Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Three men, he was pretty sure. Four? He hoped it was four chasing him; that was how many had been after them, and if they were all on his own tail, then they had lost his companions. He couldn’t stop and turn to count, relying only on the sounds of charging feet crashing through the trees behind him.

He considered the rifle on his back. He could take out one of them, two if he was lucky. He’d end up shot himself, there was no doubt, but surely the other men would stop to help their wounded or dead companions, giving the others an even bigger head-start.

It was his own mistake. Normally he was disciplined, but he dared a look behind himself as he ran. All that got him was confirmation that at least two men were behind him, and the price was his footing. His foot caught in a branch and he tumbled, and before he could slow his momentum, he was sliding down a ravine head-over-heels.

A gunshot, then another. Two misses, though the second shot hit the ground terrifyingly close to his head. He was up and running again, hopeful that even if he was slowed by the fall, his pursuers would be slowed trying to find a safe way down.

It was then that he found the hatch.

It was covered in branches that seemed to be attached to it, working as camouflage. He couldn’t understand why it was there; some secret shelter, perhaps, only found because he stepped directly on it. He weighed his options for only a second; the footsteps were getting loud again. He opened the hatch and dropped in, closing the top behind him.

There was a strange blue glow in the room; dim, but noticeable in the otherwise pitch dark. He clambered down the ladder, grabbing his rifle as soon as he hit the floor. The only sound was a faint humming, coming from some contraption in the middle of the room. It looked like someone had lived here at some point; there was a bed in the corner, some canned food on a shelf, a few books, but it all had a layer of dust. Whoever this place belonged to, they hadn't been here in a long time.

The contraption kept drawing his attention. It didn’t look like anything he’d seen before; bulky, massive, with a few small lights and switches next to some sort of circular arch. Three round knobs were jutting out of the arch pointed towards the center, equally set apart.

Curiosity killed the cat. It was a phrase he lived by, but he had to find out more; if there was someone hiding in here, or the machine was a weapon he could accidentally set off, he needed to know before he spent the hours down here waiting for the world above to be clear for escape. He approached, examining everything carefully. The metal was smooth, and he could feel energy radiating from it at the slightest touch. Some sort of generator was his best guess. But that arch – he didn’t understand what it could be for.

He reached out, putting his hand through the arch just a little to see if it would do anything.

A flash.

The room was empty again.

Chapter Text

“If he thinks I’m not pissing directly into his boots the second I get back to base…” Alfred grumbled to himself, trudging through mud. He was supposed to be on a training exercise, a joint affair set up between the local American base and the German military, but now he was just horribly lost. Well, not horribly; he had his phone with him, they’d find him sooner or later. Unfortunately, it was certain to be ‘later,’ and his commander was not going to be happy with him.

It was Larsen’s fault; the asshole had tampered with his compass and Alfred hadn’t noticed until far too late.

“Could be worse, could be raining.” He joked to no one; it was already raining, and only raining harder with each passing minute. Thunder was brewing in the distance, which was not helping matters. He wanted to shelter under a tree to get away from the rain, but he was pretty sure you weren’t supposed to do that during a thunderstorm. Though electrocution was starting to sound better than being this damn soaked. His train of thought was interrupted by pain shooting up his foot, and he nearly fell over.

He’d stubbed his toe on something, but he couldn’t see what. He knelt down, wiping the mud and twigs and sticks from whatever was on the ground.

A hatch. That was… odd. It looked old and rusted, and certainly hadn’t been opened in years. Probably some old shelter or military stash, forgotten by time.

Shelter, stash, sewer, hell, he’d take some serial killer’s corpse storage over this rain. He forced the hatch open and went in, climbing down the ladder. The rungs creaked under his weight, clearly not having been maintained in decades.

Probably not a serial killer’s hideout, then.

He turned on his flashlight and swung it around the room. “Cool!” He couldn’t help it; whatever the device in the middle of the room was, it was very weird and very cool-looking. Kind of like an old-timey attempt at a death laser, or something. Wouldn’t be that surprising – Nazis tried all sorts of weird shit, right? Or was that just in movies? It certainly looked old enough to be from the 30’s or 40’s, though he didn’t see any swastikas around.

He dropped his pack and sat on the ground. Sure, there was a bed, but it looked like rats had been chewing at, shitting on, and fucking in the mattress, and he wasn’t that desperate. He pulled out his water bottle and took a sip, considering the room. Maybe this could get him out of trouble; his commander might forget he got lost if he brought back news of some old military thing. If it was a military thing. Come to think of it, there weren’t any signs of military anything in here. Looked like a few rodent-chewed books though, and on closer inspection, they were about…

Well, fuck if he knew. They were in Russian, which he couldn’t read. Probably wouldn’t matter anyway, since the books were moldy where they weren’t chewed on.

Guess the only way to find more information right now would be to look for himself. He picked up his flashlight and got up to examine the machine. It seemed like there was some humming, but that was probably the storm above; even if they had invented nuclear energy reactors that long ago, it wouldn’t still be running now. He tried messing with the switches, but there was no response. That arch though, now that was interesting. He reached for one of the round balls attached to it, wanting to see if it was welded or if it would come off. And just before his fingers could brush the metal, he heard a rumbling explosion.

He must have been hit by lightning. He thought he’d be safe underground, but he must have been wrong; he heard the explosion, saw the flash of light, and now he was in the dark with his head buzzing.

No, he wasn’t in the dark, his eyes were closed. He opened them and slowly sat up, confusion only worsening. This wasn’t the bunker he’d found, or a hospital, or even the forest outside the bunker. There was grass, or… something like grass, beneath him. It seemed wrong somehow, the wrong color, the wrong texture, just wrong. Looked more teal than green, and felt like petting an especially soft cat rather than running his fingers through grass. Not a tree in sight, or… really anything, except, inexplicably, what looked like stadium lights. In the far distance, some stone structures. Probably stone, though at this point he was doubting everything.

He got to his feet and grabbed his rifle, looking around. He finally spotted movement – fireflies, that glowed blue, floating and flitting about.

“Well, we’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto. Not in Germany, either.”

That was all a dream though, wasn’t it? Dorothy woke up in her bed, she’d been through a tornado. Maybe he hit his head, or his brain got fried by electricity, or he was just having some wild coma dream. None of this was real. He’d wake up in a hospital bed in a few hours or days. Or, just die in the bunker to be found in thirty years by some hikers and then have some insensitive internet documentaries theorizing about his demise. Either way, he wasn’t in any pain right now, so he may as well enjoy that while it lasted.

It wasn’t a bad view, anyway. The fireflies wandered about, illuminating the grass where the stadium lights didn’t. They almost made the place seem natural, though the lack of stars was disconcerting.

Come to think of it, there was no moon, either. Could be a new moon, but hadn’t it just been a full moon two nights earlier? He looked at his watch; a fancy one, a gift from his father that even had moon phases on it. He wasn’t wrong, it should be waning gibbous.

He shook his head. This was a dream. Dreams don’t make sense, that’s why they’re dreams. But if it was a dream, he should be able to control it. So… real food, not one of the shitty MREs, that would be good. He focused, thought hard about it, but nothing appeared. Okay, maybe bring Mattie here, he could use company. No-go on that either.

Some dream this was.

Might as well look around more, if he was going to be stuck here until his brain came back online and he woke up. He started towards the stone structures, driven by curiosity. He stopped after a few steps; something wasn’t right with his legs, but he couldn’t figure out what. His steps felt light, and it was almost like being on a trampoline except there was no give when his feet touched the ground. Giving up on that mystery after a minute, he continued. He passed more stadium lights; they had cords that seemed to lead the same way he walked. So he followed them. And followed them. And followed them.

He felt like he’d been walking for hours. When he looked at his watch, he realized he had.

The lights turned out to be plugged into another old-timey looking thing about halfway to the stone structures. It didn’t look like a generator; hell, it didn’t look like anything. Strange symbols glowed on it, that same eerie blue of the fireflies. It didn’t look like Russian, or any other written language he’d seen.

It was too bad he didn’t have any red shoes; he’d really like to tap his feet and go home.

More hours walking. By the time he reached the stone structures, his watch informed him he’d been walking for almost six hours total.

His legs still felt weird.

The first he came across was a wall, partly crumbled, with arches. He wasn’t fond of arches after what happened before he got here, but he didn’t see any metal balls on them, so under he went. Nothing happened, except for him reaching the other side of the wall.

There wasn’t much. More crumbling walls, and in the distance, a glowing tree.

Well, that was interesting.

“Wonder where the yellow brick road is.” He started walking towards the tree, wanting a closer look. He froze in place after just a few steps; he swore he heard something move. He very slowly moved his hands back to his rifle, then swung around with it, looking for whatever had made the noise. It was a dream, and he had no desire for it to become a nightmare.

He didn’t see anything. Fireflies swirled in the distance, but that was the only change. He stared a few moments longer, then lowered his rifle and started walking towards the tree again.

It was beautiful, twisted branches of dark brown with glowing blue leaves. He touched one of them, and the leaf came loose, drifting down to the ground. It drifted slowly. Too slowly.

Then it hit him. He picked up a rock from the ground and dropped it.

It fell. Slowly. Very slowly.

He let himself fall back on his ass. He almost drifted, and hit the ground gently.

Gravity. Gravity wasn’t right here. That’s why his legs felt so damn weird, and probably why he wasn’t tired after walking so long.

“Fast way to lose weight, at least!”

He could imagine his brother rolling his eyes at him, calling him a “terminal optimist.” But it was his dream, dammit, he could have fun with it!

Looking past the tree, another arch. Different from either the one on the device or the stone walls; it stood alone, made of dark stone that seemed like it was almost floating.

Well, if he was dreaming anyway…

He got up, stepped through the arch, and was met with blinding light.

Chapter Text

A library. Massive, well-stocked, and ornate. “From Wizard of Oz to Beauty and the Beast, hm?” He walked through the shelves, fingers tracing over the books. Some were titled in the strange text he saw on the machine, some in Russian, and a couple in German. He took one of the German ones and opened it; it was some sort of architecture guide, with figures and tables that probably meant something to actual architects. He started reading, ever-curious.

It made sense, which wasn’t a problem, except that he didn’t know shit about architecture. Why would his subconscious produce a book about architecture that made sense? And in his third language, no less. He shook his head, tracing over one of the figures when he heard another noise. He dropped the book and spun, grabbing for his rifle again.

He didn’t imagine it this time. Now, there was a man staring at him, eyes wide and pointing a rifle right back at him. He didn’t look angry, or aggressive – if anything, he looked terrified. Which made him less predictable. Alfred gripped his rifle tighter.

Books in Russian, a few German, and… a lot of whatever the hell that other language was. The man probably spoke one of them, hopefully German. Actually, now that he was looking at him, he was wearing a recognizable uniform.

An old uniform.

A really old uniform, if the swastika on the eagle insignia said anything.

It was a dream, so it didn’t matter if he was shot or shot him, but he really didn’t want either to happen. Even if the guy was a literal Nazi, he didn’t like the idea of shooting someone without a damn good reason.

The man said… something. His voice was deep, yet it cracked and slurred. A bit of coughing and throat-clearing, and he spoke again. “Who are you?”

Alfred lowered his rifle a little, though he didn’t put it away, trying to signal ‘I don’t want to shoot you, but I will if I have to.’

“I’m Alfred Bonnefoy, private first class in the U.S. military. Who are you?”

No response. Maybe he didn’t hear him, or his American accent was thicker than he thought. He tried again, speaking slower and louder. “I’m Alfred Bonnefoy, private first class, U.S. military. Who are you?” He spoke the last three words slowest, trying to get his answer.

The man hesitated, lowering his rifle fully.

“I don’t know.”

Everything kept changing, yet nothing would change. He’d stumbled through arches, doors, tears in the air itself, always landing somewhere new. Nowhere seemed familiar, yet it all did. He didn’t know how long he had been wandering; it felt like years. Decades, maybe? He had no way to tell the time. He had a pocket watch, but it didn’t work anymore. Had it ever worked? He thought it did, once. He felt like he should know how to fix it, but as soon as he sat down and opened it, his mind would go blank.

Something. A mission. He was supposed to be doing something, and it was really important. The most important task of his life. But what was it? If he thought really hard, he could remember red eyes, or brown hair. They weren’t his eyes or hair; he’d found mirrors now and then, and his eyes were blue and his hair blond.

It gave him headaches to think about it too long.

Another tear. A new place. A pretty one, this time, no leaking pipes or empty sands. How long ago had he been crawling through the pipes? A twinge of pain in his head. Drop the thought. Blue fireflies drifting by. And… something else. Something new. He knew it was new, because even if he couldn’t remember when anything had happened, the new thing didn’t tug at his mind with ‘don’t you remember me?’ as old things did.

He slowly crept forward. Words. There was a man, another man, not just a reflection of himself he was… mostly sure. But he said words that he couldn’t understand. Maybe he knew whatever language those squiggles made. He could already see the man’s hair wasn’t brown, but maybe his eyes were red. Maybe he was his mission. He crept forward, freezing out of instinct when the man swung his rifle.

It was a funny-looking rifle, not like his. Maybe it was… from another place. Different from where his came from. Wherever that was. Another twinge of pain in his head. Stop thinking, idiot!

He needed to see the man’s eyes, but he needed to be careful about it. He didn’t know what would happen if he was shot. He didn’t want to find out. He crept behind him, following him first to the tree and then through the arch.

Easier to hide here. Brighter, but lots of shelves, and the man seemed distracted. Good. But he wouldn’t get to see his eyes unless they looked at each other, so he’d have to make his presence known eventually. He waited until there was silence, then crept around the corner to look at the man. He was reading. Hopefully a squiggle book, so he could explain what was in it. He purposely let his foot hit a shelf to make a noise, holding up his rifle.

Blue. Like his own. Blue and blond – was it another mirror? No, the hair was a different blond, darker and redder, and the eyes weren’t right. The clothes weren’t right either. But maybe he knew something.

It took him a few tries to speak. He hadn’t spoken aloud in- no, don’t try to remember, headache- but he got the words out.

Alfred Bonnefoy. No bell ringing in his head. U.S. Military. U.S., that meant something to him. Military, too. The military sounded familiar, but the U.S. less so. The man’s words didn’t sound right either. Did they? He couldn’t tell anymore.

Then it was his turn to answer a question, one he’d been asking himself for what felt like lifetimes. “Who are you?”

“I don’t know.” He let his rifle drop; he wouldn’t shoot this man even if he shot first. He was exhausted, he’d been wandering for so long and now someone knew something, even if it was just their own name. He’d rather let himself finally die than lose a source of information.

“What do you mean, you don’t know? I asked your name.” The other man still hadn’t fully lowered his rifle. He didn’t care.

“I don’t know my name.”

The man – Alfred Bonnefoy, oh thank god, he remembered something he’d learned this time – looked incredulous.

“Where is this place, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you know anything?”

He felt a pang. Alfred Bonnefoy had just told him the first new information he’d had in so long, the first facts to actually stick in his mind, and he couldn’t give him anything in return. “No.” He dropped his rifle, hoping that would at least earn Alfred Bonnefoy’s trust. It seemed to work, as the other man fully lowered his own.

Alfred Bonnefoy pointed at his uniform. “You’re in a uniform.”

“Uniform?” Another tug. Didn’t hurt this time. “Y-yes. A uniform.”

Alfred Bonnefoy stepped closer to him, gently nudging the rifle away with his foot before putting his own away. It felt strange to be examined this closely, but he didn’t mind.

“Well, I’m not just gonna call you ‘hey, you,’ so why don’t we pick out a name for you? How does Johann sound?”

“Johann.” He repeated it to himself a few times. It didn’t tug at his brain, so it was new, but he didn’t mind. Having a name made him feel more centered than he had in a very long time. But something was missing. “You have two names, Alfred Bonnefoy.”

He felt a wave of embarassment when Alfred Bonnefoy laughed. “Bonnefoy is my last name, don’t worry about it. Just call me Alfred. We can pick a last name for you later, if you can’t remember it.”

“Okay.” He looked at Alfred’s eyes again; definitely not red. “Do you know my mission?”

“Mission? What mission?”

“I don’t know.” He fidgeted uncomfortably. “There is something I am supposed to do. I don’t know what it is. It’s so important, but I can’t…” His head was starting to hurt him again, and he clutched his temples.

“Whoa, hey, calm down! Why don’t we sit down, huh? I saw some chairs over by the arch.”

Johann was happy enough to follow him to the chairs and sink down.

“Why don’t you tell me everything you know? You have to know something, you’ve been following me and had to have a reason, right?”

Johann shook his head. “I don’t… I just knew you were new. My head hurts when I try to think of old things. Didn’t hurt when I saw you.” Something tugged at him, not painfully this time. “Doesn’t hurt to think of your name or face. Usually does.”

