What he saw was a tall, dark-skinned man with colorfully dyed hair, a crisp suit, and a heavy-looking brief-case following Dominic off down a side-hall.

"What're you looking at, Dorian?" Klaus asked, moving out of the library, up behind Dorian.

'A man!' Dorian mouthed, waving in the direction the two had gone. 'With a big heavy load of something.'

"Maybe he's delivering something," Klaus said, cracking open the library door a little more. "Let's put away the books and go see."

Putting away the books was such a *bother*, but Dorian agreed to it before they snuck off to see what was going on in the household. He was quite curious -- the man had been rather odd-looking, exotic, and that made him wonder who he was and why he was in the Schloss. /Maybe he's that man Father was talking about.../

Maybe he was going to fix them so that everything was right again? Even though things had been better since he and Klaus had started sleeping together again, and had shown no more interest in wanting the Bad Thing.

"They're in Father's study," Klaus whispered, walking softly beside Dorian.

'Maybe,' Dorian wrote on the now ever-present pad, 'we could hear them in the room next to it.'

"If you open the door quietly, yes," Klaus agreed in a whisper after scanning the pad. He moved ahead of his companion to stealthily slip opened that room's door.

"I'm glad you could come." The walls in the Schloss were not thin by any means, but a door that had been placed in the room long years before was only partially closed, allowing sound to seep into the area.

"You told me they were in... bad shape, Graf Eberbach -- would you mind telling me where they are now? And just give me a brief update on their current status, since you've already given me a more detailed description back at my office."

"In the library, coloring," Klaus heard his father say. "When I returned home, things were worse than when I left. Klaus had mentioned... intercourse, and Dorian was rather hysterical over it. It took a while to get them settled back into routine, but they seem to be much happier over the past day or so..."

"Why did mention of that send Dorian into hysteria...?" Akio pressed, while in the other room Klaus gave Dorian an apologetic and half-guilty look, and Dorian returned it.

"I believe that it caused him to remember what had happened to them. I can't be certain, however..." Heinz murmured, shrugging. "It upsets him to discuss it."

"And your son -- does it upset him as much as it upsets his... companion?" Akio asked tactfully.

"It upsets him that Dorian is upset," was the equally carefully worded reply.

"So as long as Dorian doesn't have a problem with it, your son is fine...? Does that apply in all scenarios...?"

Heinz nodded, hands steepling before him. "Thus far it seems to be just so. I haven't noticed anything that truly seemed otherwise, but Klaus has always put Dorian before himself, for as long as they've been companions." Or at least for as long as Heinz had known them as companions, that had been the case.

"So... if Dorian were to make a decision, Klaus would go with it, even if he didn't like it?"

"Almost certainly," Heinz agreed, "but Dorian is just as likely to do the same. They... were likely to do that even before the recent... problem."

"Why before that...?" Akio's voice held deeper curiosity as he let his eyes linger around the interior of the study.

Heinz shrugged. "Because the first time was not so bad that it drove them to this point. The first time only drove them to needing one another desperately."

"You didn't tell me in America that it had happened before," Akio said with a frown. "That changes something. Trauma on trauma... how well did they recover from the first time, and when/what happened?"

"The matter is classified NATO information," Heinz murmured, uncertain. "My son and his companion were in hospital for a while and then went to America. They...only came home afterwards. I don't know what happened there..."

"NATO...? Your son is military...?" THAT added a whole new dimension. "What did he do?"

"He was a Major in... in the espionage division, I believe," Heinz told him reluctantly.

"A spy?" Akio's thin eyebrows rose, and he shook his head. "I see very few of them. It makes this more complex, because of training that could conflict with natural interests. How old are he and his companion...?"

"Klaus is thirty-seven," he was informed. "Dorian is thirty-five, I believe. They aren't very old, and they... were some of the best."

"What did Dorian do for a living...?"

"Contract work for NATO," Klaus's father said. "All of this is confidential, yes?"

"Doctor-Patient confidentiality," Akio nodded. "Just a contract worker? So they met on the job...? Would you say that your son was... married to his job?"

"Very much so, yes. For as long as he held the job, he was devoted to it. After he was released from service due to the trauma of... of the first unfortunate incidence, he devoted himself also to contract work with Dorian. They were the best..." He sighed. "Would still be, if only they were not so..."

"Traumatized," Akio finished for him, nodding. "Having your tongue cut out and being raped would certainly be traumatic enough, stacked on top of a previous event that caused damage. Did they ever receive treatment for the first time?"

"...none of which I am aware," Heinz admitted. "Neither wanted to discuss it. They wanted to... to get on with their lives in their own manner."

"Which was...? Did they live here, or did they have a private residence?"

"Dorian is a British earl; my son, as well, is not common. They had several residences, this one included. I generally reside in Switzerland, and have only been home now to see to them. They tended to split their time between the Schloss and a castle in North Downs."

"So they obviously had no problems with travel, good... Tell me again how they were acting when they were released from the hospital...? And how they acted during?" He took out a note-pad, and began to quickly jot down notes.

"Quiet," was Heinz's reply. "Dorian acted... much like a child, unable to keep his mind on anything for more than a few moments. Klaus has taken refuge in comfortable things, and in making Dorian happy. If the one is happy, the other is. It's very..."

"Strange, Graf Eberbach, or depressing...?" Akio asked sympathetically.

"Yes," Heinz answered. "Yes."

"Both, of course -- Have they had any progression since that point...?"

"Dorian has begun writing and, after some discussion, he agreed that Klaus did not wish to do 'the bad thing' to him -- intercourse," Heinz muttered nervously. "They've gone back to comfortably sleeping with one another, which means both of them are actually *getting* sleep."

"So... they can't sleep without each other?" Akio asked after a moment, drawing conclusions that hadn't been directly stated.

"Both suffer from intense nightmares," Heinz agreed.

"Any idea what sort of nightmares...?"

A negative shake of the head. "Just that they cannot sleep, one without the other, they wake yelling and don't... don't deal well for a while afterwards."

"But when they sleep together they manage fine, mostly...?" Akio nodded to himself, guessing that was the answer as he wrote it down. "Now... have there been any obvious behavior modifications on your son's part because of Dorian since this incident? And vice versa."

Another great sigh from Klaus's father, prompting Dorian to peek up at Klaus in the other room. He was rapidly growing a little bored, but Klaus was rapt, and so he sat down, laying his head upon Klaus's knee.

"Klaus would do anything to accommodate Dorian... and once Dorian understands that Klaus is unhappy, he would do the same for Klaus."

Klaus's fingers wove gently through his companion's hair, stroking soothingly to keep him still while he listened to Akio talk.

"Once he understands? You mean he doesn't understand now, or...?"

"He understands, but he often does not understand the cause," Heinz replied.

"What is often the cause?"

"Klaus remembers when Dorian could speak, make sly remarks, laugh at something besides coloring books. Both men were extraordinarily intelligent and devoted to one another and their work."

"And though your son is slower than he used to be, he misses how his... friend was?" Akio pressed gently. "So that makes him sad?"

"Precisely," Heinz sighed, most relieved. "That's just it, yes."

At that, Dorian buried his face in Klaus's thigh and whimpered softly, clutching at him. "Let's go back to the library, Dorian," Klaus whispered softly, losing track of the conversation for the more pressing issue of going back to being okay with things, life.

THAT seemed to be quite what would please Dorian, for he lifted his face, kneeling up and pressing his lips pleasantly, offeringly, to Klaus's. Every bit of Klaus's will went to just making it a gentle, playful kiss, and then he stood up with Dorian, heading for the door... which was just when he heard, as he started to open it, the Study door opening, too.

"I'll take a look at them alone, if you think they could tolerate that?" Akio was asking.

"Certainly. I believe they're in the library, just down this way," Heinz replied firmly.

Klaus started to close the door, but that was, of course, when the door squeaked, making him freeze in place.

"Or perhaps," Heinz said dryly, "they're naughty boys who've been next door listening to us the entire time. What would you say, Klaus?"

"Sorry, Father," Klaus uttered, pushing the damnably creaky door open to step out, Dorian very close behind him. "We were distracted when we heard the bell ring."

Dorian smiled brightly at the odd-looking thin man, tilting his head to the side. Funny thing, he was, but he seemed not to be bad, and if Heinz and Klaus didn't think so, either, then he must be all right!

"Good-morning, Klaus, and... and you're Dorian?" Akio asked the blonde man gently, smiling brightly at them both.

Oh, yes, he was definitely Dorian, and he nodded his yes to the man full of questions, clutching Klaus's arm tightly after that -- just to let him know, of course, that Klaus was *his* Klaus.

"Nice to meet both of you -- were you heading back to the library...?"

"Yes, we were -- we didn't know you were, too..." Klaus did start forwards, though, Dorian close in tow where he wanted the Earl to be.

"Like a matched set," Akio murmured under his breath to Heinz.

"Yes," Heinz agreed quietly. "Just like that."

They marched along to the library, Akio and Heinz behind them, and once they arrived, Dorian promptly flopped onto his belly on the carpet and reached for his coloring crayons and pencils.

While Klaus stretched out beside him, protective because of the presence of company other than Dominic and Heinz. He picked up a crayon for himself, opened to a page of the book, and then looked at Dorian with an odd, slight smile.

"So, how are you doing today?" Akio asked after a moment or so of observing them.

Dorian beamed and waved a crayon. That seemed to imply that he was doing quite well, particularly when he laughed and smiled at Klaus, as well.

Akio had, apparently, forgotten for a moment that Dorian was as good as utterly mute. Klaus was busy giving a matching smile back to Dorian, which was painfully disturbing. "Good to know," Akio smiled. Then after a moment of thought, he added, "Would either of you like to talk about the bad thing?"

"No," Klaus uttered, turning to glare at Akio.

The words caught at Dorian's attention, his face tightening, lips beginning to tremble slightly before he reached for the pad so shortly laid down and scribbled, 'You know about the bad thing? Does that mean you can fix it? What's wrong?'

"Well, it'll take longer than a few moments to make you better, Dorian -- what happened to both of you was serious trauma that justifies completely your own mind's reactions to what occurred."

'Not our fault, then?' That seemed to bring some relief to Dorian's face, his smile becoming even more brilliant, if at all possible. 'Was afraid my fault.'

"Not your fault, of course it isn't!" Akio smiled again.

Oh, that made everything MUCH better, and Dorian flung himself against Klaus in reaction, hugging him tightly. /Yes, yes! Not my fault! Everything will be better, yes!/

Akio watched with unease as Klaus hugged Dorian back, laughing quietly. "See? See, I told you!"

"Dorian had worried that these things were his fault. He understands that he... isn't quite the same," Heinz murmured, not really disturbed to see them that way. After all -- he'd seen it before.

"Of course," Akio nodded, brows furrowing a little. "What have you two been doing -- coloring? Is there anything else you both like to do?"

Oh! Dorian nodded, pointing to the red flower on his coloring book page to indicate that he liked the gardens, pushing lightly at Klaus. /Tell him. Tell him about the flowers!/

Klaus smiled a litle, nodding, "We like the gardens, when they're blooming. Flowers -- Dorian likes flowers, and I like them, too..."

"And artwork," Heinz added. "Dorian is most fond of artwork, and so they spend some time every day in the galleries, and looking at the paintings here in the library."

"Dorian especially likes the picture of Tyrian," Klaus went on with a warming smile, hugging Dorian a bit closer.

'Pretty,' Dorian mouthed, looking up at Klaus. 'Pretty like you.'

Klaus brushed a light, light kiss against Dorian's lips, before asking Akio. "So, why're you here again?"

"To see what sort of treatment would be best for you and Dorian," Akio mused, looking over to Heinz questioningly.

"We want you to get better, Klaus. We want Dorian to... to get better," his father answered gently as Dorian kissed Klaus again, happy now.

"I'm not... even sure what's really wrong," Klaus murmured, frowning as he kept Dorian close. "Only...."

"That there is something," Akio nodded again, thoughtful once more. "Graf Eberbach, is there anything that Klaus has... oh, I don't know. A tape recording, a videotape.... Anything like that?"

"From before, you mean? I... will ask Dominic, call James. I don't know if there is such a thing, but I will attempt to find it, if so," Heinz murmured.

"I'd just like a better example of what they both were... before. That would make it graspable just what needs to be worked on that wasn't there previously."

