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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.

~~~~~

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