“So as soon as you learn something, it hurts to remember it?”

Johann could only nod.

“But not me?”

Another nod.

“What about this place? Can you navigate it?”

Johann shrugged. “Yes. No. I know how to get to new places. Never found an old one. I don’t think.”

A strange pressure; he realized Alfred had put a hand on his shoulder. It felt… nice. More than nice. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been touched. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d seen another face that could touch him.

“Okay, Johann. You don’t remember your name, or where you came from. You do know my name and where I’m from, and that you keep finding new places. That’s something.” A squeeze on his shoulder. It felt incredible. “What about basic stuff? Do you know what language we’re speaking?”

“It’s…” He touched his temple again.

“German. We’re speaking German. Which is also what you are, if your uniform and accent tell me anything. I’m from the United States of America, you’re from Germany. In my country, we normally speak English, but I learned German too – it’s actually my third language, I also speak French.”

“Your words sound strange.”

“It’s because I’m American. I’m fluent in German, but I have an accent. Trust me, it’s way better now than it was before I got to Germany!”

Johann nodded. It was a lot to take in, but it was almost addicting. Each sentence Alfred spoke was written into his brain, neat and orderly where he could find it without feeling like his neurons were splitting apart. He didn’t care if it turned out all of it was useless to know, he just loved knowing. “Tell me more. Everything.”

“Uh- everything?”

“Everything.”

Chapter Text

This had to be a dream. There is no waking reality in which he’d find himself in what looked like Belle’s library, talking to a Nazi soldier – old-timey Nazi, not just some skinhead asshole that joined the military – about his twin brother’s obsession with hockey.

Yet the longer this went on, the more of a sinking feeling he got that this wasn’t a dream. Everything felt alien, true, but also too real, too vivid, and he had too little control over what was around him.

Well, except the part where he got to name his new friend. That was fun – he should have picked something silly. It would have been mean but man, it would have been funny to be calling him Stacy, or Sue.

He did his best to ignore the swastika-eagle. It nagged at him, but Johann didn’t seem like a hateful guy – then again, the man had no memory and seemed too constantly confused to have much of a personality. He ate up every one of Alfred’s words like a starving cat that just found an open can of tuna, and it would be almost cute if he wasn’t built like a tank and wearing a Nazi uniform. Alfred comforted himself with the thought that, if this was real, maybe Johann was one of those decent ones that was drafted against his will.

He realized he’d been talking for over an hour. An hour of talking, plus six hours walking, and that time reading the book, not to mention trudging through a forest before he got here.

Why wasn’t he tired? Or hungry? Or even thirsty? He hadn’t had to take a piss either. Come to think of it, he’d felt oddly calm, too. Not mentally, but physically. And Johann… something was missing, the longer he looked at him. He just couldn’t figure out what.

He trailed off at the end of how Mattie’s calm demeanor vanished the second he picked up a hockey stick, giving Johann a long look.

“I think we need to find a way out of here.”

“A way out?”

“Well, yeah.” Alfred gave him a smile, trying to comfort him. “We’re trapped in whatever this place is, right? If we get out, I can get back to my commander, and you can finish your mission.” A mission he sincerely hoped wasn’t ‘track down and kill innocent people.’

“I still don’t know what that mission is.”

Alfred waved his hand. “We’ll figure that out later. For now, we’re in a library! You can still read German, right?”

“I think so.”

“Good enough. Let’s find every German book in this place – French and English too, if you see any. Maybe there’s a guide or map or something.” He stood, stretching a little though it didn’t give him the same pleasure the act normally did.

“How will I recognize French and English? I don’t think I know either.”

“Ah, good point. Well! Russian and the whatever-language have their own alphabets, but English and French use one that looks like German’s. Just find anything that uses those letters.” He waited for Johann to follow him up before starting down one of the corridors, plucking out every German book he could find.

There weren’t very many.

By the time they returned to the table, they had about thirty books. More architecture, some botany, a book about caving, one about chemistry, and what looked like a military manual.

“Well fuck me.” Alfred rubbed his forehead in frustration. Johann looked up at him, having been engrossed a botany book. “Found one with notes, but the notes are in fucking Russian.”

“What is Russian?”

“Another language. Really different from English and German. I don’t speak a word of it, except ‘yes’ and ‘no.’ Can’t read any of it.”

Johann looked at him curiously, then gestured at the shelves. “What about the other letters?”

“Those? Hell if I know. Doesn’t look like any alphabet I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh.” Alfred felt a little bad seeing his disappointment, but couldn’t do much about it.

He looked at his watch. Jesus, he’d been here at least twelve hours. “Hey Johann. I know you don’t remember much, but… when is the last time you slept?”

Johann furrowed his brow in concentration. “I haven’t.”

“What about eaten? Or taken a piss?”

Johann just shook his head.

“Well… guess it’s okay I don’t have my pack, then.” Alfred closed the book in front of him, frustrated. “Fuck me, even Alice had to eat and sleep, didn’t she?”

“Who is Alice?” Right, Johann wouldn’t get his references. This was going to be a shitshow if this turned out to be real.

“A character from a book. She chased a rabbit, fell down the rabbit hole, and into Wonderland. A magical world with talking animals and stuff.”

“Is that what you think happened? Did you chase a rabbit?”

“No, didn’t chase anything. Got lost and stumbled onto a hatch with some weird machine in it. I-“ He was interrupted by the look on Johann’s face; concentration, that twitch that suggested a headache, and closed eyes.

“I was chasing something. No. I was chased. Like the rabbit that escaped into a hole.”

Well, that was more than Johann had been able to tell him before now.

“Who was chasing you?”

Fingers on temples, and the man looked like he was in agony. Alfred reached out without thinking, touching his forehead. “It’s okay. We can figure that out later.”

God, he hoped it was other Nazis and that Johann had defected.

“Let’s just… focus on these books. There has to be something, right?” Alfred dropped his hand and grabbed another book to skim through. A few minutes later, and Johann snatched the book with the notes in it, examining the writing.

“There are two writers.”

“Huh? Two writers?”

“Here.” Johann pointed at the notes on Alfred’s architecture book, then at a page of his botany book. “Different handwriting.”

Alfred squinted at the notes. Johann was right; even though it was Cyrillic, it was clearly two different sets of handwriting. “Huh. Just wish one of us could read it.” He traced over a drawing of a plant next to the notes with his finger. “Maybe we should be taking our own notes. Don’t suppose you have a pencil or something?”

Johann shook his head. “Lost things. I think.”

Alfred quickly interjected before the man could put himself in pain again. “We’ll look. Come on, let’s take a few books so we have something to write in and see what we can find.” He stood, gathering the books with notes in them. To his amusement, Johann stood as well, but instead of grabbing anything else, he took Alfred’s hand. He didn’t speak a word about it, just leading him down one of the corridors to search for a writing utensil.

He’d remembered something. He’d remembered something, on his own, and it was something important. Even if it was just flashes – someone or something pursuing him, dashing through trees, tumbling, going down a hole – it was something. He was someone. This place seemed to exist in infinity, forwards and backwards, but that wasn’t true, because there had been a before. He wasn't part of this place, any more than his new companion was.

This place was hell, and for the first time in what may be literally forever, he felt a fire in his gut telling him to get out.

When they stood, he reached out, initially intending to take the books to carry himself, but his hand almost automatically went to the other man’s. It was nice; more than nice. The closest thing he’d experienced to other life was those fireflies that showed up sometimes, and upon closer inspection, he was never able to actually see the bugs within the glow. Even if his mind told him something wasn’t quite right with the touch of Alfred’s hand, it was more than he’d had in so long that he found himself needing it.

Thankfully, the other man didn’t seem to mind.

“Aha!” Johann jumped a little at Alfred’s outburst. “Here!” Alfred was holding up a little stick, which on closer inspection appeared to be a pencil.

“What are you going to write?”

“Whatever we figure out!” Alfred didn’t even return to the tables, instead letting go of Johann and sitting on the ground. Johann didn’t hesitate, just settling next to him and pressing close to his side. He watched as the other man began to write, though it seemed clumsy.

“You write slow.”

“Hey! You try writing fast in your third language.”

“Why not your first?”

“Because then you couldn’t read it.”

He bit his tongue before he could retort; it didn’t matter much if he could read it, it was clear that he wasn’t going to be useful in figuring anything out anyway. He watched as more words appeared on the page. Somehow it seemed backwards, or out of order, or something; yet he could read it.

Strange.

“Welp.” Alfred closed the book abruptly and pocketed the pen. “We’ve exhausted all the German in here, but maybe there’s still something in the other books. Can skim through the rest, see if there are any maps or diagrams or anything that looks helpful.”

Johann only nodded, following Alfred as he stood. The other man looked around and sighed.

“Better get started. There are a lot of books here.”

Chapter Text

There hadn’t been much. According to Alfred’s watch and the ticks he’d started making inside one of the book covers, it had been five days. They’d gone through every single book in the library, literally thousands, and come up with almost nothing. A few maps of places they didn’t recognize, some drawings of structures that looked like they might belong to one of the places within this… dimension, or whatever it was, and lots of Russian notes just as unreadable as the first set they found.

“Could’ve at least been a Russian-German dictionary or something,” Alfred grumbled as he stared at a pile of books they’d gone through.

Johann just shrugged, looking around the library. The shelves were emptied, books piled everywhere; it bothered him, but he had no way of organizing them except perhaps by color and size. “What now?” He’d not had any more breakthroughs since the first ‘day,’ if one could call it that, and he was getting antsy.

“Guess we move on.” Alfred stood up and gathered his things, then gestured at the arch they had come through; it looked dead now, and had since Johann stepped through following Alfred. “Think that thing will send us somewhere?”

Johann shook his head. “It’s dead. Need to use another door.”

“What other door?”

Rather than responding verbally, Johann grabbed Alfred by the hand and tugged him towards where they’d first met; these shelves had been emptied by Johann, so the American hadn’t seen what he had. What looked like a crack in the wall behind a shelf, except the wall and shelf looked distorted around it.

“That’s a door?”

“Yes. There are three paths through this place I know. Arches, doors, and tears. That is a tear.”

“Why didn’t you tell me about these before?” Before Johann could respond, he found his arms full of the rest of Alfred’s things while the man opened the book he’d chosen as his journal and started scribbling. “That’s important!”

“Sorry.” Johann shrugged and looked away; he’s not sure why it didn’t feel important before.

“It’s alright.” Alfred finished writing, then relieved Johann of the extra books and papers. “So, how does it work?”

Johann again didn’t use his words; instead, he grabbed Alfred’s hand again, then used his other hand to touch the tear.

A flash, a rumble, and the library disappeared.

Alfred immediately missed the library; it had been brightly-lit with gas lamps, with intact furniture and, well, not a cozy atmosphere, but much comfier than this one. This place was lit by… he couldn’t tell. There had to be light coming from somewhere, but there was no clear source. The shadows seemed to shift every time he focused on them, so they weren’t any help either. There was open sky above them, it seemed like; no stars or sun or moon, but no ceiling either, as if they were in a corn maze.

At first, he thought they were within the stone structures he’d seen when he first arrived, but closer inspection nixed that. The bricks here were smaller, darker, and in much better shape. Moreover, there were carvings and statues everywhere; what looked like jackals, cats, some sort of dragon or lizard… it all seemed almost familiar, just enough to frustrate him.

“Is this a temple or what?” Alfred glanced at Johann, who looked no less curious than himself.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” Johann reached out with his free hand to trace one of the carvings, wincing when the tongue fell right off of the lizard-thing.

“Well.. temples have art that depicts stories, don’t they? Maybe there’s something here.” Part of it was the desire to escape in general, but a deeper part was that this place was creepy and he wanted to move on as soon as he could; he gripped Johann’s hand tighter and all but dragged him deeper into the temple.

Maybe if he’d been an archaeologist, he’d have been right about finding more information. As it were, the symbols and images just didn’t add to anything he could put together. He tried drawing some of them out, but it seemed more like a waste of pencil lead and paper space than anything. He was glaring at a statue of a cat for daring to be silent and not tell him anything new when he finally noticed that Johann had wandered off.

“Johann?” Alfred looked around, finally spotting the man staring at one of the jackal statues. It was posed like a dog waiting on its master, ears up and at attention. He walked over, putting a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “You okay?”

“Yes.” A few beats of silence. “I remember a dog.”

“Your dog?” Alfred should have known better than to ask questions, but he couldn’t help himself.

“I think so. Didn’t look like this. Was big, black. Would put his paws on my shoulders.” There was a distant look in Johann’s eyes, and he seemed to be almost mindless in his movement as he touched Alfred’s hand on his shoulder. After a few seconds longer, Johann’s face fell. “I think he’s dead.”

Alfred squeezed his shoulder; best not to inform him that, if this was all real, then everyone Johann ever knew was probably dead. “If he was your dog, then I’d bet my last dollar that he lived a great life. Died knowing he was loved.”

The wistful smile on Johann’s face was worth the hours they’d spent finding nothing else in this temple.

He led the other man away from the statue so they could keep looking. What they finally found wasn’t a carving or statue, but rather indentations in a wall. “Huh. I bet we could climb these!” He didn’t wait for his companion to respond, just hefting himself up and starting up the wall.

He regretted it as soon as he reached the top.

He wasn’t sure what he expected to find – an endless maze of walls, a field in the distance, an ocean – but it was none of those. Past the wall, there was nothing. A void. Except… a few floating things, in the distance. Looked like brick walls and columns.

Experimentally, Alfred leaned down, chipping a pebble off of the wall and tossing it over the edge. He waited, and waited. He never heard it land.

“I think all of the places are like this.” Alfred nearly jumped at the sound of Johann’s voice, having been too distracted to notice the man climb up behind him.

“Huh?”

Johann gestured out at the void. “Places I’ve been. Either walled in, or if there are not walls, the edge is nothing.”

Alfred slowly lowered himself down to sit, staring out in the distance. His brain was screaming in terror, yet his body remained perfectly calm. It was the strangest sensation he’d had in his life. “Is there ever sunlight? Or a moon? Stars? I know you don’t like trying to remember stuff, but… Anything?”

Johann sank down next to him, pressing up against his side. The air between them was silent for half a minute. “I don’t think so.” Another few seconds of silence. “It is not so painful trying to remember things like this.” Alfred could almost feel the unspoken words that followed. He wrapped an arm around Johann’s side, wondering not for the first time just how long the other man had been alone here. God, if time flowed normally, with that uniform… At bare minimum, Johann would have been in here almost eighty years, completely alone.

Even if he turned out to have been a happy and willing member of the Nazi Wehrmacht, no one deserved that.

The man’s head settled onto Alfred’s shoulder. “Why Johann?”

“Huh? Oh- well, I was trying to think of all the German names I know. Hans seemed too stereotypical, Max seemed mean since that’s used as a placeholder, and you don’t look like a Jan or a Paul. Johann was the first one that felt like it might fit you.”

“I see.” Johann sighed. “I don’t think any of those are really my name.”

“We’ll figure it out sooner or later. Or you can pick a new one, if you don’t like Johann.”

“I don’t mind it. I like Johann.” Okay, it would have been really funny to call him Stacy, but the twinge of pride he felt in picking a name the other man liked was even better.

“Then Johann it is.” Alfred smiled, looking down at Johann rather than down through the void.

At least if this turned out to be literal Hell, he had good company.

Chapter Text

He’d wondered if it was normal, but if it wasn’t, Alfred didn’t seem to care much. Johann was almost always touching him one way or another; usually holding his hand if they were walking or leaning on his side if they were stopped. He hadn’t even known how much he’d needed physical touch until Alfred first appeared, and now he couldn’t get enough of it. Right then he was leaning on him, staring at the pit in front of them.

“You’re sure you didn’t see anything? No other tears, or doors, or anything less fucking awful than this?”

“There’s nothing else.” Johann wasn’t pleased with it either; he didn’t mind most of the portals, but this one made the back of his mind scream in a mix of fear and revulsion. Really, it didn’t look that bad; a pit in the ground, swirled distortion around it, a deep glow from deep within; a metal wire that looked like gold held a pearl in the center. However, everything in his brain was telling him to not go near it.

Yet his chest didn’t feel like anything.

“Either we move forward, or we stay here.” He looked at Alfred’s face. “I plan to move.” It’s what he’d been doing for the past eternity, and it had gotten him this far. Before Alfred could stop him, he stepped forward onto the pit.

Onto. Not into.

He nearly stumbled in surprise, but kept his footing, walking across the invisible barrier. Alfred was following him now, moving fast to catch up. While the pit below him made him feel the urge to scream, something about the pearl in the middle started to call to him the closer he got to it. He swore he could hear a voice – feminine, harsh, speaking a language he couldn’t understand.