"Of course," Heinz agreed, glancing to his son. "Klaus... Do you, perhaps, remember such a thing? A videotape of some sort, made of you and Dorian?"

"There...." Klaus thought for a moment. "James would have it. We made it for Christmas when we were in India on... on mission."

The little crying thing liked to watch it, and Dorian really WISHED he'd stop all of that wailing when he did! He carried it with him everywhere, apparently, even when he came to visit, and all of that crying put Dorian on edge.

"That's good!" Akio uttered. "Where could I contact him to get a copy...?"

'Attached to it,' Dorian wrote. 'Crying thing won't let you have it!'

"Would he make a *copy* for me, you think...?" Akio asked, reading Dorian's handwriting and Klaus's confirming nod.

'If you watch it with him. Maybe help crying thing, too,' Dorian seemed to decide. That might help, at least for the poor man who came with him, anyway.

"Where is he now?" Akio asked, frowning a little.

At that, Dorian looked to Klaus, and Klaus shrugged. "We don't know, exactly. He's probably in England."

"The cr...er... James travels a bit, back and forth. He's Lord Gloria's... Dorian's accountant," Heinz explained.

"Accountant, hmn? So he'll be back here...?" Akio asked quietly. "I'd like to take at least a couple of weeks to work with both of you. This really is an interesting case..."

Interesting. Well, Dorian had a feeling that there were worse things to be than *interesting*... such as *uninteresting*! That decided, he nodded firmly and kissed Klaus again, and Klaus laughed softly, tugging Dorian to go back to coloring.

"Graf Eberbach, if I may have a word alone with you..."

"Of course," Heinz agreed, turning to head back out into the hallway and assuming that the psychiatrist would follow him.

Akio did, making thoughtful noises. "They seem very... happy right now."

"Today is not so bad," Heinz agreed. "Two days before, they were not so good."

"Does it swing often...?"

At that, the older man gave a sigh. "It depends. It depends upon the day, the weather, upon how much Klaus is thinking of Dorian as he once was, on how aware Dorian is that Klaus is considering such a thing..."

"Anything at all, then." Well, that seemed particularly horrible for those around them. "And what are they like at their worst?'

"Miserable, often crying. Klaus locks himself in the bathroom, Dorian hides in the library, and it requires much cajoling to get either of them out again," Heinz admitted.

"Why does Klaus lock himself in the bathroom?" was the psychiatrist's curious question.

"So that Dorian will not see him cry. That seems to exacerbate the situation on any given day."

"And they blame themselves. Well, I can't say that this is going to be easy," Akio sighed. "It would probably be easier to medicate them or lock them away, though I know you don't want that."

"I *will* not do that," Heinz agreed. "Klaus is my son. I *refuse*."

"Understood, and well," Akio murmured softly, contemplating for a moment more. It really was a troublesome thing to work out... "I... I believe that any recovery they make will be on their own terms. The best I'll be able to do is facilitate that."

It was not *exactly* what Heinz wanted to hear, but it was better than nothing, was it not? Better than the current situation, anyway. "I understand."

"I'd like to meet each of them alone for half an hour a day, perhaps more, and half an hour together."

"That...would be more than acceptable, if they will allow it. If one of them becomes upset and the other sees it..."

"Of course it makes the situation only worse," Akio nodded gently. "When Dorian gets upset, what does your son do?"

"It depends," Heinz told him. "He becomes desperately protective or desperately depressed. On occasion, he's become both at once."

"To whom? Can you give me an instance...?"

The elder Eberbach shook his head. "To no one, to anyone. He snapped at Dominic for doing the same to Dorian. It's simply a matter of who or what is upsetting the..." Thief, he started to say, but then shrugged. "His companion."

"They used to be lovers, didn't they?"

"Yes," Heinz admitted quietly. "Very much so."

"For how long...? How long have they *known* each other...? They've got... quite the interesting interdependent relationship going on. Not like anything I've ever seen before," the doctor admitted.

"They've been working together since '78. They've been... together... since 1987, just after their previous experience.." Heinz explained.

"Why nine years of not being lovers, if they're obviously so devoted to each other...? Was one of them with someone else...?"

Taking a deep breath, Heinz muttered, "Klaus did not realize he was... ein Schwule."

"Your son didn't know he was a homosexual...?" Narrowed eyes flared wide, a little startled. "What brought about THAT revelation?"

"Dorian," Heinz answered simply.

"After their first experience with such an event...? That was the catalyst for their relationship...?"

"I believe so, yes," Klaus's father replied.

"All right," Akio sighed, nodding again, thinking hard again. "So the relationship wasn't formed under the best of circumstances, so that probably made it closer than it would have been with natural progression..."

"Perhaps that is so," Heinz admitted. "They have always been very close, very dependent of one another. It was... much better before now." And not so needy as it had been early on in their relationship, either.

"All right. I'm going to leave for the day, because I think I've disrupted them both enough for one day -- I don't want to ruin their natural routines. Speaking of that, what does it usually seem to be?"

Thoughtfully, Heinz frowned. "Up by seven, lunch at noon, nap from one until three, dinner at six, bed by ten."

"Why the nap?"

"Snuggling," Heinz expressed succinctly. "Dorian likes to be held."

"Two hours...?"

Helplessly, the older man shrugged. "He enjoys it."

"And your son...? Does he enjoy it, or just oblige his ex-lover?"

"I think, a bit of both. Klaus wants more, I know..." All of the questions were beginning to wear on Heinz, and he frowned.

"You look tired," Akio uttered, starting off down the hall slowly. "I'll leave you be, Graf Eberbach."

"Thank you... for coming." Gratitude was something Heinz rarely offered, but anything that could be done to help his... yes, his *children*, was worth his thankfulness.

"Have a good day, sir!"


Dorian listlessly played with his flower and looked at the strange man across from him. Klaus was having coffee in the kitchen and that left Dorian alone with the strange visitor who was going to fix him, if he could. It fairly fascinated him, but it bored him a little, too. There were no crayons, and there was no Klaus.

Just a pad of paper, the flower he held, and a man with funny-colored hair. "How are you today, Dorian?"

'Happy,' Dorian decided. 'We went into the garden this morning, and Klaus gave me kisses.'

"Kisses? Did you like the kisses he gave you?" Odd contrast there -- hadn't he been told by Heinz that Dorian didn't want so much of what Klaus wanted to take?

'I always like Klaus's kisses. Sweet,' Dorian declared. 'Taste good. Feel good.'

"Why are they so good for you, Dorian?"

'Come from Klaus,' Dorian scrawled out. 'What could be better?'

"Nothing for you, I suppose," Akio murmured. "So you love Klaus...? And he loves you?"

Happily, Dorian nodded, smiling brilliantly. 'Love Klaus. Love Klaus *much*!'

Conversation, between slowly mouthed words and the written scrawls, was slow going, but Akio felt he could gain ground. "Why?"

'Always.' Dorian shrugged, wrote again. 'First sight. Always, always love Klaus.'

"Always...? But what sparked it at first sight?" Akio smiled. It seemed a topic that Dorian was comfortable with, so best to follow through with that. Then he'd turn the same questions on Klaus.

'Beautiful like Tyrian. Asthe... can't spell it. Beautiful. Strong. Something else. Don't recall.'

"Who's Tyrian?"

'In the library. Beautiful,' Dorian told him. 'Green eyes. Beautiful. Want.'

A painting, then! "You want the picture? But you have it anytime you want, to look at."

'Want to keep.' The words, scrawled out, seemed lovely somehow. 'Want to keep forever and ever. Klaus says I took once. Traded for tank.'

"You liked it so much you stole it?" Akio smiled, brows furrowing a little. "And traded it... for a tank?"

'Yes.' As if stealing something and trading it for heavy artillery was an every day occupation! It didn't seem to faze Dorian a bit to admit to it, however, it made Akio strangely nervous -- and CURIOUS.

"Where's the tank now? Or, can you not remember?"

'Somewhere. Crying thing probably knows.'

"Ah, there's something I've been meaning to ask -- why do you call him 'crying thing'?" Akio asked quietly. "Is it because you always see him sad?"

'Always crying. Cute. But crying.'

"Why do you think he's crying?" There, now he was moving back to his REAL topic, though that made it all no more comfortable for Akio.

'Wants me to be like before bad thing. Wants me to be what he remembers me to be. Don't remember exactly what he wants me to be. Don't think right, I know. Klaus worries. Frets.'

"Because he cares about you, Dorian," Akio soothed. "That's important, isn't it?"

'Yes,' Dorian agreed. 'Important. Love Klaus.'

"Why don't you tell me about what both of you do all day?" Akio murmured, settling back a little in his chair.

'Get up. Breakfast. Color. We color every morning. Then lunch. Then nap. Then sometimes gardens. More color sometimes. Supper. Look at pretty pictures. Like Tyrian. Wish Tyrian had a man to make him happy...' Dorian decided.

"He probably has one," Akio murmured under his breath. "Don't worry -- he's not among the living, so he can't be lonely."

'I would be lonely without Klaus,' Dorian pointed out to him, frowning.

"But you're alive," Akio smiled. "You can feel and miss."

'Miss Z,' Dorian decided. 'Z nice. Would miss crying thing, if hush.'

"Z? Who's Z?"

'Sweet,' Dorian declared. 'And A. Miss all. Klaus misses worse. Klaus always missed...' For a second, he stopped writing, face thoughtful. 'Yes. Always missed.'

"Always missed? Can you clarify that?" Akio murmured, leaning closer to Dorian to read as he scratched out words.

'Always. Before. Before bad thing. Remember now.'

"He always missed A and Z and 'all'? Why? Who are they, that he'd miss them...?"

Out of patience, Dorian scratched out, 'Alphabets!' and then put the pen and pad down, tired of it.

Alphabets...? He'd have to ask *Heinz* about that...

"All right -- thank you. That was all that I wanted to know. You miss them too? Do they come to visit?" Dorian shook his head, no, beginning to search for his crayons. "Why don't they, if they know Klaus misses them? That probably makes him sad..."

Wasn't it enough answers yet? With a sigh, the tall blond Briton flopped onto the couch and picked up the pen and paper again. 'Don't know. They don't come.'

"I bet you like that -- more time to have Klaus to yourself." That was a gamble, really, but the way Dorian 'talked' about things, it seemed he was used to having all of Klaus's time.

'Nice... but Klaus might not be so sad if others.'

"Probably. Hey, how many coloring books do you go through in a week?"

'Lots,' Dorian decided. 'Lots and lots.' In actuality, it was perhaps six, perhaps seven of the special ones that Heinz had made for him.

But Klaus colored, too, and they spent a lot of time doing that. Sometimes, Klaus tried to watch the news, but he could never hold Dorian's attention there for long.

"Klaus like to color, too?"

'Sometimes,' Dorian wrote. 'Mostly watches.'

"Does he have any hobbies you don't like...?" Akio sat back again, eyeing the clock. Time to wrap that session up, slowly.

Ohh, THAT gained him an interesting reaction, a shiver, a wide-eyed look. For a moment, he thought Dorian wouldn't answer, but then he did, slowly.. 'Guns.'

"He was a military man -- why do guns bother you...?"

'Dangerous...' Dorian shivered. 'Don't like them. NEVER liked them!'

"I think, Dorian, that you can trust Klaus would never let you be hurt by a gun," Akio soothed lightly as he stood slowly. "Thank you for your time."

'Can I color now?' he asked, having been unable to find his crayons.

"Of course you can," Akio said gently after reading the pad. "Where are your crayons? I see your book out there..."

'Can't find them!' Dorian declared, frowning, fretful. 'Lost!'

"They're lost...? Are you sure Klaus just doesn't have them...?" Akio asked, taking a slow glance around the room.

/Ohhh!!/ Those words gained Akio a tight hug, a brilliant smile, and then Dorian rushed to find Klaus, determined that he *needed* his crayons!

That left the lean man a little stunned by the sheer *energy*, and childishness, of the blond man. Then he left the library in search of Heinz for a moment, eventually finding him in his study with Dominic and Klaus, Dorian laying upon the floor and going through the obviously-found box of crayons.

So much for finding him alone.

"Ahh, Herr Himemiya," Heinz murmured. "Come in, come in. Dorian just arrived to show that you were done!"

