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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.

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