“Whoa, wait, Johann-“

Alfred’s hand landed on his arm the same moment his own fingers plucked the pearl from the wire. Almost instantly, the barrier beneath them melted away, and both men went tumbling down into darkness.

“Jesus fucking Christ, I said wait!” Johann rolled his eyes in response; at least Alfred had come along with him. He found himself standing next to the man in a new place; an enclosed room this time. Well, mostly enclosed; there were doorways and a staircase, unlike the library. He slipped the pearl into his pocket; it felt important.

“You would rather wait around?”

“I liked you better when you couldn’t remember enough to have a personality,” Alfred grumbled, crossing his arms and pouting.

“And I liked you more when you came off as a soldier instead of a child.” Johann looked around the room some more, attention drawn to what looked like lab equipment.

“They’re coming out with all sorts of new stuff! They’ve even got machines that can tell when planes and ships are on the way, even when it’s dark and you can’t see them.”

“I have a hard time finding such technology exciting given the circumstances, Gilbert.”

He froze in place. He couldn’t see the memory, but he could hear it; the excited voice of a man, Gilbert, and the tense stress of the woman. He tried to replay it in his head over and over, hoping to get to another sentence, maybe find out the woman’s name or his own name – but the memory stopped there.

“Hey, you okay? Remember something again?” He was pulled from his reverie by Alfred shaking his shoulder.

“Sort of. I remember two people. One was named Gilbert.” He paused a few moments. “I think I thought he was very annoying.”

Alfred laughed. “Probably a relative, then. Think he might have been your brother?”

Johann furrowed his brow. “…Maybe. Yes. It sounds right.” It was a tug on his mind, but a satisfying one. A brother named Gilbert, who was annoying to both him and the woman. Maybe she was their sister? He couldn’t be sure.

He forced his mind away from the subject, feeling pain building in his temples again. It was frustrating, but then he shouldn’t complain. He’d noticed an improvement over the past couple of weeks since Alfred arrived; he still got headaches if he thought too much or tried too hard to remember, but it took longer for the pain to come, and he could even make progress sometimes. Whether it was the man himself or just having someone there at all, he couldn’t say.

Alfred had stepped away from him by now and was examining the equipment. There were diagrams and papers scattered around the room, data that seemed so complicated it would have been unreadable even if the writing was in German. Johann couldn’t make sense of any of it, and he wasn’t even sure what the machines were. The microscopes were all he knew for sure, and all he saw through them were black spots in random configurations.

“Hey, Johann!” He snapped to attention, looking at the paper Alfred was holding up. “You recognize this language?”

Johann peered at it. It was in a similar alphabet to German, but with strange markings on some letters, and the words made no sense to him. He shook his head. “No.”

“Damn.” Alfred set the paper down. “Well, we can rule out most languages. Not anything Western European, got a Latin alphabet, so probably Eastern Europe, but not East enough for Cyrillic.” Alfred was tapping his lip with the pencil he carried everywhere, staring at the writing. “Vinz ear are-prat-igs.”

“What?”

“Oh, I was hoping if I tried to pronounce it and it was close, maybe it would turn out you did know what it was.” Alfred gave him a sheepish grin. “Was a longshot, but worth a try.”

“Hm.” Johann examined the paper again. There was Russian writing too. “Was written by a third writer.”

“You think so?” Alfred pulled out the books with Russian notes in them to compare, and Johann was proven correct. “Okay, so we have three writers. Russian, or at least that know Russian and like to write in it. At least one that speaks whatever this other language is. And whoever they were…” Alfred looked around the lab. “They were researching something.”

“This place has a purpose.” Johann took his normal place next to Alfred, leaning on him. “They were trying to find something here.”

“No shit.”

Johann rolled his eyes and turned his head to look at Alfred’s face. “I think it means there is a way out. Either they guessed what they would need coming in, or they went in-and-out to bring supplies and equipment. And it would be pointless to do research if you could not share the information outside of this place.”

“Maybe.” Johann felt a little happier himself, seeing how Alfred’s face started to brighten. “I mean- yeah! Even mad scientists wouldn’t go through all this for nothing. Right?”

“Exactly.” He was less confident than he made himself sound, but he liked seeing the other man smile.

“Yeah! Now, let’s see if this Eastern European had any German friends writing notes.”

Johann found himself smiling now, watching Alfred start picking up papers to sort through. After a moment, he started moving himself, attention drawn to a telescope pointed out a window. He couldn’t see anything but a void just looking with his eyes, but perhaps the scope was pointed to something. He peered into it, and whatever cheerfulness he felt vanished into a pit of confusion. He stepped back and returned to the microscope from before, moving the view. Then back to the telescope and moving that view.

“Alfred.” He stood straight, trying not to let any emotion on his face. “Come here a second.”

“Huh? Sure.” Alfred set down the papers he was looking at and joined Johann, peering through the telescope when instructed. “Okay, just looks like a bunch of spots. You see anything in ‘em?”

“Kind of. Go look through the microscope.”

Alfred gave him a confused face, then walked over to the microscope. Johann’s suspicions were confirmed when he hurried back and forth between the two twice more.

“That can’t be right!” Before Johann could interfere, Alfred had moved the telescope to look elsewhere in the sky, then returned to the microscope to do the same. “That’s not…”

“They’re the same.” Johann looked out into the void.

“How is what’s in the sky the same as what’s on the slide? Are we- What the fuck!”

Johann pressed his fingers to his temples; truthfully his head wasn’t aching yet, but he noticed if Alfred thought he was hurting, he’d calm down and stop visibly freaking out. It worked this time, but only barely. “None of this had made any sense from the beginning. Why should it make sense now?”

“Something has to make sense! If there were only chaos here, there wouldn’t be working machinery or rooms.”

“If this were anything other than chaos, we would both be long dead.”

This time, it was Johann reaching a hand out to comfort Alfred, gently placing it on his arm and squeezing. “God, we’re so fucked,” the American muttered. Johann couldn’t find the words to disagree.

Chapter Text

For the first time, it was Alfred that found the next passage. A door, glowing blue, hidden behind a crumbling brick wall. He wondered if there was a reason it had been bricked off.

Alfred had tried to put on a cheerful face again after the microscope-telescope incident. He didn’t want to admit to Johann why it scared him so much: this could all be one big loop, endless and inescapable. It was hard enough to get the German to put on anything other than a serious face, and that would only make it worse. He’d saved whatever diagrams and notes seemed useful from the lab, found some extra pencils in the room, and to his delight, a backpack they could store those things in. They’d even tried collecting whatever data they could from the equipment.

That was four portals ago.

“You sure we got everything we could?” Alfred looked at Johann, fidgeting a little; this area had been pretty sparse, and they’d found little except some rusted tools and empty cabinets.

“Nothing looked helpful.” A disappointment; they’d spent a lot of time searching the place for anything. Meanwhile the tick marks in Alfred’s journal grew ever more, and he was rapidly approaching six weeks. He tried not to think about how worried his parents and brother would be by now.

“Alright then. I’ll do the honors this time.” Alfred flashed him a grin, then took Johann’s hand tightly before tugging him through the doorway.

He regretted it instantly.

The whole place was red, the shade of fresh blood. He swore he could hear thumping noises in the walls; logic would say they were hot water pipes, but he didn’t trust logic here. If they weren’t in Hell before, they were now.

“Okay,” Alfred said, trying not to look as freaked out as he was. “From now on, you’re the one that opens all the portals.” His companion rolled his eyes – he did that a lot – and started looking around the room. He picked up the only object that seemed out of place; a photo of three men, with their faces burned out.

“Alfred, I think we should move quickly.” There was a twinge of fear in Johann’s voice that perked Alfred’s ears.

“Yeah, the room is freaky, I get it. I agree.”

“No, we need to move quickly.” Johann grabbed his arm and yanked, pointing at one of the walls. There was a hole in it, which was leaking what at first looked like blood; it took a second for Alfred to realize it was some sort of red sand.

And the leak was turning into a pour.

“Get out before we get buried alive, got it.”

The room was small, perhaps the size of his parents’ living room at home. There had to be a way out somewhere, there was always a way out. Yet as the two men started to search, nothing appeared. No arches, no cracks, no doors – just red walls, red floor, and a rapidly deepening pile of red sand at their feet.

“Please tell me you’ve seen this shit before and know how to deal with it,” Alfred shouted across the room while he patted the walls in search of an opening.

“I’ve seen the sand, but never seen it flow like this.” Johann’s voice was starting to sound desperate, and Alfred couldn’t blame him; if they were still standing directly on the floor, the sand would be up to their knees.

Nothing. There was nothing. The walls were smooth, the few shelves were empty, and there wasn’t a sign of anything except the hole the sand was pouring through. Alfred waded to it, sticking his hand in to see if there was a portal, or just anything, but all that happened was his hand being forced right back out by a faster wave of sand.

He wasn’t sure they could actually die in here. They hadn’t needed to eat or drink, and he guessed their need to breathe may be more habit than necessity. But that made this almost worse – the last thing he wanted was to end up buried alive for eternity in a big pit of sand. And looking across the room, it looked like his companion was starting to undergo that process, already waist-deep.

Moving was nearly impossible. The weight of the sand was crushing, and it took everything in him to make his way to the middle of the room where Johann was. He reached for him, grabbing his hand and trying to pull. It accomplished nothing, which only made his terror grow at how fast Johann was disappearing into the red and the look in his eyes. He pulled harder, gripping as tight as he could. Only then did he catch a glimpse of movement – no, distortion – above him. Right there in the ceiling was a tiny crack.

As Johann’s head disappeared into the sand and Alfred’s chest began to collapse from the weight around it, he managed to reach up with his free hand, just barely touching the portal.

The room was nearly identical to the last, except there was no red in sight; the walls were yellow, the floor brown wood, and not a grain of sand anywhere, red or otherwise. The only sound Alfred could hear was his own breathing.

“Fuck- Johann!” He shot up off the floor and onto his knees, shaking the man lying next to him. Don’t be dead, don’t be dead, don’t be-

He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt like that. Not just the fear in his head, but the immobility, the crushing of his chest, his vision disappearing.

Except he could. And for the first time, he wanted a memory to not have come back. The puzzle pieces of his life were slowly coming together, but this was one he could live without.

Footsteps behind him. He sped up. So did they. Glance behind – three men in the dark. A mugging, he hoped; more likely to live through that than if they knew where he’d just come from. Then a hand grabbing him and pulling him back, fists meeting his stomach and chest and face. Cold ground beneath his back, knees on his chest, can’t breathe. Wet spit running down his face, not his own. Vision fading.

A bed. Green eyes, brown curly hair, gentle hands tending to his wounds. Fierce cursing and muttering under her breath, wishing pain and misery upon the three men. The sound of an opening door. His own voice. “Please don’t tell him.”

 “Stop shaking me.” He opened his eyes and glared at Alfred, though the effect must have been minimal as Alfred simply grabbed him up into a tight hug he couldn’t escape from.

“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me! Are you okay?!”

“I’m fine.” Johann gently pushed Alfred away, trying to ignore the confusion and hurt on the other man’s face; better than the disgust if the American soldier figured out what type of man he’d been holding hands with for months.

“You don’t seem okay.”

“I said I’m fine.” Johann refused to look at him, instead looking around the room they were in. Plain as it was, it was much more pleasant to look at than the inevitable pouting of his American friend.

Well, mostly plain, if one ignored the bird statue on the wall, with a pearl clasped in its beak. Below, a pit, much like the one in the temple they’d seen before.

“Fuck me, this shit again?”

“It would appear so.” Johann forced himself to his feet and walked towards the bird, examining it. It was small, almost cute; with the pearl, it seemed like it would fit well as a decoration in a palace. Certainly it didn’t fit here, in a modest room with little else in it. “I’m going to take it.”

“I know.” Alfred put a hand on Johann’s arm. “Thanks for actually warning me this time.”

He just shook his head in response, then plucked the pearl from the bird’s beak. The pit at their feet started to shimmer, and after sharing a look, the two men stepped into it.

As deep as the drive in him was to keep moving, Johann felt as though they were simply falling deeper into the rabbit hole instead of climbing their way out.

Chapter Text

Uncanny valley. That’s what they call it, when something falls just short of the familiar, right? Just that tiny bit off to make it creepy. That’s what the room they stood in felt like. There were massive rifles, Gatling guns, artillery rounds, but all of it just seemed slightly off. Barrels a little too wide, brass a little too orange, stands a little too short.

“I… really hope all this was a ‘just in case’ measure.” Alfred lightly touched one of the massive rifles. He glanced at Johann, hoping the man knew more about the weapons; many seemed out-of-date even for the 1940’s, but he couldn’t be sure.

“None of it looks used.” Johann knelt next to one of the cannons, examining it closely. “Or it’s all been maintained very well.”

“I hope the former.” Alfred didn’t want to think of who, or what, they were intended for. There weren’t any hints he could see; no flags or uniforms lying around, let alone propaganda posters with caricatures of an enemy.

Johann stood up, looking at Alfred – no, looking at the rifle slung on his shoulder, then taking his own in his hands to inspect it. “Your rifle looks very different from mine.”

Okay, nevermind, he wished Johann didn’t know shit about weapons. Figured that it would be now that Johann would finally pick up on how weird Alfred’s equipment was, and that meant only a matter of time before he picked up on how weird it was that an American soldier was here, and then... The ‘you’ve been in here for decades and your whole family is definitely dead by now’ talk. “Ah well, mine’s American, yours is German, of course they look different.” Not technically a lie, even if the issue was less ‘who made it’ and more ‘in what decade.’

Johann frowned and moved closer, lightly touching the barrel of Alfred’s rifle. “Your people make very different weapons.”

“Best in the world! You should see our tanks. Other countries try to claim their weapons are as good or better, but they know they’re lying.” Sell it with obnoxious levels of patriotism, Alfred thought to himself, maybe he’ll get annoyed and stop asking. “I bet I could shoot a sparrow a hundred miles away with this thing, and collapse the building behind it! American-made, baby!”

He’d never been so pleased to see Johann looking annoyed. He opened his mouth as if to ask another question, then shook his head and stepped away to look around some more.

God bless his innate American ability to be extremely obnoxious at will!

“These rounds are strange.” Johann was examining the artillery rounds now, and Alfred picked up some of the rifle equivalents. He was right; they looked similar to normal bullets and shells, but they felt… buzzy. Powerful. And he could see a faint glow seeping out of each round.

“Maybe they’re some kinda EMP things.”

“What’s EMP?”

Aw fuck, he just got Ludwig to forget his modern rifle.

“They’re uh… a type of armor-piercing round. Got extra punch in ‘em.” Please buy it, please buy it.

“What gives them the extra punch?”

“Uh, I don’t know really. I know there’s some kinda chemical in ‘em. Not sure how they work, they’re pretty new.”

“Strange to have such new rounds for such old weapons.”

“The weapons are in good shape, right? Probably easiest to just use new rounds with the old guns.”

There was still a hint of suspicion on Johann’s face, but he didn’t seem to be pressing the matter. “We should take some of these weapons. If there is something to fight here, they are likely designed for it.”  Alfred didn’t need to be told twice; neither man had seen anything threatening except each other, but after the sand room, best to not take any chances. Both men moved to the rifles, each picking one up and loading them with the strange ammunition. What they didn’t load into the rifles, they pocketed.

“Alright, let’s keep moving.” They moved through a doorway into the next room. It was less hopeful than the first; there were weapons strewn about, along with empty shell casings.

“So much for them not being used.” Alfred winced, picking up an empty casing. He looked around a little more, then sighed. “Can’t be that bad. I don’t see any blood or bodies.”

“Yet.”

“Don’t be a pessimist, Johann!” He reached out to playfully punch him, only for the German to dodge the touch. Alfred settled for sticking his tongue out at him instead.

“I am a realist, that’s all.” Johann picked through the used weapons and ammunition while Alfred searched for notes and books. All he found was a scrap of paper with some sort of inventory on it. It looked…

“I think this is Polish!”

“What?” Johann set down the casings in his hand, walking to Alfred to look. He didn’t lean on him this time.

“This writing. It’s Polish. Looks like the stuff that was written in my old babysitter’s books.” Alfred grinned. “Aw man, she made the best pierogis! I mean pierogis are always good, but hers were just – I’d kill a man just to have her cook for me again. Maybe two!”

“Can you read it?”

Alfred’s smile faltered. “Well, no. I can recognize it, but I don’t know what the words say.” He traced a finger over the letters; it was the first piece of anything like home he’d seen in a long time. The only words he’d been able to read here were German, which wasn’t anything he associated with his family or childhood. “Looks like an inventory list, so probably not useful to us anyway.” He hesitated a moment; he only kept papers and information that was useful, and this wasn’t. Yet he went ahead and slipped it into his bag anyway.