"Yes -- could I speak to you for a moment, Graf Eberbach?" Akio looked to the two, and then to the old, ragged looking butler.

"Of course, of course," Heinz agreed, nodding to Dominic.

The old butler nodded back, moved to sit down as Klaus rose to sit cross legged and quiet beside his crayon digging companion. Akio waited until they were outside to speak, and the door was closed. "Who are the 'Alphabets'?"

"Ahhh." Heinz nodded, strolling down the hallway to be sure they were further out of hearing range. "They were Klaus's subordinates in NATO. He was... is... fond of most of them. Dorian was, as well."

"Alphabets?" Akio's lips curled up in a bit of a questioning smile. "Dorian mentioned A and Z -- they were all named letters of the alphabet? If that was your son's idea, he had an odd sense of humor before."

"I am not certain it was his decision, but... it is true that Klaus had a rather *dark* sense of the amusing, before," Heinz agreed.

"What sort of things did he find funny before...? I'm straining to get, from them, a sense of what used to be," Akio sighed, looking pointedly at Heinz. "Dorian likes paintings, I've learned. 'Tyrian' in particular."

To admit that he had not known his son as well as he might have made Heinz cringe. "He laughed at dark jokes, if you know what I mean. Klaus was... sometimes very innocent, and sometimes very cynical. He was in Catholic school before going into the military, you see, and... and we were not close. As for Dorian..." Oh, to tell the man or not? "Dorian was... an art thief, and one of NATO's prized contractors, particularly once Klaus retired and they began to work together. He fell in love with Tyrian Persimmon, the Man in Purple, that painting, and stole it..."

"Before he met your son, or after?" Akio asked a little wryly. "He looks a lot like Klaus does, through the face."

"For as long as I know. There... there is, er, a family precedence, on both sides..."

"A family precedence...?" More confusion, and Akio folded his arms over his chest, leaning against the wall.

"The Eberbach line has descended directly from Tyrian Persimmon, you see, as the Gloria line has issued directly from Benidict the Red. They... were lovers and enemies, in their time," Heinz answered, turning pale red. "It is not an... unheard of fascination."

"Odd coincidence. Your family lines create talented, handsome men," Akio shrugged. "Such a pity that your son and Lord Gloria were so badly harmed. Dorian, though, seems almost content with how things are."

"Perhaps," Heinz agreed with a sigh. "Klaus, however, is not. And I don't know how to rectify this problem..."

"What're the most obvious things that Klaus wants...?" Akio asked. "Maybe we can work on just getting them both to a point where they're happy."

Heinz sighed, rubbing at his sinuses. "He wants more physical affection and he wants Dorian to be aware of life *beyond* color crayons. If he could have his hobby of cleaning and working with guns back again... that would be good, as well."

"Was he a good shot with only...?" Akio gestured to his own perfectly formed right hand.

"Before they cut them off, yes," Klaus's father said firmly. "And then he became even better with the left."

"A pity to not be able to indulge in a skill because your lover is scared of it," Akio winced, feeling deep pity for the shell that was left of Klaus. "Well, I'll try to work on making Dorian more accepting of things."

"And, perhaps... to... to help him think more in the manner which he should??"

"Herr Graf... let me be frank -- he's either locked himself away in his mind, which is admittedly hard to undo, or he's suffered brain damage. Have there been any tests for that run on *either* of them?"

"I... no, but they... there were no dangers of such a thing, they were not struck upon the head or..."

"How do you know that? How do you know they weren't suffocated, deprived of air, or drugged? Was all of that tested on them?" Akio asked, frowning deeply.

"I... will get you their medical records," came the stiff answer.

"Thank you," Akio told him with a slight smile. "Even if it is so, that doesn't mean there isn't help for them -- but it means that the damage is hard-wired in and would need to be worked around, and that can be *done*."

"Unlike the other?" Heinz asked worriedly, brow knitting.

"The other would actually be harder, because I don't know the exact reason for the mental block put up. If *that*'s the case, you son is suffering from the same sort of self-imposed mental block."

"The reason would be the... the repeat of what happened before, yes?" came the fretful question.

"Yes, probably -- the defense mechanisms that worked the first time probably over-compensated this time," Akio said sadly.

"And this... this will not help you in fixing... in making things right, again?" Heinz asked him.

"What do you mean? I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

"*Can* you help them to get better?" the elder Eberbach queried directly, expression turning to a frown.

"I think I can," Akio said with confidence. "It's just... going to take awhile. Start with small things -- I think the monotony is making things worse for Klaus. Find other things Dorian might like. Other colorful things."

Oh, Lord, Heinz knew nothing of *colorful* things; if he had, Klaus's life would not have been so very black and white, would it have? But perhaps, if he contacted some of Dorian's people... "We will try."

"That would be a good idea. Toys or something, you know? Something *other* than coloring for them to do. Puzzles? There are those three dimensional puzzles, and I bet your son would actually enjoy working on one of those."

Oh, THAT brought a spark to those faded green eyes! "I'll go out and fetch some today!" he decided, nodding. Perhaps they would have some of those artsy places that Dorian liked done up in 3D...

"Just... I think that boredom may be aggravating at least your son's displeasure. Rather... like a bored child is more prone to swings of mood and depression than one that has something they like doing. There are also.... hmn, erector sets, Legos, all sorts of things that maybe he could do in the room with Dorian, non-threatening," Akio murmured, smiling at his own idea. "Building, constructive things."

The older man rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Yes... yes, I believe I'll try that. Thank you. Those are most excellent suggestions. You will be talking to Klaus shortly, then, yes?"

"Yes. I wanted them to have a little time together again to soothe Dorian in preparation for being away from Klaus again," Akio said with an inclination of his head. "I'm glad you're going to take my suggestions to heart."

"You were recommended to me as the best," Heinz replied solemnly. "I wish to help my boys. If I did not listen, that would not be in their best interests, no?"

"No, it wouldn't. Before I talk to Klaus, do you mind if I look around their bedroom? With you supervising, of course," Akio requested.

"Of course," Heinz agreed, looking at him oddly. "It is up the stairs, near the top..." He was a bit slow, and going up those stairs could be quite the daunting task at his age, but he didn't want someone looking through Klaus and Dorian's things, and the man probably would have questions to ask of him. It was damn near time to have an elevator installed....

"I'd like to get more of an idea of what their life is like now."

"Of course," Heinz agreed once more, beginning the slow walk towards the stairs. "There are, perhaps, remnants of before in the room... a few. I removed many of the more overt... er... THINGS... but..."

"What do you mean overt?" Akio was curious, and politely walking abreast of Heinz.

"Of... an intimate nature," the man struggled to say.

"Oh, things like lubricant and sex toys? Or diaries and that sort of thing?"

At that, the old man's face flamed to life. "Ah... well... yes. Yes, just that... that sort of *thing*..." And oh, how it had embarrassed him to do it!!

"Because of the aversion to anything sexual that... Dorian developed? And your son didn't," Akio questioned as they started up the stairs.

"...yes," Heinz admitted. "But... you will see the records. You will see *why*..."

"They were both raped, you've already told me that much back in New York," Akio reminded him gently, softly. "I just wonder why your son wouldn't shut down quite as Dorian did."

"It..." Heinz paused, frowning. "The first time... there... there were many more men. More than one. There were five, in all."

"To just Dorian?" Akio guessed, eyes wide in horror for *just* a moment.

"...yes," the old man said quietly. "Just to Dorian. It... was when Klaus lost his eye, and his fingers."

Akio winced, but finally nodded. "So they recovered from that."

"After some time. They... went to America, together, to spend time, to think about things. By the time they returned... they were together. They were... better."

"I know they weren't together before that. What was their relationship like before the first incident?" Heinz took a slightly unsteady step on one of the stairs, and Akio steadied him at the elbow.

"A lot of yelling, or so Dominic says. I live in Switzerland, and so I missed... most of that. Klaus was very much... what is it they say? Something about a closet? Very much unaware of his... *nature*," Heinz replied. "He did not wish to accept what Dorian offered, and Dorian... always showed up yet again to offer."

"You mean Klaus was a closet Homosexual?" Akio asked for clarification. "So, he was denying he was what he was, and fighting with Dorian? Why do you think he was in denial?"

"Would not you be?" Heinz asked dryly, pausing at the first landing.

"In denial...? Actually, it appears Dorian never was, and quite frankly, Herr Graf, I never was, either. Many men never have that problem of denial."

At *that*, Heinz flushed deeply. "It is not a comfortable subject. It is less than comfortable to discuss about or with one's son such a matter. How was he to know? *I* did not know homosexuals or bring them home. *He* did not know any overt homosexuals. How was he to know?" Heinz asked again. "Did I..." But no, he had done nothing wrong, had he?

"That depends -- what sort of morals did you drill into him? Where did he go to school?" Akio asked. "I really doubt it's your fault."

"To a good Catholic school!" Heinz answered, flustered. Where else would his son have gone? "I taught him the morals and social responsibilities I learned as a child..."

"I bet marry and have many children was one of them," Akio uttered softly.

"Yes," the man replied, "but what father does *not* want grandchildren?"

"All do, of course," Akio allowed gently. "However, how often did you pester him to marry -- though really I think your son has a loyalty flaw."

"Often," Heinz admitted miserably. "It... it was his duty, to the family, as the heir..."

"Were you angry at him when you found out...?" If possible, he'd help work Heinz through some of his compelling feelings and guilt, too.

The older man shrugged as they continued upward. "I had known since his fourteenth year. I did not believe it would be a comfort to *him* to know."

"How did you know then?" Akio wondered.

How utterly *horrifying* it was to confess such a thing to another man, such a thing about his *son*! "Most fourteen year old boys lock themselves into their bathrooms with pictures of women at that age, hmn? Klaus... did not." That hadn't been *all*, of course, but it had been a fair hint.

"That certainly doesn't make someone gay, Herr Graf," Akio said with a bit of a laugh. "Unless he was doing it with pictures of men."

"No," Heinz admitted, "but he did spend a great deal of time in the back gardens watching the gardeners."

"Were they handsome men?" Akio asked a bit wryly. "It could have been that he was simply a boring boy. That happens. There had to be something more than watching the gardens get shaped up to tip you off."

Dryly, the elder Eberbach replied, "The gardeners worked in only their shorts, Herr Himemiya. The reaction was, heaven help me, *OBVIOUS*."

"Oh, well, that does sound more appealing than hiding in the bathroom with pictures of women," Akio murmured, a bit startled, but agreeable to the revelation. "So after that, what made you keep pressing for him to marry?"

"Klaus is the heir. The only heir in a direct line of descent. It is -- was -- his duty to wed and produce a child."

"And when you found out about he and Lord Gloria, was it still his duty...?"

Heinz paused, *looked* at him. "Being *homosexual* does not change one's responsibilities, Herr Himemiya."

"I'm very sorry to hear that," Akio murmured. "But, Klaus apparently did get over his repression... and now I'd think he's incapable of dealing with children."

A deep sigh came in answer as they headed upward again -- *one* more flight of stairs. He was having an elevator put in *tomorrow*! "Yes. I believe that is so."

"Do you like Lord Gloria...?"

"It would be quite impossible *not* to like him," Akio was told. "He... has brought much happiness to Klaus. This, I can appreciate."

"So you approved of him even before this last incident...?"

"I approved of him when I saw my son kiss him in the gardens, not half an hour after I met him. I approved of him when I learned of daring exploits, of crazy escapades much like Klaus's. Yes... I approve of him."

"And Klaus knows this...?" Akio asked carefully, as they reached the *final* landing.

"Klaus knows this," Heinz confirmed.

"That's very good to know. Which room is theirs?" Akio asked, looking around the hallway.

"The one at the end," the elderly Eberbach murmured, walking towards it slowly.

"What does your butler think of all this...?"

"Dominic? He believes that we have done the best we can, in all ways. Why should he believe anything else?" Heinz pushed open the door to Klaus and Dorian's bedroom. "This is their room."

Akio held still for a moment, just at the threshold looking in. "The windows -- were they something they added?"

"*I* added them, when I learned that they were coming home," Heinz said quietly.

"Because Dorian likes color?" Akio asked as he walked into the room carefully. It was a *comfortable* temperature within, well moderated. "That's very kind of you."

"Because Dorian likes color. Because Klaus wishes him to be happy. This... is not kindness. This is the love of a father for his children," he was informed almost sternly.

"You now think of both of them as your children, then?" Akio murmured, looking at the bed. "That looks fairly new, too -- why?"

"Because Klaus likes to be comfortable, and because Dorian thinks of me as *Father*," Heinz sighed.

"Well, at least he's connected himself to someone other than just Klaus," Akio murmured to himself, looking around. Yes, it was comfortable, had a few coloring books and the odd crayon around, and a great deal of *books*. Fantasy, history, war, mystery-humor... "Dorian's books, or Klaus's?"

"Klaus's. Many of them, he has had since childhood..."

"Does he still read them now...?" Akio asked, letting his hand linger over the cover of a well-loved copy of _The Magician's Nephew_.

"Sometimes, when he doesn't want to color, or when he and Dorian are temporarily apart for whatever reason."

"Any book in particular...?" Akio asked, looking over the titles -- such a range of interests represented in those books!

That brought a moment's full-fledged thought form Heinz. "He's very fond of _The Dragon and the George_, as well as a few children's novels... the Lloyd Alexander novels, there..."

"Thank you -- these are things I can use in conversation with him if he gets agitated, then," Akio murmured, picking the books up and double-checking that he knew what they were.

"You would not make him so on purpose, would you?" It was a hesitant question, a worried one.

"No, not at all," Akio said gently, setting the book down. The spine was well cracked, further proof of how well-read it had been. "But as a safety net for myself."

"Ahh." That seemed to relieve the older man even as Akio's eyes took in the rest of the room. "Is there anything else you would perhaps wish to know?"

"Can I take a look in the bathroom real quick? Just what does your son *do* when he locks himself in there?"

"I would assume," Heinz said dryly, "that he *weeps*." And possibly also other things, but he simply didn't want to *think* about that!

"It's something you have to take into consideration, Graf Eberbach, just like one must consider that babies need their diapers changed. If Dorian is so highly disapproving of your son's sexual urges, he's probably ashamed of them. Something, some little sign to him that it's okay to want that would probably ease his misery a little."

Heinz colored deeply once again. "These... these are *not* things one discusses with... with one's *children*!"

"Don't discuss it, then -- leave out a tube of lubricant somewhere that he'd find it and Dorian wouldn't," Akio said easily enough as he opened the bathroom door to look into the room.

THAT would be, conveniently enough, in the medicine cabinet -- Dorian only ever looked in there to pull out electric razor, toothbrush, toothpaste, floss... "Ahhh."

"It's horrible to want something you can't have, to begin with, and then to feel horrible and secret about it," Akio uttered, nodding as he looked around and then closed the door. "Thank you, Herr Graf."

"You are most welcome, Herr Himemiya. Now, shall we return downstairs?"

"Of course," Akio said, looking repentant for a moment. "I'm very sorry I dragged you all the way up here."

"It is nothing," Heinz informed him with a slight smile. "It has let me know I need to install an *elevator*, truth be told." After all, Dominic, as well, was too old to be going up and down all of those stairs.

"Well, it couldn't hurt. This house does have an awful lot of stairs," Akio agreed. Though going DOWN them was easier than going up!

"And Dominic and I, we get no younger," Heinz agreed.

"Have you thought about what to do for the eventuality that... well, for when you and Dominic move on to a better place?" Akio asked, just as gently as he could.

"Nein. This is another reason we consult you," the old man admitted.

"Well, your only options is to hire someone, a 'home' or, some relative that you trust. Someone of Lord Gloria's, perhaps, even."

"Perhaps," Heinz murmured reluctantly, shaking his head. Well, he would talk to the merry band of *thieves* and see what they might do...

"I must recommend, though, with all of Klaus and Dorian's best interests in mind, not sending them away someplace, *or* hiring someone new. The things that happen in such places, or with 'caretakers' can be... frightening."

"I will consult Lord Gloria's accountant, his... staff. They have replaced his family, over the years, and I'm sure..." Heinz trailed off into silence.

"That if needs be, they'd be there to help as best they could," Akio filled in for him diplomatically sparing the man of the trouble of forming those words fully.

"Yes," Heinz agreed. "Yes."

Akio stayed silent until they reached the bottom of the stairs again, taking a glance at Heinz. "I think that I'll just interview Klaus today, then the joint session tomorrow."

"Perhaps that would be for the best," Klaus's father murmured. "They are as yet... unaccustomed to the presence of others."

"I've noticed that," Akio nodded in a light drawl. "I don't want to interrupt their routine too much."

"Thank you," Heinz murmured. "We will work on changing their schedules to suit."

"Thank you," Akio replied as they finally reached the bottom of the steps. "I'll just snag Klaus and talk with him briefly. Perhaps it might relieve some of his stress to talk to someone. Has he done so with you?"

"There are... some things, you see, that father and son... well, some things one does not discuss with one's children, you see. We have spoken, some, but..."

"You're uncomfortable with answering, and he's no doubt uncomfortable asking," Akio nodded. "I understand that."

"Excellent," Heinz sighed, heading back into the room where Dominic waited with Klaus and Dorian. "Most excellent, indeed."


Klaus didn't *want* to know why he'd been dragged away from watching Dorian color, or why he had to talk to the purple-haired man -- only that he *should*, and that it was supposed to help him. "So, what're you going to do?" he started, once the door was closed behind Akio.

"I thought we'd talk," Akio offered. "Just a little, just to start with. Does that sound all right with you?"

Klaus sighed, nodding as he roamed over to a chair almost absently, and sat down cross-legged on it. "What do you want to talk about?"

"Why don't you tell me how you feel about your life? About the things that go on in it?" the self-possessed man asked Klaus seriously, smiling at him. "You seemed to be enjoying yourself when I came and fetched you earlier."

"Dorian was happy," Klaus smiled after a moment. "Once he had his crayons again, he was happy."

"And you like things best when Dorian is happy?" he was asked gently. "Does that make *you* happy?"

"Mostly," Klaus murmured after a moment of thought, brows drawing together. "I like to have him happy."

The dark-skinned man brought his hands together, fingers steepling thoughtfully. "Is there something that makes you unhappy, then?"

"When he gets hysterical," Klaus told him. "I hate that."

"And what is it that upsets him so? Is there something that upsets both of you, besides that?"

Why was the man prying? Oh, that's right -- he was supposed to be helping them both, wasn't he? "When he remembers things from the way things used to be."

"Things...? Anything in particular?" Akio asked him. "I know that some very terrible things happened in the past..."

"Lots of things," Klaus decided, shifting minutely and looking around boredly. "Things about what they did to us. When I'm upset, too, he gets upset..."

Gently, Akio murmured, "And he gets upset about being touched in a...a *romantic* manner? Or thinking about those sorts of relations? Yes?"

"Both." A blunt, slightly tired reply, though Klaus was well aware of the hard truth in his own words -- it was *both*, both that caused Dorian such problems.

"And how does that make you feel, Klaus?" He was well aware that it upset the German man, hurt his feelings, hurt him *period*, and made him slip into the bathroom to cry. "Do you still feel those needs?"

"Yes, and I shouldn't." A tightly uttered reply, as Klaus got out of his chair to pace. His legs were still a little unsteady, still a little limping, but pacing was good for his walking, he knew, and it eased tension.

"There's nothing wrong with feeling that way, Klaus," Akio told him calmly. "All grown men feel those needs. It's part of the way things are, the way nature works. You don't have to feel guilty about that."

"Dorian doesn't want it, though, and it's sick," Klaus declared softly as he pivoted mostly smoothly, pacing away again.

"Did you feel that way before such terrible things happened to you?" he was asked, a light prodding sort of question. He was certain that Klaus *hadn't*, and he would certainly do his best to ease the obvious guilt the man was feeling.

"Feel that way when?"

"When Dorian wasn't the way he is now?" Akio prompted. "Before you were harmed."

"Twice," Klaus reminded edgily, giving the two numbers with a gesture of his maimed right hand, thumb tucked in.

"Twice," the therapist agreed, nodding at him. "Did you feel that way about your urges before it happened twice?"

"Yes," Klaus swallowed, turning again tensely. "Yes, I did."

"Even though both of you... enjoyed normal relations, then?" Oh, that surprised Akio somewhat, but perhaps not as much as he would have ordinarily felt, considering the conversation he'd held with Graf Eberbach.

"Before the first time, I didn't.... relate with anyone."

"And after that, you only related with Dorian?" It was a rather delicate way of stepping around words like 'sex' and even the more euphemistic 'lovemaking', but it worked. "How did that make you feel?"

"At first... that it was bad, but Dorian was... sure, then that it wasn't. And now it is again, so..." So he didn't know what to do, after having spent so long learning that it was good and that Dorian liked it.

"Actually," Akio murmured quietly, "it isn't bad at all. What you feel is perfectly normal, and wanting to have pleasure with someone you love is normal, too. We're going to work on a few things, all right? For now, Dorian isn't ready to go back to having pleasure with you. What happened hurt both of you, and upset you terribly. What I'm here to do is to help both of you to get better, if I can, and with any luck, Dorian will eventually know -- remember, even -- that pleasure with you is all right. He doesn't mind it when you touch him, does he?" He knew the answer to that question. "That's a form of pleasure -- he enjoys your touch, and your comfort, and you enjoy his. That's not bad, is it?"

"He likes being hugged. And... kissed certain ways," Klaus murmured tensely. "But after I first... said about it, he wouldn't let me sleep near him..."

"We'll work on that," he was promised warmly. "For now, just keep in mind that there's nothing wrong with wanting the things you do. All right?"

"All right," was the sedate answer that was quite the contrast from Klaus's pacing. "All... right."

There were *definite* issues to be working on there.

"That's all for today, Klaus," Akio told him with calm inflection. "Tomorrow, I'll see you again, okay?"

"Okay. I can go back to the study now...?"

"You may return," Akio agreed. "I'll walk with you if you like."

"All right," Klaus replied after a moment -- still, still oddly agreeable since it hadn't been long and he still was heading towards Dorian again. "Can we be helped?"

"I hope so," the tall, thin man replied. "I truly do."

Klaus nodded, a bit uneasily, but moved forwards anyway to step into the study once more. His eyes fixed instantly on Dorian, as was to be expected, and he moved to kneel down beside his companion. It gained him joyful arms wrapped around him, fists still clutching crayons as Dorian gave him soft, sweet kisses, lingering things that nuzzled against him. He gave them back, uncaring of the doctor, or that Heinz was still there. Hugging Dorian, holding him that way was such a comfort... "I love you," he whispered just for Dorian as he hugged him tightly. Yes, they'd get better, and then everything would be okay again...

"Graf Eberbach," Akio murmured. "I will see you tomorrow, then, for sessions once again."

"Of course," Heinz agreed, tired green eyes closing momentarily. "We will hope to see you, then."

Klaus waited until Akio had nodded again, and then left with Dominic to guide him to the door -- then he looked to his father, still hugging Dorian close. "Don't be sad."

That brought blue eyes to bear upon him, curious, Dorian's head tilting to the side as he smiled at Klaus, almost visibly asking him why he said such a thing.

"All right, Father?" Klaus asked softly, still looking at his father and not Dorian. "We'll be okay."

The old man gave him a faint smile, nodding slowly. "All right, Klaus. All right."

"We'll be better soon," he murmured, half to himself as he turned back around fully, to look at Dorian. "Won't we?"

Dorian nodded for him, kissed him again, held tightly to him, as if he would never let go. /Yes. Yes. We will, and everything will be good again, and you will be *happy*.../

At least now they were both hoping for the same thing.


The wind that evening was nearly chill, quite cool and full of ice-tinged little touches, but that didn't bother Dorian or Klaus. Indeed, wrapped together in Dorian's soft velour blanket and the old favorite from their bed atop Schloss Eberbach as they watched the moon rise, stars sprinkling the sky above, both seemed quite pleased with themselves.

They'd once gone out in the middle of a night, Klaus half-remembered, and played, and laughed, and swam... many times, in fact, they'd looked up at the night sky, one of the few first things they'd agreed on the beauty of. Still, even with things changed as they were, it was lovely to sit there with Dorian tight in his arms. "Wonderful night," Klaus drawled softly to Dorian.

That gained him sound, a hum of agreement, still rich, throaty, but almost faded from lack of use. It seemed that Dorian approved of snuggling with him, for he nearly purred with his delight, turning his face up to Klaus's in a motion of old.