He was pretty sure he’d start crying if they found something in English or French.

Alfred was hiding things from him. Johann hadn’t been sure at first, but he knew now. It bothered him on a deeper level than he anticipated. A nagging voice in his head kept asking if the other man knew what Johann remembered, but that wasn’t possible – was it? Did he look like a man that was… like that? Something in how he walked, or talked? He’d been hiding it before he came here, but since then, he hadn’t known it about himself to hide until now.

His eyes drifted to the rifle on Alfred’s back as they made their way down a corridor, lined with port windows that showed nothing but darkness through the glass. Something else was bugging him, and it wasn’t how strange the rifle looked. His eyes slid from the weapon to the flag on Alfred’s sleeve. He looked down at his own uniform, the question finally forming in his head.

“Are we enemies?”

“What? Did I do something?” Alfred looked back at him, seeming almost offended.

Johann shook his head, then pointed at the flag on Alfred’s uniform. “Germany, and the United States. Are we supposed to be enemies?”

The pause told him he was about to be fed either a lie or a half-truth. “No. If we were, I would have just shot you when I saw you.”

“Then why were you in Germany as a soldier?”

“It’s uh- classified. I’m not supposed to tell anyone. But I can promise you, it was nothing against your country or people.”

“Classified.”

“Yeah.”

Johann stared at him; he wasn’t sure what was worse, not having any information or knowing he was being fed falsehoods. “Would I have been expected to shoot you, if I had seen you?”

Alfred shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know what your commander would have ordered. I hope not.”

“Why-“ before Johann could finish, he was interrupted.

“Hey, look at this!” Alfred was opening a door, revealing a room with more weapons in it. Nothing new or exciting. His American friend was not good at changing the subject.

“…Let’s keep looking.” There would be plenty of time to tease apart Alfred’s knowledge and intentions, but he’d need to wait until the man’s guard was down.

As he sorted through weapons, he glanced down at the pin on his chest. He’d seen Alfred looking at it before with an expression he couldn’t read. It obviously meant something, but he didn’t know what. An eagle with a symbol. Maybe next time Alfred was in an open mood, he’d ask what the symbol meant. He had to know, and Johann wanted to know everything he did.

He shivered a little when he pressed his finger to the metal wing.

He could ask later.

Chapter Text

“Well, at least it’s nicer than being surrounded by guns.”

“Is it?”

They’d gone through three doors since the armory; one had been a red-bricked room with narrow pipes covering the walls, one had been another room full of weapons, and now they were in what seemed like a sewer. Alfred waded through the water in front, or at least what looked like water. It felt like walking through fog, except when he stood still, at which point it felt like gelatin. Like a reverse Newtonian fluid.

“At least it’s something different!”

“You could find a silver lining out of a train crash.”

“Good-paying jobs for people to clean it up and build a new train!” Alfred flashed a grin at Johann, trying to get the man to laugh or even just smile. Everything was so different since the red sand, and he couldn’t figure out what it was. Near-death experiences weren’t fun by any means, but Johann was acting distant, not anxious or traumatized.

He wouldn’t admit it aloud, but he missed how things were. It was damn lonely in this… dimension, or universe, or dream or whatever the fuck it was, and the only living being he’d seen wouldn’t even accept a slap on the shoulder.

“Shouldn’t we be wet?”

“Probably.” Alfred shrugged. “But we’re not, so take the blessings we can get!” He turned a corner, watching the walls for any sign of, well, anything. So far it had just been curved metal, smooth except for the periodic lines of bolts holding the metal together. But in the distance…

“Hey, I see light up there!” Alfred gestured at his friend, not bothering to try grabbing his hand and just ending up disappointed. He hurried forward, stopping at the end of the pipe they were in.

“I’m waiting on your silver lining,” Johann’s voice was dripping with sarcasm.

They stood over a precipice. Below, a great swirling mass of water surrounding a familiar massive distortion. Smooth walls rose up around, dotted with openings from pipes like the one they stood in, ranging from wide enough to drive a tank through to narrow enough to be stopped with a fist. Above, dangling from a thin golden chain they could barely see from their position, a pearl.

“The silver lining is gonna be when I grab that thing.”

Johann wasn’t sure what was worse; the fear of watching Alfred making his way up the wall, the fear of knowing they’d both have to find a way down to the portal, or that little nagging part of his brain that was admonishing him for wasting what may have been the last time he’d spend with another human rejecting him.

Probably the last one. While his mind raced, his body didn’t react; it never seemed to react to anything here, which… should probably be terrifying him too.

He wondered if Alfred’s body was reacting to what he was doing. He’d been climbing the wall, using the pipe openings as landing spots and hand-holds, often needing to jump and grab. Every time he leapt, Johann had to close his eyes, not wanting to witness what might happen if he fell. Would he die from his injuries if he did? Worse, would he not die from those injuries? He couldn’t imagine having to cart around a broken body that still spoke and moved through this place.

His thoughts were interrupted by Alfred’s next move. He was more clever than Johann gave him credit for; he was standing on the lip of the last large pipe opening, and wasn’t climbing higher. No, instead he’d pulled out his rifle and was aiming it at the golden chain. Johann crossed his arms in worry. The pearls were important; he didn’t know what they were for, but he just knew they were vital. Would it just fall through the portal once released? Would the be able to find it on the other side?

Not that there was another choice. Unless Alfred sprouted a pair of wings, there was no way to actually reach the pearl dangling from the middle of the ceiling. He watched as the American soldier took aim and fired. Once, twice, third time was the charm; the chain broke and the pearl tumbled down, seeming to almost float as it landed upon the distortion.

Strange. Maybe it wasn’t removing the pearl that opened the gate, but actually picking it up.

He distracted himself thinking about that, not wanting to watch Alfred now making his way back down. He closed his eyes, trying to think of anything else other than the image of him falling to his death or worse. He only looked when he heard a thump and looked next to him, where Alfred had appeared, looking triumphant. “Silver lining! Told ya!”

“So you did.” He took a deep breath, then let himself touch him just once, briefly, patting his arm before pulling away again. He didn’t give Alfred the chance to return the gesture, instead looking down and trying to plot their route. Fifteen meters or so down.

He carefully went over the edge of the pipe’s mouth, reaching for a handhold. He managed to grab onto a small pipe opening, taking him down a little ways. The next one was a little farther, but if he reached just right, he could…

He’d spent so much time fearing the sight of Alfred falling, and only now did it occur to him that he could be the one to fall.

The gravity was lesser here, but he had a long way to fall. He heard a loud noise, what he’d realize later was Alfred shouting his name, and then felt himself hit the water. If he’d fallen in normal gravity into normal water, he’d be in a much worse world of hurt, but this place worked differently. He managed to get himself to the surface, grabbing onto the field above the portal and hauling himself onto it. His legs felt like jelly, but didn’t look visibly injured – at least there weren’t bones sticking out or anything. He looked up in time to see Alfred jumping from hold to hold, nearly falling every time.

“Slow down you stupid-“ Before he could finish shouting, Alfred let go, allowing himself to fall the last five or so meters into the water. Johann made his way to the edge, grabbing Alfred’s hand to yank him up onto the surface of the portal, cursing the whole time. “What were you doing?!”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?” Alfred ignored Johann’s question, instead grabbing onto him.

“I’m fine. Let go of me!” Johann pushed his hands away. “You idiot! Why weren’t you careful?”

“I saw you fall! What if you were hurt, or worse?”

“Some good it would do me if I were injured and you killed yourself trying to hurry!”

“God, you’re so-!” Alfred threw his hands up in the air. “You’re such an asshole!” Without warning or giving Johann time to stop him, Alfred grabbed for the pearl sitting on the barrier. “You’re welcome for getting this, by the way!”

“Alfred-“

The second the American’s hand touched the pearl, the barrier vanished, and both men went tumbling down.

Chapter Text

Okay, Johann might have had a point. A small one. A tiny, infinitesimal, microscopic point. Alfred could be a little impulsive.

And now he was left sitting in a gray box, holding a pearl. Alone.

“Johann?” He called out and waited, desperately waiting for a response. Nothing. He shouted again, louder, then went for the full scream.

Still nothing.

Alfred forced himself to his feet, hands shaking a little. Had he lost him? Did he not come through the portal with him, or did it dump him somewhere else? Why didn’t he grab onto him before grabbing the pearl? He spun around, trying to find something, anything that could give him an answer.

All that he could see was a ladder going up, another going down, and a door on each side. He could leave, start looking, but what if Johann came here later and he was gone? “Fuck, Alfred, you fucking idiot.” He rubbed his face, trying not to panic. He slid back onto the ground, hearing a jingle as his jacket pocket tapped the wall.

The ammunition!

He opened his pocket and pulled out a handful of rounds. They clearly wouldn’t belong to this place. He’d never been so glad to have gone through that armory; they didn’t get much information from it, but this was more useful than any book would have been.

“Should’ve named you Gretel!”

He set the first round down, pointing it at one of the doors before stepping through. Another identical room. He repeated the process, over and over, sometimes going up or down a ladder, yelling Johann’s name in each new place in case he was finally close enough to hear and answer.

When he ran out of spare bullets, he decided it was time to wait. If Johann didn’t show up in the next three days, he’d empty his rifles and use those bullets. He pulled out the book he’d been using as a journal, writing what more he’d learned. Which wasn’t much, but… it was something to do.

Eventually he grew bored enough to start reading through the book itself. He’d skimmed it before, but it was all architecture that he didn’t care much to learn about. But now, it was all he had to entertain himself with.

He’d added another tick to his journal when he finally heard something. A clink in the distance. He shoved the book back in his bag and jumped up. “Johann!”

A second later, and he felt every tension in his brain melt. “Alfred?” He bounded up the ladder in the direction of the German’s voice, then through four doorways, nearly tackling him.

“Johann- fuck! I thought I lost you!” He clung to him tight, and it took several seconds for Johann to finally push him away.

“Alfred, don’t-“

“No.” Alfred grabbed Johann’s arms, refusing to let go. When he tried pulling away, Alfred responded by shoving him against the wall, boxing him in with his arms so he couldn’t jerk away or run off.

“Johann, I’m sick of this. You keep freaking out, and you won’t let me anywhere near you, and it’s been like this since that red sand room. Now it’s been over a day since we were separated, I thought I lost you, you probably thought you lost me, and you’re still being fucking weird! I want you to tell me what’s going on, and we’re not leaving this spot until you do, got it?”

He felt a twinge of guilt when he realized Johann was shaking, but he didn’t let it stop him. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, the other man spoke.

“I remembered something, while I was in the sand. Something I did. Bad.”

Well, shit. He’d long been ignoring the swastika on the man’s uniform, but he had a sinking feeling that it was about to be very relevant. “Tell me. We’ve been in this place together for… fuck, I’m losing track, months. If we can’t trust each other by now, then we’re never going to.” He braced himself, ready to hear about Johann murdering a Jewish family or beating a disabled person to death.

Another minute of silence, and Alfred’s patience wore ever thinner. “Jo-“

“I’m a criminal.” Johann kept his face covered with his hands, refusing to look at Alfred. “That’s why I joined the military, because I was a coward and wanted to protect myself from what I did.”

“What did you do?” He really hoped it wasn’t rape or murder; he had no choice but to rely on the other man, and he wasn’t sure he could manage that if it turned out he was a monster.

Johann muttered something, only repeating it louder when Alfred grabbed his wrists and moved his hands away from his face. “Homosexuality.”

“What- fuck, that’s it? Jesus, Johann, you had me thinking you killed and ate a baby or something!”

Johann looked a little incredulous, and Alfred felt bad; maybe it didn’t matter to himself, but it sure mattered a lot to the German. “I’ve had sex with men, Alfred.”

“So what? I’d be a pretty big fuckin’ hypocrite if I got mad at you for that! I’m like that too.” He was being harsh, he supposed; in Johann’s time, homosexuality was actually a crime and was punished with effectively death. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “I don’t know who told you that being homosexual is bad or evil, but it’s not.”

Johann was almost making eye contact with him, which was progress. “I was nearly killed for it. In the street.”

“Yeah, well, the only men that should feel like shit about that are the ones that attacked you.”

Eye contact, finally. “Did you mean it? That you’re… like me?”

“Yeah. Never had any interest in girls.” Alfred shrugged. “Known since I was around 14.”

“Does anyone else know about you?”

Alfred opened and closed his mouth. The truthful answer was ‘yes;’ his family, friends, and whole squadron knew, and the worst he got from that was some very unfortunate blind dates and adjustments to the dirty jokes his fellow soldiers would make to him. But as far as he knew, Johann thought Alfred was from around the same time, and there wasn’t anywhere in the world he knew of where gay men were accepted in the 40’s. He didn’t like lying to him, but he wasn’t sure what it would do to the man to find out just how long he’d been in here. “My twin brother.” Not a lie, just not the whole truth. “He’s never cared. Just wants me to be happy.” He felt a pang at the mention of Mattie; his brother probably thought he was dead.

The answer seemed to satisfy Johann, and Alfred felt the tension in his head ease. At first he felt a twinge of joy when Johann finally reached for him again, but that disappeared when he realized the man’s face was crumpling. He wrapped his arms around him, holding him to his chest and rubbing his back as he shook.

“What if this is Hell? What if we died, and this is our punishment?”

Alfred winced, holding him tighter. Perhaps telling him he was also gay was a mistake – it wasn’t that illogical a conclusion, for a man from the 40’s.

“We’re not in Hell.”

“How do you know?”

Alfred pulled back so he could grab Johann’s face, cupping both cheeks with his hands. “Because Hell is supposed to be a punishment, and it’s a weak-ass punishment if God’s letting me spend all this time with you.”

He let go of his face, letting Johann bury his face in his shoulder. He pressed a kiss to his head, trying to be soothing. He heard the other man mumble something almost too quiet to hear.

“Not a punishment with you, either.”

When they finally pulled apart, it felt like a weight was off Alfred’s shoulders, and it looked like Johann felt the same way. The German smoothed out his uniform and looked at the floor.

“You really used ammunition as breadcrumbs…?”

Alfred shrugged. “Not like I have actual bread.”

Johann shook his head, bending down to pick up the bullet on the floor. “What if you need it later?”

“Rather face whatever those bullets were made for empty-handed than leave you behind here.” Alfred grabbed onto Johann’s hand, starting to pull him down the hall. They had to find an exit, and he was full of energy now that he had his German back.

It was fast-going; all the rooms were identical, one after the other, so they didn’t have to look hard for anything unique. When they finally found something, Alfred could only laugh.

“Looks like I’m not the only one that leaves breadcrumb maps, huh?” There was an arrow pointing down by the ladder. He didn’t love going up or down ladders, as it necessitated letting Johann go while they climbed, but there wasn’t much choice.

Another arrow down, then left, left again, one more left…

“The fuck is that?”

A pedestal in the middle of the room, narrow and as tall as Alfred’s chest. Inside the cup was a pearl, but it seemed to be sealed in resin or ice. Alfred tapped it.

“What now?”

Johann was looking at the wall; an arrow pointed towards the pedestal, with a single word written above it. Broliai. “Perhaps we are supposed to put something on it. Whatever broliai is.”

Alfred frowned, then grabbed his bag and started digging through it. He put a book on it. Okay, broliai doesn’t mean book. Doesn’t mean bullet, or pencil, or drawing either. As he emptied his bag, something fell and drifted to the floor.

The picture he’d found in the red sand room, with the men with the burnt-out faces.

“Broliai. Brothers, maybe?” He looked up at Johann who shrugged. Alfred stood, placing the picture on the pedestal. It vanished in a burst of flame and smoke, as did the resin concealing the pearl. The two men gathered the mess from the floor and repacked it in the bag; all except Alfred’s journal, which Johann kept ahold of. Alfred looked at Johann, then firmly took his hand. “Ready?”

Johann nodded after a second, looking distracted. “Ready.” He reached in and grasped the pearl, and the floor disappeared beneath them once more.

Chapter Text

Alfred didn’t let go of Johann for a full minute once they landed; he wasn’t going to lose him again, not for anything. Johann didn’t move either, though he was staring at the journal.

“You remember something?” Alfred was hesitant rather than hopeful this time; last time Johann had a breakthrough was a disaster.

“Yes.” Johann was tracing something on the book’s cover; Alfred realized it was the name of the author. “I did not pay attention to the cover until now.” He tapped the name. Ludwig Levy. “I think that’s my name.”

“For real? The whole thing, or just part of it?”

“Ludwig. I don’t know the second name, but Ludwig… that’s mine.”

Ludwig. Damn, he wasn’t even close! Didn’t even share any letters.

“Ha! And you doubted me wanting to use a book as a journal.” He slapped a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. “We got something out of it now!”