Klaus felt daring just then -- it may have been the chill, or the calm the stars set in, but he leaned his head down, and kissed Dorian, gently at first, but with an obvious heat and want -- hard for him to stop once he started. It nearly startled him when Dorian didn't shriek or cry out, didn't fight -- only became slightly still, and allowed him to do what he was doing, lips parting in a manner almost (but not quite) inviting. For a moment, he used that leeway, to the fullest extent he could -- then he pulled back, realizing what he was doing, and what Dorian *wasn't* doing, more importantly. He'd slipped his tongue lightly against lips that would have once responded with fervor... and now simply didn't pull back. "I'm sorry, Dorian. I shouldn't have done that..."

A pat upon his shoulder seemed to say that it was all right, Dorian's mouth pressing to his entirely gently, sweetly. It hadn't been so bad. Perhaps Father had been right -- perhaps it wouldn't be bad, at all, but he wouldn't think about *that* just now. The kiss had been enough to consider.

One slow step at a time, but with enough progression, slow as it was, to please Klaus -- would that work, possibly?

When Dorian pressed the kiss again, Klaus decided he wasn't going to protest further -- he was going to savor that special long-missed intimacy, his lover's lips against his, moving in more than just a fleeting peck. Again, there was no resistance, only sweet yielding, and finally, the faintest of movements in return before Dorian pulled away and laid his head upon Klaus's shoulder, a breathy little sigh spilling loose from him.

"Thank you," Klaus told Dorian, sincere as the pleasure of it still tingled at his lips. "Thank you, Dorian, thank you..."

A hand lightly stroked up his shoulder. /I want to make you happy. I do. And if this makes you happy.../ Well. It wasn't so bad, after all, was it?

Klaus bundled Dorian closer in the two blankets, one warm and one comfortably familiar. "See? Things are better." Perhaps that man with the funny-looking hair was going to do some good, after all... It was hard to not smile wildly at Dorian after that kiss, and the look, soothing and calm, that Dorian still wore. "Shall we go inside? It's starting to chill..."

With a nod, Dorian rose, clutching his blanket to him momentarily before reaching out to grasp Klaus close to him, instead. Those brilliant aquamarine eyes were sleepy, sweet, and it made a wash of adoration spill through his beloved, a pleasant tingly sort of sensation.

"You're wonderful," Klaus couldn't help but gently sigh, eyes closing lightly as he clutched Dorian almost desperately close against him.

/I love you,/ Dorian thought, lightly stroking his dark hair. /I love my Klaus./

"Let's go in -- back to our bed, Dorian -- where it's warm, and where we can see the stars and all that color you like..."

THAT, Dorian decided, sounded just perfect, so he tugged at Klaus's hand and wrapped his blanket more tightly about him in preparation for finding the stairs. It wasn't hard, though, as Klaus always left the door propped open a little. The staff didn't even complain anymore about it, since they worried about them both so much. A propped open door told them where to look if they were needed. "Do you want a shower first...?"

A nod, a little dreamy, came in answer. Dorian *loved* baths, even now, and so a shower sounded like a most magnificent thing to his way of thinking.

"A long shower," Klaus promised, as he started to back down the stairs most carefully, door held open for the moment with a shoulder.

With a little pat for his back, Dorian indicated that he should turn around to go down, the blankets trailing along behind them. Klaus laughed once, softly, and didn't turn, though he had an arm at Dorian's arm to keep him comfortably close. "All right. No tripping, this way..."

Just the thought of it made Dorian shiver, worry, but he kept walking down with Klaus, anyway, smiling at him a bit bravely until they reached the bottom, a most sincere relief. Then he was swept up tight in their blankets again, Klaus walking beside him as they moved towards their bedroom. "It's been a good day..." Dorian had even gotten new crayons that morning!

If only every day could be as magnificent! Oh, he smiled at Klaus and pressed a kiss to his cheek, only dropping his blanket once they were in their room, draping it over the end of the bed. Clothing was abandoned in a pile, leaving only underwear, and he pointed to the bathroom, beaming at Klaus once more.

"I'll start the water...? You grab the soap," Klaus decided, stripping himself off carefully, down to his underwear, too, and he was careful to hide any signs of *need*.

A brilliant smile was agreement, Dorian moving to fetch the soap Klaus liked before following him into the bathroom, peeking inside. Klaus was half-bent into the stall, nude now, adjusting the water carefully -- not too hot or too cold for Dorian. It made the blond man smile, slipping up quietly, making just enough noise for Klaus to know that he was there before he tenderly wrapped his arms around the man.

Klaus remembered times when such a motion would have been sexual, and now... now it wasn't, and Klaus had to control himself as he slowly stood up, gently straightened. "Ready?"

A nod, and Dorian tugged off his underwear, getting ready to step under the spray. It was rather obvious that *he* had felt nothing resembling what Klaus had, but he was still beautiful all the same, even with the gunshot scar, the knife slashes upon his face. So beautiful... Still his, at least in the heart, if not the need. Klaus *still* had Dorian and Dorian still needed him, so... So the beauty that was Dorian was still his. "You first," Klaus murmured softly.

Wordlessly, Dorian drifted past him, slipping into the shower and stepping beneath the spray. It was a lovely sight, blond head tipping back to dampen wild curls, hands coming up to hasten the wetting, momentarily soapless. Rivulets ran down him in little washes, and it was almost more than Klaus could bear. Almost...

He managed to lean back, away from Dorian's close, too close, body, and not touch Dorian in any way other than the familiar hand he kept as his companion's waist. "Soap now?" he asked in an oddly husky voice. An imperious hand reached out, palm up, waiting for soap. "There you go," Klaus purred after he squeezed out the shower-gel that Dorian liked -- it was a smell that *he* could handle, but pretty, and Dorian liked the bright color of it. Bright, bright purple.

It gained him the most brilliant smile as Dorian began to wash, closing his eyes and sighing softly. He loved the water, loved to bathe, and it felt so good, just to be warm and caressed that way, and with Klaus watching him... It was almost enough to draw reaction from him, and it came, but he didn't notice it, not anymore than he would have known what to *do* with it.

Klaus noticed, though, and that made his own slight reaction a little worse. His eyes closed -- it was so hard to watch Dorian just then, hard to not touch him, to not reach out and do something *bad*... "Are you enjoying this?" Klaus asked softly, eyes still closed.

/Yes,/ Dorian thought, allowing the soapy trails to sluice away from him with the water. /Yes, I'm enjoying this. Are you?/ This... *this* was not the bad thing, and he felt very odd, but...

But perhaps, for now, it would do.

The replete expression on the blond's face seemed to be answer enough, when Klaus opened his eye again. Carefully, he moved a hand to touch Dorian, wipe at some of the soap. "Good. I like when you enjoy things."

Wet fingers lightly reached out, cupping Klaus's face so that Dorian could lean forward, press his lips against those of his beloved's. He was almost done, only needed to wash his hair, but it felt *right* to kiss Klaus, then, and to pat his shoulder gently.

The kiss was a reminder of what had once been -- and the pat of what now was. Dorian was still a wreck, slow to repair, and Klaus...

/Don't think. Enjoy,/ he chided himself strongly as he kissed Dorian back with emotion that was threatening to spill over like the water from the showerhead.

Tenderly, Dorian put him under the water, allowing him to get wet before he reached for the shampoo to wash his own head, humming a soundless, odd little tune happily, smiling at Klaus. Oh, his Klaus was beautiful, like his Tyrian, lovely, lovely painting-men, and he was so exquisitely happy...

Klaus waited for Dorian to finish with the shampoo, and then took the bottle carefully to use it himself. Worse, he was torn between bothering at all and simply watching Dorian. Old cleanliness habits made him finally start, though, and made Dorian's eyes fall on him.

The bright smears of purple gel turning to lavender lather made Dorian chuckle as he finished soaping his curls and put a hand up to help wash Klaus's hair, too. Helpful, it might have been, but it made Klaus want *things*, and made him sigh. The hiss of the water drowned that out well, so he only had to worry about putting down any of the too-obvious effects of Dorian's touch to him, so close, and so sultry, even unknowing.

Or was he?

He leaned close, quiet close, and one soapy hand moved slowly, timidly down Klaus's belly. The expression upon his face was worried, more than a little, but it seemed also quite determined, even when his eyes closed, even when he laid his still-soapy head upon Klaus's shoulder and moved into him for comfort.

Klaus was glad just then that the Schloss's hot water could last for some time. Now, assured that they could be comfortable under the water for some time to come, Klaus only had the worry of what Dorian would do next. All that slim hand had to do was inch down a bit more, and then Dorian would *know*... "You don't have to do that," Klaus murmured tensely, waiting.

It seemed, though, that Dorian *did*, for his fingers moved almost tremblingly down to clasp the hardened flesh, his entire body jumping momentarily as he clasped Klaus in his palm and hid his face tightly against Klaus's neck. /Oh, I want you to be happy. I'm so afraid!/

"Ohh... Dorian... you..." Not a protest among those bare murmurings, as he clutched Dorian closer, eyes closed. It was so wrong, to do that, to want that, to *let* Dorian do it... but just as hard to resist as it was wrong to do.

Almost unfelt, that clasp, gently shifting, lightly touching, and Dorian's lips were on his throat, kissing the soapy flesh as the water washed over them. Blue eyes remained tightly closed, mostly because of what he was *doing*, partially because the shampoo was rinsing out of his hair and trailing down their bodies. /Be happy. Be happy.../

"Dorian..." Klaus was so scared to do anything more than let Dorian do it, afraid that if he so much as moved his hips that Dorian would hate him forever. "C-can... I mean, do you..." The mouth against his throat kissed tenderly again, encouragement, Dorian's hand shifting. "You.... know what you're doing?" Klaus strained softly, shifting a little, at last, to that gentle, barely there hand.

A slow nod came by way of answer, Dorian biting his lower lip, all of the shampoo long-gone by then. Yes, he knew what he was doing, the *bad thing*, the thing he didn't want to do, but ohh, if it made Klaus happy...!!

He felt Klaus's hands, one maimed but both still strong, clutch at his back for support, careful and gentle though still desperate in their need. It had been so long, and Dorian's hand on him was so different from his own hand on himself. To be touched was less dirty and wrong than his own touch. "Don't stop."

It was unbearable, it was so strange, he was so afraid, but he didn't stop. No, he didn't stop, done with selfishness, done with Klaus crying because he wanted the bad thing. He only wanted Klaus to be happy, to be happy, and the more he told himself that, the easier it became, fingers on slick flesh, slow and sweet.

It was Klaus's own motions that finally brought the other man his much-sought pleasure, a thrust of his hips forwards to slender fingers. Then Dorian felt something that wasn't water against his hand, a thick spill of fluid that came with a groan from Klaus, clutching him tight in orgasmic pleasure, quiet.

Done, over, or so it seemed, and Dorian looked up at him, then, eyes opening, the blue of them darkened with worry. /Is it over? Is there nothing else bad?/ he wondered, biting his lower lip tightly.

Grey-green eyes, one as clear and clean as glass, the other unfocused in the haze of enjoyment, met blue and held them for a moment before he kissed Dorian tenderly. /Don't scare him, oh, don't.../ "Thank you."

Carefully, both of Dorian's arms came around him, holding him closely. /Oh, it's over. That wasn't so bad, was it?/

Klaus savored that embrace, before letting his hands stroke over Dorian to see if there was any soap left to be tended to. "That felt so good, Dorian..."

A little sigh spilled over from his beloved -- he was tired, he decided, worn out from fretting over what he'd done, and he lifted his face for one more kiss before letting Klaus know with a motion that he was ready for bed. So the dark-haired man led Dorian from the shower-stall, and they stood on the fuzzy bathmat together, Klaus handing Dorian a thick towel. "Did... it bother you?"

'Afraid,' Dorian mouthed slowly, sleepily. 'Worried. Not so bad.'

"No," Klaus agreed as he started to towel off Dorian's hair, neck and shoulders, "it isn't so bad. Tomorrow can I do that for you?"

That question gained him a worried little look and then acquiescence in the form of kisses, little touches, the trembling in Dorian not hidden. /I don't want the bad thing like you want it, though.../ Or he didn't *think* he did. Perhaps he did, and he just didn't know what wanting the bad thing felt like?

"I won't hurt you," Klaus promised. "I love you Dorian, I'd never.... never hurt you so badly."

Never to be hurt... no, no, Klaus wouldn't hurt him, would he? Not Klaus. He loved Klaus... /Love you. Won't hurt me, no, no.../

Nodding still, Klaus finished toweling off his lover, then himself as a secondary motion, before leading Dorian in to the bedroom. Even with the sun set, it seemed that the light that spilled into the room was gaily colored from the windows. "I love you, Dorian. Always."

/Always,/ Dorian thought, slipping into bed, not caring that his hair was damp. His arms reached out for Klaus, touching him, pulling him close. /Always, always, always.../

Shivering a little at the innocent press of skin to skin, as Dorian had forgone pajamas for speed it seemed, Klaus let himself be cuddled close, and cuddled Dorian close, rocking him just a little. "'s been a good day."

Indeed, it had been, and Dorian sighed, pressed damply against the length of Klaus. The rocking felt good, and his eyes drooped... drooped... and drooped shut, and for once, Klaus was pleased for his lover to be asleep, warm and close in his arms.


There were so many PEOPLE!!!

It left Dorian quite wide-eyed, his mouth slightly parted with wonder as he looked around, hand clutching tightly to Klaus's. He was sure he'd seen this many people before at some point but oh! It seemed as if there were millions and millions of them, and there was just him, clutching to Klaus and to his own coat as they followed Father and Dominic and the funny-haired tall man.

"Stay close, Dorian," Klaus reminded him gently as they boarded off of the plane and went down through the gateway. He remembered that airports were crowded places, usually, and that he'd never liked them too much because of that, but Dorian's jitteriness was starting to rub off on him, too.

Oh, those were words Dorian could appreciate, and he clutched to Klaus tightly, the look in those deep blue eyes just a little wild. He wouldn't let go of Klaus, not at all! He wouldn't! Oh, but he had to *go*, and he wished he could say so...

"Anything wrong?" Klaus asked softly, a whisper as they trailed after their group of guardians. "Other than being here."

Dorian's mouth pressed tightly for a moment and he nodded, pausing and crossing his legs to look at Klaus hopefully.

Klaus laughed once, nodded in reply, and then looked around for a moment before he tugged Dorian off towards the sign that said 'restrooms' with a barely uttered noise to his father and Dr. Himemiya. Dominic had already cut ahead to find the baggage.

By the time they got there, Dorian was so relieved he heaved a sigh, grateful to have gotten the message across. He hadn't wanted to leave Klaus's side in the plane, and so they hadn't gone in what seemed like forever, but now...

Oh, he felt *better*!

Klaus had waited mostly patiently, gone too, and when Dorian was done and had washed his hands, he grasped Dorian's hand in his again. They got a few funny looks, Klaus, noticed without much care, as they stepped out of the men's bathroom. It was then that he realized they were no longer with his father, Akio and Dominic.

Dorian looked at him expectantly, tilting his head to the side as if to say, /Where are they?/

"Maybe they didn't hear us -- they're probably getting bags," Klaus decided as he started towards a sign to read where the baggage area was. Dorian followed him most obediently, hand clasped tightly in Klaus's. Oh, he hoped they weren't lost!

"'ey, wot we got 'ere...?" a voice asked sarcastically, a finger poking Dorian from behind.

Klaus pivoted sharply from the directory he was reading through, pulling Dorian closer. "What?"

"Looks like a couple o' faggots to *me*," a second man purred, poking Klaus next. "Lookit!"

Dorian whined high in his throat and clutched Klaus even more tightly, eyes filling sharply. Oh, he was afraid!

"Go away," Klaus murmured in a very stubborn tone of voice, as he turned resolutely back to the directory, Dorian held tighter still against his side with his maimed hand. /No weapons, can't hurt them. Bad to... *will* hurt if they hurt Dorian, will, I'll protect Dorian, I'll protect him./

"Ohhh, the li'l fag wants us to go away!" They were drawing attention, now, from the crowd around them, but no one did anything, even when one poked Dorian again and he cried out in fear, childish features trembling as he shifted away from that touch.

Klaus's features grew animalistic, a little scared and unsure, but more threatened than anything. "Don't touch him!"

"Don't touch the woofter, 'e says," the second one snickered, poking *Klaus*, then. "He."

"Idiot," Klaus bit out with a dark furrow between his brows as he kicked out sharply at the second one. "Go away! I'm just trying to read the damn sign!" Dorian's soft keening fear was certainly making him even more edgy as he placed the blond man behind him.

"'ey," the first murmured, "security's comin'. 's time t'get out the way, hn?"

"Go away," Klaus reiterated, still holding Dorian close behind him, now, protective like a well-trained dog. Why could no one just leave them alone?

By the time they were gone, the keening had turned to soft cries of fear, Dorian clutching tightly to him. It seemed so horrible! What made anyone want to hurt them? All Dorian wanted to do was hold onto Klaus and color and occasionally look at his other painting man. What was so wrong??

Klaus turned, albeit cautiously, to hold Dorian, rocking him a little as he stood there crying, "We're okay," he assured softly, as he sighted security's arrival.

/No, no!/ Dorian shook his head, trembling in Klaus's arms despite the eyes upon him, despite the men in blue coming close to them. /No, not okay! *Afraid*!/

"They're gone, and we'll be home soon..." Klaus went on softly, rocking a bit more -- really just a gentle swaying -- to calm Dorian more. "All right?"

"Here, now," a security guard said, "what's the trouble, then?"

"Two.... two men were harassing Dorian," Klaus scowled quite unhappily as he went on with trying to comfort Dorian. "And we can't find our guardians."

"I see..." The man seemed thoughtful for a moment. "Tell you what. I'll run you up to the front and send out a call, hm? D'you..." No, perhaps that would be an insulting sort of question. "What's your names, then?"

It was a little late, though, because Klaus already looked offended and very unhappy. "Klaus von dem Eberbach and Dorian Red Gloria." The mere sound of that pique in Klaus's voice drew Dorian's tearful gaze timidly to the man, his hands still clutching tightly at Klaus.

"Er... yes, well, then, come along, we'll run through the metal detectors and go to the office, then," the security guard said. Oh, Klaus was still intimidating!

Even with Dorian clutched so close, and talk of guardians from a man with grey at his temples. He *knew*, though, and wasn't ashamed to admit that his father and Dominic were invaluable to him, and that they weren't self-sufficient, he and Dorian. "And you'll find them?" Klaus pressed as he rubbed Dorian's shoulder gently.

"We'll find 'em," the man promised. "D'you know, perhaps, where you were bound? Surely they'd be looking for you..."

Father wouldn't leave them, Dorian knew, but oh, he couldn't remember where they were going. He was so upset!

"We're heading for a castle in the North Downs," Klaus said as they started to follow. "But, the baggage claim first. I was trying to find it when those two started to harass Dorian..."

"Right, then. Come along," the fellow told them, and turned to walk away, glancing back to see if they were coming.

They did follow, though it was slowly, Klaus careful to not jostle Dorian through the crowd too badly, yet somehow keep him close as they headed towards the metal detectors. There, the guard walked through ahead of them, but it rang the moment they passed beyond the little barrier, and Dorian cried out softly in fear.

"It's okay, Dorian," Klaus soothed softly, as they were backed up out of it. "It... might have been me." At least, he *hoped* it was him!

Oh, oh, how Dorian didn't want it to be either of them! They were walked back through and it went off again, bringing the tears back to those eyes as the security guard said softly, "Um, you'll hafta walk through one at a time, now..."

"You first, Dorian," Klaus granted softly, letting his companion move in front of him towards the frame.

Dorian shook his head, shifting back to Klaus frightenedly. /No, no, no! They'll take you away from me!!/

"Okay -- I'll go first then," was the opposite reply -- given just as easily, just for Dorian. He neared it cautiously, then stepped through.

No sound.

"Now you, sir," the security guard said, and Dorian rushed through, reaching for Klaus...

And it went off again.

"It's probably change," Klaus decided softly. "Can't we go?"

"Just a minute," a second guard said, standing with a small device to run over Dorian. "Let me check." Even if they *seemed* harmless... SEEMING innocuous and actually *being* innocuous were separate things.

"Don't touch him," Klaus warned flatly, starting to frown again. "We're just trying to head home."

"I'm just going to run the wand over and check what's beeping," the second man told him quietly, ignoring the people who were now gathering around to watch.

"Okay," Klaus said, as if he had supreme control over the man with the wand and was deciding if he could go on. "Just do it."

The moment he got near them, Dorian began screaming.

It was awful, a terrible, terrified *keening* sound that was almost earsplitting, and Dorian's hands on Klaus were frantic, his arms wrapping tightly about him to hide himself from the thing. Oh, he wanted to die, he wanted to do anything to get away from it, from being lost and that *THING*!

"Shhh, shhh, Dorian..." Klaus *tried*, desperately, to soothe -- God, it was just a rectangle of plastic and metal, why ever Dorian was panicking, he didn't know. "Dorian, Dorian, calm down..."

It was so *hard* to calm down, though, when the man was so close, so *CLOSE*, and they wanted to take him away from Klaus, he was sure of it! A momentary delve of the man's hand into his coat pocket made him shriek loudly, but it brought up the little can of juice he'd been given on the plane.

"There, there, now, young fellah," the security guard said, "all's right and tight. You can have your juice back.'

All that for *juice*! Klaus wanted to hit something, but settled for glaring. "You've got him upset," Klaus murmured unhappily as he started to back away some, pulling Dorian with him.

"Come along, then," the first guard said uneasily. "We'll just go right on to the office, then..."

Klaus now fell silent as they walked, a brooding unhappy silence as he pulled Dorian gently along, trying to soothe him better. It just wasn't right that they'd been put to such trouble for just being lost!

It helped greatly to be close to Klaus, the fear that they might take the dark-haired German away from him driving him to tears, still, as he clung tightly. He'd forgotten his little canned juice, and his lower lip trembled wildly, but oh, how grateful he was to be in Klaus's arms!

"We're just going to go see Father and Dominic again, Dorian -- you can calm down," Klaus uttered at last, gently pressing words of encouragement.

But what if they *never* saw Father and Dominic again? What if the strange man who was supposed to be helping them had taken Father and Dominic away and didn't ever bring them back!? What if someone took Klaus away, too, and left him all alone!! He'd just die, he'd die without Klaus, it was too awful a thought, and it was all he could do to try and pull himself together, to pretend that he wasn't *afraid* when he really truly was scared, even as Klaus rubbed his shoulder gently, murmuring wordless senseless noises at him to calm him down. "Shhh. Wir... we're almost home again. Just relax."

/I can't!/ Dorian thought miserably as they were led into a small, grey office, tears falling loose as he sniffed and held tightly to Klaus. /I can't. Oh, I wish I could be brave like you.../

Klaus sat down after he pushed two chairs together with his knee, so that he could still keep Dorian close. "Can you get them now?"

Ignoring that second chair, Dorian promptly climbed into his lap, legs dangling over the arm of the thing, body wrapped around Klaus as the guard stared, open-mouthed. "Ahm... yeah, yeah," he said, and quickly lifted the phone to dial, speaking to someone quickly about making an announcement and where to find them.

Klaus didn't seem too bothered by it -- in fact, he looked to the guard almost content, wrapping his arms around the lean-bodied blond that had crawled up into his lap. "Are they coming?"

"I'm sure they will be shortly," the man replied, eyeing them just a bit oddly as Dorian nuzzled his face into Klaus's neck and finally, *finally*, calmed and became quiet.

"Staring is damn rude," Klaus growled at the guard. "Why are you doing it?"

The man was a fairly quick thinker; that had to be said for him. "'s a boring office, innit? Not much to look at, is there?"

"I guess not," Klaus shrugged blandly, glancing around a little boredly himself before his eyes settled at the man's hip. "You don't carry a gun?"

"'fraid not," the guard replied. "You like guns?"

"Ja. I... used to be in the army," Klaus murmured, leaning back a little in the chair to relieve the dig of Dorian's hip-bone against his own. "I like them a lot." /And Dorian doesn't, so it's just as well that you don't have any./

"And your friend?" the man asked, indicating Dorian as he nuzzled close to Klaus, shifting so that they could both be more comfortable.