“It was written there before you got to it.”

“Don’t be such a downer, Ludwig.” The name sounded strange, but then he’d been calling him Johann for a long time now. “Any ideas on the last name? Let’s see, the German ones I know, Schmidt, Weber, Wagner…” He listed almost ten before Jo- no, Ludwig’s annoyed look stopped him. “Right, there are a lot. Yours might not even be German, maybe your parents were immigrants or something!”

“It isn’t important.” Ludwig had a point, again, but that didn’t keep Alfred’s mind from running through possibilities as they took in their surroundings. It looked almost like a factory; giant gears turned, lights blinked, wires crossed the ceiling. The strangest part was how quiet it was; he could hear whooshing, occasional clicks, but everything ran so smooth.

“What do you think is made here?” Ludwig was lightly touching one of the machines. It looked more like a server than a production machine, but those shouldn’t have existed whenever this place was made.

“Energy, maybe. Don’t see anything but wires coming out of all these.” He sighed and crossed his arms, not caring if he was pouting. “Man, this was so much easier when it was a library or a lab. At least those made sense.”

Ludwig shrugged. “Not that much sense.”

Alfred let his hand fall so he could grab Ludwig’s and pull him down the corridors between the great machines. If they were servers, then that meant either whoever made this place was a century ahead of their time, someone modern was building here, or this dimension was growing on its own. He didn’t like any of those options.

His name was Ludwig. He was a German soldier. He had a brother named Gilbert, and a big black dog. He knew a sweet brunette woman who treated him kindly. Within this place, he had a best friend named Alfred, an American soldier with a brother named Matthew. He felt more and more human with each new fact about himself, even the one that scared him: that both him and the American were homosexuals.

He couldn’t help but wonder about America. It must be a strange place, almost another world to Germany, to produce Alfred. His clothes, weapons, the way he spoke, the sheer casual relaxation he had about homosexuality; Ludwig may not remember much of his old life, but he sensed none of that was true back in Germany.

“Alfred,” he finally spoke as they turned down another corner.

“Yeah?”

“Tell me about America.”

“Well… it’s big. Like, really big, makes Germany look tiny in comparison.” One of those pauses again; Ludwig was feeling less disappointed and more angry every time Alfred did that. “Lots of states. Fi- I mean, forty-eight of them. Almost fifty. We’re across the Atlantic Ocean from Germany, but we have a lot of German blood. I think the number I heard was one-in-five Americans are of German descent? Anyway, it’s a great country! Lots of freedoms. You can be any religion you want, or no religion. You can be- I mean, people might be mean to you if you’re of a different religion or you’re homosexual or whatever, but the government… I mean the federal government won’t do anything to you. Some of the states have laws about homosexuality, not all of ‘em.”

“What state are you from?”

“New York! The gateway to the country – lots of immigrants come through there, greeted by the Statue of Liberty. Actually both my parents are immigrants themselves, my Papa is French and my Mum is English.” Alfred’s smile faltered. “Normally say ‘Mom’ in the United States, but she always liked it when we said ‘Mum’ instead. I think she missed home more than she would admit.”

Ludwig couldn’t remember his own parents, but he hear the twinge of sadness in the other man’s voice. He squeezed his hand. “You miss her.”

“I do.” Alfred slowed down, not looking at Ludwig’s face. “I miss all of them. They probably think I’m dead, I’ve been missing a long time now.”

“Perhaps not. You were on a classified mission. You could have been captured.”

Alfred looked like he had something to say, but he closed his mouth instead. Ludwig felt a twinge; he’d told him his deepest secret – he knew it was, even if he didn’t remember anything else from his life – yet the man still hid things from him.

“You can tell me anything. I trusted you with who I am, you can trust me the same.”

A few seconds of silence, calculation on the other man’s face. He seemed to finally relent, turning to look at Ludwig.

“I kinda lied, earlier. Our countries w- are enemies. You’re part of the Nazi Wehrmacht, I’m an American soldier, I should have shot you, and you should have shot me. It wasn’t that long ago that war started between our countries, I just didn’t know if you knew that. Maybe you fell into this place before we were at war.”

It still didn’t feel like the truth, or at least not the whole truth, but he just didn’t know enough to argue. “Why did you lie?”

“Because I like you, Ludwig. I didn’t want to shoot you, even when I first saw you. I didn’t want you to think I did. And even if- even when we get out of here, I don’t want to shoot you, even if we step out into war.”

“I don’t want to shoot you either, war or not.”

This would make things complicated when they escaped, but they’d figure it out. If they came out to his own side, he could convince them Alfred had defected to their side and help him eventually escape home. If they came out to Alfred’s side, he would lay down his arms and be a prisoner. He didn’t know how he knew, but he sensed being an American prisoner of war was a relatively good thing, at least compared to the thought of other armies.

A door, another door, a crack, and finally an arch. Each portal they passed brought them to another eerily sterile yet technical room; Ludwig wondered what they, whoever ‘they’ was, could need all this energy for. This room, however, was different; it wasn’t even a room. They were on what seemed to be a rooftop, the sky around them glowing gold, though there was no sun in sight. In the center, a distortion like the others. Atop it, a tall pot with flowers growing in it.

It was the most natural thing he’d seen since coming here. The plant didn’t glow, or move on its own, or seem translucent. The flowers were blue, but a soft blue that didn’t emit light. It seemed almost quaint, especially after where they’d just been.

At first there didn’t seem to be anything else to the plant when they approached, but when Alfred gently touched a leaf, an unopened flower bud opened, revealing not only its petals but the pearl in its center.

“Ready?”

Ludwig nodded in response, reaching forward to pluck the pearl as Alfred wrapped an arm tight around him.

This time, the fall seemed gentle.

Chapter Text

It seemed that Alfred’s wish had been granted. No pipes, no strange machines, no sand. The place they landed seemed almost home-like, even cozy. The walls were painted yellow and lined with lamps, the floors wood with red patterned rugs, couches and furniture arranged tastefully. It looked downright normal, if very old-fashioned. Even Ludwig seemed more comfortable here.

What caught his attention were the pictures on the walls. There were faces on them this time, not burned away. An old man standing with three children in front of him, a teenage girl in a field, a man in a military uniform Alfred didn’t recognize.

“It’s like someone actually lived here.” Alfred smiled a little at a picture of two girls playing with dolls; sisters, he was sure. There was a very similar picture back at home of himself and Mattie when they were little.

Something wasn’t right. Ludwig could be quiet, but he was rarely this quiet, especially in a new room. Alfred turned to look at him, then froze.

The German was stiff as a board, fists clenched, nearly trembling. His face conveyed a dozen emotions at once; grief, anger, confusion, everything Alfred didn’t want directed at himself.

“Lud-“

“Did you know?”

Alfred flinched when Ludwig finally turned his head and looked at him. His voice was eerily calm, in that ‘I’m too angry to even express it’ way.

“Did I know what?”

“Did you know?” The pitch of Ludwig’s voice rose, and now accusation appeared on his face. “You’ve been- you’ve hidden things from me. You knew. You knew this whole time and you never said a word!”

Alfred finally looked at what his companion had been examining. At first it seemed innocuous enough; a picture of a boy in front of a train.

Oh. A train.

Oh no.

“Hey Lutz! I brought a guest!” Gilbert’s voice rang through the house, and Ludwig was annoyed that he’d just finished cleaning. Typical of his brother to bring someone without warning, and knowing him, it was one of his idiot friends that was bound to make a mess. Gilbert had taken over raising him after their parents died, but Ludwig sometimes felt like he was the parent instead.

“Who is it?” He put the dirty rag back in the bin and dusted off his clothes.

“Someone really special, so hurry up and get out here!”

Ludwig rolled his eyes, heading out of the kitchen and to the living room. To his surprise, it wasn’t one of Gilbert’s normal friends, not at all. It was a girl, this time. A girl willing to spend time with Gilbert, that was new.

“Lutz, this is Erszébet. Erszébet, Lutz!”

Ludwig held his hand out to shake hers, now relieved instead of annoyed that the house was spotless. “It’s good to meet you.”

“You too.” The woman chuckled. “Gilbert, I can’t believe this man is your little brother – you’re so different!” Ludwig puffed up a little at being called a ‘man.’

“Ah, I’ll fix him up right eventually! He’s gonna be the most awesome man in town by the time I’ve gotten him all bent up.”

“The term is ‘straightened out,’ Gil.”

“I know what I said!”

“Then a little line there, and you’re done!”

Ludwig examined his work proudly. It wasn’t something he could ever show anyone besides her and his brother, but it looked nice. “It’s hard to write backwards.”

“It’s not backwards, it’s just Hebrew.” Erszébet laughed. “When I first learned to write German, I thought that was what was backwards!”

"He was a good dog, Ludwig. I know you loved him." Erszébet put her hand in his shoulder and squeezed as he finished piling dirt on the grave.

"I can't…" Ludwig's voice cracked. "I can't believe he's gone."

Gilbert's ruffled his hair, tears pricking his own eyes. "He was the best man of the house."

It wasn't a surprise; the dog was old, barely able to walk to the corner and back anymore. That didn't stop it from breaking the boys' hearts when Ludwig awoke to find him cold at the foot of his bed.

Erszébet let go of him, leaning down to pick up a rock to place on the pile of dirt. She started speaking in Hebrew; Ludwig couldn't fully understand, but he recognized it as a prayer.

"Let's go get drunk, Lutz."

Ludwig didn't resist as his brother started leading him toward the nearest bar.

“Hey Lutz, could you come down here?”

Ludwig walked down the stairs to find his brother and brother’s girlfriend standing in the living room, looking somber.

“I need you to empty your room. Erszébet is going to be staying here, and she can’t sleep in mine since we’re not married yet.”

“Okay.” Ludwig furrowed his brow, heart pounding with worry. “What’s happened? Was your house burned?”

“No. My father and brother are leaving, and I have nowhere else to go.”

“Why didn’t they take you?”

Erszébet smiled sadly. “They could only get two passes. And when my people are attacked, it is our men yours hunt for, not the women. I might be hurt here, but I would not be killed like them.”

Ludwig felt a twinge at her suggestion it was their men attacking hers; he knew it was true by birth, but to him, she was more family than the pureblood German households that were their neighbors. “I’ll go prepare my room.”

“They’re coming out with all sorts of new stuff! They’ve even got machines that can tell when planes and ships are on the way, even when it’s dark and you can’t see them.”

“I have a hard time finding such technology exciting given the circumstances, Gilbert.”

Footsteps behind him. He sped up. So did they. Glance behind – three men in the dark. A mugging, he hoped; more likely to live through that than if they knew where he’d just come from. Then a hand grabbing him and pulling him back, fists meeting his stomach and chest and face. Cold ground beneath his back, knees on his chest, can’t breathe. Wet spit running down his face, not his own. Vision fading.

A bed. Green eyes, brown curly hair, gentle hands tending to his wounds. Fierce cursing and muttering under her breath, wishing pain and misery upon the three men. The sound of an opening door. His own voice. “Please don’t tell him.”

“Ludwig, he won’t think less of you, you know him.”

“There are two options if he finds out. Either he finds me disgusting and wants me to leave, or worse, he doesn’t, and gets angry at those men and does something really stupid.”

Erszébet had no answer for that.

“Just tell him I was mugged.”

“I don’t like this, Lutz.”

“I know.” Ludwig straightened his uniform. “But it will help us. If I’m a soldier, a volunteer, they won’t look so hard. What good Wehrmacht soldier boy would be hiding a Jewish woman in his bedroom at home?”

“Gilbert, calm down!” He hissed, dragging his brother into an alley and praying no one saw. “Tell me what happened!”

His brother’s eyes were bloodshot from crying, and while deep-down Ludwig already knew, it still stopped his heart to hear the words.

“They- they found her. They found her, Lutz! They took Erszébet! She’s gone!”

“I’ll find her. Gil, I swear, I’ll find her. I’ll find out where they sent her, I’ll get her out, if it’s the last thing I do!”

Finding where Erszébet was sent wasn’t difficult; the record-keeping was spotlessly organized, and it wasn’t hard to locate the train’s destination. It made Ludwig hate himself for being so obsessed with order himself.

Getting there wasn’t much harder, even with Gilbert hiding in the trunk. He’d been in the army long enough to talk his way through any checkpoint, and looking like the perfect Aryan didn’t hurt. He loved Erszébet’s brown curls, but often it was an advantage not to have them himself.

It became much more difficult once they were there. She hadn’t been killed – thank God, Gilbert would have stolen Ludwig’s rifle and tried storming the whole camp if she had – but she was hardly safe. He’d convinced a guard that he needed to see her for an interrogation over relatives she could be hiding the locations of.

It would have been so much easier if they’d been in a private room, but a guard stood by.

As they stepped into the hall after the ‘interrogation’, Ludwig dragged Erszébet down a different direction than he was supposed to. If he could just get her to the car, he could get her in the trunk and start driving like mad. Simple.

Until he saw Gilbert outside the car with a rifle pointed at his chest.

He’d never shot anyone before. Even when he’d been sent to fight, he’d never been able to do it. He’d fired his rifle, but the bullets never landed. The closest he got was grazing the arm of some Dutch resistance fighter, and he’d nearly thrown up after.

It sickened him how easily he lifted his rifle then, pointing and firing at the soldier – his comrade, who he was supposed to be fighting alongside – hitting him in the center of his back.

And then they were running into the trees.

Three men, he was pretty sure. Four? He hoped it was four chasing him; that was how many had been after them, and if they were all on his own tail, then they had lost his companions. He couldn’t stop and turn to count, relying only on the sounds of charging feet crashing through the trees behind him.

He considered the rifle on his back. He could take out one of them, two if he was lucky. He’d end up shot himself, there was no doubt, but surely the other men would stop to help their wounded or dead companions, giving the others an even bigger head-start.

It was his own mistake. Normally he was disciplined, but he dared a look behind himself as he ran. All that got him was confirmation that at least two men were behind him, and the price was his footing. His foot caught in a branch and he tumbled, and before he could slow his momentum, he was sliding down a ravine head-over-heels.

A gunshot, then another. Two misses, though the second shot hit the ground terrifyingly close to his head. He was up and running again, hopeful that even if he was slowed by the fall, his pursuers would be slowed trying to find a safe way down.

It was then that he found the hatch.

“You know!” Ludwig finally stepped towards Alfred, who took a step back, feeling ill. “You know what’s been happening! They’ve been killing people – they’ve been killing every Jew in Europe!”

“Ludwig, I-“

“How could you keep quiet?! How could you-“ Ludwig grabbed the pin on his uniform, ripping it off and throwing it.

“What was the point in telling you?!” Alfred finally forced his voice over Ludwig’s, stepping forward now to grab his arms. “Either you would be okay with it and I’d hate you, or you wouldn’t be and you’d hate you!”

Ludwig sputtered a few seconds. “Alfred-“

“No!” Alfred shoved him up against a wall for the second time since meeting him. “Calm down! Yes, I knew. I know a lot more than I want to. But in case you haven’t noticed, we can’t do shit about it from inside here!”

It was almost half a minute before Ludwig finally went limp, nearly collapsing into Alfred’s arms. He held him tight.

“I know- I know what my mission was.”

Alfred rubbed his back firmly. “What was it?”

“My brother, and his fiancée. She’s… she’s Jewish. They took her to a camp. We were breaking her out, when I… When I fell into this place. Alfred, I have to get out of here, I have to!” Ludwig went tense again, gripping tight onto Alfred’s uniform. “If they don’t escape, they’ll die! I can’t let them!”

It was a good thing Alfred hadn’t eaten in months, because he was pretty sure the nerves would have made him throw up all over his friend. He couldn’t lie to him anymore, it would just make it that much worse later when the truth came out.

“Ludwig…”

“Alfred, please!”

“Ludwig, what was the date when you fell in here?”

Ludwig shook his head. “July 17^th.”

“What year?”

A blank stare for a few seconds, then then a quiet response, filled with fear. “1942.”

Shit. Fuck. He knew it would be the case, but it still sucked to hear it spoken aloud.

He’d been so wrong before. He’d hoped Ludwig was one of the good ones, an unwilling soldier, but that was stupid. If he’d been a proud sieg-heiling SS-wannabe, then Alfred wouldn’t have to feel so bad about what he was about to do to him. Stupid. If only the German bastard could have been a piece of shit, but no, he wasn’t. Not even close.

“Ludwig.” He took him by the wrists, looking him directly in the eye. “Ludwig, I swear, if I could, I would break us out of this place now and go save your brother and his fiancée, but I can’t. Even if we got out right now, we…” He took a deep breath. “You’ve been in here for eighty years. It’s not 1942 anymore, it’s 2022.”

When he was a teenager, a local toddler was mauled by a dog. He’d been nearby, not close enough to interfere – thank God the mother was – but he was close enough to hear the baby’s scream. It chilled him to the bone like no noise had before, and didn't leave his nightmares for years.

It was still the worst sound he’d ever heard, but Ludwig’s scream was a close second.

Chapter Text

He didn't invite how long it had been. Hours. Not a word from Ludwig, just screams that turned into wails that turned into sobs. They were on the floor now, Alfred sitting with his back to the wall, Ludwig on his lap with his face buried in the American's chest. He'd finally gone quiet, and for once Alfred let there be silence for a while. 

Selfishly, his mind drifted away from his friend and to his own family. He wondered how they were doing now, if they were as heartbroken thinking he was dead as Ludwig was knowing his family was gone. They would hope he was just missing, but Alfred wasn’t the type. He was happy, well-adjusted, and never complained about his deployment or orders. No one would think he’d willingly go missing, because he wouldn’t.

His father would take it well on the outside. He was military himself, he'd keep his head up and thank the man at the door for telling him Alfred was gone. Only when he was alone would he let himself cry. 

His mum, she'd probably lose her mind. Grab onto his dad and shake him, throw some plates, spend hours on the phone with her family back in England crying. 

Poor Mattie would get a phone call. He would be away at school, living his best life until Mum would call him home. He'd be shattered; they’d been inseparable from the moment they were born, and the only reason Mattie didn’t follow him into the military was his asthma. Alfred swore he’d come home every leave, and as soon as his time was up, he’d take his twin on the vacation of their lives.

He was supposed to be safe. It was Germany, for God's sake; even with the war in Ukraine, he wasn't at any risk. His mum had been so relieved at his assignment. He would spend a few years running around U.S. bases in Germany, then come home with school paid for. His father would show him off as the son that followed in his footsteps, his mother would show him off to every friend she had who had a gay or bisexual son, and his twin would give him the biggest bear-hug in the world and never let go.

"How many died?" Ludwig's voice finally broke him out of his depressing line of thought, right into a different depressing line of thought. 

Alfred rubbed his back a little. "Six million Jews, six million of everyone else sent to camps." 

Ludwig felt like a tense ball in his arms. "What made it stop?" 

"Nazi Germany lost the war. The Soviets closed in from the East, the Americans and British and our other friends from the West." 

More silence. 

"Ludwig..." Alfred sighed. "It's horrible. The worst thing your country ever did. But it wasn't you that did it.  Just by going out to save one Jewish woman from the death camps, you did more than most of Germany. Hell, most of Europe! Most of the occupied countries were overjoyed to help out sending their Jewish population to die. But not you." 

"It was still my people." 

"Was. Was. Not anymore. You wanna know why an American soldier was in Germany? Because we're friends now. Good friends. I was doing a training exercise with German soldiers. Loved all of them, and they loved me. Two of the soldiers in my unit are Jewish, and they love it there too! And you know why?" 

Ludwig didn't say a word, just tightening his grip on Alfred's shirt. 

"Because it turns out that no matter how fucking terrible things got, there were enough German men and women like you and your brother to give your country its heart back." 

"You think I'm a good person." 

"Nah, I don't think it. I know it. Escaping here to save your own ass got you moving, but realizing you had someone outside of here that needed your help, that's what got you rushing. You're a good man." 

"A good man that failed." 

"You don't know that! They could have gotten away. They wouldn't be the first or last to make it somewhere safe." 

Ludwig sighed, finally unburying his face. "Wouldn't be the first or last to die trying either." 

"An attitude like that won't get us out of here, you know." 

Silence. 

"I don't need to leave." 

Alfred winced and touched Ludwig's cheek. "The fuck you don't. We're both getting out of here!" 

"What's the point? You have a family and a life to return to. I have neither anymore. Even if they did make it, they'd have died of old age a long time ago." 

"If you don't have a life, then you make one. And it's better out there than it was before! It's so different, and there are so many awesome things to show you. Shit, I'd pay money to see you at a nightclub!" 

"What is..." Ludwig trailed off, seeming to think better of his question. "What would I do? I would need a job, and an identity. I doubt my old papers still exist, and they wouldn't help me anyway. I don't look like a hundred-year-old man." 

"I'd take care of you! My whole family will. We can figure it out; my brother is really smart, he'll know what to do." 

"That is too much for you to give." 

"Nah, for you? Not enough. I'd give you the world if I could." 

Ludwig finally moved, pulling himself up off Alfred's lap and offering a hand to help him up. He started leading him down a hallway, then stopped. 

"Alfred?" 

"Yeah?" 

"You said... it is safer for Jews now, than it was. What about...?" 

Alfred smiled, finally able to give him news he'd wanted to share ever since they reunited on the bullet trail. "I didn't lie, my twin brother knows. But I didn't tell you: so does everyone else. My family, friends, squadron. No one cares. It's legal in both our countries, and men can even marry each other if they want!" 

"It's like that everywhere?" 

"Uh, no." Alfred's smile faltered. "Still illegal in some places. But not where we're from, or anywhere I'd take you." 

"You're not giving me a choice in whether I follow you, are you?" 

"Hell no!" 

They hadn't found anything after a week in the house, at least not a portal. Instead they found more pictures, books, an empty film projector, a bed, nice furniture, and even a loaf of bread, though on closer inspection it was hard as a rock and possibly not actual bread at all. 

Ludwig found that he didn't mind. The books were all in Russian, but a couple of them turned out to be photo albums. Sometimes they'd trigger new memories, adding little pieces that were slowly turning him into the man he once was. Alfred insisted that he spend time going through them; it seemed the dam had broke, his memories were flooding in, and they didn’t dare stop the momentum.

He was Ludwig Beilschmidt, son of Franz and Ruth Beilschmidt and little brother to Gilbert Beilschmidt. His father died when he was a baby, and his mother when he was six. His big brother, only fifteen at the time, took over and raised him. They lived in Munich. Most of their neighbors were German like themselves, but when he was nine, a Hungarian Jewish family bought a house down the street. He never thought much about them when he was young; he was shy, and the son and daughter of the family were too old for him to befriend.

He was fifteen when his big brother brought Erszébet home for the first time and introduced her as his girlfriend. He hadn’t had a mother or mother-figure since he was little, and he immediately attached to her. She taught him to read and write Hebrew letters, and some of the language itself, though it never rolled off his tongue very well.

He couldn’t believe what the papers and politicians said. They weren’t greedy devils; Erszébet would buy food with her own money to give Ludwig a ‘proper lunch’ just because she thought Gilbert’s cooking wasn’t up to par. They weren’t ugly; Erszébet was breathtaking, and she’d gotten it from her father. Their traditions weren’t evil; the candles fascinated him, and when he was invited for holidays, he found the way the family laughed and held each other to be beautiful.

He couldn’t have been happier or prouder when his brother came home one day, swearing Ludwig to secrecy and showing him a ring. They could sense the country falling into evil around them, but in the moment his brother slid the ring onto his wife-to-be’s finger, all the three of them felt was joy.

He’d been horrified to realize he was interested in men. He’d kept waiting to find girls pretty in the way his brother did, but more and more his eyes would drift to follow passing men instead of women. When he heard two schoolmates giggling and whispering about two men they saw doing something naughty in the woods one day, it hit him. He spent hours every day trying to fix himself; he’d lay in bed, picturing himself with different girls and women, trying to find pleasure in imagining what was under their dresses.

It never worked. He kept finding his eyes on his male classmates instead of female.

Then, he came up with a plan that, in retrospect, was stupider than anyone, even Gilbert could have come up with. He’d find a man, have sex with him, and that would get it out of his system so he wouldn’t want that anymore. There was an area of town he’d heard rumors about, signals one could give to show interest. He made eye contact with a man there; older, wiry, looking nervous as he pulled Ludwig into the back of a closed restaurant.

At first, Ludwig was relieved that it wasn’t that good. It hurt a little, and by the time he felt pleasure from it, the man was done. The man finished him with his hand, then slipped away before any words could be spoken. As he cleaned himself up, Ludwig thought about girls. His heart sank when he realized he’d still rather have the man he’d just met awkwardly fuck him again than see his classmate’s breasts.

That was when he was caught. The men must have been waiting to catch men cruising, and Ludwig didn’t know how to avoid them. He’d been beaten, spit on, and nearly suffocated. He wasn’t sure how Erszébet knew what he’d done and what had happened to him, but she didn’t scold him or add her own spit to the men’s as he feared. She took him to bed instead, cleaning his face and wounds and singing to him between bouts of cursing his attackers.

Every new memory or detail he’d share with Alfred. The man would listen intently, coming over to give him a hug when he felt he needed one, which was just about every time he opened his mouth. Alfred looked a little ill when he described his efforts to fix himself and what happened during the attack, and kept reassuring him that there was nothing wrong with him.

It was as Ludwig examined a picture of a field of sunflowers that Alfred spoke up. "Hey, look at this!"

"What is that?" The American was holding some sort of flat, round canister. By the time he was close enough to see properly, Alfred had opened it, revealing a film reel.

“Aw man, too bad we don’t have popcorn. You don’t happen to know how to put this thing on the projector we found, do you?”

Ludwig shrugged and took the reel. “I can figure it out.” He walked to the projector, examining it for a minute before sliding the reel on and setting up the tape.

It was like an old-timey home movie; men and women talking, posing, eating, laughing. Some of the faces were familiar from the photos around the house. What was strange was that at the end, the reel just rolled one still image; a man, tall, blond, a big nose and a bigger smile, with his arm wrapped around a woman, tall and blonde, wearing a necklace. A necklace with a pearl.

Alfred looked at Ludwig, who looked back at him. They strode forward together, then holding hands tightly, Ludwig reached out and plucked the pearl right off the woman’s necklace. The moment they did, the pair separated, revealing a door behind them that swung open.

Ludwig didn’t know how he knew, but he knew. This door was more important than any portal they’d stepped through, and there was something on the other side waiting for them. He smiled at Alfred, then walked forward with him, right into the projected image and through the door.

“Jesus,” Alfred said, looking agape at the place around them. “This is some Versailles-level shit! Are we in a palace?” It certainly looked like one. Massive chandeliers hung from the ceiling, ornate columns lined the walls, and the very stone they stood upon seemed fancy. He felt like he'd found Belle's ballroom.

“Perhaps.” Ludwig led Alfred to the walls so they could search for clues; there was fine artwork that tickled the back of Alfred’s mind, certain he’d seen art like this somewhere before. This whole place seemed familiar, in the ‘saw-it-in-a-movie-once’ kind of way. He felt rather underdressed.

“Hey, do you think-“ both men froze in place, Alfred’s mouth still open, sentence unfinished. He looked at Ludwig, a silent question in the air. ‘Did you just hear that?’

Then they heard it again, coming from an open archway that lead outside.

“Hello! Welcome! It has been a long time since I’ve had visitors!”

Chapter Text

Alfred was the first to move. He dragged Ludwig to the archway and out into the garden. It was beautiful – flowers blooming, green everywhere, a calm stillness. A few statues were tastefully displayed between plants and trees. The sky was white this time, shining down light onto them. In the middle of the garden, a stone altar, upon which lay a man.

Well, about half of a man.

“Forgive me for not standing to greet you, my friends,” the man said, speaking German with a thick Russian accent, “but it is rather difficult for me these days.”

His face was as human as theirs. Big nose, crooked smile, pale blond hair and blue eyes that seemed almost purple in the strange light. He was handsome in a natural way, like that neighbor or coworker you found attractive as opposed to a movie star. His chest and shoulders were broad, and it looked like he’d once been built like a bear. Once. But now… he had no legs. Or rather, he had roots instead of legs. It was as if the garden had grown from him; roots and vines sprouting where body parts should have been, tumbling down the table and into the ground below.

“That… that’s okay. We’re not offended.” Alfred moved closer, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. “What happened to you?”

“Ah, you’ve noticed the roots!” As if anyone could not notice. “Those started a long time ago. I tried clipping them away at first, but they only grew back faster. I’ve come to like them now – the garden is so much prettier now with the flowers that grow.”

“Uh-huh.” Alfred glanced at Ludwig, then at the man below them. “Well, sorry for breaking into your house! I’m Alfred Bonnefoy, and this is my friend, Ludwig Beilschmidt.”

“Ah, do not apologize! It is I that should be sorry, I am a terrible host. My name is Ivan Braginsky!” Ivan smiled at them, though it faded as he looked over their clothes. “Ah, soldiers. Has war broken out?”

“Uh…” Alfred rubbed his neck with his free hand. “What year do you think it is?”

“I have lost count many times. Somewhere around 2031, now?”

“Er- no, it’s 2022. At least it was when I fell in, might be 2023 by now. No war right now, I’m just here because I was on a training exercise and got lost.”

“I see. Well, I think I did a good job! It was 1939 when I left the world above for the final time, I’ve kept good count since.” He eyed both men again. “Ludwig, your uniform looks much like the ones I’ve seen before. You’re not from his time, are you?”

“No,” Ludwig said, putting a hand over the hole where the eagle had been. “I- I fell in in 1942.”

“Oh, I’m very sorry. Were the others not able to help you leave?”

“What others?” Alfred interjected. “And- leave? We can leave?!”

“You did not find any of the others? What about all the notes we’ve left?”

Alfred shook his head. “Didn’t see anyone besides each other, and all the notes we found we couldn’t read. Only have English, French, German, and some Hebrew between us.”

“Ah, I see. I suppose we should have thought to write in German since we were in German land, but we were not planning on accidentally trapping any locals.”

“Who is ‘we’?” Ludwig asked, visibly struggling to keep his eyes off the roots growing from the man’s waist.

“Myself, my two sisters, three of my cousins and one cousin’s closest friend. We created this place – or rather, we created the skeleton it grew from. It was our pride and joy, to be the greatest invention mankind would ever see! But… as a parent trying to raise a child, one day it stops listening to you and becomes its own.”

“What were you trying to raise it to be?” Alfred kept his eyes on Ivan’s, not wanting to look at what was happening to the rest of him.

“This was meant to be a haven for knowledge and science! Just think – an infinitely expansive world, where one can spend all the time they want researching and synthesizing and thinking. You could bring the ill and infirm to rest here while cures are developed. Store food and water for emergencies, create shelter for disaster… this was going to propel humanity into a new age!” Ivan’s voice was excited, but his smile faltered now. “But… for every blessing this place gave, it also gave a dozen curses. It constantly grows and changes shape, impossible to navigate. Loops of time and space that can trap you for a lifetime. A slow madness that creeps in. Every problem I tried to solve, ten more would come up in its place. And now, well…” He gestured at the roots. “As you can see, the submachine is no longer part of me, but rather I am part of it now.”

“Why didn’t you leave, when the roots started to grow?”

 “We were finally putting this place to one of its intended purposes. War broke out above, and even if Russia and Germany were allies, it did not feel safe to be traipsing around the forest as we were. We decided to bide our time in the subnet and emerge when the world was safe again.”

Ludwig finally spoke up again. “What happened? It was only three years from then until I fell in.”

“I don’t know. We had only ever spent a few weeks at a time inside, and never all of us at once. We all kept to our own layers, trying to build and manage. It became harder and harder to move between layers, and one day, I could not even reach Kateryna anymore.”

“Layers – were they separated by really big portals?”

“Yes!” Ivan clapped his hands together. “So they are accessible again? All seven?”

Alfred counted on his fingers, then nodded. “Yeah, we’ve been through seven layers. The portals were all sealed when we found them though, had to unlock them with pearl things.”

Ivan’s face fell. “What pearls?”

Ludwig opened his pocket, pulling out one of the pearls and handing it to Ivan. The man examined it closely, then held it to his chest, muttering a name. “Oh, Eduard-“

“Eduard?”

Ivan nodded. “It would seem my friends and family have all become one with the machine, now. It is only me that is left. Ah, I should not have resisted so long! I have been waiting, hoping for them to come back to me, but I know now they will never come. Little Raivis – he was so young! Never should have let him be part of this!”

Alfred took one of Ivan’s hands and squeezed it, trying to comfort him. “I’m sorry, Ivan.” Before he could say anything else, Ivan had grabbed him and yanked him down into a very awkward, bent-over hug. Alfred did his best to return it, making soothing noises and stroking his hair. Ivan collapsed back onto the altar when he was done.

Something didn’t seem right about this. Ivan’s friends all becoming one with this place, Ivan well on his way. It must have been a long process, yet…

“Why is Ludwig okay?”

Said German raised his eyebrow, looking at Alfred in confusion. Ivan, however, seemed to understand perfectly.

“I think, because all seven layers were already claimed. Ludwig, I expect if you fell in by mistake, you would have landed in Natalya’s layer first. She became one because she worked on it, cultivating and shaping. You would not have known how even if you wanted to. That would have shielded you.”