"No, he doesn't," Klaus murmured, letting his head tilt a little to rest his cheek atop thick curls of golden hair. "He scares easily. Which is all right."

"Sounds complicated," the man said agreeably even as the door to the office opened.

"Klaus!" It was his father, looking ancient and worried. "You shouldn't wander off so!" /And I should have kept a better eye on you!/ Lord, it had been almost enough to give him heart failure!

"I thought I told you we were going," Klaus murmured, not yet getting up from his chair -- Dorian was comfortable to hold now that they'd found positions, and he was mostly reluctant to move. "Sorry."

"It's all right," the older man sighed, momentarily seating himself. Oh, how his heart raced! "It's all right. Thank you for finding them, sir."

"They ran into a bit 'f trouble," the security guard told Heinz, giving him a slightly questioning look -- but the story of *what* was going on was something he just knew he'd never know, so there was no point in asking. "Try to keep them closer."

"Thank you," Heinz sighed again, accent heavy.

"You are both safe?" Dominic asked, lightly stroking Dorian's hair, an action that gained him a brilliant smile from that tear-stained face.

Klaus nodded, then started to carefully stand -- righting Dorian first, but by no means did he let Dorian loose from his arms at all. "We're okay. I knew you wouldn't leave without us..."

Akio, lingering in the door frame, was simply thinking if there were any sorts of tracking devices that could be used on them.

"Why on earth did you leave?" Heinz questioned, gently prodding them to stand a bit more. Dorian obeyed, crawling out of Klaus's lap, but not letting go of him.

"Dorian had to... go," he was told, Klaus patting Dorian's shoulder gently to start them moving towards the door frame. It was *cramped* in that little office, now, and he didn't like it.

"I'll keep better watch next time," Dominic fretted as they headed outside.

"No, no," Heinz sighed. "It was my fault. We.. oh, dear, I do believe we forgot about that *Bonham* person."

Klaus was the one, tired and still a bit unhappy, who started off down the short hallway again, Dorian at his side and the others expected to follow. "Is he picking us up?"

"Ah, yes, yes," his father informed him. "All of us."

"And we'll be home soon?" Klaus pressed -- he knew it wasn't home for *him*, except for a few times, but it was Dorian's real home, where he hadn't been in too long. "Yes?"

"Very shortly," Heinz agreed.

"I've heard that Lord Gloria has some exquisite art pieces in his home," Akio offered conversationally as they made their way back along towards baggage claim.

"He does," Klaus agreed. "Very pretty, all of them." /Stole them all, too, but that's what he was good at./

"I should like to see that," Akio replied. "I'm sure he will, too."

Dorian didn't notice that they were talking about him, though. Instead, his eyes had fastened quite firmly on a little man with bowl cut hair and mustache, and as they got closer, he raised his arm and waved wildly.

"M'lord! Lord Gloria!!!!" Bonham, Klaus recognized surprisingly quickly. "M'lord, there you are!"

Indeed, there he was, and so pleased with himself to find the little man! He flung his arms about him, parted only momentarily from Klaus, and squeezed happily. It was the not-crying man who came with the little crying thing! Oh, how proud he was of himself!

"Oh, m'lord, it's good to see you!" Bohnam said worriedly as he hugged Dorian back, just a little, before the taller man pulled back and Klaus snagged his hand. "I'd almost worried that you'd all gotten lost or just decided to not come!"

"Only a little lost," Dominic told him. "I'm afraid we made a side-trip to the gentlemen's room..."

At that Dorian nodded. They had indeed, but they had been found again! Wasn't life grand?

"Do we have the bags?" Klaus asked after a moment's though, squeezing Dorian's hand gently.

"I'll go fetch them," Dominic promised, and promptly headed off in the direction of baggage claim.

"I'll help him," Akio volunteered. Such an old man didn't need to be lugging about bags for all of them!

"Why don't you get in the car, Father?" Klaus asked, looking to Bonham to make sure that was okay -- after all, his father was looking *very* tired.

"I believe I will," Heinz faltered. His pallor was undeniable; he was becoming too old to travel, truly, no matter how strong he often still appeared.

Klaus was aware of it, and that fact worried him -- soon, in all likelihood, his father would be gone, and then Dominic...

And then what would they do? Fend for themselves, he supposed, but it would really just be him fending for the both of them. Klaus smiled for a moment at Bonham, then opened the door for his father, passenger side in the front where there was more room.

"Thank you, Klaus," Heinz sighed, settling into the car with some obvious relief. Dorian's face was worried as he reached out, patted at Heinz carefully.

/Father looks bad.../ And oh, he did, pale and tired. Dorian hoped he would feel better soon...

Klaus didn't close the door yet -- just stood there, with it open so air could pass past Heinz. "Okay?"

"Just fine," Heinz lied, smiling at him tiredly. "I'll be fine, Klaus."

Klaus nodded, once, though he didn't seem very believing. "Stay here, Dorian? I'm going to go help Akio and Dominic."

That seemed to make Dorian quite unhappy, but he sighed, nodding and seating himself on the edge of the door, back pressed to Heinz's feet. He wasn't going to let Father out of his sight, especially if he had to let Klaus out of it!

"I'll stay 'ere with 'em," Bonham offered, nodding to Klaus.

"Thank you." Politely enough given, and then Klaus set off -- to find Dominic and Akio.

"The two of you shouldn't run off like that -- I was very worried about the both of you," Heinz murmured softly.

Pulling out his pen and paper, Dorian jotted down an answer, expression pitiful. 'I had to go...'

Heinz's cheeks flushed just a little -- ohh, that was a horrible reason, really, but... but he couldn't argue it at all. "Next time, make sure we know."

Dorian smiled, then, and laid his head down upon Heinz's knee, closing his eyes to wait quiescently for Klaus to come back.

It wasn't so long a wait; after all, four grown men had gone to fetch their luggage, and there hadn't been so much of it. Nearly ten minutes later, they were back again, Bonham and Akio pausing to load the trunk as Klaus moved towards the front door and Dominic slid tiredly into the back seat.

"Dorian...?" Klaus asked, unable to not smile as he looked down at his peaceful lover. "Dorian, come on -- we're going to sit in the back."

With a pat to Father's leg, Dorian sat up, rubbing his eyes as he stood and moved to stand next to Klaus, head automatically dropping to the dark-haired man's shoulder. Oh, he was so glad that Klaus was back!! Klaus slid an arm around Dorian's waist, tugging him to sit in the back with he and Dominic...

"Uhm, shall I just crawl into the trunk?" Akio asked, looking at the seating -- for five people at the most.

"'M afraid you'll hafta squeeze in the front, sir," Bonham replied, looking sheepish. The seats were not *quite* bucket seats, but it would be a most uncomfortable ride for him, indeed!

"Dorian can sit on my lap," Klaus offered -- after all, that was where his companion would end up anyway. In a little swarm, Dorian placed himself there happily, laying his head on Klaus's shoulder and smiling sweetly at Akio and Bonham. It gave the little mustached man the shivers, it did, seeing Eroica like that, but... Dominic slid over as the back door opened and Akio slid into the car. "Thank you, Dorian," he said, nodding to Klaus.

Klaus just hugged Dorian close, nodding. "It's not a very long drive, 'n this is comfortable," Akio was informed.

/Love my Klaus,/ Dorian thought happily, nuzzling close. /Love, love, love my Klaus.../


The castle at the North Downs was strangely clear in Klaus's memory, even though this time he saw it over the top of Dorian's head, with the earl and owner of that castle burrowed close against him. It was comfortable, enjoyable, but... but struck him as wrong at times. Not bad wrong, but... as if things should have been different. He should have been driving, and it should have just been he and Dorian, and they wouldn't have gotten lost and scared at the airport before, either.

Too many changes had happened, he supposed. "Dorian, look out the window -- it's your castle."

The blond man shifted, glancing out, and it seemed almost as if lightning had struck him. He stiffened, and his hands went to the glass as he paled slightly, blue eyes becoming enormous as he looked at it -- looked at it as if his sight could not be torn *away* from it, fascinated, needy, and ultimately, *strangely*, *aware* of it. 'Mine...' he mouthed. 'Mine!!'

Klaus watched the transformation overtake the man settled comfortably on his lap, and smiled uncontrollably. "Yes, that's yours Dorian -- isn't it beautiful? We used to... we used to come here often and stay."

/It's mine... It's mine, and Klaus and I would be safe here, too.../ It felt almost as if another part of the world, of *himself*, had opened up then, and it nearly overwhelmed him!

"You bought it once you were... good enough at what you did. You hosted a lot of parties and things here, and... We'll stay here as long as you like." that last was sighed, hopeful, as he kissed Dorian's hair lightly.

Ohh, to *STAY*!!! Dorian was so excited!

"Well," Akio murmured, "it appears that this trip might well be very good for our Earl of Gloria!"

"It's home -- this was our second home, before..." Before it had happened that second time and hurt them both so badly.

At that, Dorian scrambled for pad and paper, and Dominic gave it to him, though not quickly enough to suit. He frantically got the cap off, dropping it in the car, and began to write. 'It's mine! It's mine, and we have been here, and I love it here! The little crying thing, *JAMES*, James is here, isn't he? And I love it here!!'

"Yes," Klaus agreed, scanning quickly over the paper before giving his companion a light hug. Relief sank into his voice as he nuzzled a little against the earl. "Yes -- you've got all your paintings here, and your sculptures, and... and I'm glad you're glad to be here again. I was scared you wouldn't recognize it."

Oh, he *did* recognize it, he did, and he *yearned* for it, wanted to be out of the car *NOW* and near it, in it, *touching* it... And as they drove past a mansion, he gasped again, pointing at it. /I know there! I know there! We were there once, together, and you had a nap! I KNOW THERE!!/ he thought, tugging at Klaus desperately.

"What -- what's there?" Klaus asked, following Dorian's line of sight.

/We were there!! WE were there!!/ Oh, he wanted to scream it, and his frustration was visible!

The pen was handed back again, with the paper, and Klaus murmured quietly, "Write it."

'We were THERE!' Dorian scrawled. 'We were there, we were there, and you *slept*!!'

"Slept... on the hill?" Klaus asked, nodding to himself. "I napped -- you watched me!"

'Yes, yes, YES!' Dorian nodded, wanting to get out and go there!!

"Can you remember things, Dorian?" Akio asked softly.

Oh, yes, yes, he *could*, and he nodded, pointing desperately at the hillside that was gone now, and then to the castle, as well. He remembered, and he remembered...

He remembered Klaus and *the bad thing*, except...

Except it wasn't so bad-seeming. Just like being held in Klaus's arms, sitting on his lap -- comfortable, right. "See?" Klaus asked Akio. "See, this was a good idea..."

Ohh, it was a very good idea, and the psychiatrist was delighted to see Dorian seeming *aware*, a little different than he had before they'd come. "Yes," he agreed solemnly, "yes, I do believe it was!"

"Wait until you see inside the house, Dorian," Klaus murmured. "And our room..."

They had a room! They did, they had a *lovely* room with a great big bed and soft velvets and silks filled with pretty, no, *beautiful*, exquisite things! He was so *excited*!!

Well, to see Dorian so pointedly happy... Klaus would gratefully stay in England forever, if he had to!

The car eventually rolled to a halt at the front of the drive, just before the great double doors. Dorian nearly dived out the door, leaving only a wake of tangled gold hair behind as he stood tall beside the vehicle, looking up and up and up before he *squealed* with glee, a strange sound, indeed, and turned to pull Klaus out as well.

"I believe this was the right thing to do," Heinz sighed tiredly. He'd fallen asleep on the drive and was only just now waking slowly.

"Perhaps you should rest after the flight, sir," Dominic suggested quietly while half-watching Klaus being dragged up to those double doors.

"There's room for everyone," Bonham announced as the front door opened and a veritable *flood* of pretty men came running out gleefully to see Dorian, who promptly shrieked and turned to clutch at Klaus.

Klaus's eyes went *wide*, and he hugged Dorian to him protectively, taking a careful back-step. Who were they, who were... Dorian's thieves!! That was a relieving thought, to realize who and what they were as they all gathered 'round, not touching, but welcoming all the same, even as Dorian hid his face almost shyly against Klaus's shoulder, shivering. For a moment, it seemed that he would draw into himself, but then he turned, cast about one of those gorgeous smiles of his, and they all applauded, crying out to see them there.