“I forgot everything, until Alfred came. He helped me remember.”

“That would be the madness the subnet brings, I suspect. While your ignorance shielded you from becoming one with the subnet, it left you vulnerable to negative effects on the brain.”

“Then how did I fix it?” Alfred couldn’t help himself; he’d been wondering this since he arrived.

“I don’t know. Perhaps you were a memory trigger, perhaps he needed human company, or perhaps it was just having exposure to the outside for the first time in decades. I couldn’t say without testing, and that is not a test I would wish to run even if I could.”

“Okay.” Alfred glanced at Ludwig, then at Ivan again. “So, not to be an asshole since you’re probably lonely, but… we kind of want to get out of here. How do we do that?”

Ivan smiled. “Ah, I knew already. This place can be beautiful, but few could make it a home. The closest to manage that was my dear sister Kateryna, and now she is in your pocket.” He took a deep breath, not looking at either soldier. “I am afraid the exit from this layer will have long grown over. I have not been able to maintain it in a long time. But… you see, we always knew of the seven layers, but I have always believed there is an eighth. If you can reach it, then Ludwig, you can open a doorway to the outside world there.”

“Why me?” Ludwig asked, brow furrowed.

“You have been here eighty years. You did not join the subnet or become another piece of the submachine, but I am certain it has affected you. If either of you can build on the submachine, it is you.”

Ludwig nodded in understanding. “Then I will do it.”

Alfred interrupted at this point, a new question popping into his head. “Will he be okay, leaving? I mean, he looks young here, but he’s over a hundred in the real world.”

Ivan gave him a long look, then sighed. “I should not be surprised. We all denied it too. Eduard noticed first, and we all ignored what he said about it as long as we could. The human brain is a wonderful tool for denial, you see.” Ivan held up his hands, putting his right fingers on his left wrist. “Have you not noticed you have no pulse?”

Alfred opened and closed his mouth. It was true, everything had felt strange since he’d been here; his body felt calm no matter how panicked his mind was, he never tired, and there always seemed to be something missing when he held Ludwig’s hand. But no pulse, that meant-

“Are you saying we’re dead? What’s the point in leaving if we’re dead?”

“Because we’re not dead. We are all in a form of stasis, you could say. When you awaken on the other side, it will be as if no time passed at all.”

“But-“ Alfred was cut-off by Ludwig mid-word.

“Why do you say ‘you’? You should come with us.”

Ivan smiled sadly. “No, I am afraid I cannot any longer. There is not enough of me to come back out again. The best hope I have is to simply join my comrades and find a way to seal this place behind you, so no other is trapped again.”

“There has to be another way!” Alfred crossed his arms. “I don’t leave people behind!”

Ludwig shook his head. “Ivan, is there anything we can do for you first? Anything at all?”

“Well,” Ivan said, eyeing them both. “There is one thing. It would make the process of moving on faster, and hopefully turn me into the pearl I believe you’ll need to get to the eighth layer.”

“Anything.”

Ivan smiled again. “What I need, is for one of you to take one of those pretty rifles of yours, and shoot me in the head with it.”

Chapter Text

“You can’t be fucking serious!”

“I’m very serious, Alfred.” Ivan lifted his hands and gestured at the lower half of his body. “I am unable to do anything to myself any longer, I was too foolish to think to bring a knife when I came out here. Either you shoot me, or I languish away for more years until I finally become one.”

“Ivan…”

“It is what must be done, my dear friend from the future. But don’t fret! I will be joining my dear comrades. Kateryna, Natalya, Tolys, Raivis, Eduard, Feliks – I have missed them all so much.”

“What… what do we have to do, after?” Ludwig spoke quietly, not looking either of them in the eye.

“You take the pearl I leave behind and put it with the others. I do not know exactly what you must do, but you will. We all knew what to do when a new layer called to us.”

Ludwig swallowed. “Okay. I… Is there anything else you want, before we shoot you?”

Ivan shook his head. “Just find your way home. I am sorry to you both, but especially you, Ludwig. You should never have been trapped here.”

“It’s not your fault.” Ludwig took a deep breath and reached for his rifle, just for Alfred to stop him with his hand.

“Fuck no, you’re not doing it.”

“Alf-“

“I’m doing it.” Alfred pulled out his own rifle. “You’ve felt guilt over stuff you shouldn’t feel guilty for your whole life. You don’t need another thing to feel pointlessly guilty for on your plate.”

Ivan looked almost amused as he finally returned Eduard’s pearl to Ludwig. “I only wish we could have met in the outer world. I would have bought you each a drink.”

“Not if we bought you one first.” Alfred smiled weakly at him. “Are you uh… ready?”

Ivan nodded and closed his eyes. “I have been ready for longer than you have been alive, dear Alfred.”

“Okay.” He took a deep breath, aimed, and closed his eyes before pulling the trigger.

A boom. Ringing in his ears. He opened his eyes, expecting to see blood and brain matter.

Instead, there was a tree. Twisting, covered in vines, black wood with white leaves.

Twisted in the roots, a single pearl.

He let Ludwig take it; he’d been the unofficial keeper of the pearls since the beginning, and no need to change that now.

No portal opened beneath their feet this time.

He couldn’t close his eyes, even knowing what was about to happen. He’d flinched at the muzzle fire, but then something strange happened; rather than blood or brains, roots spilled from Ivan’s head. Within seconds, his body twisted and grew until there was a tree standing.

It was as horrifying as it was beautiful.

He held all seven pearls in his hands now. Not seven pearls; seven people, seven dreamers and inventors trying to build a new, better world, only to accidentally create… this.

“I think we should give them a proper burial.”

“Huh? Oh- yeah, we should.” Alfred was shouldering his rifle again, not looking at Ludwig or Ivan’s tree. “Basically their bodies, right?”

Ludwig nodded. The garden seemed a good a place as any; it was beautiful, quiet, and peaceful. He started walking until he reached a pond and knelt before it. It seemed to call to him, telling him this is where the seven should be. He dug a hole with his hands, then one-by-one dropped each pearl in.

Natalya. Raivis. Feliks. Tolys. Eduard. Kateryna. Ivan. He mumbled each name as he dropped them in, wondering if they could hear him or know where they were being laid to rest. He piled dirt back over them and patted it down. No need for a grave marker; no one else would ever come here to see them.

“Ludwig…” Alfred’s voice drew his gaze up, and he saw the pond beginning to shimmer. He stood, taking Alfred’s hand.

“Are you ready?”

“As long as I’m with you.”

They stepped into the water.

Alfred was reminded of the house they’d been in right before they found the palace and garden. It was quaint, old-fashioned but not old-looking. There were pictures around; this time Alfred recognized someone in them. Ludwig as a young boy, an albino teenager standing with a hand on his shoulder. A man and woman holding a pale baby. The same man and woman with that pale baby grown into a pale child, a new baby in their arms.

“Is this your house?”

“Almost.” Ludwig was looking around, visibly homesick. The windows only showed a void outside, a reminder that wherever they were, it wasn’t really his home.

Except for the front door. It was closed, but there was glowing coming from the outside. It looked like sunlight, instead of the usual sickly blue glow they usually saw. Alfred squeezed his hand.

“Is that the door he was talking about? The door out?”

“I think so.”

Alfred took a deep breath, then reached up and unhooked his dog tags before handing them to Ludwig.

“Just in case. If we come out the other side and I’m dead, or don’t show up, just… find my family. They’ll take care of you. Tell Mattie you know about the polar bear thing, he’ll know you knew me. Tell him I miss him, and my parents, too.”

“Alfred…”

“I know- it’s not fair. I can’t offer to do the same for you if it’s the other way around. But I… please?”

Ludwig nodded, pocketed the tags, then took both of Alfred’s hands.

“Only if you promise that you’re done hiding things from me.”

“What do you mean? I told you everything. Well, I could go into more detail about modern politics and stuff, but that’s not important right now.”

Ludwig shook his head. “You’re a bad liar. You’ve hidden things from me this whole time, and I still feel like there’s something left. Whatever it is, I want to know now. I don’t want to step out, find you’re not there, and wonder what you couldn’t trust me about.”

Alfred looked at him, then laughed. “Damn, Ludwig, it’s nothing bad. But if I tell you, it might make things worse if one of us ends up dead.”

“Why would it make-“ He was interrupted by a mouth covering his own. It felt strange; he knew it was because their hearts didn’t beat and their bodies didn’t produce the same movements or smells or tastes that they should, but despite all that, it was good. More than good. When Alfred started to pull away, Ludwig didn’t let him, instead grabbing him by the head and returning the kiss.

They didn’t say a word as they broke apart. There was nothing left to be said in this world; it was time to leave it behind, let it exist as the silent graveyard of seven scientists.

Ludwig opened the door, leading Alfred through a portal by the hand one last time.

Chapter Text

Ludwig was cold.

He was cold.

He hadn’t been cold in so long. Moreover, he felt something in his chest. He reached up to touch his neck, feeling the pulse beating. He slowly opened his eyes.

He couldn’t see anything. It was pitch dark in the room; the bunker, he realized. He slowly sat up, head ringing a little. Alfred – where was he? Light – he needed light. The hatch, he could get to that and open it; even if it were night outside, the moon and stars would help. He slowly stood and stumbled to the wall, feeling his way around it until he found the ladder. He clambered up carefully, grabbing the hatch and forcing it open.

He shivered as snowflakes drifted into the bunker. The sky above was pink, either sunrise or sunset, he couldn’t tell. He didn’t care. He went right back down the ladder, stumbling to the man he saw laying on the floor near the arch. He couldn’t tell if he was breathing, and he knelt next to him, jabbing his fingers onto his neck and searching for a pulse.

Just as he finally found it, Alfred opened his eyes.

“Huh. You’re even prettier out here.” Alfred smiled lazily at him.

Ludwig reddened. “You’re even more annoying.”

“You have no idea!” Alfred reached up, grabbing Ludwig by the shoulders and pulling himself up to kiss him. It was different this time; Alfred’s lips felt alive, he tasted of stale coffee and smelled of rain. He noticed only then that the man was sopping wet.

“Why are you soaked?” He broke the kiss to speak, patting Alfred’s shirt.

A laugh. “It was raining! That’s why I took shelter in here.” Before Ludwig could respond, Alfred had stripped his own shirt off and tossed it aside. That seemed to be all the catalyst they needed; seconds later and they were almost tearing at each other’s clothes. Ludwig didn’t even mind when his uniform was casually tossed to the floor unfolded, too busy enjoying the feeling of living skin on living skin.

He felt like he was making up for lost time; eighty years of no physical touch, and months of unnatural not-quite-touch with Alfred. He pushed the American to the floor, crashing their mouths together and shoving his tongue into his mouth. Alfred seemed just as desperate, clinging onto his back and pressing up to him, leaving not a molecule of space between them.

He bit Alfred’s lip on accident, but the moan that got him sent blood rushing both to his face and lower on his body. “Sorry.”

“Ludwig,” Alfred said, tanging fingers in his hair. “I haven’t felt shit in months, good or bad. You could probably stab me right now and I’d enjoy it.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

Alfred just laughed, dragging him down to kiss him again.

Alfred had a point. The nails dragging down his back felt just as good as his cock rubbing on Alfred’s groin, and he wanted more of everything.

“Fuck, Ludwig, just a second-“ Alfred pushed up, crawling away just enough to grab his pack before being dragged right back, knees scraping on the ground below. Ludwig kissed and bit the back of his neck while Alfred opened a pouch and pulled out a bottle. “It’s lotion, it’s not gonna work great, but I- fuck, keep biting there – I’m gonna need to be able to walk after this!”

Ludwig was only half-listening to him, distracted by how Alfred’s skin indented beneath his teeth and nails and the way it made him moan. He reached around his chest so he could feel his skin there, pinching a nipple when his fingers grazed over it. Every sound Alfred made drove him just a little more crazy, and his patience was gone by the time Alfred had finished preparing himself.

He rolled Alfred onto his back, biting down on his collarbone as he lined himself up and pushed in. Alfred was everything to him in that moment; he was warmth, pleasure, comfort, pain, all at once. He thrust hard, pressing down on the other man as if trying to make them into one person.

“Harder, fuck, God, Ludwig please, I want-“ Alfred wouldn’t stop moaning and begging whenever Ludwig’s teeth and tongue weren’t muffling him. He heard Alfred scream his name, felt his nails nearly make his shoulders bleed, and then felt something sticky between them. He didn’t last much longer, pressing deep as he climaxed inside. He didn’t get up for a few minutes, just laying on top of Alfred and breathing hard.

When he finally moved off him, Alfred simply pushed him over onto his back and straddled him with a grin. “Don’t think you’re getting away from me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

His back and knees burned from being scraped on the ground, his lips and shoulders and neck stung from teeth, and true to his prediction, the lotion had only done so much.

Alfred hadn't felt this human in his life.

They'd gone three rounds by the time they were both fully spent; every movement either pleasure or pain, or both, all of it addicting. Even the exhaustion felt good. Alfred let out a contented sigh as Ludwig kissed his jaw.

"The spirit is willing, but the flesh is spongy and bruised."  Alfred giggled to himself, touching Ludwig's hair.

"What?" Ludwig moved his lips to Alfred's neck, gently kissing the marks he'd left there.

"Nothing. It's from a show."

The cuddling was nice, more than nice, but now that they weren't moving anymore, the cold was starting to set in. He could see the sunlight pouring in. Time had definitely passed; snow was falling in, and it had been late summer when he'd first arrived.

"We'll have to get moving soon. Only have so much food in my pack." It was a strange thing to have to consider after so long, but his stomach was starting to growl.

"Do you know where to go?"

"Not a clue! But once we get out of here, I should be able to shoot off a signal from my phone and my unit will be able to find us." Alfred was certain his phone had long died, but he'd always listened to his commander about keeping a charged external battery for situations just like this.

"Hm." Ludwig laid his head on Alfred's shoulder.

"We'll uh... have to either tell them the truth or come up with a really good story about you." His eyes drifted to the machine; there was no humming anymore.

"They won't believe the truth."

"Won't believe any lie we can make up, either." Alfred kissed his head, then sat them up with a sigh. "I mean... we just gotta prove you're from the 40's, right? If we can do that, they'll have to believe the rest of it."

"That would be impossible to prove."

"Worth trying." Alfred reached for one of their shirts - Ludwig's, it turned out, so he handed it to him before grabbing his own. He winced at the sight of Ludwig's jacket. They could remove all the blatant Nazi imagery, but it would still obviously be an old military coat from the era. If it were summer, he'd suggest just leaving it, but he didn't bring Ludwig this far just for him to freeze to death.

He took the jacket, trying to remove whatever signs of its origin he could.

"Alfred..."

"It's not because I'm ashamed of you, or whatever. It's just that it's literally illegal to walk around Germany with Nazi regalia on."

He handed the jacket over, then stood to gather the rest of their clothing and get dressed. His own jacket was light, since it was supposed to be August, but it was better than nothing.

The sun was bright as they climbed out into the real world. The woods were quiet; a bird called in the distance, the wind gently blew, the smell of snow and wood wafted through the air. Compared to the submachine, it was sensory overload.

"Fuck me," Alfred grumbled as he sat down next to the hatch and started digging through his pack. He pulled out two bars, opening one and handing it to Ludwig to eat while he got his phone plugged in.

He bit his lip as his satellite phone booted up. His first call should be to his commander, but he didn't know what to say. "Hey, I found this old-timey machine and spent the last five or six months in another dimension. Also, I brought home a friend! He's dressed like a Nazi but he's not one, I promise."

He could call his parents, but his Mum would just lose her mind and his Papa would assume he'd had a mental break.

There was one person left. The one he'd always called for help, who'd helped him get out of some really, really stupid situations throughout his life. And he might know what to do.

He dialed the number, taking Ludwig's hand with his free one while he waited.

"H-hello?" The voice sounded breathy, like the speaker had just woken up. It occurred to Alfred that it was three in the morning in Minneapolis, but he didn't feel that bad.

"Hey, Mattie!"

No response at first; he'd have thought the call dropped except he could hear his brothers breathing.

"Alfred?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Alfred! What the fuck, where have you been, we all thought you were- where are you?!"

"Same place I was when I disappeared. I- look, you're gonna think I'm crazy, but some really weird stuff happened, and I'm gonna need you to believe me. I need you to promise you'll believe me."

"How can I promise that? I don't even know what you're going to say."

"Please, Mattie. Just promise you'll believe me. I need your help right now, more than I've ever needed it." Alfred waited while his brother processed.

"...Okay."

"Okay. So, I got lost while on a training mission..."

By the time he’d finished the story, it had been almost an hour. He'd skipped a lot, especially the parts that involved him falling in love with his fellow trapped companion, but he’d gotten the important events across.