"We're home," Klaus murmured quietly, still hugging Dorian so carefully against him. "We're back home."

Home. Oh, it *was* home, indeed!


That night, Klaus was already waiting in the wide rose-carved bed that took up a vast amount of the large room that belonged to them while Dorian finished brushing his teeth. He had wanted to do that alone, because he could, and he had smiled so sweetly, so *confidently*, that Klaus hadn't been able to deny him. Instead, his monocular gaze ran over the room -- walls full of pre-Raphaelites, vases overflowing with red roses on every well-polished mahogany surface -- and he waited.

He didn't have long to wait, for Dorian very shortly padded barefoot from the attached bathroom, looking as beautiful as ever he had. White silk pajamas that had been found in a drawer clung to him, and all of that lovely hair hung about his shoulders and down to his waist, making him an exquisite temptation.

Like being Adam in the garden of Eden. Tempted, but unable to actually touch, and that hurt every time he got so close to breaking his own vow to not hurt Dorian so. It was enough that he could sleep in the same bed with him, wasn't it? Wasn't that all he needed, really, in that way...?

"It's been a good day, hasn't it?" he asked warmly, pulling the sheets back for Dorian. The blond man kicked a stool out from under the bed and stepped up, crawling into the bed and moving beneath the covers as indicated, slipping into Klaus's arms. So warm and so close... he answered for Dorian, just out of the habit of liking to hear an answer. "Mmm, it has. Sleep... sleep well, Dorian."

Sleep wasn't really what Dorian was after, though; no, not really, for he leaned up and pressed his mouth most tentatively to Klaus's.

Kisses? Well, he could do that for *hours*, Klaus knew, and gladly. The tentative press was returned with a firmer one, yet with no threat of tongues tangling or too much pressure. It seemed, though, that *Dorian* wanted more, for he pressed the length of himself slowly, tremblingly against Klaus, wrapping himself tightly about the German man despite everything.

Klaus had to break that gentle, insistent kissing, and question it, though. "Dorian -- are you... you okay with... this?"

Oh, he was, he was, he remembered such *beautiful* things, and this bed, and wanting Klaus to do the bad thing with him... and if he had *wanted* Klaus to do bad things with him, maybe they weren't so bad after all!

No answer; of course there was no answer! Klaus fixed Dorian still for a moment, with a gentle hand on his cheek, to look at his eyes to find that approval and any sureness of action. It was there, it glowed from them, and he knew in that moment that Dorian was, if not himself, at least learning to be something other than that frightened shadow he had been.

And all it had taken was coming *here*, where he knew he was safe, and loved! Where he had been safe and loved long before Klaus entered his life at all, where his boys and his home, and his thefts... Yes, the first refuge for him, just as the schloss had been Klaus's. "Tell me... oh, tell me if you want to stop, stop me if it bothers you, don't be afraid to... to do that, please... I love you, Dorian, you've worried me so much..."

Yes. Yes, he loved Klaus, he loved him, and so he pulled him gently close and kissed him again, kissed him with all of the adoration and tenderness that he felt for him, and allowed Klaus to feel that he wanted to *be* with him, to touch him, to be touched *by* him...

Feeling it through Dorian's motions and his need was almost better than the words Dorian had once whispered to him. Slow, needing kisses, and Klaus let his own need seep through, need from months of shoving everything down, and sickening guilt over it. He had never thought that Dorian would let him touch him again, but he *was*, the slim man's hands, so dexterous, reaching and lightly placing Klaus's palms upon his hips. He seemed to know just what he wanted, to know just how Klaus felt!

He was touching those narrow hips, touching them more than just in an absent cuddle -- letting his fingers splay slowly now, in awe that he *was* touching Dorian with such need again. "Love you," he sighed softly, rubbing his thumbs over the points of Dorian's hips. "Have for years and years now..."

Oh, and Dorian loved him back, loved him or he would never, ever do a thing like this! It felt so nice, the way that Klaus was touching him, kissing him, a vague remembrance, an almost-not-quite place where they belonged together. He sighed, opening to him nearly visibly, shivering... /My Klaus.../

"Sit," Klaus urged, pulling Dorian gently to sit over his hips -- they were both still clothed in their pajamas, so there was no harm in it...

No harm in it, indeed, for Dorian seemed to enjoy straddling him, pressing against him to kiss him, to wrap his arms tightly about him. The blond man almost broke his heart with the loveliness of him, the sweetness, and the vague fear that he would become upset -- worse than upset, hysterical! And if he became hysterical, well, Klaus would go back to having to sleep on the floor, it it would take months to get back to where they were, comfortable... If only he had Dorian's voice to assure him that what they were doing was really all right. If only... "Mmm, can we?"

Could they *what*, Dorian wondered, but he smiled at Klaus and nuzzled him tenderly and shook his head as if to ask him, his lips parting on the words. 'Can we what?'

Carefully, so very carefully, sure to keep one hand on Dorian's hip, Klaus let his other slip to gently rest of Dorian's groin. "This?"

It seemed a decision of monumental importance, and the golden-haired man's face reflected that. He paused, looking at Klaus, and the obvious *nervousness* he felt, even fear, was clearly written upon it. Still, he leaned down again and kissed Klaus, kissed him sweetly, and gave acquiescence with that motion.

Gentle, then -- he'd have to be so slow and gentle to not startle Dorian forever, Klaus knew. Just to have that sort of kiss... "Thank you," Klaus whispered, sliding his hand up gently to start working Dorian out of his pajama top.

Those blue eyes seemed infinitely worried, but Dorian allowed him to do it, watching him quietly and carefully all the while. The occasional pause for kisses made it all right, made it not so bad, and he sighed with each one. He loved Klaus, he did, and perhaps... just perhaps...

Two strong hands, one whole and the other not, stroked slowly over Dorian's bared back, side and carefully over his chest. Two hard nipples were almost touched but avoided for the moment, carefully noting that he missed them each time between kisses.

It was nice to be touched that way; nice to feel Klaus's hands on him, warm and feeling very good, the way that they had in the bath. Was this what Father had meant, then? When he had said that the bad thing was not bad when you loved someone? It must have been, it seemed, for he sighed into those kisses and *shifted*, feeling pleasantly uncomfortable, somehow.

The shift was a little backwards, and he ended moving ever so slightly against a hard protrusion from Klaus's groin. "Ohhh." Barely bit back, that pleased noise, and Klaus's hands faltered for a moment in their luxurious stroking.

"Hmmmmm?" That was almost a purr of curiosity, the most *sound* Klaus had gotten from him in a long time, and it seemed rusty, not at all the well modulated baritone from before. That didn't bother him, though; no, not nearly as much as Dorian shifting again, trying to peek behind him to see what that was! /Like in the shower?/

It had to be, because another shift made Klaus groan like he had *then*, a restrained but happy sound despite the temperance. "Ohh, Dorian, you're... wonderful." /Going to drive me madder than I already am!/

That brought one of those smiles from his lover, accompanied by more kisses. Oh, if Klaus was happy, then this was all right! This was not so bad. He could *do* this... After all, it was like the shower, but in bed! He could feel his lips getting chapped from so many warm, needing kisses, and then hands slowly slipped beneath the waistband of his pants, caressing over his bottom gently.

"Mm?" It was another sound, and he became very, *very* still, looking at Klaus with an expression caught between curiosity and uncertainty. Klaus was fondling his...?

"Is... is that all right?" Klaus murmured, still just stroking, almost massaging lightly with his gentle, patient touch.

It was strange, it made him nervous, and he wasn't really sure how he felt about it, but...

...if it made Klaus *happy*...

Then that was really all there was for it. The hands didn't stray any further than simply rubbing back there -- indeed, they slowly crept forwards, and soon he felt a warm, maimed grasp rest tentatively over his cock. THAT made him sigh, made him give a little strangled hum, and he *squirmed* again, rubbing slightly at that protruding hardness of Klaus's, his eyes closed. Oh, that felt so *nice*, being touched there, even better than touching Klaus there had felt!

"This is okay, too?" Klaus asked, slowly shifting his hand to grasp gently around it, pushing Dorian's pants down a little.

Dorian nodded, wishing that he could do something for Klaus. Oh, it was definitely okay! It felt so *nice*...

"Good. Move... move up," Klaus coaxed gently. "Up over me."

Up over Klaus...how? He shifted, though, moving slowly, and it drew a groan from the other man, his beautiful painting man, and so he did it *again*, rubbing a bit harder with his bottom as he did so.

"Ohh, feels... feels so good Dorian," Klaus praised, half-closing his eyes as he shifted his hips at last against Dorian. Two layers of cloth kept him from doing something that surely would have panicked Dorian... And that was all. Need was screaming at him to do it!

The kisses from those soft lips intensified and Dorian gave an outright *moan*, a strangled bit of sound, as Klaus's fingers tightened slightly. Oh, it felt *so* *WONDERFUL*!!!

"Just.... bit faster," Klaus pleaded softly, picking up the pace of his own stroking over Dorian's slick-feeling, smooth cock. Oh, just a bit more, and he'd be *there*, with Dorian if he did it right!

It felt so good, so good, so good, and he was so close that lovely place where it felt even better, rocking there against Klaus's hand and that hard bit, and he gave a strangled, wordless *sound* as it nearly took him over, almost, *ALMOST*....!

"Do... Dorian!" Tight shudders raced through Klaus, and he could suddenly feel that flowing, lost throb, pressing himself convulsively closer to Dorian as the hand on the earl's hip clutched him desperately closer, while his hand locked tight in place.

Limply, Dorian settled atop Klaus, confusion warring in his veins with something else, something unknown, something... /Nice,/ he decided, closing his eyes as his breath finally slowed. /Nice with Klaus.../

Later, whenever they woke up gain, they'd have to change... but for now Klaus just shifted Dorian tightly against himself, and snagged a handful of sheets to drag up over them both. "Love you -- thank you."

"Mmmm." It was nice, that rusty sound, something Dorian hadn't made or even *tried* to make in forever. It filled Klaus warmly, especially when Dorian smiled at him and snuggled tightly against him.

Yes. Coming to England had been the *right* thing to do.


England's weather wore on Heinz a little, and he was missing Germany. Yet... yet some of the stress that had been there for him had lifted, he had to note as he looked out from his seat on the porch. Akio had gone home, with a list of recommendations and contact points for various people. One of them came in every other day to teach Dorian more sign words. Klaus was learning as best he could with his maimed right hand taken into account, and used simple gestures to supplement words whenever possible. More, his son's concentration was on learning what Dorian was saying in sign, to make communication easier for the two of them.

Crying happened less often, and the 'little crying man' had certainly calmed, despite his single fit over the price of the private sign lessons. That had been the only complaint...

And what was a little creaking of old bones compared to watching Dorian and Klaus putter calmly in the garden? Klaus had *smiled* to him when he'd traipsed past the porch with a bag of potting soil and a trowel.

It was an excellent start, if nothing else, and something of a relief to him, as well. They would function. His son and Dorian, they would be able to survive, even if he died in that moment, watching Dorian laugh in the garden, that strange sound of delight cast his way as the two of them worked on planting a lovely red rosebush -- Taboo, just like the one from Schloss Eberbach's garden.

"They will be all right," Dominic said softly from behind him, laying a hand upon Heinz's shoulder as he, too, watched them, Dorian signing something to Klaus most quickly and Klaus rolling his hands with two fingers out back towards him, then bringing his right hand slowly up his left in a curve -- 'sign slowly'. "Everything will be all right."

"Perhaps we should have come here sooner," Heinz sighed, still unable to shrug off the lingering of guilt that never truly ever left a parent with charges that had been so thoroughly hurt. "Yet... you are right -- they will be all right. They get better and better, and when we are gone, there are Bonham and James."

The old butler sighed quietly, as well, "Yes."

In the garden, Dorian laughed again, flung his arms about Klaus's neck, and the sunshine glinted off of him, turning him gold.

Golden. He had been Klaus's golden idol for so many years now, and once more they were happy -- Dorian, happy, was a drug for Klaus, happy and learning, and eager. Still hurt, but peeking out of the rubble he'd hidden himself in so long, ready to join Klaus in the light and world again to at least the half way point where Klaus himself was.

Golden, yes, and happy.

Everything was going to be all right.

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