"...So now I need to prove it. At least prove that he's from 1942. And I don't know how, because I wouldn't believe me hearing this story. But you're the smartest person I've ever met, and I know you can help me, because you have to!"

A deep sigh from his brother. Alfred squeezed Ludwig's hand tight, waiting.

"Cesium-137. If he's really from 1942, his teeth should have next to none. Any modern-day German should have some, thanks to Chernobyl."

"How the hell do I measure that?"

"You don't, you- you let the actual authorities do that." Ah, the classic ‘how is my brother this stupid?’ tone. Alfred got that a lot.

"Right." Alfred looked at Ludwig, who was watching him curiously. He felt a little bad talking about him in another language, but Mattie didn't know German.

"I know you must think I've gone nuts. I kinda wondered if I was a lot. But I know what happened to me was real, and I've got a guy from eighty years ago sitting next to me to prove it."

A laugh from across the ocean. "Alfred, this doesn't change a thing. I always thought you were nuts."

He laughed, then buried his face in his hand, feeling tears suddenly pricking in his eyes. "Hey uh... tell Mum and Papa that I'm okay. You don't gotta tell them everything. Just say I got stuck somewhere but I'm out now, and I'm gonna find my way to the base so I can go home."

"Mum won't let me hang up the phone until I tell her everything you said word-for-word and you know that."

"Sounds like a you-problem." He sniffled then leaned into Ludwig's side when he felt an arm around him. "Listen, I need to go. It's cold out, and I gotta get us somewhere warm. I'll contact you again as soon as I can, I promise."

"I'll hold you to that. ...I love you, Alfie."

"I love you too." He swallowed hard as the call ended, then twisted to hug his companion. He missed his brother's voice already, but he had to get it together to call his commander and get them rescued.

"Are you okay?" Ludwig was stroking his hair gently.

"Yeah. I'm okay. Just missed my brother." He pressed his face into his shoulder. "He told me we can prove you're not from now. So I'm gonna call for rescue."

Ludwig kissed his head.  "You spoke French to him."

"Yeah. It's... we used to speak only in French to each other as kids, 'cause Mum didn't know it and it made her mad. It's our thing, now." Not exactly a secret language, but it was still something special to them. Alfred wiped his eyes and picked up the phone again. "Oh uh- good chance I'm getting court-marshalled for desertion. Hopefully I can prove I didn't voluntarily disappear, but..." He shrugged. "Guess we'll find out."

The phone rang once before being picked up.

"This is Corporal Hensley."

"Hey, Corporal Hensley. It's uh- Alfred Bonnefoy. I'm-"

"Bonnefoy! You had better have a hell of a good reason for going missing, because as soon as I find you, you'll be missing for good! Jesus, I’m going to-"

Alfred smiled a little; Hensley liked to come off as a hardass, but he knew he wouldn't be getting chewed out if the man didn't care. He let him rant for a few seconds longer.

"I do. I got trapped somewhere. It's a really weird and long story, but- right now I need someone to come get me. I'm stuck in the snow without winter gear, and I've got another guy with me."

"I'm having your signal tracked. I swear to God if I get there and you've wandered off or done something else stupid-"

"You'll make sure my head wanders away from my neck, I know."

"And you'd better enjoy your time alone in Hell after I'm done, because when I die, I’ll find you there!"

"Thanks, Corporal." Alfred listened to him rant for a while longer, finally having to interrupt to point out that he only had so much charge on his phone and should save it for the men coming to fetch them.

Alfred leaned over, pressing a kiss to Ludwig's cheek. He started to laugh after a moment.

"What's funny?"

"Nothing, I just... well, I was gonna say we should probably hide that we're screwing. Not because we're both men, but even if one of us was a woman, it still makes things complicated for the military and whoever is gonna investigate me." He grinned and reached up to tap the crook of his neck where there was an obvious bite mark. "But we screwed that pooch."

Ludwig shook his head, then leaned in to kiss him fully. "Sorry."

"Nah, don't be. I woulda told you to stop if I wasn't enjoying it."

He cupped Ludwig's cheek and started kissing him again; it wouldn't be long before they were rescued, and he wanted to enjoy the time they had before they were inevitably separated for at least hours, if not days or weeks.

Chapter Text

It was all overwhelming. The interrogations, the medical exams, the blood draws, more interrogations; it seemed endless. After a week in a cell, he was moved to a house in the middle of nowhere. According to the agent assigned to him, it was old and everything in it obsolete, but it was all new technology to Ludwig.

The kitchen wasn’t too difficult to manage. Once he figured out how everything turned on and off, he was able to cook and clean with ease. The laundry was confusing, but the officer that came by that day was very patient about explaining not only the machine, but the sorting process. They didn't let him out much, not wanting him wandering off and his story getting out. Not that he minded; the outside was beautiful, but it was overwhelming after so much time in the submachine. Walking around the backyard felt like enough.

The guards they posted around seemed unnecessary.

It was on the fourth day in the house that there was a knock at the door; an excited-sounding rapping, instead of the three short, firm knocks the guards and investigators usually gave. He opened the door, unable to stop smiling when he saw who it was.

"Alfred!"

"Ludwig!" Alfred stepped in past the guard, accompanied by what looked like an officer. The flag on his shoulder was American; he realized after a moment that it was one of the first men to interrogate him, before he been passed to the German military.

Alfred looked ready to hug him, but restrained himself and gave a handshake instead. "I've got something for you!" He held up a folder.

Lieutenant Melendez pointed at the couch. "You should sit down."

Ludwig hesitated, but moved to sit when Alfred nodded at him. Alfred sat down next to him, Melendez electing to take a chair. Alfred grinned at him. "They believe us! Well, not everyone, but the most important people do. Not that they're telling everyone, the official story for the media is that I fell into someone's nuclear prep bunker and couldn't get out. And-" he was stopped by the Lieutenant clearing his throat. "Right so, since they believe us now, they're letting me give you this." He opened the folder, pulling out a picture to give to Ludwig.

It didn't make much sense to him. Two men: one old, one young, and the young one had a baby in his lap. They looked familiar somehow, but not in a way Ludwig could place. It was a color photo, and the clothes looked strange, certainly nothing from his own time.

"Who are..."

"That," Alfred said, pointing at the baby, "is Ludwig Beilschmidt the fourth, who is named for his father-" he pointed at the young man, "-Ludwig Beilschmidt the third, named for his father-" now he pointed at the old man, "-Ludwig Beilschmidt the second, who was named for his uncle, Ludwig Beilschmidt the first, who family legend says died helping his brother and his brother's fiancée escape Nazi Germany to safety."

His breath caught in his throat. He could see it now - green eyes, but with Gilbert's shape; brown curls; the Beilschmidt jawline; there was no question that these were the descendants of his brother and Erszébet. He couldn't speak past the lump in his throat.

"They made it, Ludwig."

He set the photo in his lap, then dragged Alfred into a hug, clinging tight. He felt hot tears spilling from his face, soaking into Alfred's shirt as the man rubbed his back. He didn't notice his own lips moving at first; "thank you, thank you, thank you-" kept spilling out.

When he finally stopped crying, Alfred pulled out more pictures and information to show him. They'd gotten to Switzerland, then Spain, then Argentina; from there, after the war ended, Israel. Now Ludwig had three nephews and a niece, six grand-nephews and seven grand-nieces, and five great-grand nephews and five great-grand nieces with at least two more on the way.

One of the grand-nieces was albino like her grandpa.

It was evening by the time they were done, and Ludwig hadn't felt this light since the day he first met his eventual sister-in-law. He hadn't failed; he'd lead their pursuers far enough to allow his family to not only escape and survive, but eventually thrive.

He could have died happy right then.

"There's one more thing" Alfred said, smiling like he had the whole time he was showing pictures. "They're gonna let me stay here with you. The psychologist thinks it'll help you."

Ludwig just nodded; he could have kissed him right then, but he wasn't going to even consider it with the Lieutenant still there. As if reading his mind, Lieutenant Melendez stood, putting his hand on Alfred's shoulder. "You're here to help him, private, not have fun. Remember that."

"Yes, sir."

Alfred laughed the moment the front door clicked behind his superior. "Sucker. I can do both!"

Ludwig grabbed his face, turning his head to kiss him firmly. "You don't know how much all this means to me, Alfred. I..."

"Ludwig," Alfred replied, pressing their foreheads together. "I told you, I'd give you the world if I could."

"You just did."

Life in the house for the next four days felt almost normal, as if they were a regular couple in a typical home. Ludwig would wake first, making breakfast and having the kitchen spotless by the time he woke Alfred to come eat. They would both complain about the equipment and the food they were given; to Alfred, they were old-fashioned, and to Ludwig, they were unfamiliar and the food tasted strange.

Alfred would spend a few hours trying to teach him English, stating that he was still planning on adopting him into his own family and wanting him to be able to speak directly to his parents and brother. He studied diligently, though he had a feeling Alfred was so quick to teach him animals just to hear him try to say “squirrel.”

After a cold lunch, Ludwig would read. He’d been given a number of books – history, modern literature, science, the military trying to give him everything a man from the 21^st century should know. There had been talk about starting him in classes, but that hadn’t gone anywhere yet. No one knew what to do with him; he'd committed no crime, they had no legal reason to hold him, but they didn't want to release him either.

While Ludwig read, Alfred would do work on his computer. It was a strange device, reminding him a little of a typewriter. It fascinated him, but he decided to wait until he was comfortable with simpler technologies to give it a try.

Alfred would give him information here and there. He was researching on “websites” and “social media,” telling Ludwig what his living family had gotten up to; their names, their jobs, where they lived. Actually contacting them was a no-go; even if they could explain who Ludwig was, the military would be displeased to say the least. They weren’t even letting Alfred contact his own family right now, citing security concerns.

Alfred would make dinner. He was an absolute mess, and Ludwig felt it really didn’t save him any time or effort since he would be following him around cleaning up after him, but he couldn’t deny he was a good cook. “You should be glad my Papa is the one that taught me to cook, and not Mum!” he’d said the first night.

There were two beds in the house. Officially, they lived separately, but in reality, Alfred only ever stepped into his room to grab clean clothes, spending his nights in Ludwig’s bed.

Figuratively sleeping together for the first time had been incredible; lightning, heat, desperation, sweat. Literally sleeping together was the other side of the same coin; calm, warm, gentleness, touch. Waking up a warm body in his arms, the sound of quiet breathing, the sight of every muscle on Alfred’s face relaxed – he never wanted to wake up anywhere else again.

The fifth day, they were sleeping in. Or rather, Ludwig was letting Alfred sleep in, staying in bed to watch him instead of getting up to cook and start their day. A harsh knock at the door made him jump, and Alfred nearly leapt out of bed. They stared at each other a second, then Alfred ran to his own room to get dressed, cursing loudly. Ludwig shook his head and got up, tugging on his clothes and walking to the front door to open it.

He recognized Lieutenant Melendez, but not the men and woman standing behind him. “Good morning,” Ludwig said, squinting a little; the sun was behind the visitors, and he couldn’t see them well.

“Good morning, Mr. Beilschmidt. These are-“

Before the Lieutenant could finish his sentence, Ludwig heard a yell behind him. Alfred shoved past him, nearly knocking him over as he ran out of the house.

“Alfred!”

“Mum!”

Ah, that’s who they were. The woman Alfred was clinging to, head buried in his chest and lightly beating his shoulder with a fist and crying must be his mother. The older man, long hair tied back in a neat bun, his father. The younger man, nearly a spitting image of Alfred except for the length of his hair, his twin, Matthew.

Lieutenant Melendez took Ludwig by the arm to pull him into the house, letting the newly-reunited family have their moment.

Ludwig felt a pang of envy as he listened to the family babble away in English. He’d never have that moment; the family he’d once had was long dead, leaving only descendants he’d never met. Then a pang of guilt for that envy, knowing Alfred had missed his family and knowing he should just be feeling happy for him right now. Then, finally, a pang of loneliness – even if Alfred’s family walked in the door right now and officially adopted him as their own, it would be a long time before they could even speak to each other without Alfred there to translate.

“The family has been briefed about the… situation. They know who you are.” Lieutenant Melendez nodded at Ludwig.

“Why did it take so long for them to come?” Alfred had told him how fast and easy plane travel was now; theoretically, they could have been there before the American military had handed Ludwig over to the German one.

“Clearances. The father was in the French military, which made his case easier, but the other two needed to be fully cleared independently.”

“Ah.” Nice to see the bureaucracy was alive and well in the 21^st century.

After a minute, the lieutenant cleared his throat. "Alfred has been asking about where you'll go once this is all sorted out."

Ludwig shrugged. "I've been told they'll let me go soon." With rules, of course. He couldn't tell his actual story to anyone; he was supposed to claim he'd had a bad head injury that affected his memory.

"I've been told the same." No more words were spoken between them.

He could understand what Alfred meant about his father’s cooking; as soon as the initial greeting was over and everyone had finished crying, the man swept into the kitchen and made breakfast for everyone. As he cooked, Alice fussed over Alfred, and the Lieutenant wandered off to make a call, Matthew came to Ludwig’s side.

“Hello,” he said, in faltering German. He held his hand out, and Ludwig shook it.

“You speak German?”

Matthew shrugged, then nearly pinched his fingers together in a gesture. “Little.” Better than nothing, and the two men in the house that could fluently speak both English and German were occupied. After a few seconds, Matthew gestured at Ludwig, then Alfred. “Are you uh-“ he seemed to be struggling to find a word; Ludwig sympathized, only able to put together the most basic sentences in English right now. “Love?”

Ludwig hesitated; Alfred had told him Matthew was fine with homosexuality, and in fact was the first person Alfred had ever told. But he was also a stranger to the family, and whether it was his fault or not, his presence was part of why they’d been kept from Alfred as long as they had. His silence seemed to answer Matthew’s question anyway, and the man shrugged. “Happy?”

Ludwig nodded. “Yes.”

This seemed to satisfy him, and Matthew leaned on the counter, watching his brother try to field the hundred questions Alice was throwing at him.

Then Alfred said something that must have been shocking, because the intensity of Alice’s interrogation started to rival that of the men that first questioned Ludwig. François joined in a moment later, and Matthew followed, trying to mediate between the three. They kept looking at him – Alice and François with suspicion, Matthew with apology, and Alfred with determination.

He couldn’t understand much of what they said. He’d catch a few words here and there, but nothing that made any sense. However, what he could see was the tide of the conversation in the tones and expressions. Over the course of three minutes, Matthew went from mediation to fully on Alfred’s side. Five minutes later, François was faltering. Five more minutes, it was three against one. Then, finally, Alice stomped her feet, then crossed her arms and looked away, muttering something quietly before seeming to give in. Alfred and Matthew smiled at each other.

Alfred walked over to Ludwig, pulling him into a hug.

“Told you I’d get them to bring you home with me!”

He looked over Alfred’s shoulder. Their world was alien to him; they spoke another language, ate different food, celebrated different holidays. Nothing like his old life.

Just like when he met Erszébet.

He smiled.

Chapter Text

The cemetery was quiet. Not quite empty; a few others were there, paying respects to lost relatives. For all the bustle of Tel Aviv, this place was calm.

He knelt in front of the stone, reading over the names again and again. Gilbert and Erszébet Beilschmidt. They’d lived long lives – Gilbert died at 76, Erszébet at 89. A good thing he’d died first, Ludwig mused; he’d have been a wreck without her.

He could almost hear their voices. Gilbert chiding him for being so slow and taking so long to find them; Erszébet fussing and demanding to know more about this Alfred character standing behind him. Gilbert would have paraded him around the city, boasting about his little brother’s bravery. Erszébet would have chided her husband for drawing so much attention that Ludwig didn’t want. They’d have taken him home, introduced him to their children, and he’d have done everything in the world for all of them.

If only he’d escaped early enough.

He took a deep breath before quietly repeating the prayer he’d asked a local rabbi to teach him. That done, he reached into his pocket, pulling out a stone to place on the tombstone. Next to it, he placed his dog tags.

It was a big rule to break. Even if they didn’t have his name on them, if anyone found them, they might be able to trace the ID number and match it to his name. His brother’s descendants would have questions if they did.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up to see Alfred’s face, looking somber. Ludwig stood after a moment and took his hand.

“Where do we go now?” Finding the grave had been his only goal once they were free to leave the safehouse, and now he felt lost.

Alfred smiled. “Well, I say we go to New York first and get you settled. After that, we’re gonna go back to Germany for a while.”

“We are?”

“Yeah.” Alfred’s smile widened. “I know it wasn’t a good place when you fell, but that was then.” Alfred leaned over and kissed his cheek. “I think you’re gonna be really proud of what it’s become now, and I want to be the one to show you.”